“I am quite at leisure,” replied Hamilton, following her towards the drawing-room. She walked directly to the window, and desired him so haughtily to “shut the door,” that he felt half inclined to be angry. After waiting some time in vain expectation that she would begin the conversation, he observed, with some pique at her apparent imperturbability—
“To what extraordinary event, or to what singular good fortune, am I indebted for this interview, mademoiselle?”
No sooner had he spoken than he perceived that her composure had been forced, that she was in fact struggling with contending emotions, and quite unable to utter a word. After some delay, she at last began in a constrained voice—
“Believe me, Mr. Hamilton, that nothing but my affection for my sister could have induced me to trespass on your time, or,” she added more naturally, “subject myself to your sneers.”
Hamilton remained silent, and she again commenced with evident effort. “You are aware that my sister’s feelings towards you are more favourable than——”
“Than yours?” he asked, interrupting her.
“I have not requested this interview to speak of my own feelings,” she answered, sternly and turning pale. “I wish to point out to you how ungenerous, how cruel your conduct has been to my gentle, confiding sister. You know the influence you have acquired over her—you are aware that she is on the eve of marriage with another, and that other person she has yet to learn to love; instead of pointing out to her any estimable qualities he may possess in order to reconcile her to her fate, you turn him on all occasions into ridicule, and—and—not content with changing her indifference for her future husband into positive dislike, you take every opportunity of paying her attentions, which, knowing the state of her feelings towards you, is a refinement of cruelty that you must acknowledge to be unpardonable.”
“You speak like a book, mademoiselle! Your affection for your sister makes you absolutely eloquent! but would it not have been better had you consented to marry Major Stultz, and so saved your gentle, confiding sister from this unwished-for connection? You would, no doubt, easily have learned to love him and esteem any amiable qualities he may possess!” He spoke calmly and ironically; but the idea of the beautiful creature before him, as the wife of Major Stultz, inflicted a pang of jealousy which sufficiently punished him for his impertinence. Hildegarde was perfectly unconscious of the feelings of her tormentor; he had intended to have irritated her, for her self-possession wounded his vanity, while her too evident dislike cut him to the quick. He failed, however, for the first time, and most completely; either her affection for her sister, or the consciousness of right, prevented her from exhibiting even impatience when she again spoke.
“You seem to have forgotten that Major Stultz’s proposal to me was made after a two-days’ acquaintance. I refused him because I did not like him, and I knew it could give no pain to a man whose mere object was to have a wife to manage his household concerns. It never occurred to me that he would turn, half an hour afterward, to my sister, and that my vehemence would only serve to make him more cautious, and her fate more certain. You know he applied to my step-mother, and wrote to my father. The answer was a letter, full of reproaches to me, and of entreaties and commendations to Crescenz, which, to her yielding nature, were irresistible; and I do believe, if given time, and were you not here, she might be reconciled to her lot. However little Major Stultz may have cared for Crescenz at first, it is impossible for him to remain long indifferent to so much goodness. I think he already begins to be sincerely attached to her; in time, gratitude and habit will enable her to return his affection, and they may, eventually, be very happy. At all events, my sister’s fate is now irrevocable.”
She paused for a moment, and then added: “Oh, Mr. Hamilton, be generous! Spare her! Leave Munich—or, at least, leave our house——”