“Oh, because—because—she knows that—I—that you—”
“In fact,” said Hamilton, “you have told her of my inexcusable conduct the day we were on the alp.”
“No,” replied Crescenz, blushing deeply, “I have only told her that you cannot marry without your father’s consent—that the younger sons of English people cannot marry—just what you told me yourself.”
“The recollection of that day will cause me regret as long as I live,” said Hamilton, blushing in his turn; “thoughtless words on such a subject are quite unpardonable. I hope you have forgotten all I said!”
“I cannot forget,” said Crescenz, looking intently into the street to hide her emotion—“I cannot forget—it was the first time I had ever heard anything of that kind, and was so exactly what I had imagined in every respect.”
Hamilton bit his lip, and replied gravely: “It was the novelty alone which gave importance to my words; I am convinced, had you considered for a moment, you would have laughed at me as I deserved. Major Stultz must often have said——”
“Major Stultz,” said Crescenz, contemptuously, “never speaks of anything but how comfortably we shall live together, and what we shall have for dinner, and how many servants we shall be able to keep, and all those sorts of things, which make it impossible to forget one year of his age, or one bit of his ugliness.”
“He is a very good-natured man,” said Hamilton, “and Zedwitz told me, has been a very distinguished officer.”
“You are just beginning to talk like Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz, impatiently, “and from you, who are the cause of my unhappiness, I will not bear it.”
“The cause of your unhappiness!” repeated Hamilton, slowly; “if I really could believe that possible, nothing would induce me to remain an hour longer in this house.”