“He is not my grandfather; he is no relation whatever of mine,” she answered in French, while her colour heightened rapidly, and seemed to be reflected in Hamilton’s face, which became crimson.
“I don’t understand French,” said Madame Rosenberg, looking at them alternately; “but I think I can guess; however, it is no matter—read this letter, Hildegarde; in it you will find everything, and more than you could have heard from Mr. Hamilton. My father is willing to act towards you as a relation; do not, by an ill-timed exhibition of pride, turn his kindly feelings towards you into dislike.”
She received the letter and the not undeserved rebuke in silence; while Hamilton, to divert Madame Berger’s attention, began a description of his meeting with Mr. Eisenmann, of their discourse, and supper.
“It must have been delicious, the whole scene,” cried Madame Berger; “I shall pay you a visit at the Iron Works the very first day the Doctor can let me have the horses.”
“Pray bring the Doctor with you when you come,” said Madame Rosenberg, unconsciously glancing towards Hamilton.
Madame Berger saw the glance, observed that Hamilton laughed, and immediately inquired the cause. Madame Rosenberg refused to tell her, and she appealed to Hamilton, who immediately, with the most perfect composure, and without the slightest reserve, repeated all the part of their morning conversation which related to her. She seemed to enjoy the recital and Madame Rosenberg’s face of horror equally. “One thing is certain,” she said, when he had ended, “had you been so many months in the same house with me, as you have been with Hildegarde, we should have——”
“You seem altogether to forget the Doctor,” said Madame Rosenberg, interrupting her, almost angrily.
“To tell the truth, I sometimes do forget that I am married; but Mr. Hamilton understands badinage perfectly, so you need not look so shocked at my bavardage.”
“I wish you would speak German,” said Madame Rosenberg, fidgeting on her chair; “you use so many French words, that I cannot understand the half of what you say.”
“I believe I had better go home,” cried Madame Berger, good-humouredly. “Allow me to hope you will be civiler to me when I visit you in the country! Bon soir.”