The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at four o’clock punctually.  The Lowders were five miles away:  the whole thing was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner was over, I felt we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one at that.

Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to his room after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, or have his dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying he did not want any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. Hollenbeck.

“A la bonne heure” cried Kilian.  “A skeleton always interferes with my appetite at a feast.”

“It is the only thing, then, that does, isn’t it?” asked Charlotte, who seemed to have a pick at him always.

“No, not the only thing.  There is one other—­just one other.”

“And, for the sake of science, what is that?”

“A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.—­Sophie, I don’t think much of these last soups.  Your famous cook’s degenerating, take my word.”

And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the meal.  She knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was self-willed and was not humble.  But she had not taken herself in hand, religiously; to take one’s self in hand morally, or on grounds of expediency, never amounts to much; and such taking in hand was all that Charlotte had as yet attempted.  In a little passion of self-reproach and mortification, she occasionally lopped off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and lusty, and only grew the better for its petty pruning.  Richard looked very much displeased at his brother’s rudeness, and tried to make up for it by great kindness and attention.

About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie’s plans for Richard.  In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to marry Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good family, so much indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to living in the country.  Sophie saw herself still mistress here, with, to be sure, a shortened income, and Richard and his wife spending a few weeks with her in the summer.  I do not know how far Charlotte entered into these plans.  Probably not at all, consciously; but I became aware that, as a little girl, Richard had been her hero; and he did not seem to have been displaced by any one entirely yet.  But I took a very faint interest in all this.  I should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted to her.  He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any interference with my rights.  But I did not dread any.  I knew, though I took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me with all his good and manly heart; and it never seemed a possibility that he could change.

The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is appalling.  Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no gratitude for the service of his life.  That other was the lord who had the right inalienable over me.  I bent myself in the dust before him.  I would have taken shame itself as an honor from his hands.  I thought of him day and night.  I filled my soul with passionate admiration for his good deeds, his ill deeds, his all.  And the other was as the ground beneath my feet, of which I seldom thought.