Part 31 (1/2)
”My dear,” said Recha, ”you had better confess all to your father. He has a right to know.”
Still the girl remained silent.
”Well, my child; who has stolen your heart?” asked the Rabbi, kindly.
”Father, I love Joseph Kierson,” said Kathinka, faintly, hiding her blus.h.i.+ng face upon the Rabbi's shoulder.
”What, my former pupil?” asked the Rabbi, astonished. ”I must have been blind not to have observed it. And does he love you?”
”I think he does,” she archly answered.
”But Joseph is poor,” returned her father. ”He has nothing and has as yet no profession. He is merely a student at the University.”
”But he has a brilliant intellect,” retorted Kathinka, proudly. ”I have heard you say a dozen times that he will achieve renown. It is one of your favorite maxims that a man must rise by his own exertions. Joseph is destined to rise.”
”How long has this understanding existed?” asked Mendel.
”We were fond of each other as children, when he first began his lessons at _cheder_,” replied the girl, earnestly; ”but it was only recently that he declared his love.”
”He found that you were surrounded by admiring youths and feared that you might be taken from him,” added her mother.
”And did you promise to be his wife?” asked the Rabbi.
”Oh, no, father. I could not do that without your consent. He did not even ask me. He simply told me that he deplored his ignorance and poverty and that it was his intention to study medicine and become a learned doctor that he might be worthy of obtaining my hand. That was all.”
”He could not have made it plainer. And what did you answer?”
”I encouraged him in his determination and told him I would wait.”
”And that is why he requested me to speak to his parents and obtain their consent to his pursuing a course of study, and that is why you took such an interest in his welfare and were so pleased when I told you that he had been admitted to the University.”
”Yes,” answered Kathinka, with radiant face.
”Do you know how long it will take before he has finished his course? He cannot expect to obtain his diploma in less than six years.”
”I know it,” replied Kathinka.
”And then it will be some time before his profession will enable him to support a wife.”
”I know it. I will wait.”
”Brave girl,” said Mendel, fondly. ”You are doing right and may he prove worthy of you.”
”Will it take so long?” asked the mother. ”You will then be twenty-four years old, Kathinka, and will be obliged to marry a poor man. Had you not better consider before refusing Goldheim? He is wealthy and quite learned.”
”I do not care for him,” replied the girl, quietly but with decision.
”You married father for love, did you not?”
”Yes,” said Mendel, replying for his wife. ”She took me although I was but a poor Talmud scholar without a kopeck that I could call my own.