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diff --git a/old/5124-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/5124-h.htm.2021-01-27 deleted file mode 100644 index e8f330a..0000000 --- a/old/5124-h.htm.2021-01-27 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11502 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
- <head>
- <title>
- Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge
- </title>
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-
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- P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
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-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Henrietta's Wish
-
-Author: Charlotte M. Yonge
-
-Release Date: April 8, 2009 [EBook #5124]
-Last Updated: October 12, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA'S WISH ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, the Victorian Women
-Writers Project at Indiana University, and David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <h1>
- HENRIETTA’S WISH;
- </h1>
- <h2>
- OR, DOMINEERING
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Charlotte M. Yonge
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <blockquote>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- </blockquote>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was
- waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as the
- railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently
- enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to express
- their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek shining skins,
- but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now and then to
- whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of his whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about
- sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and flushed
- complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two or three
- minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand to examine
- the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, and study the
- countenances of the bystanders to see whether they expressed any anxiety
- respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, however, seemed quite at
- their ease, and after a time the arrival of the railway omnibus and two or
- three other carriages, convinced her that the rest of the world only now
- began to consider it to be due. At last the ringing of a bell quickened
- everybody into a sudden state of activity, and assured her that the
- much-desired moment was come. The cloud of smoke was seen, the panting of
- the engine was heard, the train displayed its length before the station,
- men ran along tapping the doors of the carriages, and shouting a word
- which bore some distant resemblance to “Teignmouth,” and at the same
- moment various travellers emerged from the different vehicles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after a
- hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to the
- carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form,
- complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then
- withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the
- hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the “Well,
- Fred!” “Well, Henrietta!” which formed the greeting of the twin brother
- and sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was not mamma well enough to come?” asked Frederick, as the carriage
- turned away from the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write
- yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; but
- she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your school
- affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie
- between us next year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely,” said Henrietta, “you must be able to beat him then, if you are
- before him now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t make too sure, Henrietta,” said Frederick, shaking his head,
- “Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should not
- have been before him now if it had not been for my verses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander,” said Henrietta, “she would
- make a great deal of his success.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?” said Frederick with
- some dissatisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she
- patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. And
- indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to her
- that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think him worth
- cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched up together in
- an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the Great. And how
- she always talks about Alex when she is here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she at Knight Sutton?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to be
- far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only think,
- Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close to the
- village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept on saying
- how well it would do for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, if we could but get mamma there!” said Fred. “What does she say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one,” said Henrietta;
- “but that is not an inch—no, not the hundredth part of an inch—towards
- going there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought to
- believe so,” said Frederick. “All her attachments are there—her own
- home; my father’s home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here,” said Henrietta.
- “Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to acquaintance,
- the people are always changing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there is nothing to do,” added Fred; “nothing possible but boating
- and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as Uncle
- Geoffrey says. It is very, very—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aggravating,” said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of
- family slang words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, aggravating,” said he with a smile, “to be placed under the
- necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through
- when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were
- on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a
- timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I am
- sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it again
- and again that she is not easily frightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No: and I do not think she is afraid for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious than
- girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I think
- that is reasonable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it,” said
- Fred: “he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden shock—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What? Our father’s accident?” asked Henrietta. “I never knew rightly
- about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one saw it happen,” said Fred; “he went out riding, his horse came
- home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did they bring him home?” asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling tone
- in which her brother spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said ‘Mary,’ once or
- twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Terrible!” said Henrietta, with a shudder. “O! how did mamma ever recover
- it?—at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,—but I
- meant live, or be even as well as she is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was fearfully ill for long after,” said Fred, “and Uncle Geoffrey
- thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says
- they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be
- wondered at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no,” said Henrietta. “What a mystery it has always seemed to us
- about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish
- days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma
- stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter
- his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a
- comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always
- cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his
- death?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we had,
- and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from talking to
- each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did Uncle Geoffrey
- tell you this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to
- speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept
- back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of
- being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how
- it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which one
- would have thought she would have dreaded most of all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said to
- him, ‘Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to ride,
- never mind my folly.’ He says that he thinks it cost her as much
- resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about
- going to school.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes; exactly,” said Henrietta, “if she thinks it is right, bear it
- she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee
- says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as she
- does.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never saw anyone so like a queen,” said Fred. “No, nor anyone so
- beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her in
- her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of your
- own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live to be a
- hundred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own,
- Master Fred,” retorted his sister; “but one comfort is, that I shall grow
- more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all the little
- likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was going to
- say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth in what
- Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made it worse.
- You know she had always been in India, and knew less about boys than
- mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so she might
- really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have often seen her
- quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you—her consolations
- just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making mamma twice as
- bad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Fred, sighing, “that is all over now, and she thought she was
- doing it all for the best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And,” proceeded Henrietta, “I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this
- perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. She
- imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and that it
- was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke,” added Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Till now, I really believe,” said Henrietta, “that the possibility of
- moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes that
- she can do it than that the house can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, “I do not think a journey occurs to her among events
- possible, and yet without being very fond of this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike
- about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she once
- went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own friends,
- instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma’s time it was not so
- bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. Rocksand has all
- the loneliness of the country without its advantages.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be
- well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless
- one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no
- clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it
- would be at Knight Sutton!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And perhaps she would be cured of her fears,” added Fred; “she would find
- no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins there
- come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, we will see what we can do,” said Henrietta. “I do think we may
- persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and for
- yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep
- straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were
- within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed
- Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer’s lodging, but was
- little fitted for a permanent abode.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no
- ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with more
- affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung from
- the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and returning
- such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that he had done
- nothing to forfeit home love and confidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford
- looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively,
- “All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey?
- Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now,
- Freddy, tell us about your examination,” added she, as fondly leaning on
- his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together
- on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in truth
- one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the admiration
- expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the features were
- beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet placid resignation
- which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. The eyes were deep
- dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed their brightness,
- their softness was increased; the smile was one of peace, of love, of
- serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it were, before her time,
- had lived on in meek patience and submission, almost a child in her ways,
- as devoted to her mother, as little with a will and way of her own, as
- free from the cares of this work-a-day world. The long luxuriant dark
- brown hair, which once, as now with Henrietta, had clustered in thick
- glossy ringlets over her comb and round her face, was in thick braids
- beneath the delicate lace cap which suited with her plain black silk
- dress. Her figure was slender, so tall that neither her well-grown son nor
- daughter had yet reached her height, and, as Frederick said, with
- something queenlike in its unconscious grace and dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had
- great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of the
- moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to her
- manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her spirit
- would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in earlier
- days.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick’s account of his journey and of his school news was heard and
- commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next
- matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival was to
- talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey’s proceedings, and the Knight Sutton
- affairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, on a special retainer,” said Mrs. Langford, “and very much he seems
- to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He wrote to me in court,” said Fred, “to tell me what books I had better
- get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled all over one
- side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was beautiful
- beyond all he ever imagined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had he never seen it before?” said Henrietta. “Lawyers seem made to
- travel in their vacations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared,” said her mamma; “I do not know what
- Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his holidays
- than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed to take his
- own pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He goes home just as he used from school,” said Mrs. Langford. “Indeed,
- except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered
- from those days; his work and play come in just the same way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet,” added
- Henrietta, “only rivalled by Busy Bee herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Fred, “according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one
- sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa’s pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma’s. It must
- be great fun to see them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Happy people!” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta says,” proceeded Fred, “that there is a house to be let at
- Knight Sutton.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Pleasance; yes, I know it well,” said his mother: “it is not actually
- in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, “said Henrietta, “and
- looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in
- mamma’s room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What size is it?” added Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The comparative degree,” said Mrs. Langford, “but my acquaintance with it
- does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking drawing-room
- with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed to run about
- when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old Miss Drakes. I
- wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys can scarcely, I
- should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are all at home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish some one else would take it,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some one,” added Henrietta, “who would like it of all things, and be
- quite at home there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A person,” proceeded the boy, “who likes Knight Sutton and its
- inhabitants better than anything else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only think,” joined in the young lady, “how delightful it would be. I can
- just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a summer’s
- day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to the
- nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle and Aunt
- Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without ringing at
- the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey all
- the vacation!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton,” said Mrs. Langford.
- “Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, Henrietta, riding
- shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your mamma did before you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And being as happy as a queen,” said Henrietta; “and the poor people, you
- know them all, don’t you, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But I
- should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used to
- work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress in her
- spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a noun and
- a verb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who has been so cruel?” asked Fred. “Busy Bee, I suppose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “she teaches away with all her might; but she says
- she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for there is
- no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should like to be
- Queen Bee’s deputy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Fred, “how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure such
- novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old
- mistress herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Queen Bee’s is not merely a nominal sovereignty,” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides,” said Henrietta, “the new Clergyman approves of all that sort of
- thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.
- </h2>
- <p>
- From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles in
- the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought of the
- brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as Henrietta
- truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk of what she
- still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the pang it must
- give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the burial-place of
- her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been augmented by the tender
- over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, who had strenuously
- endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a proposal into
- consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it out of the
- question.
- </p>
- <p>
- A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of
- Mrs. Vivian’s life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her
- daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was a
- general impression throughout the family that now was the time for her to
- come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but beginning to
- dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles and imagining
- scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being realized, or that
- it only depended upon her, to find herself at home there; and when
- Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of talking, pressed it
- upon her, she would reply with some vague intention of a return some time
- or other, but still thinking of it as something far away, and rather to be
- dreaded than desired.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind that
- it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take a lease
- of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present abode;
- and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank from
- entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason to hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet, I think,” said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they were
- walking together on the sands; “I think if she once thought it was right,
- if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really tell her
- that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why did he not do so long ago?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! because of grandmamma, I suppose,” said Henrietta; “but he really does
- wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put it into
- his head to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her,” said Fred; “but it never answers
- to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; he always
- says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all
- parties, I would not say so much about it,” said Henrietta, in a tone
- rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of
- domineering over her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good
- sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide for
- herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and during her
- long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her brother-in-law, Mr.
- Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, and in lesser ones upon
- her children. Girls are generally older of their age than boys, and
- Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother’s constant companion, occupied a
- position in the family which amounted to something more than prime
- minister. Some one person must always be leader, and thus she had
- gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for justice requires
- it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know her mamma’s mind
- for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to do so always was
- more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. The habit of being
- called on to settle whether they should use the britska or the pony
- carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or that book should be
- ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very unwilling to be
- thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially in one on which
- were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the wishes of all the
- family.
- </p>
- <p>
- Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best
- calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick,
- having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed on
- their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the same
- occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and
- Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the
- custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid for
- those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement there
- was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many beautiful
- walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford in the pony
- carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were the order of the
- day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not been for an
- occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out sailing without
- his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were spending their
- holidays in a very different manner, he would have been perfectly happy.
- Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the boys in the
- neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care with which
- he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his accomplishments, of
- his handsome features, and she would willingly have been proud of his
- excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she was proud of the
- spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it by her full and
- entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints must be diminished
- at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as much as her own wish
- for the scenes round which imagination had thrown such a brilliant halo.
- Of society they had hitherto seen little or nothing; Mrs. Langford’s
- health and spirits had never been equal to visiting, nor was there much to
- tempt her in the changing inhabitants of a watering-place. Now and then,
- perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant connexion of some part of the
- family came for a month or six weeks, and a few calls were exchanged, and
- it was one of these visits that led to the following conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the by, mamma,” said Fred, “I meant to ask you what that foolish woman
- meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly approved of
- Aunt Geoffrey’s marriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy,” replied
- Mrs. Langford, “considering that I was always accused of having made the
- match.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you really?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the credit
- as I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey’s?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, Fred,” said Henrietta, “to be sure you knew that. You have heard
- how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy
- and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used
- to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to
- my friend—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the
- other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend
- Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter
- vacation. It was when the general was in command at ——, and
- Beatrice was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the
- house, entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call
- brilliant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were you there, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very
- droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; she
- to find her brother’s guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford who had
- gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, very shy at
- first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making giggle; and he to
- find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so really simple in tastes
- and habits.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual beauty
- but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really handsome
- person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and indeed has
- now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a better word, I
- must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always very striking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, and
- it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is
- something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met her
- in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. And
- then and there they fell in love, did they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, but
- in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked either
- wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose that
- anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, and
- Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king’s daughter of
- Hongarie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, of course,” said Henrietta, “but that only makes it more
- delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in
- their history.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth or
- a truism often repeated, Henrietta,” said her mother with a soft sigh,
- which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: “Poor Frank’s illness
- and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a very
- different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, and
- was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they were to
- him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his youthful
- spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and night, and
- looking ill and overworked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey,” cried Henrietta, in an
- ecstasy; “you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could not
- fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and pining
- away all the time and saying nothing about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, after
- the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading succeeded;
- he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And still he saw nothing of her,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the
- Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters a
- wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some unlucky
- speculation which was to have doubled his daughter’s fortune, managed to
- lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Capital!” cried Frederick, “that brings her down to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it did,” said his mother, smiling; “but the spectators did not rejoice
- quite so heartily as you do. The general’s health was failing, and it was
- hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. Leger’s family,
- though very kind, were not more congenial than they are now. As soon as
- all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the general, who was
- very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait until it was
- prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after it was all
- settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey was with
- him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great comfort to
- know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she went first to
- the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then I would have
- her to be my bridesmaid, though”—and Mrs. Langford tried to smile,
- while again she strangled a sobbing sigh—“she warned me that her
- mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we went
- abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight Sutton.
- Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected a fine
- lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her gaiety and all
- her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was delighted with her the
- first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey’s coming home and thanking us
- for having managed so well as to make her like one of the family, while
- the truth was that she had fitted herself in, and found her place from the
- first moment. Now came a time of grave private conferences. A long
- engagement which might have been very well if the general had lived, was a
- dreary prospect now that Beatrice was without a home; but then your uncle
- was but just called to the bar, and had next to nothing of his own,
- present or to come. However, he had begun his literary works, and found
- them answer so well, that he believed he could maintain himself till
- briefs came in, and he had the sort of talent which gives confidence. He
- thought, too, that even in the event of his death she would be better off
- as one of us, than as a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by
- talking to us, he nearly persuaded himself to believe it would be a very
- prudent thing to marry. It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but
- persuade him he did, and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very
- summer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right,” cried Fred, “excellent and glorious! A farthing for all
- the St. Legers put together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion that
- it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady Amelia were
- present, so that no one had any reason to say that they disapproved.
- Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, I would also
- suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple comme il-y-en a
- peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, they are very well off,” said Fred; “he is quite at the head of his
- profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name is, if
- I belong to Langford the barrister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily bread,
- if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the buoyant
- school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a child to
- its play, his health could never have stood it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But then it has been success and triumph,” said Fred; “one could work
- like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was not all success at first,” said his mother; “there was hard work,
- and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to bear it,
- and to win through with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And were they very poor?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. The
- house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and
- cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt
- Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan’s
- visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was to
- find ‘poor Beatrice’ looking so bright and like herself, and how little
- she guessed at her morning’s work, the study of shirt-making, and the
- copying out a review of her husband’s, full of Greek quotations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, the poverty is all over now,” said Henrietta; “but still they live
- in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey’s connexions and the
- fortune he has made.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?” said Mrs.
- Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a cousin
- of her aunt Geoffrey’s of whom she had seen something in the last year.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth is,” said Mrs. Langford, “that your aunt had display and luxury
- enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not desire it
- except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, beyond what
- any one knows or suspects.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school,” said
- Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta, “the school,
- and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, mamma, if you
- made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always
- maintain,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- His mother sighed, saying, “I don’t know what we should have done without
- him!” and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her countenance
- which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more was said till it
- was discovered that it was bed time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Where is Madame?” asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the
- breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in her
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A headache,” answered Henrietta, “and a palpitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A bad one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it
- will not do, and we must give it up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with it?
- Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just listen what an effect last evening’s conversation had upon her. Last
- night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there I saw her
- kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just then it
- struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her know I was
- awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am sure she did
- not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her most
- uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when I
- looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come down
- to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought
- it on?” said Fred, with much concern; “yet it did not seem to have much to
- do with my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but it must,” said Henrietta. “He must have been there all the time
- mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always
- together when they were children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding,” said Fred.
- “Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt Geoffrey
- and with her, after they had been young and happy together. Yes, no doubt
- it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into letting them
- marry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death,” said
- Henrietta. “No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those
- thoughts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, I
- suppose we must give it up,” said Fred, with a sigh. “After all, we can be
- very happy here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished
- it,” said the sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it
- would be pleasanter for you when I am away,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so,” said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, “we agree to persuade each
- other that we don’t care about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to make
- her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her of
- fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain
- feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got up,
- but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a walk by
- her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and on their
- return they found her lying on the sofa.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma has been in mischief,” said Fred. “She did not think herself
- knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, mamma!” was Henrietta’s reproachful exclamation, as she looked at her
- pale face and red swollen eyelids.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, my dears,” said she, trying to smile, “I shall be better now
- this is done, and I have it off my mind.” They looked at her in anxious
- interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. “You will seal
- that letter with a good will, Henrietta,” she said. “It is to ask Uncle
- Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: then
- Henrietta exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred; “indeed we agreed this morning that it would be better
- not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and comfort.
- I am sure it suits you best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you, my dear ones,” said she, drawing them towards her,
- and fondly kissing them, “but it is all settled, and I am sure it is
- better for you. It is but a dull life for you here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you,” cried
- Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. “We are, indeed we
- are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; do not
- think we want a change.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we would not have you to do it on our account,” said Fred. “Pray put
- it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a passing
- fancy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not talk me out of it, my dears,” said Mrs. Langford. “I know it
- is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that was
- the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of you,
- when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not let that
- letter be too late for the post.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not half like it,” said Fred, pausing at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not many fears on that score,” said she, smiling. “No, do not be
- uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be happy
- there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear old
- places again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering,” said
- Henrietta. “You do not know how I wish you would give it up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give it up! I would not for millions,” said Mrs. Langford. “Now go, my
- dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough
- for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept back
- the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if she were doing
- wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and remorseful, something
- like a tyrant between the condemnation and execution of his victim. But by
- the time the first course was over, and she and Frederick had begun to
- recollect their long-cherished wishes, they made up their minds to be
- happy, and fell into their usual strain of admiration of the unknown haven
- of their hopes, and of expectations that it would in the end benefit their
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs proceeded
- in the usual manner; Frederick’s holidays came to an end, and he returned
- to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and sister, but
- with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might be at Knight
- Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, Henrietta,” said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a
- day or two after Frederick’s departure, turning over to her the letter of
- which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some
- others. It was Uncle Geoffrey’s writing, and Henrietta read eagerly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “MY DEAR MARY,—I would not write till I could give you some positive
- information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a
- conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you
- think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain
- that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set
- upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you
- know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much the
- gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe that the
- effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among your own
- people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in what you
- say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going to write,
- and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and proceed to
- business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease,
- repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; she
- knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to her
- wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather
- alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to make
- the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them while
- they were bargaining for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear,” said she, “I
- dare say it will not ruin us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not exactly,” said Mrs. Langford, smiling, “but gentlemen consider it a
- disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed to
- have his own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up
- before you can look at them,” said Mrs. Langford; “I have no fears but
- that it is to be had.” But Henrietta could not help fancying that her
- mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go
- off independently of any determination of hers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and often
- talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate letters
- of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a little.
