As he stood there, a gloomy feeling suddenly came over him, as he realised that what he said was about to happen. An abstract idea now put into words seemed more final. That is why he was grateful for Anne's support, her expression of true, unconditional love and loyalty, and even her touch. He didn't know how she always did it, but she never failed to reassure him and put a smile on his face.
"Oh Anne," he sighed, trusting her like no other, knowing that he could be himself with her, and drop if only for a moment the mask of a tough, intransigent, irascible old devil of whom the Pilgrims spoke but in whispers. He didn't elaborate, he just stood there, in the comforting aura that surrounded her, drawing strength from it. "Yes, we shall celebrate their return with most spectacular festivities and thereafter your wedding." A smile returned upon his features again, "As for your betrothal I'll leave it to you and master Zeeman to decide when you wish to break happy news."