“Anna, don’t go too far!” roared van Gulpendam, beside himself with anger.
“Would you,” continued Anna, “would you have me deliberately widen the gap which is already growing between us? No, no, I shall not do that. All joy has been swept out of my life for ever; and I have now but one wish left, and that is that my image, pure and unsullied, may continue to live in his memory. I can never become his wife, that I know well; but my name at least shall remain with him as fair and as spotless as the remembrance of a blissful dream!”
“But, Anna,” persisted her mother, speaking in her most honeyed and winning tones, “but, Anna, my dear girl, why should you talk thus? Why should there be no joy for you in this life? Surely that is tormenting yourself quite needlessly.”
“Oh, mother!” cried the poor girl, “do spare me the pain and the sorrow of having to utter words which will be most distressing to you and most painful to my father to hear. No, no! Of happiness for me there can be no further question—of a union with van Nerekool, I must never again allow myself to think!”
“Ah,” sighed Laurentia, “if you would but—”
“Yes, mother, just so, if I could but—But I will not. Suppose, for a moment, that Charles were weak enough to yield to my persuasion. Suppose I could succeed in talking him over, and could get him to consent to your proposals. Why then, from that very moment, every tender feeling would be wiped clean out of my breast. If such a thing ever could be—why then, I would utterly despise a man who is ready to offer up his duty to his inclination; and who could be base enough to stoop to a crime, in order to win the girl upon whom he has set his heart.”
“Anna, not another word!” cried van Gulpendam, in the most threatening accents.
“But, father,” she continued, “surely I ought to tell you what my feelings are. I must give utterance to thoughts which seem to choke me! As certainly as I know that I wish him to keep a pure and stainless memory of me—so surely am I convinced that he also, on his part, desires nothing more fervently than that his name should dwell with me, as it does now, great, noble, and strictly upright! Oh, I could not, indeed, bear to face the life of utter desolation, which would be in store for me were I compelled to despise him whom now, above all human beings, I look up to as noble and great. No, no, if such a thing could ever come to pass—then my misery would be too great a burden to bear! Come what will, the memory of Charles shall always remain unsullied in my heart.”
Mrs. van Gulpendam could but heave a deep sigh, while her husband was trembling with suppressed rage.
At length he exclaimed, in the tones of a man who has fully made up his mind, “Let us cut this short, it has lasted too long. I take it then, Anna, that you absolutely and finally refuse to accede to your mother’s suggestion?”