- She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, that they
- had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly it was
- desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for a weakness for
- not having sooner resolved upon her present step. Henrietta’s work was
- rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, than to prevent her from
- changing her purpose, which never altered, respecting a return to the
- neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though whether to the house of the
- tempting name, was a question which remained in agitation during the rest
- of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was not built in a day, so surely
- cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, especially when a clever and
- cautious lawyer acts for one party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays was
- reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford
- laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at
- their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded
- to accept Mr. Langford’s invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall,
- and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance.
- Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes of
- Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the
- descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place had
- ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half of her
- life was spent in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of her
- aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no other
- of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could not bear
- that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter lose the
- pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. Langford be
- deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she therefore arranged
- to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and her father went as
- usual to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from Devonshire,
- but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had no merely
- personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, declared herself
- perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions but her daughter
- and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house in London, there to be
- met in a day or two by the two school-boys, Frederick and his cousin
- Alexander, and then proceed all together to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was really
- come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would find her
- under a different roof from that which she had never left. She did not
- know till now that she had any attachments to the place she had hitherto
- believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she could not bid
- it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with his rough
- kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the rocky beach
- where she and her brother had often played on the verge of the ocean,
- watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple of the
- advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, streams,
- and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey had often
- told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to find in
- Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, which she
- grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her regrets,
- lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little
- time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the calm
- quietness with which she went through the few trying days that immediately
- preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant employment so great
- a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on her own account, as
- well as her mother’s, when every possible order had been given, every box
- packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit opposite to each other, on
- each side of the fire, in the idleness which precedes candle-light. Her
- mother leant back in silence, and she watched her with an anxious gaze.
- She feared to say anything of sympathy with what she supposed her feeling,
- lest she should make her weep. An indifferent speech would be out of place
- even if Henrietta herself could have made it, and yet to remain silent was
- to allow melancholy thoughts to prey upon her. So thought the daughter,
- longing at the same time that her persuasions were all unsaid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come here, my dear child,” said her mother presently, and Henrietta
- almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the
- tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a low
- footstool, leaning against her. “You are very much afraid for me,”
- continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of
- her face, far different from her own, “but you need not fear, it is all
- well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not
- really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All Henrietta’s consideration for her mother could not prevent her from
- bursting into tears. “O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going
- away from dear grandmamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on
- whether we are in our duty or not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not
- know it till now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our home,
- Henrietta, to your father’s home in life and death, and it must be good
- for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. Knight
- Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she
- who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most
- ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial.
- It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her
- mother’s calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the
- place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused
- herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do
- what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when the
- wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she
- blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much
- attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and
- after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, they
- talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick
- Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey’s house
- at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a
- visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin
- Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in the
- delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal share.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, while
- Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by Beatrice
- and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece’s great amazement,
- professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she did. A short
- December day, though not what they would have chosen, had this advantage,
- that the victim could not be as completely fagged and worn out as in a
- summer’s day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high spirits when they
- drove home and found to their delight that the two schoolboys had already
- arrived.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but Alexander,
- though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked shyly at the
- new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished them elsewhere.
- She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that her brother
- regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore surprised to see
- that his broad honest face expressed more good humour than intellect, and
- his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably well-featured, with light eyes
- and dark hair, and though half a year older than his cousin, was much
- shorter, more perhaps in appearance than reality, from the breadth and
- squareness of his shoulders, and from not carrying himself well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son of
- Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at Sutton
- Leigh, a small house on his father’s estate, busied with farming,
- sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make a
- narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless tribe
- of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in India;
- and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, who had
- been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed his
- attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, that he
- might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin Frederick been
- always one step before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so that
- on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but this was
- but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to endure out
- of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training or
- companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, derided
- in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his way among rude
- brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended a protecting hand
- to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. Soon overcoming his
- effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, and was equal to Alex in
- all but main bodily strength; but the spirit of rivalry once excited, had
- never died away, and with a real friendship and esteem for each other,
- their names or rather their nicknames had almost become party words among
- their schoolfellows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this first
- occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself open to
- that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account at once of
- his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge of accomplishments;
- but he did not guess at the feeling which made Alexander on his side
- regard those very accomplishments with a feeling which, if it were not
- jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very
- little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called her
- skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair of very
- large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant expression, and
- showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from sublime to
- ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature otherwise. And if
- instead of being “like the diamond bright,” they had been “dull as lead,”
- it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice had been, she was
- still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he could believe a
- sister to be if he had one,—in short his own little Queen Bee. He
- had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all the civilization
- which he possessed, and it was with considerable mortification that he
- thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison with his old rival, as
- old a friend of hers, with the same claim to cousinly affection; and
- instead of understanding only what she had taught him, familiar with the
- tastes and pursuits on which she set perhaps too great a value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice’s preference: it might be
- that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister of
- his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on which
- he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely to be
- secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school studies and
- pastimes.
- </p>
- <p>
- For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice
- books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, and
- which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly style of
- living which some people thought befitted them. She called to her brother
- who was standing by the fire, “Fred, do come and look at this beautiful
- Albert Durer of Sintram.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an
- acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, “Yes, it was an old
- promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be
- pronounced insensible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A wonderful old fellow was that Albert,” said Fred, looking, and
- forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. “Yes; O
- how wondrously the expression on Death’s face changes as it does in the
- story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have you
- seen it, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and
- Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the
- old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have a
- word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of the
- prints with no practised hand. “Take care, Alex, take care,” cried
- Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; “don’t you see what a pinch you
- are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a
- pattern for you,” pointing to Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the table.
- Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed any
- tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee’s black eyes
- perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very
- sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, she
- stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain parting
- cautions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in
- her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who
- can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had better let it alone,” rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. “You will do
- more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that
- Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration!
