"But, my good girl," said the mother, disconcerted, "how came it then, that he could imagine you sympathised so well together; it seems from his letter that he makes himself quite sure of your consent, and that you are very well suited to each other."
"Ah!" replied Petrea, blushing, and not without embarrassment, "there are probably two causes for that, and it was partly his fault and partly mine. In the country, where I met him, he was quite left to himself; nobody troubled themselves about him; he had ennui, and for that reason I began to find pleasure for him."
"Very noble," said Gabriele, smiling.
"Not quite so much so as you think," replied Petrea, again blushing, "because—at first I wished really to find pleasure for him, and then also a little for myself. Yes, the truth is this—that—I—had nothing to do, and while I busied myself about Mr. M., I did not think it so very much amiss to busy him a little about me; and for this reason I entered into his amusements, which turned upon all sorts of petty social tittle-tattle; for this reason I preserved apricots for him, I told stories to him, and sang to him in an evening in the twilight—'Welcome, O Moon!' and let him think if he would, that he was the moon. Mother, Gabriele, forgive me, I know how little edification there is in all this, it is quite too——but you cannot believe how dangerous it is to be idle, when one has an active spirit within one, and an object before one that——You laugh! God bless you for it! the affair is not worth anything more, for it is anything but tragic—yet it might become so, if on account of my sins I were to punish myself by marrying Mr. M. I should be of no worth to him, excepting as housekeeper and plaything, and this would not succeed in the long run; for the rest he does not love me, cannot love me seriously, and would certainly easily console himself for my refusal."
"Then let him console himself, and do not think any further on the affair," cried Gabriele, with animation.
"I am of Gabriele's opinion," said the mother; "for to marry merely to be married; merely to obtain a settlement, an establishment, and all that, is wrong; and, moreover, with your family relationships, the most unnecessary thing in the world. You know, my dear child, that we have enough for ourselves and for you, and a sphere of action suitable for you will present itself in time. Your father will soon return home, and then we can talk with him on the subject. He will assist us directly in the best way."
"I had, indeed, presentiments," said Petrea, with a sigh, "and hopes, and dreams, perhaps—of a way, of an activity, which would have made me useful and happy according to my own abilities. I make now much humbler demands on life than formerly; I have a much less opinion of myself than I had—but, oh! if I might only ally myself, as the least atom of light, to the beams which penetrate humanity at the same time that they animate the soul of man, I would thank God and esteem myself happy! I have made an attempt—you know, mother, and Gabriele—to express in a book somewhat of that which has lived in me and which still lives; you know that I have sent the manuscript to an enlightened printer for his judgment, and also—if his judgment be favourable—that he should publish it. If this should succeed, if a sphere of action should open itself to me in this way, oh! then some time or other I might become a more useful and happy being; should give pleasure to my connexions, and——"
Petrea was here interrupted by the arrival of a large packet directed to herself. A shuddering apprehension went through her; her heart beat violently as she broke the seal, and—recognised her own manuscripts. The enlightened, intelligent printer sent them back to her, accompanied by a little note, containing the pleasant tidings that he would not offer the merest trifle for the book, neither could he undertake the printing of it at his own cost.
"Then this path is also closed against me!" said Petrea, bowing her head to her hand that nobody might see how deeply she felt this. Thus then she had deceived herself regarding her talents and her ability. But now that this way also was closed against her—what should she undertake? Marriage with Mr. M. began again to haunt her brain. She stumbled about in the dark.
Gabriele would not allow, however, that the path of literature was closed against her; she was extremely excited against the printer. "He was certainly," she said, "a man without any taste."