At this moment Hans ran past them towards a shed, at the end of the orchard, where garden utensils and flower-pots were kept, and having taken one of the latter, was returning to the house, when Crescenz asked what had happened.
“I don’t exactly know, ma’am; I believe Mr. Hamilton put a geranium on the top of the wardrobe, and Madame Berger, in trying to take it down, let it fall, and it is broken to pieces.”
“The pot or the plant?” asked Hildegarde.
“Both, I believe, mademoiselle,” answered Hans, hurrying into the house.
“How long is she likely to remain with him upstairs?” asked Crescenz.
“Until dinner-time, perhaps,” answered Hildegarde, carelessly; “he has got a number of paintings on china and new books to amuse her. But now you must come and see what a quantity of work I have done lately; you have no idea how useful I can be; even mamma praises me sometimes!”
The afternoon amusement was, as usual, a walk in the oak wood. Hamilton and Madame Berger soon wandered away from the sisters, and after waiting for their return more than an hour near the little chapel, Hildegarde and Crescenz began to walk home. “Well, Hildegarde, what do you think of this?” asked the latter, looking inquiringly at her sister’s grave countenance.
“Nothing,” she replied quietly.
“So Blazius was quite mistaken, it seems; he said that Mr. Hamilton has long liked you, and that you were beginning to like him.”
“He was quite right,” said Hildegarde, “we do like each other very much, especially since my father’s death; he was so very kind at that time.”