CHAPTER XVII
Ottilie heard some one ride away, and went to the window in time just to catch
a sight of Edward’s back. It was strange, she thought, that he should have left the
house without seeing her, without having even wished her good morning. She
grew uncomfortable, and her anxiety did not diminish when Charlotte took her
out for a long walk, and talked of various other things; but not once, and
apparently on purpose, mentioning her husband. When they returned she found
the table laid with only two covers. It is unpleasant to miss even the most trifling
thing to which we have been accustomed. In serious things such a loss becomes
miserably painful. Edward and the Captain were not there. The first time, for a
long while, Charlotte sat at the head of the table herself — and it seemed to
Ottilie as if she was deposed. The two ladies sat opposite each other; Charlotte
talked, without the least embarrassment, of the Captain and his appointment, and
of the little hope there was of seeing him again for a long time. The only comfort
Ottilie could find for herself was in the idea that Edward had ridden after his
friend, to accompany him a part of his journey.
On rising from table, however, they saw Edward’s traveling carriage under the
window. Charlotte, a little as if she was put out, asked who had had it brought
round there. She was told it was the valet, who had some things there to pack up.
It required all Ottilie Is self-command to conceal her wonder and her distress.
The valet came in, and asked if they would be so good as to let him have a
drinking cup of his master’s, a pair of silver spoons, and a number of other
things, which seemed to Ottilie to imply that he was gone some distance, and
would be away for a long time.
Charlotte gave him a very cold, dry answer. She did not know what he meant
— he had everything belonging to his master under his own care. What the man
wanted was to speak a word to Ottilie, and on some pretence or other to get her
out of the room; he made some clever excuse, and persisted in his request so far
that Ottilie asked if she should go to look for the things for him? But Charlotte
quietly said that she had better not. The valet had to depart, and the carriage
rolled away.
It was a dreadful moment for Ottilie. She understood nothing —
comprehended nothing. She could only feel that Edward had been parted from
her for a long time. Charlotte felt for her situation, and left her to herself.
We will not attempt to describe what she went through, or how she wept. She
suffered infinitely. She prayed that God would help her only over this one day.
The day passed, and the night, and when she came to herself again she felt
herself a changed being.
She had not grown composed. She was not resigned, but after having lost
what she had lost, she was still alive, and there was still something for her to
fear. Her anxiety, after returning to consciousness, was at once lest, now that the
gentlemen were gone, she might be sent away too. She never guessed at
Edward’s threats, which had secured her remaining with her aunt. Yet
Charlotte’s manner served partially to reassure her. The latter exerted herself to
find employment for the poor girl, and hardly ever, — never, if she could help it,
— left her out of her sight; and although she knew well how little words can do
against the power of passion, yet she knew, too, the sure though slow influence
of thought and reflection, and therefore missed no opportunity of inducing
Ottilie to talk with her on every variety of subject.
It was no little comfort to Ottilie when one day Charlotte took an opportunity
of making (she did it on purpose) the wise observation, “How keenly grateful
people were to us when we were able by stilling and calming them to help them
out of the entanglements of passion! Let us set cheerfully to work,” she said, “at
what the men have left incomplete: we shall be preparing the most charming
surprise for them when they return to us, and our temperate proceedings will
have carried through and executed what their impatient natures would have
spoilt.”
“Speaking of temperance, my dear aunt, I cannot help saying how I am struck
with the intemperance of men, particularly in respect of wine. It has often pained
and distressed me, when I have observed how, for hours together, clearness of
understanding, judgment, considerateness, and whatever is most amiable about
them, will be utterly gone, and instead of the good which they might have done
if they had been themselves, most disagreeable things sometimes threaten. How
often may not wrong, rash determinations have arisen entirely from that one
cause!”
Charlotte assented, but she did not go on with the subject. She saw only too
clearly that it was Edward of whom Ottilie was thinking. It was not exactly
habitual with him, but he allowed himself much more frequently than was at all
desirable to stimulate his enjoyment and his power of talking and acting by such
indulgence. If what Charlotte had just said had set Ottilie thinking again about
men, and particularly about Edward, she was all the more struck and startled
when her aunt began to speak of the impending marriage of the Captain as of a
thing quite settled and acknowledged. This gave a totally different aspect to
affairs from what Edward had previously led her to entertain. It made her watch
every expression of Charlotte’s, every hint, every action, every step. Ottilie had
become jealous, sharp-eyed, and suspicious, without knowing it.
Meanwhile, Charlotte with her clear glance looked through the whole
circumstances of their situation, and made arrangements which would provide,
among other advantages, full employment for Ottilie. She contracted her
household, not parsimoniously, but into narrower dimensions; and, indeed, in
one point of view, these moral aberrations might be taken for a not unfortunate
accident. For in the style in which they had been going on, they had fallen
imperceptibly into extravagance; and from a want of seasonable reflection, from
the rate at which they had been living, and from the variety of schemes into
which they had been launching out, their fine fortune, which had been in
excellent condition, had been shaken, if not seriously injured.
The improvements which were going on in the park she did not interfere with;
she rather sought to advance whatever might form a basis for future operations.
But here, too, she assigned herself a limit. Her husband on his return should still
find abundance to amuse himself with.
In all this work she could not sufficiently value the assistance of the young
architect. In a short time the lake lay stretched out under her eyes, its new shores
turfed and planted with the most discriminating and excellent judgment. The
rough work at the new house was all finished. Everything which was necessary
to protect it from the weather she took care to see provided, and there for the
present she allowed it to rest in a condition in which what remained to be done
could hereafter be readily commenced again. Thus hour by hour she recovered
her spirits and her cheerfulness. Ottilie only seemed to have done so. She was
only for ever watching, in all that was said and done, for symptoms which might
show her whether Edward would be soon returning: and this one thought was the
only one in which she felt any interest.
