What a pretty lover's meeting they must have had in there all to themselves!Caroline's sweet face looking up from her black gown--how it must have touched him.I know she wept very much,for I heard her;and her eyes will be red afterwards,and no wonder,poor dear,though she is no doubt happy.I can imagine what she is telling him while I write this--her fears lest anything should have happened to prevent his coming after all--gentle,smiling reproaches for his long delay;and things of that sort.His two portmanteaus are at this moment crossing the landing on the way to his room.I wonder if Iought to go down.
A little later.--I have seen him!It was not at all in the way that I intended to encounter him,and I am vexed.Just after his portmanteaus were brought up I went out from my room to descend,when,at the moment of stepping towards the first stair,my eyes were caught by an object in the hall below,and I paused for an instant,till I saw that it was a bundle of canvas and sticks,composing a sketching tent and easel.At the same nick of time the drawing-room door opened and the affianced pair came out.They were saying they would go into the garden;and he waited a moment while she put on her hat.My idea was to let them pass on without seeing me,since they seemed not to want my company,but I had got too far on the landing to retreat;he looked up,and stood staring at me--engrossed to a dream-like fixity.Thereupon I,too,instead of advancing as I ought to have done,stood moonstruck and awkward,and before I could gather my weak senses sufficiently to descend,she had called him,and they went out by the garden door together.I then thought of following them,but have changed my mind,and come here to jot down these few lines.It is all I am fit for ...
He is even more handsome than I expected.I was right in feeling he must have an attraction beyond that of form:it appeared even in that momentary glance.How happy Caroline ought to be.But I must,of course,go down to be ready with tea in the drawing-room by the time they come indoors.
11p.m.--I have made the acquaintance of M.de la Feste;and I seem to be another woman from the effect of it.I cannot describe why this should be so,but conversation with him seems to expand the view,and open the heart,and raise one as upon stilts to wider prospects.He has a good intellectual forehead,perfect eyebrows,dark hair and eyes,an animated manner,and a persuasive voice.His voice is soft in quality--too soft for a man,perhaps;and yet on second thoughts I would not have it less so.We have been talking of his art:I had no notion that art demanded such sacrifices or such tender devotion;or that there were two roads for choice within its precincts,the road of vulgar money-******,and the road of high aims and consequent inappreciation for many long years by the public.
That he has adopted the latter need not be said to those who understand him.It is a blessing for Caroline that she has been chosen by such a man,and she ought not to lament at postponements and delays,since they have arisen unavoidably.Whether he finds hers a sufficiently rich nature,intellectually and emotionally,for his own,I know not,but he seems occasionally to be disappointed at her ****** views of things.Does he really feel such love for her at this moment as he no doubt believes himself to be feeling,and as he no doubt hopes to feel for the remainder of his life towards her?
It was a curious thing he told me when we were left for a few minutes alone;that Caroline had alluded so slightly to me in her conversation and letters that he had not realized my presence in the house here at all.But,of course,it was only natural that she should write and talk most about herself.I suppose it was on account of the fact of his being taken in some measure unawares,that I caught him on two or three occasions regarding me fixedly in a way that disquieted me somewhat,having been lately in so little society;till my glance aroused him from his reverie,and he looked elsewhere in some confusion.It was fortunate that he did so,and thus failed to notice my own.It shows that he,too,is not particularly a society person.
May 10.--Have had another interesting conversation with M.de la Feste on schools of landscape painting in the drawing-room after dinner this evening--my father having fallen asleep,and left nobody but Caroline and myself for Charles to talk to.I did not mean to say so much to him,and had taken a volume of Modern Painters from the bookcase to occupy myself with,while leaving the two lovers to themselves;but he would include me in his audience,and I was obliged to lay the book aside.However,I insisted on keeping Caroline in the conversation,though her views on pictorial art were only too charmingly crude and primitive.
To-morrow,if fine,we are all three going to Wherryborne Wood,where Charles will give us practical illustrations of the principles of coloring that he has enumerated to-night.I am determined not to occupy his attention to the exclusion of Caroline,and my plan is that when we are in the dense part of the wood I will lag behind,and slip away,and leave them to return by themselves.I suppose the reason of his attentiveness to me lies in his simply wishing to win the good opinion of one who is so closely united to Caroline,and so likely to influence her good opinion of him.
May 11.Late.--I cannot sleep,and in desperation have lit my candle and taken up my pen.My restlessness is occasioned by what has occurred to-day,which at first I did not mean to write down,or trust to any heart but my own.We went to Wherryborne Wood--Caroline,Charles and I,as we had intended--and walked all three along the green track through the midst,Charles in the middle between Caroline and myself.Presently I found that,as usual,he and I were the only talkers,Caroline amusing herself by observing birds and squirrels as she walked docilely alongside her betrothed.
