Meanwhile, Fani and Emma were walking up and down by the river-side, talking with constantly increasing eagerness. Emma had never been so excited; she had had a tremendous surprise. Since Fani had left home, she had never lost sight of her hope that he would become a great artist. He had never mentioned the subject in his letters, and it had been more and more evident that Mrs. Stanhope meant to educate the two children, as she would have done her own, in various branches, without any view to a special training for a life-work. Emma feared that Fani would lose his ambition to be an artist, and she set herself to work to counteract this danger. She had heard of a book called the “Lives of Celebrated Painters,” and she did not rest till her aunt promised to procure it for her at Christmas; for she thought it would inspire Fani with fresh enthusiasm to learn how artists had become great and celebrated. She now brought the book with her, and told Fani about it, in the hope that it would serve as a spur to arouse his dormant energies. What was her astonishment when Fani pushed the book away, and broke out passionately:—
“No, no; I will not read it! I will try not to think of it at all! You see, Emma, I have a drawing lesson every day; only now of course I do not, while you are here on a visit. And the more I draw, the more I want to; I can do much better than I used to, and the teacher has told me several times that I can certainly learn to be an artist.”
Emma could not contain her joy at these words, and she cried out:—
“Now it’s all right, Fani! You can be a painter, and I am sure you will be a celebrated one, the most famous one in all the land. But why do not you tell Mrs. Stanhope directly that you want to do that and nothing else?”
Fani shook his head and looked very much depressed.
“It would be of no use. Mrs. Stanhope will not allow me to be an artist; I am sure of that. Once when we were walking, I said to her that I thought painting pictures was the greatest happiness a man could have; she said it was only a childish notion; and that when I grew up I should have very different ideas as to greatness and happiness. And since then she has taken me about the estate several times; for you know, Emma, that it is a very large property; great vineyards stretching for miles along the Rhine. She says there is nothing so desirable for a man as to own a large place, and to live on it; and I think she has the thought in her mind that she will keep me with her here on the estate; and of course it would be a great thing for me if she did. Just think of it. Always to live here as we do now; how terribly ungrateful I should be if I did not rejoice in such a prospect! Only—I must give up all idea of ever being an artist!” And Fani hung his head.