“Lina suspected almost everything, and asked me so many questions that I did not know what to say. You forget that the Doctor was sent for, and that the old Count was ill from mental agitation; I dare say he told him everything.”
“What he left untold you have supplied. It is the last time I shall ever confide in you.”
“Don’t be angry, Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz, with tears in her eyes; “surely it is no disgrace to you that such a man as Count Zedwitz wished to——”
“Silence!” cried Hildegarde, sternly, “and never mention his name again.”
“Whew,” whistled Fritz; “Hildegarde is in a passion; look at her eyes! Fight it out, Cressy, and then make it up again!”
But Crescenz threw herself on her knees before her sister, and, seizing her hands, faltered, “Oh, Hildegarde, forgive me; I have done wrong, but you know that Lina always makes me do as she pleases. Forgive me—only say that you forgive me this time!”
“I forgive you,” said Hildegarde, “but I never can trust you again.”
The sound of Madame Rosenberg’s voice speaking to Major Stultz in the adjoining room made Crescenz spring up and follow the children, who ran to meet him.
Hamilton looked at Hildegarde, but did not utter a word. Every feature of her face expressed intense annoyance, as she slowly turned to the window and leaned her head against it. The greetings in the next room were cordial; the children boisterously reminded Major Stultz of the presents which he had promised to bring them from Nuremberg.
“They are come or coming,” he answered; “I had them all packed up; and only think, the infant Christ met me on my way here, took them all from me, and promised to place them all under the Christmas-tree this evening himself.”