“Really, I hardly know anything,” she said, overcome with it all. “I cannot bear it any longer. All this suspicion and secrecy and discord. Good heavens, Helge!—can’t you protect me from all this?”
“My poor Jenny.” He rose and went to the window, where he remained standing with his back to her. “I have suffered more than you know. It is all so hopeless. Can you not see for yourself that mother’s jealousy is not without foundation?”
Jenny began to shiver. He turned round and saw it.
“I don’t believe father is aware of it himself. If he were, he would not give in like that to his desire to be with you. But he told me himself that we ought to go away from here, both of us. I am not so sure that your going away now is not his idea too.”
“No; I decided myself to go to Holmestrand, but he spoke to me yesterday about leaving town, when—when we got married.”
She went to him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“Dearest—if it is as you say, I will have to go away. Helge, Helge! What shall we do?”
“I am going,” he said abruptly, lifting her hands from his shoulders and pressing them against his face.
They stood a moment in silence.
“But I must go too. Can you not understand? As long as I thought your mother absurd, even common, I could keep my countenance, but now it is different. You should not have said it, Helge—even if you are mistaken. I cannot go there any more with that on my mind. Whether she is justified or not, I cannot meet her eyes. I shall not be myself, and I shall look guilty.”