Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one
side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical.
My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard
angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the lamp flamed
up and scorched my arm.

"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping
my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all softness and
kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance.

"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come with me,
and I will get Sophie to put something on it."

But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my sufferings. I
was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the other hand to
replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not make much headway,
and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau said, "Allow me," and
held the cup while I managed to pour the tea into it. He thanked me
stiffly, and without looking at either of them I got up and went out of
the room, Richard following me.

"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for you?" he
said a little coldly.

"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything more
about it; it only hurt me for a moment."

"Will you go into the parlor, then?"

"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he did not
follow me.

I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by one of the
windows, a little out of the light. This window opened upon the piazza.
After a little while Richard, walking up and down the piazza, stopped by
it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think it unreasonable in me to
ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you happen to be making tea for
that--that man in there?"

"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister asked me
to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about it."

"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the window.

Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the piano,
and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play softly, as if
not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help thinking in what
good taste this was, since he had promised not to wait for any more
importunities. The game at cards soon languished, for Charlotte Benson
really had an enthusiasm for music, and was not happy till she was at
liberty to give her whole attention to it. As soon as t