After such an expulsion one morning, she put on her bonnet and mantle, and went into the park.  She was hot and trembling with anger, and her eyes were misty with tears.  In the main walk she met Harry.  He was smoking, and pacing slowly up and down under the bare branches of the oaks.  For a moment he also seemed annoyed at her intrusion on his solitude; but the next one he had tucked her arm through his own, and was looking with brotherly sympathy into her flushed and troubled face.  This morning Charlotte felt it to be a great comfort to complain to him, to even cry a little over the breaking of the family bond, and the loss of her sister’s affection.

“I have always been so proud of Sophia, always given up to her in every thing.  When grandmother showed me the sapphire necklace, and said she was going to leave it to me because she loved me best, I begged her not to slight Sophia in such a way as that,—­Sophia being the elder, you know, Harry.  I cried about it until she was almost angry with me.  Julius offered his hand to me first; and though I claim no merit for giving up what I do not want, yet, all the same, if I had wanted him I should have refused, because I saw that Sophia had set her heart upon him.  I should indeed, Harry.”

“I believe you would, Charlotte.”

“And somehow Julius manages to give me the feeling that I am only in Seat-Sandal on his tolerance.  Many a time a day I have to tell myself that father is still alive, and that I have a right in my own home.  I do not know how he manages to make me feel so.”

“In the same way that he conveys to me the impression that I shall never be squire of Sandal-Side.  He has doomed me to death in his own mind; and I believe if I had to live with him, I should feel constrained to go and shoot myself.”

“I would come home, and get married, Harry.  There will be room enough and welcome enough for your wife in Seat-Sandal, especially if she be Emily.”

“She will not be Emily; for I love some one else far away better,—­millions of times better than I love Emily.”

“I am so glad, Harry.  Have you told father?”

“Not yet.  I do not think he will be glad, Charlotte.”

“But why?”

“There are many reasons.”

“Such as?”

“She is poor.”

“Oh! that is bad, Harry; because I know that we are not rich.  But she is not your inferior?  I mean she is not uneducated or unladylike?”

“She is highly educated, and in all England there is not a more perfect lady.”

“Then I can see no reason to think father will not be pleased.  I am sure, Harry, that I shall love your wife.  Oh, yes!  I shall love her very dearly.”

Then Harry pressed her arm close to his side, and looked lovingly down into her bright, earnest face.  There was no need of speech.  In a glance their souls touched each other.

“And so he asked you first, eh, Charley?”