'I would not have a kreutzer of it—neither, I am sure, would Heinrich!' exclaimed Ernestine, emphatically.
'Neither of you would be consulted in the matter. But now, Herminia, will you brave the prospect of poverty—a life of utter dependence—go back to England as a governess, perhaps?'
'Yes,' said the girl proudly; 'I would brave anything.'
'You love some one else!' exclaimed her aunt.
'I have never said so,' replied Herminia, with a perceptible tremor in her sweet voice; 'but no doubt it is this fortune of which you speak that Heinrich wants.'
'Did he want it when you were in your cradle, and he was carrying his satchel at Bonn?'
'I should think not; but he may want it now, after some years spent in the army.'
'Shame! you forget yourself, Herminia—forget that you speak of your own cousin—of my son. It is much more likely that some adventurous friend, some acquaintance, whom you have picked up here is thinking of your fortune, than my dear Heinrich.'
The old lady's eyes were actually filled with tears, and after a pause she said:
'I regret, Herminia, that I ever sent you to England.'