'The matter with me!' exclaimed Kjeld, in well-feigned astonishment; 'why, nothing, Ellen--you are quite mistaken in supposing that anything is the matter with me.'
'Oh, there is no use in your denying that something ails you; I am too old to be easily humbugged. You must speak the honest truth to me, Kjeld; you must be as frank with me as I am with you. You need not fear to speak freely, for no one can overhear you out thus far on the sea--no one, my boy--except myself and He who rules the ocean. You are still silent, Kjeld--then I will speak out. You are sighing and grieving because you love Christine Steffens, and because you think that she loves you; that's the short and the long of the matter. But have you forgotten that Christine is a married woman? and are you aware that your conduct is bringing her name into people's mouths--that every creature in the village is talking of you and her, and that the walls of her own house cannot protect her against jeering and insult? I have myself been a witness of this to-night.'
'What was said to her, Ellen?' asked Kjeld, in consternation. 'Who could speak a syllable in disparagement of Christine?'
'Say, rather, who can prevent it, Kjeld, since you yourself afford such ample room for tittle-tattle.'
'Ah, Ellen! if you only knew how much I love Christine! She has been my thought by day, and my dream by night; and when I have been away on long voyages, I denied myself everything to save all I got for her. I always expected that she would certainly one day be mine--but when I came home this autumn, she was married!'
'It was a pity. There is nothing left for you, therefore, now, but to forget her.'
'Forget her! I shall never, never forget her.'
'Oh, I have heard such vows before; young folks have always these ideas, but they smile at them when they become older. An honourable man loves a girl when he marries her, or when he intends to marry her.'
'And when he cannot marry her?'
'Then he lets her alone, my good lad, and turns his attention to some one else.'