“Indeed!” cried his mother, looking inquisitively from one to the other; “indeed!” She turned to Hamilton, who stood beside her, and whispered, “I shall not be five minutes dressing; you will greatly oblige me by remaining here until I return.”
Hamilton made no answer; waited, however, only until she was fairly out of sight, and then, nodding good-humouredly to Zedwitz, walked into the house. Madame Rosenberg’s ideas of five minutes for dressing were not very defined. She was one of those persons who, at home the most incorrigible of slatterns, when they go out make it a point to be almost overdressed. Hamilton, Crescenz, and Major Stultz had long been waiting for her before she appeared, and to begin breakfast without her would have been an unpardonable offence. The delays seemed to have no end, for, as she approached the table, Zedwitz, who had been standing apart, went towards her and requested to speak a few words to her alone. Major Stultz proposed waiting until after breakfast, but Zedwitz persisted in his request with a seriousness which scarcely admitted of a refusal, and the audience was accordingly granted. Hamilton wished to look at Hildegarde, but he refrained: had he done so, his conjectures might have taken another turn, for surely had Hildegarde imagined herself the subject of conversation, she could not have leaned so calmly on her elbow without exhibiting the slightest particle of emotion! Crescenz did not seem to think her sister’s imperturbability a conclusive argument—her eyes anxiously followed her step-mother’s form, and nothing but the shortness of the conference and ocular demonstration that they were simply arranging accounts, could have convinced her that she had been mistaken in her supposition that Zedwitz was formally asking permission to pay his addresses to her sister. She had dressed in a room at the front of the house, and from the window had seen them standing at the spring together. Zedwitz had spoken long and eagerly, and Hildegarde had apparently listened very calmly, but with evident interest, to what he had said. Her answer was short and decided, and she had left him abruptly to interfere between her brothers, who were flinging the remains of their bread and milk at each other. It had cost both sisters considerable trouble to purify their garments before their mother saw them.
A small carriage was now drawn up to the front of the house, and a youthful peasant led out a young, strong-built gray horse, and began to arrange the harness. Zedwitz advanced quietly towards the party, and surprised them not a little by saying that he was about to take leave of them—he did not feel well, and would return to Seon.
“You are ill!” cried Hamilton, starting up from the bench where he had been reclining; “you are ill, and think of returning alone!—that must not be allowed. I am quite ready to accompany you.”
“It is not necessary,” replied Zedwitz, laying his hand heavily on his arm, while he continued to take leave of the others, and hoped their tour might prove in every respect agreeable. “The fact is,” he said, drawing Hamilton towards the little carriage, which it appeared had been got ready for him; “the fact is, I am ill in mind, but not in body. Hildegarde has refused my suit so decidedly that I dare not renew it. The best thing I can now do is to return to Seon, and perhaps I may arrive in time to prevent my sister from speaking to my father. My rash haste may have injured my cause. How could I expect her to get accustomed to my ugliness and to care for me in so short a time?”
“I think,” said Hamilton, “it is more than probable that her fear of the opposition of your family may have caused her refusal.”
“Not a bit of it; she never referred to my family, nor, indeed, had I time to mention them. She said she liked me very well as an acquaintance, but nothing more; she was sorry if her manner had led me to think otherwise. Now I was obliged, in justice, to exonerate her from even a shadow of coquetry, which in this case was disagreeable, as it was tantamount to charging myself with egregious vanity; but the most annoying and disheartening thing in the whole business was her coolness and decision of manner; it led me at once to form the conclusion that I was not the first person who had spoken to her on the same subject. Do you think it possible that her affections are already engaged?”
“I neither think it possible nor even probable. Why, she has not left school more than two months.”
“Her sister left school at the same time, is a year younger, and yet has contrived to fall in love with you, and to promise to marry another in exactly half the time,” said Zedwitz, bitterly.
“Pray do not imagine anything of that kind,” said Hamilton, colouring deeply; “she is merely one of those soft, yielding sort of beings, who, with a more than sufficiency of vanity and coquetry in their nature, are ready to fancy themselves and others in love without rightly knowing what the feeling is. This Hildegarde is worth a hundred such. I like her decision of character, and she is certainly very handsome.”