“Hildegarde, let us go to Mayence,” cried Hamilton, abruptly.
“As early as you please to-morrow morning,” she answered, cheerfully.
“Not to-morrow morning—this evening—in an hour—in half an hour!”
“But—but it is night—almost dark already.”
“Well, what difference does that make?”
“They told me never to travel at night; it was to avoid doing so that I stopped at Aschaffenburg.”
“That was when you were alone, and travelling in a public carriage.”
“I do not, however, see any necessity for such haste,” she said quietly, “and, therefore, if you have no objections, I should greatly prefer waiting until morning.”
“But I have an objection, and you will greatly oblige me by leaving to-night.”
“I suppose you have some very good reason for what appears to me a most unnecessary exercise of the power which chance has given you over me?”