there is that is to be valued in the world, when we find occasion to
entertain such sentiments toward a particular object."

Charlotte made an excuse to retire early to her room where she could
give herself up to thinking over what had passed in the course of the
evening between herself and the Captain.

When Edward sprang on shore, and, pushing off the boat, had himself
committed his wife and his friend to the uncertain element, Charlotte
found herself face to face with the man on whose account she had been
already secretly suffering so bitterly, sitting in the twilight before
her, and sweeping along the boat with the sculls in easy motion. She
felt a depth of sadness, very rare with her, weighing on her spirits.
The undulating movement of the boat, the splash of the oars, the faint
breeze playing over the watery mirror, the sighing of the reeds, the
long flight of the birds, the fitful twinkling of the first stars--there
was something spectral about it all in the universal stillness. She
fancied her friend was bearing her away to set her on some far-off
shore, and leave her there alone; strange emotions were passing through
her, and she could not give way to them and weep.

The Captain was describing to her the manner in which, in his opinion,
the improvements should be continued. He praised the construction of the
boat; it was so convenient, he said, because one person could so easily
manage it with a pair of oars. She should herself learn how to do this;
there was often a delicious feeling in floating along alone upon the
water, one's own ferryman and steersman.

The parting which was impending sank on Charlotte's heart as he was
speaking. Is he saying this on purpose? she thought to herself. Does he