I looked across at Susanna; she was crimson.
There was a short silence, during which every one ruminated over what had passed, until the summer day's drowsiness became too overpowering, and the minister and the sheriff, who were both accustomed to take an after-dinner nap, proposed that every one should seek a shady place and rest for an hour.
After what had passed at table I felt utterly miserable.

They had allowed so offensive an opinion about my father to escape, that it was torture to me to remain any longer in their company.
A little beyond the house, the hill sloped down into a narrow valley, with birches and willows on the ridge on both sides, and among them there flowed over the flint stones a clear, twinkling little brook, in which glided a trout or two.

While the others slept, I went up along the bank, and lay down to brood in solitude over my sorrow.
I do not know how long I had lain thus; but when I looked up, Susanna sat there in great agitation.

She thought they had behaved badly towards me, she said, and then, as though she could not bear to see me distressed, she silently stroked the hair back from my forehead again and again.
There was a warmth in the little hand and an eloquence in her face as she struggled to keep back her tears, that my heart, so hungering after affection, could not withstand.
I do not know how it came about, but I only remember that I stood and pressed her passionately to my heart, with my cheek against hers, and begged her to love me, only a little, and I would love her without measure the whole of my life.

I remember, too, that she answered "Yes," and that we both cried.
A little while after we stood hand in hand, smiling and looking at one another.