"I have heard nothing from you for so long. I had intended to wait until I could bring it all to you, but it was beyond my strength. While Ole lived he told me about you; but since I cannot go to him any more I have been very impatient. I was here yesterday, but I didn't come in; I turned back—"
Should he ask her to go up to the children a moment?
"Perhaps you would like to go up-stairs a moment?" he asked. "The children will be delighted. I don't know how the house looks, but if you don't mind—"
"I thank you!"
He saw how deeply she was moved, although she said nothing more. She gave him her hand in farewell. "I hope they will know me," she said.
"I'll be up in a moment," he remarked. "I haven't much to do just now.
Perhaps you would like to stay awhile? Here is the key; you need not ring.
But be careful of their shoes if you take them on your lap. Well, don't
laugh; God knows if their shoes aren't muddy!"
Hanka went. He opened the door for her and followed her to the foot of the stairs; then he returned to his office.
He walked over to the desk, but he did not work. There she had stood! She wore her black velvet dress to-day; she was up-stairs. Could he go up now? He did not hear the children; they were probably in her lap. He hoped they had on their red dresses.
He walked up-stairs, a prey to the strangest emotions. He knocked on the door as if it were somebody else's home he was entering. Hanka got up at once when she saw him.
She had taken off her veil; she flushed deeply. He could see now why she used a veil. The joyless days in her solitary room had not left her unmarked; her face spoke plainly of her sufferings. Johanna and Ida stood beside her and clung to her dress; they did not remember her clearly; they looked at her questioningly and were silent.