The next day affairs assumed a different aspect, but Robert was no great gainer by the change. Caroline, who had reproached herself for making the evening pass disagreeably to her father, determined to overcome the awkwardness which she experienced in Robert's presence, and, as far as outward appearances were concerned, she succeeded. She threw off the almost gloomy silence of the preceding evening, replied gaily to the pleasantries of Denis on the subject, and appeared, as usual, serene and amiable; but she found it impossible to be at her ease with Robert. She listened to him with attention, replied with gentleness, and even addressed her conversation to him when the opportunity occurred; but it was evident that she did so with effort, and that she laboured under insufferable constraint with him. Robert perceived this clearly, and every day added to his vexation; this negative distinction wounded and annoyed him, and he had to encounter it perpetually. If Caroline wanted a strong hand to stretch her embroidery frame, it was to Denis that she applied; if she wished to gather a flower that was beyond her reach, she would call Denis to her assistance, even if Robert were close beside her. At table, she might sometimes forget to help Denis, or attend to Stephen before him, whilst her scrupulous politeness towards Robert marked the distance between them. Treated thus as a stranger, and more wounded by Caroline's polite attention than even by her coldness, Robert found little pleasure at Primini, and was dissatisfied with his cousin. He felt that their near relationship gave him a right to more familiar intercourse, whilst he forgot that he did nothing to promote it; greatly piqued, and more grieved than he was aware of, to find himself on such bad terms with Caroline, he took the very way to increase the distance between them; he was reserved and ceremonious in his conduct towards her, yet captious, and even ironical. Never did a word of friendly regard drop from his lips, but he would often complain; and, too proud to own his vexation, he veiled it under so much bitterness, that he was completely misunderstood by Caroline, whose heart, accustomed to the full light of truth, never suspected simulation, or detected what was feigned.
As Robert's stay at Primini was prolonged, he was day after day the more grieved at the state of his relations with Caroline; seeing her as he did continually, he could not but acknowledge that she possessed excellent qualities, great amiability and simplicity of character, and that she had wonderfully improved since they parted. Although he was still far from being acquainted with all her worth, he began to think that it would be very delightful to gain her friendship and possess her confidence, and also to doubt whether he had ever deserved either the one or the other. The remembrance of his former wrongs towards her presented itself to his mind; he recollected how disagreeable had been his manners, how severe his condemnation; he was no longer surprised at the coldness of Caroline, and asked himself whether, since his arrival, he had taken the proper measures to overcome it. His conscience told him that he had not; his regret augmented, and soon assumed the form of self-reproach. He accused himself as the sole cause of all this vexation, and anxiously sought the means of putting an end to the constraint which was so painful to both, so distressing to himself. One morning, as he was pondering over the subject whilst taking a walk, he heard bursts of laughter, and, approaching, saw Caroline and Denis engaged in watering the flowers, and chatting in the most animated manner. He joined them, wished them good morning; Caroline resumed her gravity; Denis recollected that it was the hour to begin his studies, and left them. Robert and Caroline remained for some moments without speaking. At last, making an effort, he said, "I have disturbed you, Caroline; I am sorry for it."
"Why should you think you disturb me, Robert? I can go on watering my flowers whilst you are here."
"Yes; but you are not laughing as you were just now."
"I have no longer any inclination to do so."
"That is the very thing of which I complain; I always interrupt your merriment, my dear Caroline; cannot you laugh and chat with me as you do with Denis?"
"With you, Robert? Oh, that would be very difficult."
"And why? Am I not also your cousin?"
"I do not know you so well as Denis."
"But yesterday, when the curé introduced his nephew, to whom you were a stranger, you conversed a great deal with him, and appeared to be amused."