“I acknowledged. I confessed my folly, to put an end to the wildest ravings and most impracticable schemes imaginable.” “And you named the object of your preference?” “Oh, no, no, no!” “Hildegarde,” cried Hamilton, hurriedly, “tell me at once—answer me quickly, have you chosen Zedwitz?” Hildegarde turned still more away, but did not answer. “I understand your silence. You have chosen well—and,” he added, after a slight struggle, “wisely.” Hildegarde made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Do not mistake me,” he continued, eagerly; “I am convinced your choice has not in the least been influenced by interested motives. Zedwitz is in every respect worthy of your regard.” Hildegarde raised herself quickly on her elbow, and seemed about to speak, but the words died on her lips when she perceived Crescenz, who had, as usual, entered the room noiselessly, standing between them. She shrank back, her colour changed several times with frightful rapidity, but her voice, though faint, was perfectly calm as she requested her sister to close the window shutters, and every trace of emotion disappeared as her father entering, seated himself beside her bed, and observed that she looked more like a marble statue than a living person. Hamilton was at the moment unable to articulate; he shook Mr. Rosenberg’s hand, and left the room precipitately. In the drawing-room he found the Doctor assuring Madame Rosenberg that Mademoiselle Hildegarde would be perfectly well in a day or two. Hamilton, nevertheless, requested her to write to him, and having obtained a promise, he began to hurry Zedwitz’s departure. “Does your servant not go with us, Hamilton?” asked Zedwitz. “He is to follow with Madame Rosenberg’s letter to-morrow. Be sure to bring the letter, Hans!” said Hamilton, as he wrapped himself in his cloak, and sank back in the corner of the carriage. --------------------- CHAPTER XXIII. THE LONG DAY. HAMILTON could not help feeling flattered at the evident pleasure which his return caused to every member of the Rosenberg family. The two little boys began immediately to tell him that the Christmas-tree was expected the next day. Gustle said that he had written a list of all the toys he wished for, had placed it under his pillow, and that the little child Christ had come for it and carried it off; “So, you see, I must have been very good, or he would not have taken the list, and I shall get all the things I wrote for.” “And,” said Peppy, “mamma met the infant Christ in the Ludwig Street, and he asked if I had been a good child, and when mamma said yes, he promised to fly into the nursery to-morrow evening and light the candles, and bring me a gun, and a cart, and _bon-bons_, and gingerbread.”