“You are just beginning to talk like Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz, impatiently, “and from you, who are the cause of my unhappiness, I will not bear it.” “The cause of your unhappiness!” repeated Hamilton, slowly; “if I really could believe that possible, nothing would induce me to remain an hour longer in this house.” “Oh, no,” cried Crescenz, hastily, “no! I did not mean what I said. Oh, no! you must have seen that I am not unhappy! I—I—am very happy,” and she burst into tears as she spoke. “Well, this is a punishment for thoughtlessness!”—exclaimed Hamilton, starting from his place at the window, and striding up and down the room. “Surely, surely, such vague expressions as mine were did not deserve such a serious construction!” “Vague expressions,” repeated Crescenz, looking up through her tears—“serious construction? Did you not mean what you said?” “By heaven! I don’t know what I said, or what I meant,” cried Hamilton, vehemently. Crescenz’s sobs became frightfully audible. “Crescenz—forgive me,” he said hastily; “once more I ask your pardon, and entreat of you to forget my folly. Let this subject never again be mentioned, if you would not make me hate myself.” “But,” sobbed Crescenz, “but tell me, at least, that you were not, as Hildegarde said, making a fool of me. Tell me, oh, tell me, that you love me, and I am satisfied.” “You—you do not know what you are saying,” cried Hamilton, involuntarily smiling at her extreme simplicity. “You are asking me to repeat a transgression which I most heartily repent. Situated as you are, such a confession on my part, now deliberately made, would be little less than—a crime.” “You mean because I am betrothed!” He was spared an answer by Hildegarde’s entrance with a small tray and coffee-cups. It was in vain that Crescenz turned to the window to conceal her tears; Hildegarde saw them, and, turning angrily to Hamilton, exclaimed: “This is most unjustifiable conduct—dishonourable——” “Oh, stop! Hildegarde!” cried Crescenz, beseechingly: “Pray stop! You are, as usual, doing him injustice, and misunderstanding him altogether.” “Do not attempt a justification,” cried Hamilton, impatiently; “she will not believe you. And,” he added in a whisper, “in fact, I do not deserve it.” Walburg interrupted them by half opening the door, and informing them mysteriously, that an officer was without who had asked for Mr. Hamilton. “Show him into my sitting-room, and say I shall be with him in a moment.” “My visit is only partly intended for you, Hamilton,” said Zedwitz, entering the room. “I wish also to pay my respects to Madame Rosenberg.” He had scarcely time to glance towards Hildegarde before she left the room, followed by her sister. “The young ladies are not particularly civil to you,” observed Hamilton, seating himself on the sofa. “Why, you did not expect them to remain here with us, did you?” “To be sure I did.” “I did not, but I expect them to return with their mother.”