Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part two - VII
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“Helge — my own darling boy.”
He raised his head and pushed her gently away from him:
“Jenny, that time in Rome I could have made you mine —
you wanted it yourself, for you believed that we could only
find happiness in a life together. I was not so sure, I suppose,
as I did not risk it. But here at home I have been wanting you
more than ever. I wanted you to be mine entirely, for I was
afraid of losing you, but I saw you were frightened every time
you understood that I was longing for you.”
She looked at him in awe. Yes, he was right — she had not
wished to admit it, but it was so.
“If I asked you now — this moment — would you consent?”
Jenny moved her lips; then came a quick and firm “Yes.”
Helge smiled sadly, kissing her hand: “Gladly, because
you wish to be mine? Because you cannot conceive of any
happiness unless you are mine and I am yours? Not only
because you want to be kind to me or don’t want to break your
word — tell me the truth.”
She threw herself down on his knee and sobbed: “Let me
go away for a time. I want to go up in the mountains. I
must recover myself. I want to be your Jenny, as I was in
Rome. I do want it, Helge, but I am so confused now. When
I am myself again I will write you to come, and I will be
your own Jenny again — yours only.”
“I am my mother’s son,” said Helge quietly. “We have
got estranged from one another. Will you not convince me
that I am everything in the world to you, the only man, more
than anything else? — more than your work and your friends,
to whom I felt you belonged more than to me — just as you feel
a stranger among the people I belong to.”
“I did not feel a stranger towards your father.”
“No, but my father and I are strangers to one another.
There is one interest — your work — which I cannot share
with you completely, and I know now that I should be jealous
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