“Oh! why did you not speak, and stop my unkind and hasty words. Glad, did you say? how could you be glad to know that I had purposely shunned your presence, and shrunk from your most casual approach?”
“I was glad, because I had found the key to your conduct, and then knew why you had acted so coldly towards me, and refused so persistently the friendship I longed to offer. I was glad, because I knew then that the distance between us was not caused by enmity, but your sensitive nature.”
Looking at me pleadingly with her eloquent eyes, and with a tremor in her soft voice, she said:
“Will you not appreciate my feelings, then, and forgive me?”
“I do appreciate your feelings,” I said, with warmth, “and, appreciating them, have nothing to forgive. I have been pained that you seemed to mistrust me; that the love and devotion my brother’s heart would fain have offered, was put aside, and that you wrapped yourself in such a robe of icy reserve; but I understand it all now, and you may trust me to use all my efforts to prevent the recurrence of any occasion that would cause you mortification or regret.”
“Thank you, my kind brother, for your consideration of my feelings,” she returned, warmly; “but let me add a word before we leave the subject: My annoyance has not been caused by the fact that your name, as yours, was coupled with mine, but that the very kindness of your family in taking me under their roof, is made, in the estimation of others, an obligation that places me at your disposal;” and the pride of her high-born soul burned in her glorious eyes, as she spoke.
“Well, we understand each other now,” I said, soothingly, “and let us make this agreement—that whenever we are unobserved we will be trustful and confiding, as brother and sister should be, but when occasion demands we will be reserved and distant, without offence.”
“I agree most cordially,” she said, “and will henceforth place an implicit confidence in you as my truest friend.”
She motioned as if to go, but it was so pleasant—something so new—to converse with her, to watch the play of her beautiful features, to catch the light of her great dark eyes, as she looked into my face as if to see my words, that I strove to detain her.
“Do not leave me yet, Carlotta. My heart is very sad today. Will you let me unburden it to you? It seems silly, I know, but I do so long to have some one to confide in; some one I can trust as I can you.”