“Oh yes, Jenny. Do you believe that I think less about you when I don’t see you? I ask only to see you, talk to you, to try and do something for you. Won’t you let me? Do let me come.”
“I don’t know—I don’t know what to say, but please go now. I cannot bear any more today—it is all so terrible. Won’t you go, dear?”
He rose slowly:
“I will. Good-bye! Jenny, dear child, you are quite beside yourself.”
“Yes”—in a whisper.
“I will go now, but I want to see you before you go away. I shall come back when you are yourself again and not frightened of me; there is no reason for that, dear.”
She was quiet for a little, then suddenly drew him close to her for a second, brushing his cheek with her lips.
“Go now, Gert.”
“Thank you. God bless you, Jenny.”
When he was gone she paced up and down the floor, shivering without knowing why. In her heart she felt a certain pleasure in remembering his words when he was on his knees before her. She had always looked upon Gert as a weak man, as one who had suffered himself to be dragged down and been trodden upon as those who are down always will be. And now he had suddenly revealed himself to her as possessing a great fortitude of soul, and a being rich enough and willing to help, while she was bewildered, distracted, and sick with longing in her inmost heart behind the shield of opinions and thoughts which she had made for herself.