“I should think it must mean a great deal less,” said Hamilton, laughing, while Hildegarde, after a moment’s consideration, placed her hand in his, and unreservedly returned his firm pressure.
“Ah! here comes the Major,” cried Madame Rosenberg, as a slight knock was heard at the drawing-room door. “Come in, Major, and tell us what you have been doing with yourself the whole afternoon; we expected you to supper, and I should not be surprised if Crescenz were to scold you a little for your unusual absence.”
“I cannot imagine Crescenz scolding me, even if I deserved it, which, however, in this instance, is not the case,” said Major Stultz. “I have spent the whole day in lodging-hunting. The sooner I am established the better, as Crescenz must assist me to choose our furniture.”
“Why, what a hurry you are in,” said Madame Rosenberg, with evident satisfaction. “Quite an ardent lover, I declare. However, I shall not be behindhand in performing my part. The workwoman comes to-morrow, and then we shall work our fingers to the bone, eh, Crescenz?”
Crescenz blushed, and smiled faintly.
“I should like very much to talk over the different lodgings with you, Crescenz,” said Major Stultz, growing very red. “I have noted them for that purpose in my pocket-book. That is,” he added, in a whisper, “if we can go to another table.”
Madame Rosenberg heard the whisper, pushed a candle towards him, and pointed to a card-table at the other end of the room. No sooner were they established at it than she jingled her keys once or twice, as a sort of tacit excuse, and then left the room.
Hamilton, who was, as usual, sitting near the stove, pretended to be wholly occupied with a book; his eyes, nevertheless, wandered perpetually over it, towards Hildegarde, who now began strangely to interest him. As the door closed on her mother, her hands fell listlessly on her lap, and by degrees became clasped round her knee, while she gazed steadfastly on the floor for several minutes. She then raised her head, and having looked at her sister for some time, turned towards Hamilton, but so slowly that he was able to fix his eyes on his book, although he coloured violently in doing so; he thought she must perceive his confusion, and continued pertinaciously to read the words, although they conveyed no idea whatever to his mind. When he had reached the end of the page, he became curious to know whether or not she was still looking at him, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he half turned over the leaf, and at the same time raised his eyes without moving his head; he had given himself unnecessary trouble to catch her glance—her eyes met his with the most unconcerned expression possible, and though he felt that he continued to blush, she either did not observe it, or attributed it to the heat of the room.
“I wonder that you can sit so near the stove, and that you can read at such a distance from the candle,” she observed, quietly.
“I am rather surprised at it myself,” answered Hamilton, pushing his chair close to hers, so as to form a tête-à-tête.