“Oh! Staza, I am come to ask your hand in marriage,” said Frank after a short silence.
“You have it here!” said Staza and gave her hand to him.
What need of more? What need of elaborate circumlocutions in order that the heart should speak truth?
The heart of those children knew of no such circumlocutions, it spoke thus, and therefore spoke sublimely, nobly, and solemnly, because it spoke the truth.
“I wished to have thee for my wife, and I did not know whether thou wert willing to be my wife, and that fretted me,” said Frank.
If you had not come for me, I should have had to think where Bartos should delve a grave. And I had already chosen a spot. Where else than yonder, and she pointed towards her mother’s grave.”
And both their hearts heaved with feelings different than a moment before the sentiment of unexpected bliss exhausted them, and bliss is burdensome before we are accustomed to it.
They took one another by the hand and went into the little house to tell Bartos what they had just told one another.
“I wish to have Staza for my wife and am come to speak about it,” said Frank by way of salutation when they entered.
