“Do not answer me just yet, then; take time to think it over,” he pleaded; “indeed I would do my best to make you very happy.”
“I know you would,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears. “But yet it could never be. I could never love you as a wife should love her husband, and I am much too fond of you, Torvald, to let you be married just for your comfortable house.”
“Your aunt led me to expect that, perhaps, in time, after your first grief had passed—”
“Then it was very wrong of her,” said Sigrid hotly. “You have always been my friend—a sort of second brother to me—and oh, do let it be so still. Don’t leave off being my friend because of this, for indeed I can not help it.”
“My only wish is to help you,” he said sadly; “it shall be as you would have it.”
And then they walked on together in an uncomfortable silence until they overtook the others at Herr Grönvold’s gate, where Torvald grasped her hand for a moment, then, looking at his watch, hurried Madale away, saying that he should be late for some appointment.
Fru Grönvold had unluckily been looking out of the window and had seen the little group outside. She opened the front door as the two girls climbed the steps.
“Why did not the Lundgrens come in?” she asked, a look of annoyance passing over her thin, worn face.
“I didn’t ask them,” said Sigrid, blushing.
“And I think Torvald had some engagement,” said Swanhild, unconsciously coming to the rescue.
“You have been out a long time, Swanhild; now run away to your practicing,” said Fru Grönvold, in the tone which the child detested. “Come in here, Sigrid, I want a word with you.”
Fru Grönvold had the best of hearts, but her manner was unfortunate; from sheer anxiety to do well by people she often repulsed them. To Sigrid, accustomed from her earliest girlhood to come and go as she pleased and to manage her father’s house, this manner was almost intolerable. She resented interference most strongly, and was far too young and inexperienced to see, beneath her aunt’s dictatorial tone, the real kindness that existed. Her blue eyes looked defiant as she marched into the sitting-room, and drawing off her gloves began to warm her hands by the stove.
“Why did you not ask Torvald Lundgren to come in?” asked Fru Grönvold, taking up her knitting.