Miss Betty thought that if people in general would show more indignation when an engagement was broken off, as so often happened, perhaps young people would be more cautious in these matters.
Cousin Hans, on the other hand, was of opinion that when a fiancé discovered, or even suspected, that he had made a mistake, and that what he had taken for love was not the real, true, and genuine article, he was not only bound to break off the engagement with all possible speed, but it was the positive duty of the other party, and of all friends and acquaintances, to excuse and forgive him, and to say as little as possible about the matter, in order that it might the sooner be forgotten.
Miss Betty answered hastily that she did not think it at all the right thing that young people should enter into experimental engagements while they keep a look out for true love.
This remark greatly irritated Cousin Hans, but he had no time to reply, for at that moment the captain rose from the table.
There was something about Miss Schrappe that he really could not endure; and he was so much absorbed in this thought that, for a time, he almost forgot the melancholy intelligence that the beloved one—Miss Beck—was leaving town to-morrow.
He could not but admit that the captain’s daughter was pretty, very pretty; she seemed to be both domestic and sensible, and it was clear that she devoted herself to her old father with touching tenderness. And yet Cousin Hans said to himself: “Poor thing, who would want to marry her?”
For she was entirely devoid of that charming helplessness which is so attractive in a young girl; when she spoke, it was with an almost odious repose and decision. She never came in with any of those fascinating half-finished sentences, such as “Oh, I don’t know if you understand me—there are so few people that understand me—I don’t know how to express what I mean; but I feel it so strongly.” In short, there was about Miss Schrappe nothing of that vagueness and mystery which is woman’s most exquisite charm.
Furthermore, he had a suspicion that she was “learned.” And everyone, surely, must agree with Cousin Hans that if a woman is to fulfil her mission in this life (that is to say, to be a man’s wife) she ought clearly to have no other acquirements than those her husband wishes her to have, or himself confers upon her. Any other fund of knowledge must always be a dowry of exceedingly doubtful value.
Cousin Hans was in the most miserable of moods. It was only eight o’clock, and he did not think it would do to take his departure before half-past nine. The captain had already settled himself at the table, prepared to begin the sham-fight. There was no chance of escape, and Hans took a seat at his side.
Opposite to him sat Miss Betty, with her sewing, and with a book in front of her. He leaned forward and discovered that it was a German novel of the modern school.