Hamilton could scarcely conceal his vexation, on his return home, when he heard that Hildegarde was engaged to spend the evening with the Hoffmanns. Mr. Rosenberg left them, as usual, immediately after supper; Major Stultz altogether monopolised Crescenz, Madame Rosenberg busied herself with a pack of cards, which she shuffled, cut, and spread out on the table before her with extraordinary interest, while Hamilton, accustomed as he now was to talk or read with Hildegarde, and missing her more than he liked to perceive, held a newspaper in his hand, and employed his thoughts in forming uncomfortable surmises respecting her and her cousin. “Very odd,” said Madame Rosenberg, thoughtfully, holding a card to her lips; “very odd indeed;—the marriage is not in the cards!” “I thought you were playing patience,” said Hamilton, looking up. “Oh, no, I have been cutting the cards for Crescenz,” she said, in a low voice; “and oddly enough, her marriage is not in them. I must try it again,” she said, gathering up the pack and shuffling energetically. Hamilton drew his chair to the table, and watched her as she slowly and thoughtfully placed the cards in regular rows before her, while murmuring, with evident dissatisfaction: “This is Crescenz and this is the Major, but ever so far asunder! And the marriage and love cards are all near him, while Crescenz’s thoughts are occupied about a present. Oh, ah! here is a letter full of money coming to our house; but I suppose it will be, as usual, from England, and for you, Mr. Hamilton. You are laughing at me, I see! Perhaps you don’t believe that I can tell fortunes?” “I am convinced you can do so quite as well as anyone else.” “That is saying too much,” said Madame Rosenberg. “Our washerwoman is very expert; but I know some who could astonish you!” “I like being astonished,” said Hamilton, “and promise to be so if what you foretell comes to pass; but then you must predict something more surprising than that I should receive a letter containing money. This is more than probable, as my father is very liberal, and I said something about intending to buy a sledge this winter when I last wrote.” “But suppose Crescenz’s marriage should be broken off—which Heaven forbid—what would you say then?” “It will not be broken off, but it may be postponed. You said yourself yesterday that her _trousseau_ could not be ready at the time expected; and as to her thoughts being occupied about a present, we all know that she is making a purse and cigar-case for Major Stultz.” “Oh, if you explain everything in that way, I need not go on,” said Madame Rosenberg, laughing. “Here, for instance, is a false person in our house—a very false person; he is followed, too, by a number of unlucky, disagreeable cards; now, who can that be?” “I hope you do not suspect me of being this false person?”