- To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always go
- home!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We have lamented that often enough,” said her mother smiling. “It is
- unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must
- sometimes bend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You say that for me, mamma,” said Beatrice. “You think grandmamma and I
- have too much will for each other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that wilful
- will of yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope I shall,” said Beatrice, “but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good
- night, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she
- well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the
- many fervent resolutions she had made against it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and set
- out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad
- carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice sat
- opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with
- animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with
- explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper and
- talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the early
- winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, or they
- had reached the Allonfield station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here we are!” exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same
- moment a loud voice called out, “All right! where are you, Alex?” upon
- which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the
- carriage-door, replying, “Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought
- Dumpling?” And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, “How d’ye do,
- Carey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him
- shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough
- great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred
- handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and
- Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh
- man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt Mary,
- upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness,
- presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied to
- the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the Hall carriage come?” asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff
- affirmative, added, “then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while
- Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage,” offered his arm with tolerable
- courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. “There,” said he, “Carey has
- driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the horse steady?” asked his aunt, anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?” said Alex,
- patting his old friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And no lamps?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen
- times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lots of ruts,” muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, “A few
- ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places.”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state of
- things, said, “I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I
- should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house,
- and then Dumpling’s feelings won’t be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton
- Leigh.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle
- Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, as
- the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw Alexander’s
- own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting the boys have
- their own way. She had been rather depressed in the morning on leaving her
- mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits mounted, and she was
- almost wild with glee. “Aunt Mary, do you know where you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d’ye do? You beginning of home!
- I don’t know when it is best coming to you: on a summer’s evening, all
- glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. There
- is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the gate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school,” said her
- aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their blithe
- young hearts, and added cheerfully, “Just the same as ever, I see: how
- well I know the outline of the bank there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something
- inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can’t you get up a little
- enthusiasm?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oceans, without getting it up,” replied Fred. “I never was more rejoiced
- in my whole life,” and he began to hum Domum.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton,”
- cried Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the voices began, “Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;” even Aunt Mary herself
- caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming to her
- own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her situation,
- and threw herself into the delight of returning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “let us try those verses that you found a
- tune for, that begin ‘What is home?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a
- gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. “This is the
- beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta,” said Mrs.
- Frederick Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The wood with glades like cathedral aisles,” said Henrietta. “O, how
- delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which I have never seen,” said Beatrice. “I tell papa he has made his
- fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In which I fully agree with him,” said her aunt. “I should not like to
- see him with nothing to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do,”
- said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said her mother, “but people are always happier with work made for
- them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey has
- too much talent to be spared.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay,” said Fred, “I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little
- Busy Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so,”
- said Beatrice. “I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did
- retire without—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without what, Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose,” said Henrietta very seriously. “I am
- sure I should.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His being in Parliament will content me for the present,” said Beatrice,
- “for I have been told too often that high principles don’t rise in the
- world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as if he was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee,” said
- Henrietta; “but where are we now?” added she, as a gate swung back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coming into the paddock,” said Beatrice; “don’t you see the lights in the
- house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that large
- one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don’t you see that red
- fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in the
- nervous pressure of her mother’s hand. The carriage stopped at the door,
- whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to darkness;
- but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but have
- recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more than one
- visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, clear eye,
- and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than handing his
- daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her brow; then he
- hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while she received
- the kiss of Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he
- gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more
- embraced her, saying, “Bless you, my own dear Mary!” She clung to him for
- a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself in an
- instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying to
- administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which
- suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of the
- black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair was
- perfectly white. “Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You had
- better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? But
- where is Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?” said grandpapa, holding out his
- arms to her. “And,” added he, “is not this your first introduction to the
- twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would wish to see
- on a summer’s day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell you apart, when
- you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake now though. Well,
- I am right glad to have you here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Won’t you take off some of your wraps, Mary?” proceeded Mrs. Langford,
- and her daughter-in-law, with a soft “Thank you,” passively obeyed. “And
- you too, my dear,” she added to Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta,” proceeded grandpapa. “Let me see
- whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not you think his forehead like—” and she looked to the end of
- the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers
- Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now she
- could attend to nothing but her mamma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like poor dear Frederick?” said grandmamma. “Well, I can’t judge by
- firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very
- image.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t be the image of any one I should like better,” said Mr.
- Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta’s hand. “I wish
- nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there’s Geoffrey!” cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost
- running to meet him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Geoffrey, how d’ye do?” added his father with an indescribable tone
- and look of heartfelt delight. “Left all your cares behind you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Left my wife behind me,” said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come,” said both the
- old people, “but how is poor Lady Susan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand.
- Well, Mary, you look tired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other
- accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, and
- it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. Henrietta
- thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the trouble, but this
- would not have been at all according to the habits of grandmamma or
- granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to a large
- cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she supposed
- Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their maid, who
- was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the already
- bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law who was
- standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, “There,
- Mary, I thought you would like to be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you, you are always kind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There now, Mary, don’t let yourself be overcome. You would not bring him
- back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There—that is right—and
- don’t think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had better not,
- don’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better not, thank you, grandmamma,” said Henrietta, as she assisted
- in settling her mother on the sofa. “She is tired and overcome now, but
- she will be herself after a rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of
- coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won’t you have a cup of
- coffee, Mary, my dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, no thank you,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising herself.
- “Indeed I am sorry—it is very foolish.” Here the choking sob came
- again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming a
- shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. “Poor thing,
- poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? I’ll fetch
- one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some sal-volatile? Yes,
- Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively
- distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck,
- wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again,
- saying, “I did not think I was so weak!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dearest mamma,” said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I have not distressed grandmamma!” said her mother anxiously. “No,
- never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the
- unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days
- when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new
- thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there
- again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? But
- it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and the
- sound of Mrs. Langford’s returning footsteps recalled her habit of
- self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the
- sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for having
- given so much trouble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you
- better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first time;
- but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better—Ah! well, I see you
- can’t bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best thing.