It was, therefore, a very welcome proposal to her when it was suggested that
they should get together the boys of the peasants, and employ them in keeping
the park clean and neat. Edward had long entertained the idea. A pleasant —
looking sort of uniform was made for them, which they were to put on in the
evenings after they had been properly cleaned and washed. The wardrobe was
kept in the castle; the more sensible and ready of the boys themselves were
intrusted with the management of it — the Architect acting as chief director. In a
very short time, the children acquired a kind of character. It was found easy to
mold them into what was desired; and they went through their work not without
a sort of manoeuvre. As they marched along, with their garden shears, their long-
handled pruning-knives, their rakes, their little spades and hoes, and sweeping-
brooms; others following after these with baskets to carry off the stones and
rubbish; and others, last of all, trailing along the heavy iron roller — it was a
thoroughly pretty, delightful procession. The Architect observed in it a beautiful
series of situations and occupations to ornament the frieze of a garden-house.
Ottilie, on the other hand, could see nothing in it but a kind of parade, to salute
the master of the house on his near return.
And this stimulated her and made her wish to begin something of the sort
herself. They had before endeavored to encourage the girls of the village in
knitting, and sewing, and spinning, and whatever else women could do; and
since what had been done for the improvement of the village itself, there had
been a perceptible advance in these descriptions of industry. Ottilie had given
what assistance was in her power, but she had given it at random, as opportunity
or inclination prompted her; now she thought she — would go to work more
satisfactorily and methodically. But a company is not to be formed out of a
number of girls, as easily as out of a number of boys. She followed her own
good sense, and, — without being exactly conscious of it, her efforts were solely
directed toward connecting every girl as closely as possible each with her own
home, her own parents, brothers and sisters: and she succeeded with many of
them. One lively little creature only was incessantly complained of as showing
no capacity for work, and as never likely to do anything if she were left at home.
Ottilie could not be angry with the girl, for to herself the little thing was
especially attached — she clung to her, went after her, and ran about with her,
whenever she was permitted — and then she would be active and cheerful and
never tire. It appeared to be a necessity of the child’s nature to hang about a
beautiful mistress. At first, Ottilie allowed her to be her companion; then she
herself began to feel a sort of affection for her; and, at last, they never parted at
all, and Nanny attended her mistress wherever she went.
The latter’s footsteps were often bent toward the garden, where she liked to
watch the beautiful show of fruit. It was just the end of the raspberry and cherry
season, the few remains of which were no little delight to Nanny. On the other
trees there was a promise of a magnificent bearing for the autumn, and the
gardener talked of nothing but his master and how he wished that he might be at
home to enjoy it. Ottilie could listen to the good old man forever! He thoroughly
understood his business; and Edward — Edward — Edward — was for ever the
theme of his praise!
Ottilie observed how well all the grafts which had been budded in the spring
had taken. “I only wish,” the gardener answered, “my good master may come to
enjoy them. If he were here this autumn, he would see what beautiful sorts there
are in the old castle garden, which the late lord, his honored father, put there. I
think the fruit-gardeners there are now don’t succeed as well as the Carthusians
used to do. We find many fine names in the catalogue, and then we bud from
them, and bring up the shoots, and, at last, when they come to bear, it is not
worth while to have such trees standing in our garden.”
Over and over again, whenever the faithful old servant saw Ottilie, he asked
when his master might be expected home; and when Ottilie had nothing to tell
him, he would look vexed, and let her see in his manner that he thought she did
not care to tell him: the sense of uncertainty which was thus forced upon her
became painful beyond measure, and yet she could never be absent from these
beds and borders. What she and Edward had sown and planted together were
now in full flower, requiring no further care from her, except that Nanny should
be at hand with the watering-pot; and who shall say with what sensations she
watched the later flowers, which were just beginning to show, and which were to
be in the bloom of their beauty on Edward’s birthday, the holiday to which she
had looked forward with such eagerness, when these flowers were to have
expressed her affection and her gratitude to him! But the hopes which she had
formed of that festival were dead now, and doubt and anxiety never ceased to
haunt the soul of the poor girl.
Into real open, hearty understanding with Charlotte, there was no more a
chance of her being able to return; for indeed, the position of these two ladies
was very different. If things could remain in their old state — if it were possible
that they could return again into the smooth, even way of calm, ordered life,
Charlotte gained everything; she gained happiness for the present, and a happy
future opened before her. On the other hand, for Ottilie all was lost — one may
say, all; for she had first found in Edward what life and happiness meant; and, in
her present position, she felt an infinite and dreary chasm of which before she
could have formed no conception. A heart which seeks, feels well that it wants
something; a heart which has lost, feels that something is gone — its yearning
and its longing change into uneasy impatience — and a woman’s spirit, which is
accustomed to waiting and to enduring, must now pass out from its proper
sphere, must become active and attempt and do something to make its own
happiness. Ottilie had not given up Edward — how could she? Although
Charlotte, wisely enough, in spite of her conviction to the contrary, assumed it as
a thing of course, and resolutely took it as decided that a quiet rational regard
was possible between her husband and Ottilie. How often, however, did not
Ottilie remain at nights, after bolting herself into her room, on her knees before
the open box, gazing at the birthday presents, of which as yet she had not
touched a single thing — not cut out or made up a single dress! How often with
the sunrise did the poor girl hurry out of the house, in which she once had found
all her happiness, away into the free air, into the country which then had had no
charms for her. Even on the solid earth she could not bear to stay; she would
spring into the boat, row out into the middle of the lake, and there, drawing out
some book of travels, lie rocked by the motion of the waves, reading and
dreaming that she was far away, where she would never fail to find her friend —
she remaining ever nearest to his heart, and he to hers.
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