Twilight had already gathered, and the scent of mown clover and meadow land was wafted over the fields, while birds winged their way to a neighbouring coppice, there to spend the evening and the night according to their wont.
Betuska seemed to be already quite easy in mind.
Only as it were involuntary she hinted that she was looking forward to next Sunday, and glanced up at uncle’s eyes to see what he thought of it. But Uncle John seemed as if he had not paid much attention: at first he was slightly abstracted, then he smiled and kissed Betuska.
And Betuska was soon as she had been before; she even jested a little-aye, even hinted that next Sunday she would put on a new dress, which she hoped uncle would like, and think suited her.
After that Uncle John hinted, only as it were involuntarily, that on Sunday he would not be at home.
A pang went to Betuska’s heart, but she made as though it were a laughing matter to her.
“Certainly I cannot guess where you are going”, she said, half jestingly.
“And perhaps I don’t mean to tell you”, said Uncle John, and pressed her hand more warmly than before.
“I will guess in what direction you are going”, and she guessed, pointing with her hand in different directions, until at last she pointed as if by accident in the direction of the place where uncle was to go on Sunday.
“Come, come, I will tell you no more”, said uncle, and kissed her mouth to prevent hearing any further questions.
But Betuska now apparently meant to have her own way. She said she could never bear to await Sunday for she would not dare to be looking in the direction of the place whither uncle had to go.
Uncle John now slightly hesitated, for he was afraid of occasioning her superfluous anxiety. He already consoled himself in fancy by picturing how on his return he would communicate his message to her, and tell her how he meant very soon to take her home with him to his own farm, with the words, “You see, in this farm, you are mistress, and my wife. I am merely going for a walk to Brizoff”, he said, and as if to make up for his reticence, he added, “I must do it to please my father.”
Betuska had heard enough: more she did not wish to know. All the blood in her body crowded to her heart, and in that heart resounded something like the tolling of a funeral bell. But she