- Don’t let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick
- Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would have
- waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear at table,
- and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very fortunately, as
- Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she pronounced to be
- “the half-hour bell,” and she hastened away, telling her granddaughter
- that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and calling the maid outside
- the door to giver her full directions where to procure anything that her
- mistress might want.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear grandmamma! just like herself!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “But
- Henrietta, my dear,” she added with some alarm, “make haste and dress: you
- must never be too late in this house!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too
- anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair
- was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her
- mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. “You
- don’t know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled,
- evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the door
- to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest inquired,
- and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them to eat her
- turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were perhaps
- damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford’s absence and its cause, for the dinner
- was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing to Henrietta
- and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country neighbourhood,
- in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to her
- mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. “But, O mamma, is this a
- good thing for you?” said Henrietta, looking at the red case containing
- her father’s miniature, which had evidently been only just closed on her
- entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The very best thing for me, dearest,” was the answer, now given in her
- own calm tones. “It does truly make me happier than anything else. No,
- don’t look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me,
- but I trust it is not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And does this really comfort you, mamma?” said Henrietta, as she pressed
- the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. “O, I cannot fancy
- that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might have been,
- think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O mamma, I feel
- quite rebellious!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child,” said her mother,
- sadly. “As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to wish him
- here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And can you bear to say so, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had gone too
- far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the daughter
- timidly asked, “And was this your old room, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish
- books. Bring that one,” she added, as Henrietta took one out, and opening
- it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written “F.H. Langford,” with the
- giver’s name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the page, “Mary
- Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred.” “I believe that you may find that in
- almost all of them,” said she. “I am glad they have been spared from the
- children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few more to look over,
- before you go down again to grandmamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a
- selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk,
- in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance of
- Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health,
- strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a good
- fire in Geoffrey’s room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. Vivian,
- naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although considerably
- younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in speechless
- amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. “But, my dear child,” she
- said, “I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you staying up
- here all the evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she was
- stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking
- maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had been
- nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time “Miss Mary” arrived from India,
- and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been called
- ladies’-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, if
- anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known to all
- who are happy enough to possess a “Judith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, miss,” said she, as Henrietta opened the door just
- before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called out,
- “O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the
- thin white hand stretched out to her. “I hope you are better, ma’am. It is
- something like old times to have you here again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith,” was the answer, “and very glad
- to see you looking like your own dear self.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma’am; I wish I could see you looking
- better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been
- introduced to Henrietta, there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I have often heard of you, Judith,” said Henrietta, cordially holding
- out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with affectionate
- earnestness. “Sure enough, miss,” said she, “as Missus says, you are the
- very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I think I see a look of
- poor Master Frederick too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen my brother, Judith?” asked Henrietta, fearing a second
- discussion on likenesses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus’s room, when Mr.
- Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said ‘Here’s a new
- acquaintance for you, Judith,’ and there was Master Frederick. I should
- have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine
- young gentleman he is, to be sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, we must be like your grandchildren!” said Henrietta; “but O! here
- comes Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to his
- sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on
- grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa’s chair, with
- one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say Henrietta
- was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her by declaring he
- should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish days. Then he
- called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their home doings,
- showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed and stood
- amazed. “Ah,” said grandpapa, “you forgot that I had a Queen Bee to
- enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go buzzing over
- the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven’t we, Busy, Busy
- Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit round
- the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and it was
- rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, “Come,
- young ladies, I’ve been wearying for a tune these three months. I hope you
- are not too tired to give us one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandpapa!” cried Beatrice, “but you must hear Henrietta. It is
- a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my London
- masters too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice
- came to her aunt’s room to wish her good-night, and to hear Henrietta’s
- opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater wonder—grandmamma
- so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a grandpapa to be proud of!
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.
- </h2>
- <p>
- It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free from
- headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to breakfast.
- The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning light that
- shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and Henrietta, as
- usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the elms and the
- last year’s rooks’ nests, to make the most of her time; so that the bell
- for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma would not leave her,
- and remained to help her. Just as they were going down at last, they met
- Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for poor Mary. She would have
- almost been better pleased with a slight indisposition than with dawdling;
- but she kindly accepted Henrietta’s apologies, and there was one
- exclamation of joy from all the assembled party at Mrs. Frederick
- Langford’s unhoped-for entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Geoffrey, my dear,” began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and
- congratulations were over, “will you see what is the matter with the lock
- of this tea-chest?—it has been out of order these three weeks, and I
- thought you could set it to rights.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old
- servant, put in his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. Geoffrey
- about his son on the railway.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited
- him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: “Geoffrey, I
- put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them
- when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three
- boys, shouting with one voice—“Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you
- must come and see which of Vixen’s puppies are to be saved!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!” was Uncle Geoffrey’s answer; “don’t you
- know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such
- wild men of the woods.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey,” said grandmamma. “Ah, he
- spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt.
- There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie,” she added, as
- they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of Alexander.
- “How shall I ever know them apart?” said she to Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like grandmamma’s nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below
- another,” said Beatrice. “However, I don’t require you to learn them all
- at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have
- you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter
- make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen Bee’s
- side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly discomposed by
- Henrietta’s neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and in
- another minute they made their appearance. “Good morning sir; good
- morning, ma’am,” were Uncle Roger’s greetings, as he came in. “Ah, Mary,
- how d’ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.—-Ah,
- good morning, good morning,” as he quickly shook hands with the younger
- ones. “Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into
- the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills,
- during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to
- see him look so young—younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but
- in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had
- thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey’s hair, paled his cheek, and traced
- lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light
- that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often
- played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure that
- might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and much more
- robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face ruddy
- brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In his
- plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he looked
- the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable family
- likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and lip, which
- recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the signal
- for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up stairs for
- her mother’s work, and came down again laughing. “I am sure, Queenie,”
- said she, “that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may well be called a
- great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at breakfast, I have
- just come across a consultation on the stairs between him and Judith about—what
- was it?—some money in a savings’ bank.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice, “Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these
- degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give
- ‘Master Geoffrey’ all the management of it. But if you are surprised now,
- what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not asked in
- at least fifty matters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll count,” said Henrietta: “what have we had already?” and she took out
- pencil and paper—“Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and
- the turnpike trust—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vixen’s puppies and the drill,” suggested her mamma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Judith’s money,” added Henrietta. “Six already—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear
- of,” said Beatrice; “and look here, what I am going to seal for him, one,
- two, three—eight letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why! when could he possibly have written them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma
- will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up with a
- candle after eleven o’clock. I really believe that there is not another
- living creature in the world who could do it in this house. There, you may
- add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is going to the
- Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I wish we could walk there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say we can. I’ll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like Henrietta
- to go and see the Pleasance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee,” said Aunt
- Mary; “but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walk to Sutton Leigh!” echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the moment;
- “not you, surely, Mary?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, laughing; “she was only talking of
- Henrietta’s doing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this
- morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you,
- and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to
- send over for poor Tom’s sore mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked,
- “Have they no currant jelly themselves?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don’t mean that the
- boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor
- Elizabeth can never make any preserves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” objected Queen Bee, “if one of the children is ill, do you think
- Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could take
- the jelly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O nonsense, Bee,” said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; “you don’t like
- to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can’t be as good-natured
- to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the village.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandmamma,” joined in Henrietta, “we shall be very glad to
- take it. Pray let us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” added Beatrice, “if it is really to be of any use, no one can be
- more willing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of any use?” repeated Mrs. Langford. “No! never mind. I’ll send someone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, pray do not, dear grandmamma,” eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; “I do beg
- you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to let me
- be useful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma was pacified. “When will you set out?” she asked; “you had
- better not lose this bright morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We will go directly,” said Queen Bee; “we will go by the west turning, so
- that Henrietta may see the Pleasance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won’t have you getting
- wet in your feet and catching cold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it
- has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if he knew, or cared anything about it!—and you will be late for
- luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day she
- feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will always have
- your own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this altercation;
- and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her cousin, she would
- have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would have interfered in
- another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey gave a sudden turn to
- affairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who likes to go to the Pleasance?” said he, as he entered. “All whose
- curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here are the girls dying to go,” said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as
- if she had not been objecting the minute before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens.” Then, turning
- to his mother, “Didn’t I hear you say you had something to send to
- Elizabeth, ma’am?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don’t cheat me,” exclaimed
- Henrietta. “If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better with
- me than in Uncle Geoffrey’s pocket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, that will be the proper division of labour,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- looking well pleased with his niece; “but I thought you were off to get
- ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t keep your uncle waiting, my dear,” added her mamma; and Henrietta
- departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, “If
- there is a thing I can’t endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of
- the children is poorly! It is always bad enough—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!” cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of
- any flaw in her paradise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden
- bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your
- shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that
- crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the house.
