marriage. And when I ask what it means, I am told that Madame Fontaine has set everything right, in the most wonderful manner, by saving Mr. Keller's life. Is this true?'
'Quite true. What do you think of Madame Fontaine?'
'Ask me that, David, to-morrow or the next day. My head is muddled by traveling—I have not made up my mind yet.'
'Have you seen Minna?'
'Seen her, and kissed her too! There's a girl after my own heart. I consider our scatter-brained friend Fritz to be the luckiest young fellow living.'
'If Minna was not going to be married,' I suggested, 'she would just do for one of your young-lady clerks, wouldn't she?'
My aunt laughed. 'Exactly what I thought myself, when I saw her. But you are not to make a joke of my young- lady clerks. I am positively determined to carry out that useful reform in the office here. However, as Mr. Keller has been so lately ill, and as we are sure to have a fight about it, I will act considerately towards my opponent—I won't stir in the matter until he is quite himself again. In the meantime, I must find somebody, while I am away, to take my place in the London house. The business is now under the direction of Mr. Hartrey. He is perfectly competent to carry it on; but, as you know, our excellent head-clerk has his old—fashioned prejudices. According to strict rule, a partner ought always to be in command, at the London business—and Hartrey implores me (if Mr. Keller is not well enough to take the journey) to send Mr. Engelman to London. Where is Mr. Engelman? How is it that I have neither heard nor seen anything of him?'
This was a delicate and difficult question to answer—at least, to my way of thinking. There was little prospect of keeping the poor old gentleman's sad secret. It was known to Fritz and Minna, as well as to Mr. Keller. Still, I felt an unconquerable reluctance to be the first person who revealed the disaster that had befallen him.
'Mr. Engelman is not in good health and spirits,' I said. 'He has gone away for a little rest and change.'
My aunt looked astonished.
'Both the partners ill!' she exclaimed. 'I remember Mr. Engelman, in the days when I was first married. He used to boast of never having had a day's illness in his life. Not at all a clever man—but good as gold, and a far more sensitive person than most people gave him credit for being. He promised to be fat as years grew on him. Has he kept his promise? What is the matter with him?'
I hesitated. My aunt eyed me sharply, and put another question before I had quite made up my mind what to say.
'If you can't tell me what is the matter with him, can you tell me where he is? I may want to write to him.'
I hesitated again. Mr. Engelman's address had been confidentially communicated to me, for reasons which I was bound to respect. 'I am afraid I can't answer that question either,' I said awkwardly enough.
'Good heavens!' cried my aunt, 'what does all this mystery mean? Has Mr. Engelman killed a man in a duel? or run away with an opera-dancer? or squandered the whole profits of the business at the gambling-table? or what? As she put these bold views of the case, we heard voices outside, followed by a gentle knock at the door. Minna entered the room with a message.
'Mamma has sent me, Mrs. Wagner, to ask at what time you would like to dine.'
'My dear, I am much obliged to your mother. I have only just breakfasted, and I can wait quite well till supper- time comes. Stop a minute! Here is my nephew driving me to the utmost verge of human endurance, by making a mystery of Mr. Engelman's absence from Frankfort. Should I be very indiscreet if I asked—Good gracious, how the girl blushes! You are evidently in the secret too, Miss Minna.
This made Minna's position simply unendurable. She looked at me appealingly. I did at last, what I ought to have done at first—I spoke out plainly.
'The fact is, aunt,' I said, 'poor Mr. Engelman has left us for awhile, sadly mortified and distressed. He began by admiring Madame Fontaine; and he ended in making her an offer of marriage.'
'Mamma was indeed truly sorry for him,' Minna added; 'but she had no other alternative than to refuse him, of course.'
'Upon my word, child, I see no 'of course' in the matter!' my aunt answered sharply.
Minna was shocked. 'Oh, Mrs. Wagner! Mr. Engelman is more than twenty years older than mamma—and (I am sure I pity him, poor man)—and
'Fat is a matter of taste,' my aunt remarked, more and more resolute in taking Mr. Engelman's part. 'And as for his being twenty years older than your mother, I can tell you, young lady, that my dear lost husband was twenty years my senior when he married me—and a happier couple never lived. I know more of the world than you do; and I say Madame Fontaine has made a great mistake. She has thrown away an excellent position in life, and has pained and humiliated one of the kindest-hearted men living. No! no! I am not going to argue the matter with you now; I'll wait till you are married to Fritz. But I own I should like to speak to your mother about it. Ask her to favor me by stepping this way for a few minutes, when she has nothing to do.'
Minna seemed to think this rather a high-handed method of proceeding, and entered a modest protest accordingly.
'Mamma is a very sensitive person,' she began with dignity.
My aunt stopped her with a pat on the cheek.
'Good child! I like you for taking your mother's part. Mamma has another merit, my dear. She is old enough to understand me better than you do. Go and fetch her.'
Minna left us, with her pretty little head carried high in the air. 'Mrs. Wagner is a person entirely without sentiment!' she indignantly whispered to me in passing, when I opened the door for her.
'I declare that girl is absolute perfection!' my aunt exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'The one thing she wanted, as I thought, was spirit—and I find she has got it. Ah! she will take Fritz in hand, and make something of him. He is one of the many men who absolutely need being henpecked. I prophesy confidently—their marriage will be a happy
