“Britomarte, dearest, I am sorry that I hurt you; I would not have done it for a kingdom, if I had known it.”
“I am sure you would not, darling!—sure you would not! Say no more about it, love; but tell me of your own father, who cannot come under my severe category because I do not know him; and tell me of that wonderful brother whom you idolize so much, and whom I have never seen.”
“My father and my brother,” murmured the minister’s daughter, as at the memory of cherished home affections—“my dear father and dear brother! Ah! Britomarte, if you had known them you would never have been a man-hater! When you do know them you will cease to be one!”
“Then a miracle will be performed,” said the beauty. “But tell me, are they coming to the commencement?”
“I am not sure. That is to say, I know that one of them will come to fetch me home, for my father wrote to say so; but I am not sure which. Perhaps both may come. I hope they may. I want my dear father to be present to-day. A triumph is no triumph to me unless he witnesses it; and oh! I am so impatient to see my dear brother. I have not seen him, you know, since he left us, five years ago, for Gottengen.”
“Your brother is studying for holy orders, I think you told me.”
“Oh, yes. He has a genuine call to the ministry of the gospel if ever any man had one in this world. He has sacrificed the most brilliant prospects of earthly success to obey that call.”
“How is that, my dear?”
“Oh, why you know he is my father’s only son, and except myself, his only child, for there are but two of us, my brother and myself. Justin is ten years older than I am, however, since I was but sixteen in May, and he will be twenty-six in August.”
“Yes; but about the sacrifice he made, my dear?”