Rosenberg, Crescenz, and Major Stultz, and they pursued their way leisurely together. Hildegarde had been sent on before to order breakfast, and on finding that Zedwitz intended to accompany her, had taken her two brothers. On reaching the farm-house, they found her busily occupied at a table placed under the trees, preparing bread and milk for the children—Zedwitz officiously assisting her. “What! are you already dressed for Salzburg, Hildegarde?” cried Madame Rosenberg. “You must have walked very quickly; I hope the boys are not overheated!” and she carefully placed her hand on their foreheads to ascertain the fact. “Oh, mamma,” cried Fritz, boastingly, “we could have walked much faster! We could have been down the mountain in half the time! It was Zedwitz who was tired; he wanted us twice to rest on the way.” “It would have been better than running the risk of giving the children colds,” observed Madame Rosenberg, glancing towards Hildegarde. “Oh, we did not wish to rest, or Hildegarde, either, though Zedwitz said he had ever so much to say to her.” “Indeed!” cried his mother, looking inquisitively from one to the other; “indeed!” She turned to Hamilton, who stood beside her, and whispered, “I shall not be five minutes dressing; you will greatly oblige me by remaining here until I return.” Hamilton made no answer; waited, however, only until she was fairly out of sight, and then, nodding good-humouredly to Zedwitz, walked into the house. Madame Rosenberg’s ideas of five minutes for dressing were not very defined. She was one of those persons who, at home the most incorrigible of slatterns, when they go out make it a point to be almost overdressed. Hamilton, Crescenz, and Major Stultz had long been waiting for her before she appeared, and to begin breakfast without her would have been an unpardonable offence. The delays seemed to have no end, for, as she approached the table, Zedwitz, who had been standing apart, went towards her and requested to speak a few words to her alone. Major Stultz proposed waiting until after breakfast, but Zedwitz persisted in his request with a seriousness which scarcely admitted of a refusal, and the audience was accordingly granted. Hamilton wished to look at Hildegarde, but he refrained: had he done so, his conjectures might have taken another turn, for surely had Hildegarde imagined herself the subject of conversation, she could not have leaned so calmly on her elbow without exhibiting the slightest particle of emotion! Crescenz did not seem to think her sister’s imperturbability a conclusive argument—her eyes anxiously followed her step-mother’s form, and nothing but the shortness of the conference and ocular demonstration that they were simply arranging accounts, could have convinced her that she had been mistaken in her supposition that Zedwitz was formally asking permission to pay his addresses to her sister. She had dressed in a room