Hamilton thought a look of subdued anger, while he pressed Crescenz’s hands in both his, whispering his wishes for her happiness, and his hopes that she would not misunderstand him in future. --------------------- CHAPTER XVIII. THE CHURCHYARD. HAMILTON experienced a sort of satisfaction in avoiding both sisters for some time—the idea that he was endeavouring to cure Crescenz of her too evident partiality was almost sublime, and would probably have turned his youthful head had not Hildegarde formed a counterpoise. Her former dislike to him seemed to have returned with redoubled force. She scarcely looked at, never spoke to him, and seemed not in the least to observe that he no longer passed the evenings at home. He had found no difficulty in disposing of his time; introductions to a few German families had been followed by general invitations, of which he availed himself at first with eager pleasure, but soon afterwards with a feeling of indescribable _ennui_; he missed Hildegarde’s society, and began to consider in what way he could imperceptibly renew their former intimacy; but this was more difficult than he had imagined, for the sisters seemed to have formed an alliance offensive and defensive against him. Crescenz no longer sang when learning to make pies and puddings in the kitchen; and if he looked in, she retreated behind the dresser. Hildegarde’s door was now always shut, perhaps because the weather had become colder, but Hamilton imagined it was to prevent his leaning against the door-posts, to watch her giving her brothers instruction until the dinner was announced. The rarity and shortness of his present intercourse served but to keep her in his memory, and perpetually renew his regret for their last most unnecessary quarrel. One cold fine morning, as he was leaving the house to keep an appointment with Zedwitz, he perceived her standing with Crescenz and her father at the passage-window looking into the court. They were dressed in deep mourning, and held in their hands large wreaths of ivy, interspersed with clusters of red berries; they contemplated them with evident satisfaction, while their father spoke so earnestly that Hamilton’s approach was at first unperceived, and he heard Mr. Rosenberg say, “You can easily imagine why I prefer going alone, and at some other time. As long as you were at school, gratitude for my wife’s attention forced me to accompany her to the churchyard—the task of placing the wreaths now devolves on you, and I wish you both to thank her as she deserves. You will not surely find it difficult to comply with my request.” “I hope nothing unexpected has occurred——” began Hamilton, looking at the sable garments of the sisters.