My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 3 of 3

by William Clark Russell

'At Mr. Trembath's.'

'She is in Tintrenale?'

'At Mr. Trembath's, mother.'

'Why did you not bring her here?'

'I wished to break the news.'

'But she is your friend, Hugh. She was a good daughter, and she is a good girl. I must love her for that.'

I kissed her. 'You will love her when you see her. You will love her more and more as you know her better and better. She is to be my wife. Oh, mother, you will welcome her—you will take her to your heart, so friendless as she is and so poor; so tender too, so gentle, so affectionate?'

She sat musing awhile, playing with her fingers. That colouring of suspicion, of a mother's jealousy, which I have spoken of, had yielded to my tale. She was thinking earnestly, and with an expression of kindness.

'You are young to marry, Hugh.'

'No, no, mother!'