_Won't_ you tell me what is the matter, we are
such old friends--or is it that you must not tell me?" "The devil take
the _randyvoo_ and Mrs. Behrens' anxiety," cried Braesig, seizing
Hawermann's hand and shaking it vehemently over the hedge and amongst
the tall nettles that grew there, till the smart of the stings made them
both draw back. "I'll tell you, Charles. The parson's going to tell you
himself, so why shouldn't I? Fred Triddelfitz fell in love with you
sometime ago, most likely because of the good fatherly advice you have
often given him, and now it seems his love for you has passed on to your
daughter. Love always passes on, for example with me from your sister to
Mina." "Do be serious, Braesig!" "Am I not always in earnest, Charles,
when I speak of your sister and Mina?" "I am sure you are," cried
Hawermann, seizing his friend's hand again in spite of the nettles,
"but, tell me, what had Frank to do with it?" "I think that he must have
fallen in love with you too, and that his love has also passed on from
you to your daughter." "That would be a great pity," cried Hawermann, "a
very great pity. God only knows how it's to be stopped." "I'm not so
sure, Charles, that you're right in thinking it a misfortune, for he has
two estates * * *" "Don't talk about that, Braesig, but come in and tell
me all that you know."
As soon as Braesig had told as much as he knew of the affair, he set off
down the footpath that led to Rexow.
Pages:
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443