She wandered about alone in the garden wondering what Mr. Brand would make of her words, which it had been a singular pleasure for her to utter.  Shortly after, passing in front of the house, she saw at a distance two persons standing near the garden gate.  It was Mr. Brand going away and bidding good-night to Charlotte, who had walked down with him from the house.  Gertrude saw that the parting was prolonged.  Then she turned her back upon it.  She had not gone very far, however, when she heard her sister slowly following her.  She neither turned round nor waited for her; she knew what Charlotte was going to say.  Charlotte, who at last overtook her, in fact presently began; she had passed her arm into Gertrude’s.

“Will you listen to me, dear, if I say something very particular?”

“I know what you are going to say,” said Gertrude.  “Mr. Brand feels very badly.”

“Oh, Gertrude, how can you treat him so?” Charlotte demanded.  And as her sister made no answer she added, “After all he has done for you!”

“What has he done for me?”

“I wonder you can ask, Gertrude.  He has helped you so.  You told me so yourself, a great many times.  You told me that he helped you to struggle with your—­your peculiarities.  You told me that he had taught you how to govern your temper.”

For a moment Gertrude said nothing.  Then, “Was my temper very bad?” she asked.

“I am not accusing you, Gertrude,” said Charlotte.

“What are you doing, then?” her sister demanded, with a short laugh.

“I am pleading for Mr. Brand—­reminding you of all you owe him.”

“I have given it all back,” said Gertrude, still with her little laugh.  “He can take back the virtue he imparted!  I want to be wicked again.”

Her sister made her stop in the path, and fixed upon her, in the darkness, a sweet, reproachful gaze.  “If you talk this way I shall almost believe it.  Think of all we owe Mr. Brand.  Think of how he has always expected something of you.  Think how much he has been to us.  Think of his beautiful influence upon Clifford.”

“He is very good,” said Gertrude, looking at her sister.  “I know he is very good.  But he should n’t speak against Felix.”

“Felix is good,” Charlotte answered, softly but promptly.  “Felix is very wonderful.  Only he is so different.  Mr. Brand is much nearer to us.  I should never think of going to Felix with a trouble—­with a question.  Mr. Brand is much more to us, Gertrude.”

“He is very—­very good,” Gertrude repeated.  “He is more to you; yes, much more.  Charlotte,” she added suddenly, “you are in love with him!”

“Oh, Gertrude!” cried poor Charlotte; and her sister saw her blushing in the darkness.

Gertrude put her arm round her.  “I wish he would marry you!” she went on.

Charlotte shook herself free.  “You must not say such things!” she exclaimed, beneath her breath.