Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; but as no one’s firmness but mine was based on inclination, the result was that Sophie and I were “remainder,” and Mary Leighton, Charlotte, and Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at half-past seven o’clock.  But before she went, Charlotte, who was really good-natured with all her sharpness and self-will, went into the library to speak to Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not resent the noonday slight, whatever that had been.  But presently she came back looking rather anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring me (whom she always did ignore if possible),

“Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau.  He is really very far from well.  His tea stands there, and he hasn’t taken anything to eat.  He looks feverish and excited, and I truly think he ought to see the Doctor.  You know he promised the Doctor to stay in his room, and keep still all the rest of the week.  But I am sure he means to come out to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to town.  It will kill him if he does; I’m sure he’s doing badly, and I wish you’d go and see to him.”

“Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?” asked Sophie, sotto voce, but with affected carelessness.

“I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at dinner-time, I remember now.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they’re waiting for you.  Have a pleasant time.”

After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did not stay very long.  She came and sat beside me on the river-balcony, and talked a little, desultorily and absent-mindedly.

Presently there was a call for “mamma,” a hubbub and a hurry—­soon explained.  Charley, who had been running wild for the last two weeks, without tutor or uncle to control him, had just fallen from the mow, and hurt himself somewhat, and frightened himself much more.  The whole house was in a ferment.  He was taken to mamma’s room, for he was a great baby when anything was the matter with him, and would not let mamma move an inch away from him.  After assisting to the best of my ability in making him comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the river.

The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and balmy.  The house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in a distant part of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the idleness of evening.  Sophie was nailed to Charley’s bed up-stairs, trying to soothe him; Benny was sinking to sleep in his little crib.  It seemed like an enchanted palace, and when I heard a step crossing the parlor, it made me start with a vague feeling of alarm.  The parlor-window by me, which opened to the floor, was not closed, and in another moment some one came out and stood beside me.  It was Mr. Langenau.  I started up and exclaimed, “Mr. Langenau, how imprudent!  Oh, go back at once.”