"I? Sell out? My intention is to carry out every wish of my dear uncle's."
James, at this moment catching sight of Frederik's black-bordered handkerchief, said sceptically:
"I hope so," and vanished into the office with a handful of papers.
He wished as few words as possible with Frederik. He could not bear to look at him—for the thought that to-morrow Kathrien was to marry the man and go out of his own life for all time was almost more than he could stand. He had watched her grow from a lovely little girl to a lovelier woman—he understood her as did no one else, not even Oom Peter, who, too, had loved her so devotedly.
And he felt that she loved him, though no word had ever been said. And now—he must let her go—he must let this worthless fellow take her—to a life of unhappiness; for knowing the sweet soul of Kathrien, who could doubt that such a marriage would bring her unhappiness?
Frederik's eyes rested thoughtfully on Hartmann's retreating figure. Then a slight sound attracted his attention, and he looked up in time to see Kathrien coming downstairs. Her simple white dress held no touch of mourning, yet she was a wistful, pathetic little figure, full of sadness.
"Ah, Kitty! See——" (taking out the tickets as he spoke). "Here's the steamship tickets for Europe. I've arranged everything."
He took a step forward to meet her.
"Well, to-morrow's our wedding day, lievling, yes?"
"Yes," answered Kathrien in a breathless way.