“I have considered nothing. All that I know is, I love her.”
“And what does she say?”
“She asks for time.”
“What!” he cried, lost in amazement, “have you proposed?”
“Yes,” I gasped, “and she asked me to give her time.”
“Does my wife know?”
“I believe she does.”
“And she has never dropped me a hint. Upon my word, this is not the first time things have happened in my house, right under my nose, which all the world has seen but me. But it’s out of the question. My plans are formed, and they don’t include your marriage with Conny. No. Your wife must be Theresa. You are made for each other. When I die, who do I leave behind me to keep the bank going? This has been on my mind for years. But when I got your father’s letter I instantly saw my way. You should marry Theresa, who would bring you a fortune to put into the concern, and Conny should wait until some eligible young man offered for her hand, and then I’d make him a partner. You two would carry on the business after my death. Conny is sure to marry sooner or later, she is too pretty to remain single. As to the objections you could make against marrying a woman for her money, I can anticipate them all by simply showing you that your partnership will be a handsome equivalent for the fortune she brings.”
“Too late! too late!” I muttered, looking at the moon.
“Why the deuce didn’t my wife speak to me about this nonsense?” asked my uncle, who was evidently fretting over her secret share in the matter. “But all women are alike. No matter which way the current runs, you’ll find them rowing against it. Why, surely she can’t see her way in your marriage with Conny?”