Charlotte and the Captain observed this, and exchanged many a quiet smile at it; but they were both taken by surprise at another symptom, in which Ottilie’s latent feeling accidentally displayed itself.

One evening, which had been partly spoilt for them by a tedious visit, Edward proposed that they should not separate so early—­he felt inclined for music—­he would take his flute, which he had not done for many days past.  Charlotte looked for the sonatas which they generally played together, and they were not to be found.  Ottilie, with some hesitation, said that they were in her room—­she had taken them there to copy them.

“And you can, you will, accompany me on the piano?” cried Edward, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.  “I think perhaps I can,” Ottilie answered.  She brought the music and sat down to the instrument.  The others listened, and were sufficiently surprised to hear how perfectly Ottilie had taught herself the piece—­but far more surprised were they at the way in which she contrived to adapt herself to Edward’s style of playing.  Adapt herself, is not the right expression—­Charlotte’s skill and power enabled her, in order to please her husband, to keep up with him when he went too fast, and hold in for him if he hesitated; but Ottilie, who had several times heard them play the sonata together, seemed to have learnt it according to the idea in which they accompanied each other—­she had so completely made his defects her own, that a kind of living whole resulted from it, which did not move indeed according to exact rule, but the effect of which was in the highest degree pleasant and delightful.  The composer himself would have been pleased to hear his work disfigured in a manner so charming.

Charlotte and the Captain watched this strange unexpected occurrence in silence, with the kind of feeling with which we often observe the actions of children—­unable exactly to approve of them, from the serious consequences which may follow, and yet without being able to find fault, perhaps with a kind of envy.  For, indeed, the regard of these two for one another was growing also, as well as that of the others—­and it was perhaps only the more perilous because they were both stronger, more certain of themselves, and better able to restrain themselves.

The Captain had already begun to feel that a habit which he could not resist was threatening to bind him to Charlotte.  He forced himself to stay away at the hour when she commonly used to be at the works; by getting up very early in the morning he contrived to finish there whatever he had to do, and went back to the castle to his work in his own room.  The first day or two Charlotte thought it was an accident—­she looked for him in every place where she thought he could possibly be.  Then she thought she understood him—­and admired him all the more.