“This is not the first time we have been together at midnight,” said Hamilton, laughing; but as he spoke she blushed so deeply, that he added, seriously, “When there was any impropriety in it, I told you; you may believe me now, when I tell you there is none!”
“You are not quite infallible, I fear,” she said sorrowfully, “for you did not see any impropriety in my travelling alone with you here, and I now both see and feel it, and shall regret it all my life!”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Hamilton. “Have I ever said or done anything——”
“Oh, no, never—never!” cried Hildegarde, interrupting him.
“Then why withdraw your confidence from me, if I have not done anything to forfeit it?”
“I have the same confidence in you I ever had,” she answered, with a sigh; “but I——have unfortunately lost all confidence in myself!”
“How do you mean?”
“I have discovered that it was not a wish to see the Rhine or be in a steamboat which made me leave Mayence with you.”
“And what was it, then?” cried Hamilton, eagerly.
“It was the desire to be with you—to enjoy your society undisturbed for a few days before we parted forever!”