“You require a great and most unnecessary sacrifice on my part, mademoiselle. Suppose I were able to convince you that my absence is unnecessary?”
“You cannot do so,” replied Hildegarde, with a slightly impatient gesture.
“I have listened to you with patience and expect in my turn to be heard,” said Hamilton, handing her a chair, which, however, she indignantly refused.
“Your sister has most probably told you——” he began.
“My sister has told me nothing,” cried Hildegarde, interrupting him angrily, “excepting that you said you could not marry, or even think of marriage! The conversation which preceded such a declaration I can imagine!”
“Indeed! It seems you have had experience in these matters.”
Hildegarde bit her lip and tapped with her foot on the floor, while Hamilton smiled provokingly, and watched her varying colour.
“Ungenerous, unfeeling Englishman!” she cried at length; “I—I see you are trying to put me into a passion—but I am not angry, not in the least, I assure you,” she said, seating herself on the chair he had before placed for her. “You said,” she added in a constrained voice, “you said you were able to convince me——”
“You have convinced me that you are a consummate actress!” cried Hamilton, contemptuously.
“I am no actress!” she exclaimed, starting from her chair with such violence that it fell to the ground with a loud crash. “I am no actress! For Crescenz’s sake, I have endeavoured to be calm, in the hope of making some impression on you, but you are even more thoroughly selfish than I imagined. This is the last time I shall ever speak to you!”