“It was good of him. I know he meant it, but I could never consent. That is the last thing I could do. Honestly, Grizel, do you think it is possible?”
Grizel pondered thoughtfully.
“It would be difficult! Worse for you than for me. You’d be in my way—sometimes, I’d be in yours—always! And if I were cross, I’d snap, and grumble to Martin, and you, poor lamb! would shut it all up in your heart. I think, dear, we won’t discuss it to-day. There’s plenty of time, and I’m not in the mood to come down to bare, bald facts.—I’m horribly happy, Katrine, but you must be happy too! It will spoil it all if you are mumpy. Think what you want most, and I’ll get it for you, if the skies fall!”
That was kind and sweet, and wise into the bargain, but Katrine did not know what she wanted; for all her resolution she could not banish the haunting fear of the future. She dreaded the first meeting with Martin; knew in her heart that the dread would be mutual. When they did meet an hour later she was amazed at the change on his face. He looked pale and shaken; oppressed, rather than exultant; but it was the extraordinary revival of youth which struck her dumb. The heavy lines seemed wiped away, the eyes looked at her, glad and shy; the eyes of a boy.
Katrine held out her hands, but he took her into his arms, and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Grizel has told you!—I can’t realise it yet. It is too wonderful. You will be glad for me, dear, for you knew what has gone before. I can never thank you enough for all you have done for me, these eight years. And I have been so dull and impatient. This will make no difference between us. You know that, Katrine!”
Katrine smiled. It would make just all the difference in the world, but she could not be ungenerous enough to damp his joy. It was something that Grizel understood!
“I am glad that you are happy, dear boy. I do congratulate you. Grizel will be an inspiring wife. No one could live with her and find life boring.”
“Isn’t she wonderful? So beautiful, so fascinating, so—simple! I am overwhelmed that she should give up so much. That’s the only fly in the ointment. I can’t feel that it is justified. You must help me to look out for a house for her, Katrine—a bright, sunny place, which won’t be too painful a contrast. I can afford a higher rent nowadays, and she must have all that she wants. She said to me—‘Wherever we go there will always be a Katrine’s room, a place for Katrine.’ That was one of the first things she said!”
“Sweet of her!” said Katrine, smiling bravely once again. “I shall be delighted to come as a visitor sometimes, but not to live! Newly married couples are best alone. I must move my camp.”