Crescenz blushed, stammered, and looked anxiously towards her sister.
“No,” said Hildegarde, courageously, “you are not kind to me; perhaps I do not deserve it. I have no right to expect you to love me, but I have a right to expect you to be just.”
“I was disposed to be more than just to you at first, Hildegarde, if you allowed me. Mr. Hamilton shall be judge between us.”
“Excuse me,” said Hamilton, “I do not feel competent to give an opinion on such a subject.”
“Chance has, however, placed you exactly in a position to act as umpire; we must be satisfied with your decision, because we know you to be an unbiassed looker-on. My step-daughters were with me but a few weeks before I met you at Seon; since that time you have been constantly with us. Hildegarde, shall I go on?”
Hildegarde murmured something about “strangers” and “family dissensions.”
“Mr. Hamilton is no longer a stranger; and as to the dissensions, such as they are, he has been a witness to them. For my part, I should like to explain, but if you acknowledge that you have been unjustly and unnecessarily prejudiced against me, I shall be silent.”
“Mr. Hamilton is not so unbiassed an arbitrator as you suppose,” observed Hildegarde, looking up steadily while she leaned on the table.
Madame Rosenberg looked from one to the other with a puzzled air, until Hildegarde added: “He will find it difficult not to lean to your side, and take your part, even if he wished to be just, because he dislikes me personally.”
“Another argument against you, Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, triumphantly. “Why should he dislike you more than another, if you were not less amiable? Your own words condemn you!”