s politely
answered. His eyes, which generally swept over her like waves, ready to
draw her in, had difficulty to-day in rising higher than the plate
before them. Stopping suddenly, he said: "Are you not well?"

"Yes, thank you; but I have had enough."

A quarter of an hour later Joergen came out of Anders Krog's room. Mary
had just left Mrs. Dawes's, and was opening the door of her own. Joergen
said:

"It seems to me that your father is much better, Miss Krog."

"Yes, he can speak a little now, and also move his arm a little."

Joergen evidently did not hear.

"Is this your room?--I have never seen it."

She moved out of the way; he looked, and looked again.

"Won't you go in?"

"May I?"

"Certainly."

He approached the threshold and crossed it slowly, she following. Then
he stood perfectly still, breathing deeply, she at his side. Was the
room hung with lace? He could not collect his impressions ... the bed
and the furniture, white with blue, or blue with white; Cupids on the
ceiling; paintings, amongst them one of her beautiful mother, with
flowers in front of it ... and a fragrance--exhaled not by the flowers
alone, but by Mary herself and her belongings. She was there, beside
him, in her blue dress with the elbow-sleeves. In the midst of this
purity of fragrance and colour he felt ashamed of himself--so ashamed
that he could have rushed out. He could not control his feeling; his
breast heaved; he trembled, and was on the point of bursting into tears.
Then two white arms gleamed, and he heard something said--blue and white
and white and blue, the words also. The door was closed behind him--it
must have been done to conceal his weakness. The two white arms gleamed
again, and he heard distinctly: "Why, Joergen! Joergen!" He felt a hand on
his arm, and sank on to a chair. She had really said "Joergen"--said it
twice. Now she stroked his forehead and smoothed the hair back from it,
with a touch soft as a flower-petal. It loosed something; everything
hard and painful melted under her hand and flowed away, leaving an
indescribable feeling of warmth. She who now bent over him was, in
truth, the first who had helped him since he was a child. He had been
so lonely! There was confidence in him in the touch of her hand. How
undeserved! But how it comforted him! He dreamed that he, too, was good,
was under the control of beneficent powers. The white and the blue
spread a canopy over him. Underneath it these large,