"Do you mean because of the flowers?" "Yes. What lovely roses, and those in the glass--dandelions?" "The first this year," she answered. He did not look at them. He stood and fidgeted, as though he were thinking of something. "May I sing to you?" He said at last. "Yes, indeed." She left the flowers, in order to open the piano and screw down the music-stool, and then drew quietly back. After a long and subdued prelude, he began with the "Sunset Song," by Ole Olsen, very softly, as he had spoken and moved ever since he came in. Never had he sung more beautifully; he had greatly improved, but the voice was the same, nay, there was even more despair and suffering in it than when she had heard it for the first time. "Sorrow, sorrow, oh, I am lost!" She heard it again plainly. At the end of the first verse, she sat bending forward, and weeping bitterly. She had not even tried to control herself. He heard her and turned round, a moment afterwards she felt him approach her, it even seemed to her that he kissed her plait, certainly he had bent down over her, for she could feel his breath. But she did not raise her head, she dare not. He walked across the room, returned and then walked back again. Her agitation subsided, she sat immovable and waited. "May I be allowed to take you for a drive to-day?" she heard him say. She had known the whole morning that they would go for a drive together, so she was not surprised. Just as _that_ had now been fulfilled, so would the other be--everything. She looked up through her tears and smiled. He smiled too. "I will go and see about the horses," he said, and as she did not answer he left her. She went back to the flowers. So she had not been able to give them to him. She would throw away the dandelions. As she took them out of the glass, she recalled the words, "You have something real there." They had certainly not been said about the dandelions, but they had often since recurred to her. Was it strange that they should do so now? She let the dandelions remain. Aaroe stayed away a long time, more than an hour, but when he returned he was very cheerful. He was in a smart ladies' sledge, in the handsome furs which he had worn the day before; the most valuable ones that she had ever seen. He saluted with his whip, and talked and laughed with every one, old and young, who gathered round him while Ella put on her things. That was soon done; she had not many wraps, nor did she need them. He got down when she appeared, came forward, muffled her up and drove off at a trot. As they went he stooped over her and whispered, "How good of you to come with me." His voice was very genial, but there was something quite different about his breath. As soon as the handsome horses had slackened speed, he stooped forward again. "I have telephoned to Baadshaug to order lunch, it will be ready when we get there; you do not mind?" She turned, so as to raise her head towards him, their faces almost met.