his mind to accept one of the situations which had been offered him, although it was not in the least up to his mark. He was to share the ennui of certain wealthy persons of rank, who depended on his ability to dissipate it.
Edward's keen glance saw into the whole thing; and he pictured it out in just, sharp lines.
"Can we endure to think of our friend in such a position?" he cried. "You cannot be so cruel, Charlotte."
"That strange Mittler is right, after all," replied Charlotte: "all such undertakings are ventures; what will come of them, it is impossible to foresee. New elements introduced among us may be fruitful in fortune or in misfortune, without our having to take credit to ourselves for one or the other. I do not feel myself firm enough to oppose you further. Let us make the experiment; only one thing I will entreat of you,—that it be only for a short time. You must allow me to exert myself more than ever, to use all my influence among all my connections, to find him some position which will satisfy him in his own way." Edward assured his wife of his warmest gratitude. He hastened with a light, happy heart, to write off his proposals to his friend. Charlotte in a postscript was to signify her approbation with her own hand, and unite her own kind entreaties with his. She wrote, with a rapid pen, pleasantly and affectionately, but yet with a sort of haste which was not usual with her; and, most unlike herself, she disfigured the paper at last with a blot of ink, which put her out of temper, and which she only made worse with her attempts to wipe it away.
Edward laughed at her about it; and, as there was still room, added a second postscript, that his friend was to see from this symptom the impatience with which he was expected, and measure the speed at
