that, Julie, is the only thing I demand of you. Will you be my wife?'
I had regained my composure, and I answered as kindly as I could, but quite firmly. 'Did you really need to ask, Erik. I hardly think so. No, Erik, I cannot be your wife.'
He let my hand go, and sat some moments in deep thought before saying, 'But last winter, Julie, when I wrote that I was coming back?'
'Yes, Erik, then it was different.'
He stood up. 'Well, then it is as I thought. I won't ask. You owe me no explanations. Perhaps I even prefer to know nothing. And now, good-bye, little foster-sister. I hope you will be very happy.'
He bent over me and I felt his lips on my forehead, and while I sat there without moving, I heard the door bang after him.
Later, of course, I wept many bitter tears. Yet I felt relieved. It seemed to me as if a black cloud had rolled away from my sky, as if a heavy burden had fallen from my mind.
Erik has left. I shall no longer meet his sad eyes like an evil conscience. And I can again think of him with kindness and love. I have never seen him so handsome and manly as when he stood up to go, after having had his answer. No tears, no reproaches, no anger in his eyes, only a gentle, sad, understanding smile.
How far prouder and better men are than we women-folk.
