“Well, he talked like that, Morten. He wouldn’t say ‘That looks very well’ or ‘It goes very well with the room.’ He was frightfully silly, I tell you. And very persistent; he simply wouldn’t be put off, although I never gave him anything but sarcasm. Once he made such a scene--he nearly wept--imagine a man weeping!” “He must have worshipped you,” Morten said softly. “Well, what affair was that of mine?” she cried out, astonished, turning around on her sand-heap. “You are cruel, Fräulein Tony. Are you always cruel? Tell me: You didn’t like this Herr Grünlich. But is there any one to whom you have been more gracious? Sometimes I think: Has she a cold heart? Let me tell you something: a man is not idiotic simply because he weeps when you won’t look at him. I swear it. I am not sure, not at all, that I wouldn’t do the same thing. You see, you are such a dainty, spoilt thing. Do you always make fun of people that lie at your feet? Have you really a cold heart?” After the first giggle, Tony’s lip began to quiver. She turned on him a pair of great distressed eyes, which slowly filled with tears as she said softly: “No, Morten, you should not think that of me--you must not think that of me.” “I don’t; indeed I don’t,” he cried, with a laugh of mingled emotion and hardly suppressed exultation. He turned fully about, so that he lay supporting himself on his elbows, took her hands in both his, and looked straight into hers with his kind steel-blue eyes, which were excited and dreamy and exalted all at once. “Then you--you won’t mock at me if I tell you--?” “I know, Morten,” she answered gently, looking away from him at the fine white sand sifting through the fingers of her free hand. “You know--and you--oh, Fräulein Tony!” “Yes, Morten. I care a great deal for you. More than for any one else I know.” He started up, making awkward gestures with his arms, like a man bewildered. Then he got to his feet, only to throw himself down again by her side and cry in a voice that stammered, wavered, died away and rose again, out of sheer joy: “Oh, thank you, thank you! I am so happy! more than I ever was in all my life!” And he fell to kissing her hands. After a moment he said more quietly; “You will be going back to town soon, Tony, and my holidays will be over in two weeks; then I must return to Göttingen. But will you promise me that you will never forget this afternoon here on the beach--till I come back again with my degree, and can ask your Father--however hard that’s going to be? And you won’t listen to any Herr Grünlich meantime? Oh, it won’t be so long--I will work like a--like anything! it will be so easy!” “Yes, Morten,” she said dreamily, looking at his eyes, his mouth, his hands holding hers. He drew her hand close to his breast and asked very softly and imploringly: “And won’t you--may I--seal the promise?”