“Seems to be, Hamilton—and only _seems_. The circumstances must also be taken into consideration. She must marry this Stultz, whether she like him or not. That he is not the _ideal_ of a girl of her age, one can easily imagine. He suspects this, perhaps, and wisely commences by giving her a handsome present. That is probably the first gold bracelet she has ever had clasped on her arm. She is very young—childish, if you will—but neither silly nor very vain for feeling a little pleasure, and honestly showing what she feels. I see nothing reprehensible in her conduct.” “Had you but heard her last night telling me how unhappy she was!” Zedwitz shrugged his shoulders. “How she talked of his forty-six years, and declared her hatred of red-faced men!” Zedwitz laughed. “She mentioned, also, that her sister had the same antipathy.” “Sorry to hear it,” cried Zedwitz, picking up a handful of flat pebbles and pitching them one by one with considerable skill into the lake, watching them skimming along the surface, with an interest that half provoked Hamilton. “You seem to have a thorough contempt for my rivalship by daylight.” “What do you mean? Did you not tell me last night that Crescenz suited you exactly, as you only wished to amuse yourself for a time?” “Such _were_ my intentions. May I ask what were yours? Or rather, what are yours?” “Oh, certainly you may ask, but you must forgive my not answering you, as I have not the most remote idea what I may be induced to do. I shall most probably be guided altogether by circumstances.” He put an end to the conversation by walking towards the arbour, where the arrangements for the next day’s party were soon made—Major Stultz not venturing, before Crescenz, to say a word about storm or danger.