‘I do not. I can see that he is very reserved with you and does not like to come here. I asked him only yesterday why he always stayed behind.’
‘And what did he say?’ asked Hilda eagerly.
‘Nothing to the point. He said he could not be of any use if he did come—which, after all, is absolutely true.’
‘You must find out. He dislikes me now, when we are married it will be worse, a year hence he will detest me altogether and tell you so, perhaps.’
‘Do you think he would tell me?’ asked Greif with a quiet smile, that did not agree with the sudden glittering of his eyes.
‘No,’ laughed Hilda. ‘That is an exaggeration. But he will make us both feel it.’
‘In that case we will not ask him to stay with us,’ answered Greif, half carelessly, half in anger at Rex’s imaginary future rudeness.
He saw that Hilda was annoyed by his cousin’s conduct, for it was the second time she had spoken of it during the visit, and he determined that he would put the matter very plainly to Rex as soon as he reached Greifenstein, the more so as he himself had noticed it and had already asked Rex for an explanation.
Hilda’s face grew grave. She knew how devoted Rex was to Greif, and she felt as though her future husband were to lose his best friend for a meaningless whim of the latter, in which she was involved against her will.
‘That must never be,’ she answered. ‘Next to me, no one loves you as Rex does. I would not have you quarrel for all the world—and it is mere jealousy, Greif, I know—’