A short time afterwards, old Hans announced, “The carriage for Miss Crescenz,” and she retired with evident reluctance to put on her shawl. The whole company prepared to leave at the same time, and were soon altogether in the corridor. Crescenz embraced her step-mother, and somewhat formally thanked her for her kindness and generosity. She held out her hand to Hamilton, and then threw herself into her sister’s arms, and burst into tears. “Come, come, Crescenz,” cried her father, with an attempt at gayety he was far from feeling, “this will never do—you are taking leave as if seas and not streets were to separate us. Come,” and he drew her arm within his, and led her downstairs. The others followed, all but Hildegarde, and after a moment’s hesitation, Hamilton. They returned to the deserted drawing-room, where Hildegarde threw open the window and leaned out.
They soon heard Crescenz’s voice saying cheerfully, “Good-night, Lina—good-night, papa—good-night, Hildegarde.”
“Good-night,” answered her sister from the window, and the carriage drove off.
“Well, have we not spent a merry evening!” cried Madame Rosenberg, triumphantly, as she almost breathlessly entered the room a few minutes afterwards. “This has been a gay wedding after all, you see, Franz.”
“It has,” he answered, sinking dejectedly on the sofa; “I am quite provoked with myself for feeling so low-spirited. I believe I am not well.”
“Ah, bah,” cried his wife, laughing, “if you had been ill, you could not have supped as you have done. Perhaps, however, you have eaten too much fish, or turkey, or ham? At all events, I am sure you are tired and sleepy, so you may go to bed, while we put everything in order again.”
Mr. Rosenberg, as usual, followed his wife’s advice without contradiction. He held Hamilton’s hand for a moment as if he intended to say something more than the good-night which was scarcely audible.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A CHANGE.
Hamilton was wakened about three o’clock in the morning by Hildegarde rushing into his room, and exclaiming, “For heaven’s sake, get up—get up, and come to my father—I am afraid he has got the cholera. You have seen people ill, and know the symptoms. Oh, come—we do not know what to do!”