"I did not say so, but that delicate white maiden with those dreamy dark eyes cannot surely be to your taste. And then her strange nun-like dress! I took her for a sister of mercy who had been called in to nurse you."
"She wants to go into a convent, she says," declared Max. "I shall have to fight a round battle with the lady abbess, the father confessor, and half-a-dozen reverends, before we two are joined together in matrimony."
"But, Max!" interrupted his father.
"Agnes is extremely delicate, sickly even," went on Max; "but there is nothing really serious the matter with her--mere nervous excitement. I shall soon make her hearty, or what am I a doctor for? She knows nothing about housekeeping, unfortunately."
"Well, as you are carrying out your marriage programme so faithfully," put in Brunnow, in a jesting tone, "how does it stand with the first, the principal clause--with the fortune you declared to be indispensable?"
The young surgeon looked a little disconcerted.
"Bah! I have found out that is not necessary. Do you think I can't provide for my wife and my home expenses? I certainly cannot reckon on any fortune here."
"Well, I must say you go very consistently to work," exclaimed his father. "All this is in direct contradiction to the views you have hitherto expressed. What has come to you, my good fellow?"
Max heaved a deep sigh.
"I don't know; but I believe the germ of idealism is sprouting in me. You have all your life been striving in vain to convert me. Agnes managed it in a few weeks; and as you have always found me painfully deficient in sentiment, I hope you will be enchanted at the change."