“Then you will pay dear for your experience, as others have done before you.” “We shall see,” replied Hamilton. “You will feel,” said Zedwitz, seizing with both hands the ends of his long moustaches, to give them a peculiar twirl towards the corners of his eyes before he entered the room where the company were assembled for supper. --------------------- CHAPTER VIII. AN ALPINE PARTY. THE next evening Madame Rosenberg invited Major Stultz and Crescenz to join her in a walk to meet her husband. Hildegarde was desired to remain behind, and take care of the children. Poor girl! she was not yet forgiven the atrocious crime of having refused Major Stultz; and this punishment she seemed to feel more than Hamilton could comprehend; for, as the trio walked off together, and left her alone, her eyes filled with tears, and she seated herself on the stone steps of the entrance to the church with an air of such utter despondency that he turned towards the lake in order not to annoy her by his presence, and even played with the two elder boys, to prevent them from tormenting her, until he heard the sound of wheels and horses’ feet, when, looking towards the road, he saw, at no very great distance, a carriage, which stopped as it reached the pedestrians, and out of which sprang a man apparently much too young to be the father of either Hildegarde or Crescenz. The children, however, cried “Papa! papa!” and rushed towards him. Hildegarde—(pardon the horrible idea)—Hildegarde moved backwards and forwards like a chafed tigress in a menagerie, not daring to disobey her step-mother by quitting the place assigned her, and yet exhibiting anger and impatience in every limb. As the party drew nearer, Hamilton observed that Mr. Rosenberg was indeed extremely youthful looking, and must have been eminently handsome. That he was a kind father was evident at a glance, for the children clung to his knees so that he could scarcely walk, and Crescenz had taken complete possession of one of his arms. Just as he reached the place where Hamilton stood, and after being introduced to him as “our English friend,” his eyes turned towards the spot where Hildegarde was so uneasily perambulating. Releasing himself at once from his companions, he advanced hastily a few steps, calling out, “Why, how’s this, Hildegarde? Why don’t you come to meet me?” With a cry of joy she rushed into his arms, and whispered in a voice almost suffocated with emotion, “I dared not—I dared not.” “You feel that you deserve to be scolded? Is it not so? Naughty girl!” “But you have forgiven me—I know you have.” Another embrace, and a look of evident forgiveness, not unmixed with pride and admiration, was the answer. Madame Rosenberg bit her lip, and observed, angrily—