“Of course,” laughed the Doctor. “Why are you so distressed? Is it so strange for me to be here?”
“No,” she answered, in a low tone, “but you are mine brudder’s friend.”
“And yours also, Fredrika. Did you never think of that?” She trembled, but did not answer, and, leaning forward, the Doctor took her hand in his.
“Fredrika,” he said, very gently, “you will perhaps think it is strange for me to talk in this way, but have you never thought of me as something more than a friend?”
The woman was silent and bitterly ashamed, wondering when and where she had betrayed herself.
“That is unfair,” he continued, instantly perceiving. “I have thought of you in that way, more especially to-day.” Even in the dusk, he could see the light in her eyes, and in his turn he, too, was shamed.
“Dear Fräulein Fredrika,” he went on, “I have not much to offer, but all I have is yours. I am old, and the woman I loved died, never knowing that I loved her. If she had known, it would have made no difference. Perhaps you think it an empty gift, but it is my all. You, too, may have dreamed of something quite different, but in the end God knows best. Fredrika, will you come?”
The maidenly heart within her rioted madly in her breast, but she was used to self-repression. “I thank you,” she said, with gentle dignity; “it is one compliment which is very high, but I cannot leave mine Franz. All the way from mine Germany I have come to mend, to cook, to wash, to sew, to scrub, to sweep, to take after him the many things which he forgets and leaves behind, even the most essential. What should he think of me if I should say: ‘Franz, I will do this for you no more, but for someone else?’ You will understand,” she concluded, in a pathetic little voice which stirred him strangely, “because you are mine brudder’s friend.”
“Yes,” replied the Doctor, “I am his friend, and so, do you think I would come without his permission? Dear Fräulein, Franz knows and is glad. That is why I left him. Almost the last words he said to me were these: ‘If you make mine sister happy, it is all I ask.’”
“Franz!” she cried. “Mine dear, unselfish Franz! Always so good, so gentle! Did he say that!”