“Ah, I supposed so;—just as you might ask me to give you a new ribbon.”
“But uncle, I never did ask you to give me a new ribbon. I never asked you to give me anything for myself; nor do I ask this for myself.”
“Do you think that if I could do it,—which of course I can’t,—I would not sooner do it for you, who are my own flesh and blood, than for him, who is a stranger?”
“Nay; he is no stranger. He has sat at your desk and obeyed your orders for nearly four years. Papa says that he has done well in the bank.”
“Humph! If every clerk that does well,—pretty well, that is,—wanted a partnership, where should we be, my dear? No, my dear, go home and tell him when you see him in the evening that all this must be at an end. Men’s places in the world are not given away so easily as that. They must either be earned or purchased. Herbert Onslow has as yet done neither, and therefore he is not entitled to take a wife. I should have been glad to have had a wife at his age,—at least I suppose I should, but at any rate I could not afford it.”
But Isa had by no means as yet done. So far the interview had progressed exactly as she had anticipated. She had never supposed it possible that her uncle would grant her so important a request as soon as she opened her mouth to ask it. She had not for a moment expected that things would go so easily with her. Indeed she had never expected that any success would attend her efforts; but, if any success were possible, the work which must achieve that success must now commence. It was necessary that she should first state her request plainly before she began to urge it with such eloquence as she had at her command.
“I can understand what you say, Uncle Hatto.”
“I am glad of that, at any rate.”
“And I know that I have no right to ask you for anything.”
“I do not say that. Anything in reason, that a girl like you should ask of her old uncle, I would give you.”