They ordinarily sat in the evening in the same places round a small table--Charlotte on the sofa, Ottilie on a chair opposite to her, and the gentlemen on each side. Ottilie's place was on Edward's right, the side where he put the candle when he was reading--at such times she would draw her chair a little nearer to look over him, for Ottilie also trusted her own eyes better than another person's lips, and Edward would then always make a move toward her, that it might be as easy as possible for her--indeed he would frequently make longer stops than necessary, that he might not turn over before she had got to the bottom of the page.
Charlotte and the Captain observed this, and exchanged many a quiet smile at it; but they were both taken by surprise at another symptom, in which Ottilie's latent feeling accidentally displayed itself.
One evening, which had been partly spoilt for them by a tedious visit, Edward proposed that they should not separate so early--he felt inclined for music--he would take his flute, which he had not done for many days past. Charlotte looked for the sonatas which they generally played together, and they were not to be found. Ottilie, with some hesitation, said that they were in her room--she had taken them there to copy them.
"And you can, you will, accompany me on the piano?" cried Edward, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I think perhaps I can," Ottilie answered. She brought the music and sat down to the instrument. The others listened, and were sufficiently surprised to hear how perfectly Ottilie had taught herself the piece--but far more surprised were they at the way in which she contrived to adapt herself to Edward's style of playing. Adapt herself, is not the right expression--Charlotte's skill and power enabled her, in order to please her husband, to keep up with him when he went too fast, and hold in for him if he hesitated; but Ottilie, who had several times heard them play the sonata together, seemed to have learnt it according to the idea in which they accompanied each other--she had so completely made his defects her own, that a kind of living whole resulted from it, which did not move indeed according to exact rule, but the effect of which was in the highest degree pleasant and delightful. The composer himself would have been pleased to hear his work disfigured in a manner so charming.