“For a boy to buy playthings and ponies, yes; but for a man to live upon——” he paused; there was too much intelligence in her eager glance.
“For a man,” she said, “brought up as you have been, it is probably too little—nothing!”
“Not so,” cried Hamilton, quickly. “With my present ideas and feelings it is a competence—it is all I require—all I wish.”
“You could then have married Crescenz if you had desired it?” she said, slowly.
“I could never have loved her well enough to induce me to make the sacrifice——”
“The sacrifice! And it is great—very great, perhaps?”
“It ceases to be one when made for you.”
“And you have only lately—only very lately, perhaps, been able to resolve on this sacrifice?”
“Let me use your own words, Hildegarde. Do not force me to make unnecessary confessions,” said Hamilton, blushing more deeply than she herself had done.
She leaned on the table, and bent her head over her hands. Hamilton felt very uncomfortable. “I expected,” he said, at length, with some irritation, “I expected that this explanation would have been differently received.”