“You ask me, father, what are my plans for the future, and I must beg you to allow me to keep my intentions to myself. For the present moment I gladly accept the hospitality of the Steenvlaks. You know how fond I am of the two girls and how much I respect and admire their mother. But, as to the future, my plans are, at present, I must confess, very vague. I do not very well know what to say about them; and, even if I were ever so anxious to give you my confidence, I could hardly tell you what I intend to do. Of one thing, however, you may rest assured—whatever may happen, I shall never again be a source of trouble or expense to you.”
“Indeed!” replied van Gulpendam, still in his sneering tone. “Indeed! And so my daughter seems to fancy that she can step out into the wide world without a penny in her pocket! I am very curious to learn what impressions she may have formed of that world.”
“You must pardon me, father,” replied the young girl still very quietly; “but now you compel me to touch upon a subject which I feel is a very delicate one. You have given me an education which has but very poorly fitted me to provide for my own maintenance. Yes—I might, perhaps, earn something by giving music lessons; but here in Java I could not well do so without casting a reflection upon your name. To go to Holland and there have to roam about the streets in search of employment—the very thought is repugnant to my feelings. But all these are matters for future consideration.”
“Oh, you think so?” sneered van Gulpendam, “for future consideration! Now, it appears to me, that in such schemes, the earning of money ought to be the first and most important consideration.”
“Such being your opinion,” replied Anna with a sigh, but no less resolutely and calmly than before, “I must now come to business. I did not think I should ever have had to speak to you on this subject at all—indeed the matter would never have crossed my lips, had not necessity compelled me to speak out freely. Two years ago, you remember, we received the news that Grandmamma van Gulpendam had died at Gouda. The same mail which brought us the sad tidings of her death, brought me a letter forwarded by her lawyer. In that letter the dear old lady took a most affectionate leave of me and told me how much she regretted that she had never had the opportunity of seeing me or becoming acquainted with me. She informed me further that, in her will, she had left me the sum of 30,000 guilders, and that, as soon as I was nineteen, the money would be at my disposal. She begged me, however, not to mention the matter to you as she did not wish to deprive you of the pleasure of giving me that surprise on my nineteenth birthday. Her lawyer merely added a few words confirming my grandmother’s communication; and he went on to tell me that he had invested the capital in the 4½ per cents, and that, by the express desire of the deceased, the money was not to be realised. Well, the interest of this sum, which is mine and which you will hardly refuse to give me, is amply sufficient for my present wants. Next year I shall be nineteen and I shall then have the power to dispose of the capital. By that time I shall have made up my mind as to the manner in which I can most usefully employ it.”
All this, the young girl spoke so naturally and so quietly that both her parents, who latterly had gained some insight into the character of their daughter, understood perfectly well that they had to deal with a resolution which nothing could shake. They were, indeed, greatly surprised to find that Anna was so well informed as to the dispositions which her grandmother had made in her favour; but they felt that denial or resistance to her claim were alike impossible. Indeed her better nature began to prevail over the mother, and tears stood in her eyes as she said:
“Anna! poor child! what a terrible future you are laying up for yourself!”
“Mother,” was the girl’s reply, “a future more terrible than that which must await me here, I cannot possibly conceive. What worse misfortunes can overtake me? I defy Fortune to be more cruel to me in the time to come than she has already shown herself in the past.”
At these words van Gulpendam rose from the seat he had resumed. He put his hand to his throat as if to clear away something which was rising there and threatened to choke him. But, his was a tyrannical nature, and he at once repressed the natural emotion which, he feared, might overcome him. The very consciousness, indeed, of the fact that his child was so much purer, so much better and stronger than he was himself, was unbearable to him.
“Yes! yes!” he exclaimed, “that is all mighty fine—very fine and very romantic! Unfortunately it lacks common sense. We have now said all we have to say to each other and the upshot of it is that I stick to my resolution; and that to-morrow morning early, you leave for Karang Anjer.”