"
There was a tone in Sophia's carefully modulated voice which made
Charlotte turn, and look at her sister. She was sitting at her
embroidery-frame, and apparently counting the stitches in the rose-leaf
she was copying; but Charlotte noticed that her hand trembled, and that
she was counting at random. In a moment the veil fell from her eyes: she
understood that Sophia was in love with Julius, and fearful of her own
influence over him. She had been about to leave the room: she returned
to the window, and stood at it a few moments, as if considering the
assertion.
"I should be very sorry if that were the case, Sophia."
"Why?"
"Because I do not admire Julius in any way. I never could admire him. I
don't want to be in debt to him for even one-half hour of sentimental
affection."
"You should let him understand that, Charlotte, if it be so."
"He must be very dull if he does not understand."
"When father and you went fishing yesterday, he went with you."
"Why did you not come also? We begged you to do so."
"Because I hate to be hot and untidy, and to get my hands soiled, and my
face flushed. That was your condition when you returned home; but all
the same, he said you looked like a water-nymph or a wood-nymph."
"I think very little of him for such talk. There is nothing 'nymphy'
about me. I should hate myself if there were. I am going to write, and
ask Harry to get a furlough for a few weeks.
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