"Well, since you are so dreadfully smitten with blindness, mon cher, it is a Christian duty on my part to open your eyes. Do you not see the girl's entirely altered manner? Have you never—But to what purpose is all this? In short, Anna Maria loves Stürmer!"
Another hearty laugh interrupted the old lady. But Anna Maria, with closed eyes, leaned against the door-post; the ground seemed to give way beneath her feet.
"Kurt Stürmer? Uncle Stürmer? But, my dear aunt," cried the young man, "he might almost be her father!"
"Is that a hindrance, Klaus?"
"No! I don't believe it, however. Shall we bet?"
Anna Maria straightened up. She was on the point of going in and saying, "Why do you argue? I do love him—yes! a thousand times, yes!" But she stood still; her brother's voice sounded so strangely altered.
"Aunt Rosamond, I cannot believe it!"
"Klaus! Have you not thought for a long time that it must happen some day?"
"Yes, yes! But—Ah! I have stood in fear of this hour, since the child is the only one to whom my heart clings; you do not know how much, perhaps, aunt!"
"Klaus,"—the old lady's voice was melting with tenderness—"my dear old lad, you are still young: why should there not be a happiness yet in store for you? I have often told you you ought to marry."