"Hm!" said the old man, clearing his throat. "I yield, thou yieldest, he yields, she--will not yield! She is a perverse little monkey--pardon. But it is no use mincing matters. She takes it from her father. He was a splendid man of business, but as soon as his feelings were concerned, away with prudence, wisdom, calculation, and what not. Oh, ta, ta! But here we are."
Mrs. Baumhagen received them very quietly, Gertrude was not with her.
"She is in her room," she said to Linden, as he looked round for her. "She expects you."
He found her in the deep window. There was no lamp in the room, and the light from the fire played on the carpet, "Gertrude," he said, "how can I thank you!" And he took her hands, which burned in his like fire.
"For what?" she asked.
"For everything, Gertrude! You were quiet with your mother?" he added, quietly, as she was silent.
"Perfectly so," she replied; "I thought of you. But I am determined not to have a marriage settlement."
"You foolish girl. I might be unfortunate and have bad harvests and things of that sort--then you would suffer too."
She nodded and smiled.
"To be sure, and I would help you with all I possess. And if we have bad harvests and nothing, nothing will succeed, and we have nothing more in the world, then--" she stopped and looked at him with her happy, tear-stained eyes--"then we will starve together, won't we, you and I?"