"Yes, and then she has put by a pretty sum of money at the Wollnows', and her old father and mother at Thiessow,--you know, Herr Gotthold, we sailed over there once with the young master, and there was a terribly high sea outside, so that we got there as wet as cats, and old Lachmund thought we must really have had a ducking." "And then he made us a stiff glass of grog," said Gotthold. "And our young master drank a little too much, and played all sorts of pranks in the old man's long jacket, with his sou'wester on his head--that was a jolly time, Herr Gotthold." Jochen had lost the thread of his story, but Gotthold kindly prompted him, and he now went on to relate that the old couple, rich people for their station in life, who had kept a sort of inn in the large fishing village, at last wished to resign the sceptre they had so long and obstinately held to their only daughter, and give themselves up to repose for the rest of their days, on condition that she should instantly marry some good man. So Stine Lachmund, whom Jochen had visited in the kitchen at the same time that Gotthold had been calling upon her master and mistress, had reported, and asked Jochen whether he would be her husband. "For you see, Herr Gotthold," continued Jochen, "she don't take to everybody, and she has known me, as one might say, all my life, and knows I am an orderly, sober man, who understands how to take care of horses, knows enough about farming, and can even manage a boat, if it doesn't blow too hard." "Then so far everything would be perfectly suitable," said Gotthold, "but now we come to the principal thing: do you really love her?" "Yes, that's just it," replied Jochen thoughtfully. "She asked me herself last night, and what was I to say?" "The truth, Jochen, nothing but the truth." "I did, Herr Gotthold, I did tell the truth. 'Not yet,' I said, and then she laughed and said that would do no harm, all that would come right if the woman and the man were well-behaved. I must ask you, you would give me the right advice." "I?" "Yes, you would know about it; you had always been a good man, and--and--" "And?" "And if you had married our young lady, she would have been a great deal better off than she is now; yes, and, Herr Gotthold, I only saw her side face this morning through the window, as she sat alone in the carriage; but this I must say, she doesn't look over happy, and Stine says she has not much reason to. Do you think so too, Herr Gotthold?" "I don't know, I hope"--replied Gotthold, "people talk so much,--but we were speaking about your offer." "Yes, and what do you say now?" "What is there to be said? If you feel inclined, marry Stine, who is certainly a worthy, honest girl, and may you both be as happy and prosperous as you deserve."