I was so kindly entreated by the father and daughter to remain all night that I could not resist their invitation. I spent the following and two other days at Blumenwalde. The mornings were occupied at Herzfelde with the surveyors and plans for the new cottages,—the evenings in walking, music, and conversation, during which Joanna established her exclusive empire in my breast.
On the evening before my departure she seemed to me—so vain are men—in a melancholy mood. She said she had hoped I would have staid longer, and her father would miss me very much. When I assured her I hoped to return again very soon, she shook her head doubtfully, remarking that in the gay life of the capital I would soon forget my promise, and as she spoke thus she turned away from me, and it seemed to me that a tear shone in her dark blue eye. Enraptured at the discovery I confessed to her the feelings of my heart with all the eloquence which the inspiration of love could prompt; but what words could express my happiness when the lovely Joanna sunk trembling in my arms, and confirmed my fondest hopes by a silence more eloquent far than words.
Unable any longer to restrain my feelings I went to her father, and discovered to him my whole heart. I surprised him by the declaration, that I was not, as I had pretended, a friend of Mr Blum’s, but Mrs Milbirn’s nephew himself; but I begged him to keep the secret from his daughter, as I had formed a plan for agreeably surprising her.
Joanna here entered the room, and to change the conversation, her father inquired what she had done with her little jewel-box, saying that he had been looking for it in order to ascertain whether a broken chain had been mended, supposing that she would require some ornaments for to-morrow’s ball.
Joanna tried to hide the embarrassment which this question occasioned her, by saying she did not mean to put on any of these ornaments, as they were not very fashionable,
