I gave her a chair, and her papa said,
“How can you leave your husband?”
“He is arguing with mamma, and it makes me miserable to listen to the hard things she says to him.”
“These arguments must be stopped!” cried my uncle, leaving his chair. “Can’t your mother leave him alone for to-night? You’ll be out of the house to-morrow. What good can reproaches do? Can they unmarry you? My wife must be made to understand this.”
And he left the room.
Finding myself alone with Conny, I kicked my feet about a little, and said, “I was quite in earnest when I hoped you would be happy.”
“I am sure you were. But I shall be happier when you tell me I am forgiven,” she answered, turning her face away from the light.
“Oh, you are forgiven. Your papa means to——.”
“I mean forgiven by you,” she interrupted.
“There is nothing to forgive.”