“Thank you,” said Hamilton, coldly, “but I have already heard enough to enable me to imagine the remainder.”
“Perhaps,” said Hildegarde, hurriedly, “perhaps you heard—and saw——”
“I heard a declaration of love after the most approved form, a proposal to commit any crime or crimes likely to render him interesting and acceptable to you. I remembered to have once heard you tell your father that you wished to be the object of a love of this kind; but I did not wait to hear your answers, it was your half-suppressed scream which made me foolishly imagine you wished for my presence. When I saw you I perceived at once my mistake, and returned to my room.”
“Then you did not see the—the dagger——”
“What dagger?” asked Hamilton, his curiosity excited in spite of himself.
“Oscar’s dagger—he threatened to stab himself!”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Hamilton. “I really did not think him capable of acting so absurdly. I gave him credit for too much knowledge of the world to treat you to such an insipid scene.”
“Then you do not think he was serious!”
“I am sure he was not. The dagger was purposely brought for effect. He has proved himself an excellent actor to-day—tragic as well as comic, it seems.”
“It was cruel of him deliberately to frighten me,” said Hildegarde, thoughtfully.