“But,” cried Gesina, “what can be the matter with her?”
“I do not know the rights of it all,” replied her sister. “On those matters Anna is very reserved; but what I know is that her parents will not consent to her marriage with van Nerekool.”
“Oh, she will soon get tired of Karang Anjer, and then we shall have her back again.”
“I think not; indeed she writes to tell me that it is her intention never to return. Her letter is so full of sorrow, so miserably despondent, it reads to me like a last farewell—as it were a parting for life. She writes to me as her best and truest friend, and beseeches me not to cast a stone at her should her despair prompt her to a step which will make the world scorn her memory. Mother dear, what am I to do, what can I do to relieve her—I wish I could go to see her at Karang Anjer!”
“My dear child,” said Mrs. Meidema quietly, “the very best thing you can do is to allude as little as possible, in your correspondence with Anna, to her attachment to van Nerekool. She has, as you yourself say, not taken you fully into her confidence; and from this you may conclude that there exist secrets which you cannot, without indiscretion, touch upon; and which it would only increase her pain to needlessly pry into. Time is the great healer, and it must have its soothing effect upon Anna in her distress. I know something of what has been going on, and I am in hopes that things may yet turn out well.”
“You know what has happened, mother?” cried Matilda, “do tell me all about it. I am so dearly fond of Anna, that anything which concerns her has, for me, the greatest interest.”
“Matilda,” replied Mrs. Meidema, “Anna, who I do not think herself knows just how matters stand, has thought it right to keep silent before you. She has, in my opinion, acted very wisely.”
“But, mother!”
“Yes, I say, she has acted very wisely in this matter, for she might perhaps have had to reveal to you a depth of wickedness which a young girl may very well remain ignorant of. You must allow me to follow her example. Just now you said, very wisely too, that money is not everything in the world. You were quite right, it is not. There now you see before you a family to which money is no object, which possesses moreover all other requisites for happiness, such as health, consideration, the highest position in our little society; and yet you see there is no happiness. No, money is not everything—But yet—”
As she said it, the poor woman heaved a deep sigh. The fact that she was sitting there with her daughters hard at work, showed plainly enough that the earthly dross was not altogether so indifferent to her as her words might seem to imply—and she hesitated to go on—her girls looked up at her with an inquiring glance.