Mr. Wentworth, however, was not afraid.  “I have had more confidence in Felix than in you,” he said.

“Yes, you have never had confidence in me—­never, never!  I don’t know why.”

“Oh sister, sister!” murmured Charlotte.

“You have always needed advice,” Mr. Wentworth declared.  “You have had a difficult temperament.”

“Why do you call it difficult?  It might have been easy, if you had allowed it.  You would n’t let me be natural.  I don’t know what you wanted to make of me.  Mr. Brand was the worst.”

Charlotte at last took hold of her sister.  She laid her two hands upon Gertrude’s arm.  “He cares so much for you,” she almost whispered.

Gertrude looked at her intently an instant; then kissed her.  “No, he does not,” she said.

“I have never seen you so passionate,” observed Mr. Wentworth, with an air of indignation mitigated by high principles.

“I am sorry if I offend you,” said Gertrude.

“You offend me, but I don’t think you are sorry.”

“Yes, father, she is sorry,” said Charlotte.

“I would even go further, dear uncle,” Felix interposed.  “I would question whether she really offends you.  How can she offend you?”

To this Mr. Wentworth made no immediate answer.  Then, in a moment, “She has not profited as we hoped.”

“Profited?  Ah voila!” Felix exclaimed.

Gertrude was very pale; she stood looking down.  “I have told Felix I would go away with him,” she presently said.

“Ah, you have said some admirable things!” cried the young man.

“Go away, sister?” asked Charlotte.

“Away—­away; to some strange country.”

“That is to frighten you,” said Felix, smiling at Charlotte.

“To—­what do you call it?” asked Gertrude, turning an instant to Felix.  “To Bohemia.”

“Do you propose to dispense with preliminaries?” asked Mr. Wentworth, getting up.

“Dear uncle, vous plaisantez!” cried Felix.  “It seems to me that these are preliminaries.”

Gertrude turned to her father.  “I have profited,” she said.  “You wanted to form my character.  Well, my character is formed—­for my age.  I know what I want; I have chosen.  I am determined to marry this gentleman.”

“You had better consent, sir,” said Felix very gently.

“Yes, sir, you had better consent,” added a very different voice.

Charlotte gave a little jump, and the others turned to the direction from which it had come.  It was the voice of Mr. Brand, who had stepped through the long window which stood open to the piazza.  He stood patting his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief; he was very much flushed; his face wore a singular expression.

“Yes, sir, you had better consent,” Mr. Brand repeated, coming forward.  “I know what Miss Gertrude means.”

“My dear friend!” murmured Felix, laying his hand caressingly on the young minister’s arm.