I discovered that there was little love between him and Alice.  I never heard from either an expression denoting that each felt an interest in the other’s individual life; neither was there any of that conjugal freemasonry which bores one so to witness.  But Alice was not unhappy.  Her ideas of love ended with marriage; what came afterward—­children, housekeeping, and the claims of society—­sufficed her needs.  If she had any surplus of feeling it was expended upon her children, who had much from her already, for she was devoted and indulgent to them.  In their management she allowed no interference, on this point only thwarting her husband.  In one respect she and Charles harmonized; both were worldly, and in all the material of living there was sympathy.  Their relation was no unhappiness to him; he thought, I dare say, if he thought at all, that it was a natural one.  The men of his acquaintance called him a lucky man, for Alice was handsome, kind-hearted, intelligent, and popular.

Whether Cousin Alice would have found it difficult to fulfill the promise she made mother regarding me, if I had been a plain, unnoticeable girl, I cannot say, or whether her anxiety that I should make an agreeable impression would have continued beyond a few days.  She looked after my dress and my acquaintances.  When she found that I was sought by the young people of her set and the Academy, she was gratified, and opened her house for them, giving little parties and large ones, which were pleasant to everybody except Cousin Charles, who detested company—­“it made him lie so.”  But he was very well satisfied that people should like to visit and praise his house and its belongings, if Alice would take the trouble of it upon herself.  I made calls with her Wednesday afternoons, and went to church with her Sunday mornings.  At home I saw little of her.  She was almost exclusively occupied with the children—­their ailments or their pleasures—­and staid in her own room, or the nursery.

When in the house I never occupied one spot long, but wandered in the garden, which had a row of elms, or haunted the kitchen and stables, to watch black Phoebe, the cook, or the men as they cleaned the horses or carriages.  My own room was in a wing of the cottage, with a window overlooking the entrance into the yard and the carriage drive; this was its sole view, except the wall of a house on the other side of a high fence.  I heard Charles when he drove home at night, or away in the morning; knew when Nell was in a bad humor by the tone of his voice, which I heard whether my window was open or shut.  It was a pretty room, with a set of maple furniture, and amber and white wallpaper, and amber and white chintz curtains and coverings.  It suited the color of my hair, Alice declared, and was becoming to my complexion.

“Yes,” said Charles, looking at my hair with an expression that made me put my hand up to my head as if to hide it; I knew it was carelessly dressed.