PAGE 14
The House of Heine Brothers
by
Isa, as she passed through the bank, smiled sweetly on her father, and then smiled sweetly at her lover, nodding to him with a pleasant kindly nod. If he could have heard all that had passed at that interview, how much more he would have known of her than he now knew, and how proud he would have been of her love. No word was spoken as she went out, and then she walked home with even step, as she had walked thither. It can hardly be said that she was disappointed, as she had expected nothing. But people hope who do not expect, and though her step was even and her face calm, yet her heart was sad.
“Mamma,” she said, “there is no hope from Uncle Hatto.”
“So I feared, my dear.”
“But I thought it right to try–for Herbert’s sake.”
“I hope it will not do him an injury in the bank.”
“Oh, mamma, do not put that into my head. If that were added to it all, I should indeed be wretched.”
“No; he is too just for that. Poor young man! Sometimes I almost think it would be better that he should go back to England.”
“Mamma, if he did, I should–break my heart.”
“Isa!”
“Well, mamma! But do not suppose that I mean to complain, whatever happens.”
“But I had been so sure that you had constrained your feelings!”
“So I had,–till I knew myself. Mamma, I could wait for years, if he were contented to wait by my side. If I could see him happy, I could watch him and love him, and be happy also. I do not want to have him kneeling to me, and making sweet speeches; but it has gone too far now,–and I could not bear to lose him.” And thus to her mother she confessed the truth.
There was nothing more said between Isa and her mother on the subject, and for two days the matter remained as it then stood. Madame Heine had been deeply grieved at hearing those last words which her daughter had spoken. To her also that state of quiescence which Isa had so long affected seemed to be the proper state at which a maiden’s heart should stand till after her marriage vows had been pronounced. She had watched her Isa, and had approved of everything,–of everything till this last avowal had been made. But now, though she could not approve, she expressed no disapproval in words. She pressed her daughter’s hand and sighed, and then the two said no more upon the matter. In this way, for two days, there was silence in the apartments in the Ludwigs Strasse; for even when the father returned from his work, the whole circle felt that their old family mirth was for the present necessarily laid aside.
On the morning of the third day, about noon, Madame Heine returned home from the market with Isa, and as they reached the landing, Agnes met them with a packet. “Fritz brought it from the bank,” said Agnes. Now Fritz was the boy who ran messages and swept out the office, and Madame Heine put out her hand for the parcel, thinking, not unnaturally, that it was for her. But Agnes would not give it to her mother, “It is for you, Isa,” she said. Then Isa, looking at the address, recognised the handwriting of her uncle. “Mamma,” she said, “I will come to you directly;” and then she passed quickly away into her own room.
The parcel was soon opened, and contained a note from her uncle, and a stiff, large document, looking as though it had come from the hands of a lawyer. Isa glanced at the document, and read some few of the words on the outer fold, but they did not carry home to her mind any clear perception of their meaning. She was flurried at the moment, and the words, perhaps, were not very plain. Then she took up her note, and that was plain enough. It was very short, and ran as follows: