“May I not learn too, mamma?” asked Crescenz, timidly. “What for?” asked her mother, with a laugh. “Have you not already secured a good husband, who is satisfied with you as you are? It would be time and money thrown away, and you have enough to do preparing your _trousseau_ at present. The workwoman comes to-morrow, and we must then begin in earnest. As to Hildegarde, she has thrown away an opportunity which I hope she may not hereafter regret. Husbands will not fall down from heaven to be picked up just when she is in the humour to marry; she must try in every way to improve herself now, as a time may come when she may be obliged to give instruction. Life is precarious; if anything should happen to your father——” “My father!” exclaimed Hildegarde, anxiously. “Has he been complaining lately? Do you fear a return of——” “Your anxiety is unnecessary; he is at present perfectly well,” answered her mother dryly. “I wish, when I am really suffering, you would sometimes show a little of the attention and anxiety which you bestow at times so unnecessarily on him; it would become you better, Hildegarde, than the cold heartlessness which you evince for everything that concerns me. Crescenz is quite different, and therefore I feel for her as if she were my own child.” “But, mamma,” said Crescenz, in a very low voice, “you are always kind to me!” “Am I not kind to Hildegarde?” Crescenz blushed, stammered, and looked anxiously towards her sister. “No,” said Hildegarde, courageously, “you are not kind to me; perhaps I do not deserve it. I have no right to expect you to love me, but I have a right to expect you to be just.” “I was disposed to be more than just to you at first, Hildegarde, if you allowed me. Mr. Hamilton shall be judge between us.” “Excuse me,” said Hamilton, “I do not feel competent to give an opinion on such a subject.” “Chance has, however, placed you exactly in a position to act as umpire; we must be satisfied with your decision, because we know you to be an unbiassed looker-on. My step-daughters were with me but a few weeks before I met you at Seon; since that time you have been constantly with us. Hildegarde, shall I go on?” Hildegarde murmured something about “strangers” and “family dissensions.” “Mr. Hamilton is no longer a stranger; and as to the dissensions, such as they are, he has been a witness to them. For my part, I should like to explain, but if you acknowledge that you have been unjustly and unnecessarily prejudiced against me, I shall be silent.” “Mr. Hamilton is not so unbiassed an arbitrator as you suppose,” observed Hildegarde, looking up steadily while she leaned on the table. Madame Rosenberg looked from one to the other with a puzzled air, until Hildegarde added: “He will find it difficult not to lean to your side, and take your part, even if he wished to be just, because he dislikes me personally.”