; Uncle George had been provided for Mrs. Rayner's
edification, and we all sat together in the drawing-room. Grandmamma
and Aunt Caroline had Constance between them under the lamp. I could
watch her very well. Gabriel sat next me. We could not talk, so I
thought we might as well play backgammon, and we set the board so
that he could not see Constance.

When Gabriel left, I took him as far as the blue door, first making
a round of the garden and shrubbery; it was a dear walk. He said,
"Shall we make a match of it, Emilia, between your perfumed uncle
and that benighted woman?" It certainly was an excellent idea.
Towards the end he said:

"Emilia, you have been rather pale these last days. Take care of my
girl, my dear girl. And your step is not over firm; you cling to me
as you walk."

Why, yes, that was true enough; I was clinging to him with all my
force.

Gabriel is older than he was; he would never have noticed this when
first I knew him, not even when first he loved me. He has grown much
more thoughtful of late.

All this holds together. I am perfectly calm; I am not deceiving
myself. I am calm because I see the need of self-possession and
reflection. Gabriel and Constance,--it seems horrible to set it down
thus before my poor eyes,--they love one another.

And now let me be very careful, very just and true. They love each
other, but they do not know it. I know it, because my great love has
so trained my eye that they cannot deceive me; neither he nor she;
themselves, perhaps, but me never.

I do not say that it is dangerous love, lasting love; these passing
fancies die their own death, and therefore I think I shall not
disturb them; if I part them, the shock might awaken them to the
truth. No; I will let their fancy run its own course, trusting that
it may die before they become aware of its existence.

That is it; they do not know it yet, it is an unconscious
attraction. He loves me so firmly, he would never dream of
infidelity to me; yet, just at present, he is unfaithful in thought
and does not know it. Poor dear, if he knew, how miserable he would
be, how he would hate himself! And Constance, too. This is a cruel
thing, but I think I can bear it; it must pass because they love me
so much. It rests with me; I must be very wise. They are as
sleep-walkers; I must lead them from danger, patiently, tenderly. I
think I can keep calm.

_June 21st._--It comes to me almost as a miracle what one can bear.