“I do not find it dull,” said Hamilton; “and I should not go so often to the theatre if I had not heard that it was the best means to perfect one’s self in a foreign language. By-the-by, I received a letter from my father this morning, and he desires me forthwith to engage a German master; he expects me to write German as well as English when I return home, and says I should study German literature. I wished to have asked Mr. Rosenberg to recommend me to someone, for as I am not quite a beginner, I should like to have a person really capable of directing my studies during the winter. One can read a good deal in six months when the dictionary is no longer in requisition.”
“If you wish to study French, Hildegarde could give you instructions, for she understands it thoroughly; but German has been rather neglected in her education. I really think I must let her take lessons at the same time with you.”
“I shall be very much obliged to you,” said Hildegarde, bestowing, for the first time, a look of regard on her step-mother; “very much obliged indeed.”
“That will be delightful,” said Hamilton, eagerly. “I have always received my German lessons with my sister, and am particularly fond of learning in company.”
“May I not learn too, mamma?” asked Crescenz, timidly.
“What for?” asked her mother, with a laugh. “Have you not already secured a good husband, who is satisfied with you as you are? It would be time and money thrown away, and you have enough to do preparing your trousseau at present. The workwoman comes to-morrow, and we must then begin in earnest. As to Hildegarde, she has thrown away an opportunity which I hope she may not hereafter regret. Husbands will not fall down from heaven to be picked up just when she is in the humour to marry; she must try in every way to improve herself now, as a time may come when she may be obliged to give instruction. Life is precarious; if anything should happen to your father——”
“My father!” exclaimed Hildegarde, anxiously. “Has he been complaining lately? Do you fear a return of——”
“Your anxiety is unnecessary; he is at present perfectly well,” answered her mother dryly. “I wish, when I am really suffering, you would sometimes show a little of the attention and anxiety which you bestow at times so unnecessarily on him; it would become you better, Hildegarde, than the cold heartlessness which you evince for everything that concerns me. Crescenz is quite different, and therefore I feel for her as if she were my own child.”
“But, mamma,” said Crescenz, in a very low voice, “you are always kind to me!”
“Am I not kind to Hildegarde?”