“Crescenz,” said Hildegarde with some impatience, “say what you please to me from yourself, I am ready to hear you; but do not torture me now with the opinions of either Lina Berger or Major Stultz.”
“Well, to be sure! And how often have you said that you considered him a sensible man!”
“I have not changed my opinion, but as I know he can feel no sort of interest in anything that concerns me, I do not wish to hear what he has said.”
“Ah, I see Mr. Hamilton has been telling you—he smiled so strangely when I was speaking to him yesterday, that I was sure he would tell you everything—but indeed I wished to have had you with me directly; it was my first thought, but Blazius said that what occurred at—at Seon—you know, made it quite impossible!”
“Mr. Hamilton told me nothing of all this,” said Hildegarde. “I thank you for your kind intentions, dear Crescenz; I can imagine that Major Stultz’s refusal to comply with your wishes has pained you; but you may set your mind at rest, for I feel even more intensely than he can, the impossibility of my ever becoming an inmate of his house.”
“Well,” said Crescenz, apparently greatly relieved; “I’m sure I am glad to hear you say so, for though he talked very sensibly, and all that, this morning, I could not help crying, and was quite uncomfortable at the idea of speaking to you about it; I was afraid you might think that now I am married, I love you less.”
“Four days is too short a time to work such a change, I hope,” said Hildegarde, with a melancholy smile; then suddenly seizing her sister’s hands, she exclaimed, “Oh, Crescenz, love me! Love me still—as much as you can—think how I shall miss my father’s affection!”
“Very true, indeed, as Blazius says; my father bestowed his whole affection on you, and quite overlooked me!”
Hildegarde gazed at her sister for a moment in silence, and then turned away with tearful eyes. She saw that Crescenz would soon be lost to her forever. Major Stultz already directed her thoughts and words, as completely as she herself had done when they were at school together. She watched her returning to their step-mother’s room, and then walked slowly towards the door leading to the passage. Hamilton was standing at the stove—had heard the sisters’ conversation, and filled with compassion for her deserted position, he seized her hand as she passed, and passionately pressed it to his lips without speaking. When she raised her heavy eyelids to look at him, she saw that his eyes were suffused with tears.
“I—thank you—for your sympathy,” she murmured with trembling lips, as she withdrew her hand, and hurried out of the room.