- It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over sum, es,
- est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers in a small
- house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing instead of
- getting ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So are you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I’ll tell you
- what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you to
- ‘improve each shining hour;’ for nothing will get you into such dire
- disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame to
- waste papa’s time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I will
- trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still
- measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted
- her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at the
- door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually waited
- there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time since, and
- the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together first.
- Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance that she
- might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil her
- expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the masonry
- was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of freestone and of
- flints, the windows were not casements as she thought they ought to have
- been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, which contained the
- drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a respectable,
- comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be said in its praise,
- and Beatrice’s affection had so embellished it in description, that it was
- no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly disappointed. She had had some
- expectation, too, of seeing it in the midst of a park, instead of which
- the carriage-drive along which they were walking, only skirted a rather
- large grass field, full of elm trees, and known by the less dignified name
- of the paddock. But she would not confess the failure of her expectations
- even to herself, and as Beatrice was evidently looking for some
- expressions of admiration, she said the road must be very pretty in
- summer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves,” said Queen Bee.
- “Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have
- this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I
- carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to me as
- the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and rabbits.
- But here are the outfield and the drill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they entered
- a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and gravelled, so
- as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, as the gentlemen
- left them to march up and down there by themselves, whilst they were
- discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine which was travelling
- along the furrows. It was rather a trial of patience, but Beatrice was
- used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to be pleased with anything.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his
- granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with
- Martin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, young ladies,” said he, “this is fine drilling, in patience at
- least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger’s
- new-fangled machines.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, grandpapa,” said Queen Bee; “you hate them as much as I
- do, don’t you now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is afraid they will make honey by steam,” said grandpapa, “and render
- bees a work of supererogation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are doing what they can towards it,” said Beatrice. “Why, when Mr.
- Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling for
- my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy destroyed. And
- they won’t even let them swarm their own way—a most unwarrantable
- interference with the liberty of the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done, Queenie,” said Mr. Langford, laughing; “a capital champion.
- And so you don’t look forward to the time when we are to have our hay made
- by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by a
- third—ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bird-starving!” repeated Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother’s elegant
- diminutive,” said Beatrice, “serving as live scarecrows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten minutes,”
- said grandpapa; “but I told Uncle Roger we would have none of them here
- unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at every third
- explosion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home
- with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave him
- to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t they succeed, then?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—ay—I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we
- achieved a prize ox,—such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could
- not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such
- waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or
- earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little
- liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed
- manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful
- grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is Sutton Leigh,” said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low
- white house among farm buildings. “Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for
- an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey into
- the bargain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie Carey!” exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her
- with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she one of Aunt Roger’s nieces?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice. “And—O! grandpapa, don’t look at me in that
- way. Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I won’t have Henrietta prejudiced,” said Mr. Langford. “Don’t listen to
- her, my dear: and I’ll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest,
- good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never
- thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for the but, grandpapa,” cried Beatrice. “I allow all that, only
- grant me the but.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down on
- us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual
- society.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don’t really believe that. O,
- say you don’t!” And Beatrice’s black eyes were full of tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee,” and he
- added, half whispering, “take care some of us do not believe the other
- half. But don’t look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your
- waxen cells, and don’t lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to you,
- I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining
- companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little
- altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden in
- front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in sight
- there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, all
- darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me loose, you varlets,” he cried, and disengaging one hand, in
- another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, which
- he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all the
- urchins in pursuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford
- appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing
- Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never seen
- a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and a
- drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in
- fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery.
- </p>
- <p>
- Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie
- Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty girl
- of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and a face
- which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton Leigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very
- tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but for its
- novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick Langford,
- then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave the history
- of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on Uncle Geoffrey’s
- knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of his watch.
