“Pshaw!” cried Hildegarde, pushing back her chair angrily, “I expected a very different answer.” “Something different,” said Hamilton, in the same tone. “Something about distraction and committing crimes, perhaps.” “What occurred to-day is no subject for a jest,” she said seriously. “So I thought a few hours ago, also,” said Hamilton; “but now the whole affair appears to me rather amusing than otherwise. Perhaps, however, your cousin alone is privileged to speak to you in this manner, in which case you must pardon me for endeavouring to recollect what he said; but it was so well received that——” “It was not well received!” cried Hildegarde, interrupting him. “You know it was not; and I am ready,” she added, after a pause, “ready to repeat to you every word of our conversation.” “Thank you,” said Hamilton, coldly, “but I have already heard enough to enable me to imagine the remainder.” “Perhaps,” said Hildegarde, hurriedly, “perhaps you heard—and saw——” “I heard a declaration of love after the most approved form, a proposal to commit any crime or crimes likely to render him interesting and acceptable to you. I remembered to have once heard you tell your father that you wished to be the object of a love of this kind; but I did not wait to hear your answers, it was your half-suppressed scream which made me foolishly imagine you wished for my presence. When I saw you I perceived at once my mistake, and returned to my room.” “Then you did not see the—the dagger——” “What dagger?” asked Hamilton, his curiosity excited in spite of himself. “Oscar’s dagger—he threatened to stab himself!” “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Hamilton. “I really did not think him capable of acting so absurdly. I gave him credit for too much knowledge of the world to treat you to such an insipid scene.” “Then you do not think he was serious!” “I am sure he was not. The dagger was purposely brought for effect. He has proved himself an excellent actor to-day—tragic as well as comic, it seems.” “It was cruel of him deliberately to frighten me,” said Hildegarde, thoughtfully. “It was unpardonable—inexcusable his doing so,” cried Hamilton, “for he thought you were alone, and took advantage of finding you unprotected.” “Most men take advantage of finding us unprotected. After the events of to-day I may say all men do so,” replied Hildegarde, with so much reproachful meaning in her glance that Hamilton rose from his seat and began to perambulate the room, occasionally stopping to lean on the stove, until her father’s voice and approaching steps made him suddenly move forward towards her, as if he expected her to speak again. She remained, however, silent and motionless; and at length, overcome by a mixture of anxiety and curiosity, and with an ineffectual effort to appear indifferent, he said quickly, “I thought you were going to tell me what you said that could have given your cousin an excuse for producing a dagger.”