"Herr von Hamm does not think little of himself," said Richard drily.
"How did the man ever come to ask my daughter? He and Angela! What opposites!"
"Which, of course, you made clear to him."
"I reminded the gentleman that identity of moral and religious principles alone could render matrimonial happiness possible. I reminded him that Angela was an ultramontane, whose opinions would daily annoy him, while his modern opinions must deeply offend Angela. This I set before him briefly. Then I told him frankly and freely that I did not wish to make either him or Angela unhappy, and at this he went away angrily."
"You have done your duty," said Frank. "I am also of opinion that similar convictions in the great principles of life alone insure the happiness of married life."
When Richard came home, he wrote in his diary:
"June 4.—Unconditional surrender. What I supposed only to exist in the ideal world is realized in the daughter of an ultramontane. Angela, compared to our crinolines, our flirts, our insipid coquettes—how brilliant the light, how deep the shadow!
"My visits to that family have no longer a purpose. I feel they must be discontinued for the sake of my peace. I dare not dream of a happiness of which I am unworthy. But my future life will feel painfully the want of a happiness the possibility of which I did not dream. This is a punishment for presuming to penetrate the pure, glorious character of the Angel of Salingen."
He buried his face in his hands and leaned on the table. He remained thus a long time; when he raised his head, his face was pale, and his eyes were moist with tears.