She is a little frightened now, lest it should seem forward in her to have revived the subject of her own accord; but she may assume that his question has been waiting on for an answer ever since, and that she has, therefore, acted only within her promise.  In truth, the secret at the bottom of it all is that she is somewhat saddened because he has not latterly reminded her of the pause in their affairs—­that, in short, his original impatience to possess her is not now found to animate him so obviously.  I suppose that he loves her as much as ever; indeed, I am sure he must do so, seeing how lovable she is.  It is mostly thus with all men when women are out of their sight; they grow negligent.  Caroline must have patience, and remember that a man of his genius has many and important calls upon his time.  In justice to her I must add that she does remember it fairly well, and has as much patience as any girl ever had in the circumstances.  He hopes to come at the beginning of April at latest.  Well, when he comes we shall see him.

April 5.—­I think that what M. de la Feste writes is reasonable enough, though Caroline looks heart-sick about it.  It is hardly worth while for him to cross all the way to England and back just now, while the sea is so turbulent, seeing that he will be obliged, in any event, to come in May, when he has to be in London for professional purposes, at which time he can take us easily on his way both coming and going.  When Caroline becomes his wife she will be more practical, no doubt; but she is such a child as yet that there is no contenting her with reasons.  However, the time will pass quickly, there being so much to do in preparing a trousseau for her, which must now be put in hand in order that we may have plenty of leisure to get it ready.  On no account must Caroline be married in half-mourning; I am sure that mother, could she know, would not wish it, and it is odd that Caroline should be so intractably persistent on this point, when she is usually so yielding.

April 30.—­This month has flown on swallow’s wings.  We are in a great state of excitement—­I as much as she—­I cannot quite tell why.  He is really coming in ten days, he says.

May 9.  Four p.m.—­I am so agitated I can scarcely write, and yet am particularly impelled to do so before leaving my room.  It is the unexpected shape of an expected event which has caused my absurd excitement, which proves me almost as much a school-girl as Caroline.

M. de la Feste was not, as we understood, to have come till to-morrow; but he is here—­just arrived.  All household directions have devolved upon me, for my father, not thinking M. de la Feste would appear before us for another four-and-twenty hours, left home before post time to attend a distant consecration; and hence Caroline and I were in no small excitement when Charles’s letter was opened, and we read that he had been unexpectedly favoured in the dispatch of his studio work, and would follow