In the meantime, Charlotte was in a pitiable state of mind.  After her last conversation with Werther, she found how painful to herself it would be to decline his visits, and knew how severely he would suffer from their separation.

She had, in conversation with Albert, mentioned casually that Werther would not return before Christmas Eve; and soon afterward Albert went on horseback to see a person in the neighbourhood, with whom he had to transact some business which would detain him all night.

Charlotte was sitting alone.  None of her family were near, and she gave herself up to the reflections that silently took possession of her mind.  She was for ever united to a husband whose love and fidelity she had proved, to whom she was heartily devoted, and who seemed to be a special gift from Heaven to ensure her happiness.  On the other hand, Werther had become dear to her.  There was a cordial unanimity of sentiment between them from the very first hour of their acquaintance, and their long association and repeated interviews had made an indelible impression upon her heart.  She had been accustomed to communicate to him every thought and feeling which interested her, and his absence threatened to open a void in her existence which it might be impossible to fill.  How heartily she wished that she might change him into her brother, —­ that she could induce him to marry one of her own friends, or could reestablish his intimacy with Albert.

She passed all her intimate friends in review before her mind, but found something objectionable in each, and could decide upon none to whom she would consent to give him.

Amid all these considerations she felt deeply but indistinctly that her own real but unexpressed wish was to retain him for herself, and her pure and amiable heart felt from this thought a sense of oppression which seemed to forbid a prospect of happiness.  She was wretched:  a dark cloud obscured her mental vision.

It was now half-past six o’clock, and she heard Werther’s step on the stairs.  She at once recognised his voice, as he inquired if she were at home.  Her heart beat audibly —­ we could almost say for the first time —­ at his arrival.  It was too late to deny herself; and, as he entered, she exclaimed, with a sort of ill concealed confusion, “You have not kept your word!” “I promised nothing,” he answered.  “But you should have complied, at least for my sake,” she continued.  “I implore you, for both our sakes.”

She scarcely knew what she said or did; and sent for some friends, who, by their presence, might prevent her being left alone with Werther.  He put down some books he had brought with him, then made inquiries about some others, until she began to hope that her friends might arrive shortly, entertaining at the same time a desire that they might stay away.

At one moment she felt anxious that the servant should remain in the adjoining room, then she changed her mind.  Werther, meanwhile, walked impatiently up and down.  She went to the piano, and determined not to retire.  She then collected her thoughts, and sat down quietly at Werther’s side, who had taken his usual place on the sofa.