ing to the
marriage with Edward; with this express condition, however, that for the
present the two gentlemen should go abroad together. The Major had a
foreign appointment from the Court, and it was settled that Edward
should accompany him. They arranged it all together, and in doing so
found a sort of comfort for themselves in the sense that at least
something was being done.

In the meantime they had to remark that Ottilie took scarcely anything
to eat or drink. She still persisted in refusing to speak. They at first
used to talk to her, but it appeared to distress her, and they left it
off. We are not, universally at least, so weak as to persist in
torturing people for their good. Charlotte thought over what could
possibly be done. At last she fancied it might be well to ask the
Assistant of the school to come to them. He had much influence with
Ottilie, and had been writing with much anxiety to inquire the cause of
her not having arrived at the time he had been expecting her; but as yet
she had not sent him any answer.

In order not to take Ottilie by surprise, they spoke of their intention
of sending this invitation in her presence. It did not seem to please
her; she thought for some little time; at last she appeared to have
formed some resolution. She retired to her own room, and before the
evening sent the following letter to the assembled party:

OTTILIE TO HER FRIENDS

"Why need I express in words, my dear friends, what is in itself so
plain? I have stepped out of my course, and I cannot recover it again. A
malignant spirit which has gained power over me seems to hinder me from
without, even if within I could again become at peace with myself.

"My purpose was entirely firm to renounce Edward, and to separate myself
from him for ever. I had hoped that we might never meet again; it has
turned out otherwise. Against his own will he stood before me. Too
literally, perhaps, I have observed my promise never to admit him into
conversation with me. My conscience and the feelings of the moment kept
me silent toward him at the time, and now I have nothing more to say. I
have taken upon myself, under the accidental impulse of the moment, a
difficult vow, which if it had been formed deliberately, might perhaps
be painful and distressing. Let me now persist in the observance of it
so long as my heart shall enjoin it to me. Do not call in any one to
mediate; do not insist upon my speaking; do not urge me to eat or to