At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the library, came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door.  He paused for a moment at the door, walked away again, then came back and into the room, with rather a quicker step than usual.

“Pauline,” he said, and I started visibly, “They seem to be waiting for you in the parlor for a game of cards.”

His voice indicated anything but satisfaction.  I half rose, then sank back, and said, hesitatingly, “Can I pour you some more tea, Mr. Langenau?”

“If it is not troubling you too much,” he said in a voice that a moment’s time had hardened into sharpness.

Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical.  My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard angrily leaned down and moved it for me.  The alcohol in the lamp flamed up and scorched my arm.

“Oh Richard, you have burned me,” I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping my handkerchief around my arm.  In an instant he was all softness and kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance.

“I am very sorry,” he said; “Does it hurt you very much?  Come with me, and I will get Sophie to put something on it.”

But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my sufferings.  I was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the other hand to replace the cup and fill it.  Seeing that I did not make much headway, and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau said, “Allow me,” and held the cup while I managed to pour the tea into it.  He thanked me stiffly, and without looking at either of them I got up and went out of the room, Richard following me.

“Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for you?” he said a little coldly.

“No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything more about it; it only hurt me for a moment.”

“Will you go into the parlor, then?”

“No—­yes, that is,” I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he did not follow me.

I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by one of the windows, a little out of the light.  This window opened upon the piazza.  After a little while Richard, walking up and down the piazza, stopped by it, and said to me:  “I hope you won’t think it unreasonable in me to ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you happen to be making tea for that—­that man in there?”

“I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister asked me to,” I said angrily; “you had better speak to her about it.”

“You may be sure I shall,” he said, walking away from the window.