“Danger! not the least. He knows that I loved him formerly in a foolish, girlish sort of way, and had we been in England, I have no doubt we should have gone off together, and been miserable for life. The Doctor is a very kind, indulgent husband, but he has not time to be attentive, and as I have no family to occupy my time, I require someone to talk to, and amuse me. Theodor is well educated, clever, honourable, and all the sermons of my relations and friends together will not make me give him up. The world may talk, and perhaps condemn me—I care not, for I know that I never have done, and never mean to do anything wrong.”
“And,” said Hamilton, “if Biedermann were to marry?”
“Not very probable for many years; but if he were, I should find someone else. You, for instance, would suit me very well, if you were likely to remain here; though I am afraid I should find you troublesome.”
“I am afraid you would,” said Hamilton, as he drew up his horses before the Iron Works.
Hildegarde ran out expecting to see her sister; her disappointment changed into surprise when she heard what had occurred, and she said at once that she would go to meet her. Perhaps she expected Hamilton to accompany her, but he either was, or pretended to be, too much occupied with Madame Berger to hear what she said, and she set out alone.
More than an hour elapsed before Crescenz, Major Stultz, and Hildegarde appeared, all a good deal overheated, for the day had already become warm. They joined the others in the garden, and began to saunter up and down the narrow gravel walks, or to seek the shade under the apple-trees in the orchard. Mr. Eisenmann immediately gathered a bunch of fresh roses for Crescenz, and Madame Berger, turning to Hamilton, desired him to bring her some also.
“I don’t know whether or not I can obey you,” he answered, laughing; “I have been forbidden to pull flowers without leave, ever since the day I beheaded some scores of roses with my riding-whip.”
“Your punishment is at an end,” said Hildegarde, smiling: “I am glad to perceive you have not forgotten it;” and, as she spoke, she pulled a half-blown rose and gave it to him.
“Ah! that is just the one I was wishing to have,” cried Madame Berger, holding out her hand.
“You shall have another, but not this one,” said Hamilton.