“No, I shan’t,” said Helene, growing pink again. “I am glad because you are—because you don’t repent. You don’t, do you?”
“Repent what? Nell, don’t be a baby.”
“Oh, I have made you angry!—but you know what I mean. You don’t mind having married me instead of Félicia, do you? I just want to hear you say it—only that.”
“I’m not angry, but I should be if you were not such a child. Have I deserved this, Nell? I can’t say that I have never thought of Félicia since I married you, but I can say that I never think of her without being thankful I didn’t marry her. And you have been treasuring up that old piece of foolishness against me all this time!”
“I haven’t! I haven’t! It came over me suddenly that I wanted to hear you say it, though I knew it quite well. And I had a reason, Nym. You don’t mind my not telling you what it is, do you? You will know very soon. I want to ask Aunt Ernestine something first.”
“Shall I ask her to come and see you?”
“Oh, please do. And you are not really angry, Nym?”
“No, I am not. But it would serve you right if I said I was, you little mischief-maker!” But Helene’s blissful smile did not look as though the epithet troubled her.
“Well, Lenchen darling?” asked the Queen as she came in; “what is it you want me to do?”
“It isn’t anything for myself,” said Helene, somewhat timidly. “It’s—it’s just that I have been thinking so much about Michael and Félicia, and I wondered why you didn’t go and speak to her yourself.”