"It affords me great pleasure to see you take so deep an interest in the welfare of my uncle. He is already interested in you; I have often written to him of the house and the family where I have found such a friendly welcome, and it would delight him to hear that I had formed a--"
Again he was on the way to a proposal. Gretchen sprang up despairingly, rushed to the open piano, and began to play. She under-estimated the perseverance of her suitor, for the next moment he stood at her side, listening attentively.
"Ah, the Longing Waltz! My favorite piece! Yes, yes; music, far better than words, expresses the longings of the heart--is that not so, dear Margaret?"
Gretchen saw that everything conspired against her to-day. This happened to be the only piece she could play without notes, and she could not venture to rise and fetch her music, for the assessor's manner plainly indicated that he was only awaiting a pause in the playing to give utterance to the emotions of his heart. She therefore rattled off the Longing Waltz with all her might, and to the time of a military march. The discord was horrible, a string snapped, but the tumult was loud enough to thwart any attempt at a declaration of love.
"Is fortissimo proper in a sentimental piece like this?" interposed the assessor at the top of his voice. "I think it should be played in pianissimo."
"I prefer to play it in fortissimo," retorted Gretchen, thumping still more forcibly at the keys. A second string broke.
The assessor grew nervous. "You will ruin this splendid instrument," he said, in his loudest key.
"There are plenty of piano-tuners in the world," cried Gretchen; "I want to help one of them;" and seeing the assessor's discomfiture, she banged at the keys with all her might, and coolly sacrificed a third string. This proved effectual. Hubert saw that speech would be impossible to him to-day, and he beat a retreat, vexed at the girl's coquetry, but still with unshaken confidence in himself and in the final success of his suit. This wilful young lady had nursed him so tenderly when threatened with that lung-fever, and only an hour ago she had called him talented, and reproached him for his lack of self-confidence! Her obstinacy was indeed incomprehensible, but she loved him in spite of all.
When he was gone, Margaret rose and closed the piano. "Three strings are broken," she said, regretfully, and yet with an air of great satisfaction; "but I have kept him from proposing, and papa can arrange matters so that he never will." She then seated herself at her work-table, took from one of its drawers the "History of Ancient Germany," and was soon absorbed in its contents.