PAGE 5
The House of Heine Brothers
by
“And if he were to speak, how should you answer him?”
“I should take time to think. I do not at all know what means he has for a separate establishment.” Then the subject was dropped between them for that time, and Isa, in her communications with her cousin, was somewhat more reserved than she had been.
“Isa, are you in love with Herbert?” Agnes asked her, as they were together in their room one night.
“In love with him? No; why should I be in love with him?”
“I think he is in love with you,” said Agnes.
“That is quite another thing,” said Isa, laughing. “But if so, he has not taken me into his confidence. Perhaps he has you.”
“Oh no. He would not do that, I think. Not but what we are great friends, and I love him dearly. Would it not be nice for you and him to be betrothed?”
“That depends on many things, my dear.”
“Oh yes, I know. Perhaps he has not got money enough. But you could live here, you know, and he has got some money, because he so often rides on horseback.” And then the matter was dropped between the two sisters.
Herbert had given English lessons to the two girls, but the lessons had been found tedious, and had dwindled away. Isa, nevertheless, had kept up her exercises, duly translating German into English, and English into German; and occasionally she had shown them to her cousin. Now, however, she altogether gave over such showing of them, but, nevertheless, worked at the task with more energy than before.
“Isa,” he said to her one day,–having with some difficulty found her alone in the parlour, “Isa, why should not we go on with our English?”
“Because it is troublesome,–to you I mean.”
“Troublesome. Well; yes; it is troublesome. Nothing good is to be had without trouble. But I should like it if you would not mind.”
“You know how sick you were of it before;–besides, I shall never be able to speak it.”
“I shall not get sick of it now, Isa.”
“Oh yes you would;–in two days.”
“And I want you to speak it. I desire it especially.”
“Why especially?” asked Isa. And even she, with all her tranquillity of demeanour, could hardly preserve her even tone and quiet look, as she asked the necessary question.
“I will tell you why,” said Herbert; and as he spoke, he got up from his seat, and took a step or two over towards her, where she was sitting near the window. Isa, as she saw him, still continued her work, and strove hard to give to the stitches all that attention which they required. “I will tell you why I would wish you to talk my language. Because I love you, Isa, and would have you for my wife,–if that be possible.”
She still continued her work, and the stitches, if not quite as perfect as usual, sufficed for their purpose.
“That is why I wish it. Now will you consent to learn from me again?”
“If I did, Herbert, that consent would include another.”
“Yes; certainly it would. That is what I intend. And now will you learn from me again?”
“That is,–you mean to ask, will I marry you?”
“Will you love me? Can you learn to love me? Oh, Isa, I have thought of this so long! But you have seemed so cold that I have not dared to speak. Isa, can you love me?” And he sat himself close beside her. Now that the ice was broken, he was quite prepared to become an ardent lover,–if she would allow of such ardour. But as he sat down she rose.
“I cannot answer such a question on the sudden,” she said. “Give me till to-morrow, Herbert, and then I will make you a reply;” whereupon she left him, and he stood alone in the room, having done the deed on which he had been meditating for the last two years. About half an hour afterwards he met her on the stairs as he was going to his chamber. “May I speak to your father about this,” he said, hardly stopping her as he asked the question. “Oh yes; surely,” she answered; and then again they parted. To him this last-accorded permission sounded as though it carried with it more weight than it in truth possessed. In his own country a reference to the lady’s father is taken as indicating a full consent on the lady’s part, should the stern paterfamilias raise no objection. But Isa had no such meaning. She had told him that she could not give her answer till the morrow. If, however, he chose to consult her father on the subject, she had no objection. It would probably be necessary that she should discuss the whole matter in family conclave, before she could bring herself to give any reply.