"At home. I think you should go and see her."

"Does she want me?"

"Yes."

Henrik excused himself from the party and went immediately to Marie. He
found her on the veranda, reclining on a couch. The lamp-light from an
open window fell on a pale face, startling in its changed expression. He
silently took her hand, her fingers tightening in his grasp. She looked
him steadily in the face, her swimming eyes not wavering. Then Henrik
knew that he loved this girl yet. For a long time he had tried to forget
her, tried to root out his love for her, tried to think that she was not
for him. "I'll not try again," he had thought, "for twice now have I
been disappointed;" but now a flood of compassionate love engulfed him,
and he, too, clung to the fingers in his grasp.

"I am sorry to see you like this," he said, "what is the matter?"

"I don't know."

"Doesn't the doctor know?"

She shook her head with a faint smile. "Sit down, Henrik, I want to talk
to you," she said.

He took the low chair by her side. The mother looked at them from the
door-way, but did not come out.