“These letters contain the recall I have been expecting,” he said, folding them up, “and also a large sum of money for my journey, more, much more than I shall require; my uncle measures my expenses by my brother’s. In short, neither he nor any of my family have in the least degree comprehended my position here; their ignorance would shock you——” He stopped, evidently embarrassed. His uncle’s letter would, indeed, have shocked her; he had offered to send Hamilton any sum of money necessary to buy off the claims which Hildegarde or her family might have upon him.
“I suppose,” said Hildegarde, “they expect you home directly.”
“They rather wish me to visit the Z—’s, as they have become acquainted lately with some of their connections.”
“And you intend to do so?”
“Yes, I have no particular wish to return home directly, though I see they expect me in about a fortnight or three weeks.”
“In that case you will have to leave us soon—very soon.”
“How soon?” asked Hamilton, endeavouring to catch a glimpse of her face, which was, perhaps purposely, averted.
“You are the best judge of that,” she answered, rising from her lowly seat; “if leaving us be disagreeable to you, the sooner you get over it the better.”
“It is more than disagreeable—it is painful to me.” He paused, and then added, hastily, “I shall take your advice and leave to-morrow.” More than a minute he waited for her to speak again, one word or one look might at that moment have changed all his plans, but finding that she remained silent, he slowly gathered up his letters, and walked thoughtfully into the house.
Madame Rosenberg talked more than enough; she thought it necessary to put the whole house in commotion, and was so anxious to prove to him that all his clothes were in order, that she followed him to his room, and actually herself packed all his portmanteaux and cases; she then seated herself on one of the former, and began to question him about what he intended to do with Hans, the horses, and phaeton.