for two years. I have discovered nothing new in him. I was
familiar with all his ways and thought them all good. I compared
him with other men who were extravagant and who had vices, and I
considered myself fortunate. He was cool, but how much better it
was to be so than to have a temper, for I should never hear angry
words from him which cannot be forgotten? I remembered how measured
my uncle Robert's speech was, how quiet he was, and yet no two human
beings could have been more devoted to one another than uncle and
aunt. Charles's quietude seemed so like uncle's. Charles was very
methodical. He always came to see me on the same days, at the same
hours, and stayed the same time. It provoked me at first, but I
said to myself that he was not a creature of fits and starts and
that I could always depend on him.

He always kissed me when we met and when we parted. I do not
remember that he ever had me in his arms, and I never felt he was
warm and eager when we were alone together; but I had heard of men
and women who married for what they called love, and in a
twelvemonth it had vanished and there was nothing left. Of many
small particulars I took but little notice. When we chose the
furniture I wanted bright-coloured curtains, but he did not like
them and bought dark red, gloomy stuff. I tried to think they were
the best because they would not show the London dirt. I had a
bonnet with scarlet trimmings which suited my black hair, but he
asked me to change them for something more sober, because they made
me conspicuous. Again I thought he was right, and that what might
do for the country might not be proper in town. Trifles! and yet to
me now what a meaning they have! Two years--and everything is
changed, although, as I have just said, I have found out nothing
new! The quietude is absence of emotion, different in its root from