“Must I then account for every idle word!” cried Hamilton, impatiently. “Surely it ought to be a matter of indifference to you what I said!”
“Hush—do not speak so loud—he is there.”
“Who?”
“Major Stultz. He is waiting for me. I have such reliance on you, that I have told him I cannot believe what he has said. And now answer my question quickly. Have you ceased to care for me? and do you prefer Hildegarde?”
“Pshaw,” cried Hamilton, taking up his hat, and endeavouring to conceal his embarrassment, “I like you both and admire you both; but when Major Stultz was jealous this evening, I gave, of course, the preference to Hildegarde.”
“Is this the very truth?” asked Crescenz.
Her manner was unusually serious, but Hamilton was not in the habit of paying much attention to anything she said, and answered with a careless laugh, “What importance you attach to such a trifle!”
“If you can laugh, I have indeed mistaken you!”
“What do you mean?” asked Hamilton, exceedingly bored.
“At the beginning of our acquaintance,” said Crescenz, almost whispering, “Hildegarde said you were amusing yourself at my expense; this I am sure was not the case; but Major Stultz not only says that you never cared for me, but insists that you have openly acknowledged a preference for Hildegarde.”