- Henrietta’s list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle Geoffrey
- advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie’s, and assisted
- Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was almost one o’clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates was
- heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to
- luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on with
- him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own affairs
- at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had hardly
- ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she was not
- only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and uncalled-for
- fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking on
- deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the management
- of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor was the matter
- mended by the attempts at correction made from time to time by their
- father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better than Beatrice, whose face
- ill concealed an expression of disgust and weariness, and who maintained a
- silence very unlike her usual habits.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their walk,
- and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had quitted the
- house, that the boys were too well occupied with their pudding to wish to
- accompany them, but she did not venture on any further remarks before her
- papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned to point out all the
- interesting localities to Henrietta. There was something to tell of every
- field, every tree, or every villager, with whom he exchanged his hearty
- greeting. If it were only a name, it recalled some story of mamma’s, some
- tradition handed on by Beatrice. Never was walk more delightful; and the
- girls were almost sorry to find themselves at the green gate of the
- Pleasance, leading to a gravel road, great part of which had been usurped
- by the long shoots of the evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be
- said to correspond in appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted,
- unfurnished state; but the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle
- Geoffrey was deep in the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted
- about from garret to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing
- possibilities, in complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for
- ever; and rather tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of
- the stairs, and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next
- summer; then talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last
- books they had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey,
- being more merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and
- summoned them to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road,
- through the village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet
- seen. It was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in
- gardens, and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the
- care of the proprietor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, here is the church,” said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they came
- to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground occupied
- by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm trees, amongst
- which could just be seen the small old church, with its large deep porch
- and curious low tower.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The door is open,” said Beatrice; “I suppose they are bringing in the
- holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know,” said she, looking at her uncle. “Mamma—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and
- herself too,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I should wish it very much,” said Henrietta, and they entered
- the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and
- low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and
- impressive to Henrietta’s present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her on
- into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording the names
- of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly noticeable
- for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore the name of
- Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and his age, only
- twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had the initials
- F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and looked in deep
- silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and her uncle’s
- thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. Her father had
- been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so entirely one in
- mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than his elder brother,
- and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle Geoffrey’s life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the door, as
- the old clerk’s wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and dragging a
- mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to her courtesy,
- and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other end of the
- church to assist in the Christmas decorations.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. “This is coming very near
- him!” said she in a low voice. “Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure that
- he knows me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us,”
- said Uncle Geoffrey. “Think rather of ‘I shall go to him, but he shall not
- return to me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me and
- knows how—how I would have loved him, and how I do love him,” she
- added, while the tears rose to her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most
- comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world:
- but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to
- dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it
- depends but on ourselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; but
- he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta’s mind to merge the
- reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical
- feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had never
- heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she lost sight
- of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards her mother. It
- was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, and with how many
- daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, that though even to
- himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. Geoffrey Langford
- resolved that his niece’s first visit to her father’s grave should not be
- spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, alluring because
- involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in thoughts which
- might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up of self-will.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta looked very thoughtful. “That time is so far away!” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know that?” said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought
- the full perception that “it is nigh, even at the doors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought home
- to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father’s summons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is awful,” she said. “I cannot bear to think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said her uncle solemnly, “guard yourself from being so
- satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, most
- real future.” He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: “The present,
- which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of visions and
- thoughts, but of deeds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, “But, uncle, that would
- bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in
- heart and mind ascend?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of
- earthly affection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would you not have me think of him at all?” said she, almost
- reproachfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb the
- love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same time
- you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that is what
- your father would desire?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean,” she said sadly, “that while I do not think enough of God, and
- while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the thought I
- love best, the thought that he is near.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take it rather as a caution than as blame,” said Uncle Geoffrey. A long
- silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea
- opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of her
- father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much
- worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it was
- by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother’s mind, the
- truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive it, but
- still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished so as to be
- almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey’s manner was so kind that she could
- not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she had hoped for a
- narration of some part of her father’s history, and for the indulgence of
- that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead of this she was
- bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, or to seek for a duty
- which she had rather not believe that she had neglected, though—no,
- she did not like to look deeper.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature it
- might be, he could not guess, and then said, “One thing more before we
- leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment in
- its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. Will
- you try to exert it in the right way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better than
- what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the sake of
- obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice’s operations with the holly
- had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the
- church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance showed
- Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of whom she had
- heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the holly in her hand.
- “Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just helping old Martha,” said Beatrice; “we came in to show my
- cousin the church, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time the others had advanced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How well the church looks this dark afternoon,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- speaking in a low tone, “it is quite the moment to choose for seeing it
- for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your adornments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to
- the arrangement myself,” said Mr. Franklin, “but I am afraid I know very
- little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with
- your taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled with
- delight. “I should like it exceedingly,” said the former; “I was just
- thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it
- beautifully.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can
- be done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard,” said
- Queen Bee. “And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the places that
- are out of reach.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you,” said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; “I assure you the
- matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is,
- certainly has not the best taste in church dressing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there
- ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look,
- papa, do you not think so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel,” said
- her papa, “and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at
- the head of the tables of commandments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, and don’t you see,” said Henrietta, “there in front of the altar is a
- space, where I really think we might make the cross and ‘I H S’ in holly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But could you, Henrietta?” asked Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know I can; I made ‘M.L.’ in roses on mamma’s last birthday, and
- set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure we
- could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Mr. Franklin, “I have heard of such things, but I had always
- considered them as quite above our powers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They would be, without Henrietta,” said Queen Bee, “but she was always
- excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice
- taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, and
- we will do our work so as to amaze the parish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “we must be walking home, my young ladies.
- It is getting quite dark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading on
- the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty on
- the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the way
- home with them, adding to Henrietta’s list by asking counsel about a damp
- spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted with a
- refractory farmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the
- sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet them
- in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been
- lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they were
- dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two girls
- up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their things
- on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at half-past five.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is mamma gone up?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is gone
- to rest herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how long have you been at home, Fred?” said Queen Bee. “Why, you have
- performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone,” said
- Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta’s ears, implied that he was not quite
- pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to her, “I
- wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and Carey
- thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and thereby
- they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to change
- his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. I declare
- it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made of sugar
- candy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With Uncle Geoffrey’s admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints
- sounded painfully in Henrietta’s ears, and she would gladly have soothed
- away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the stairs
- for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally appropriate,
- especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming down from above
- and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred therefore retreated into
- their mamma’s room, where they found her sitting on a low stool by the
- fire, reading by its light one of the old childish books, of which she
- seemed never to weary. Fred’s petulance, to do him justice, never could
- endure the charm of her presence, and his brow was as bright and open as
- his sister’s as he came forward, hoping that she was not tired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear,” said she, smiling; “I enjoyed my
- walk exceedingly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A walk!” exclaimed Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with
- grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen
- garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen,” answered Henrietta,
- gaily. “I have seen everything—Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and
- the church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the
- church for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only
- think of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always
- thought it something too great and too happy for me ever to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will be able to succeed in it,” said her mamma. “What a treat
- it will be to see your work on Sunday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach
- the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole live
- stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the plantations,
- and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on the bark of
- the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. He “was just
- going to see Dumpling and Vixen’s puppies at Sutton Leigh, when—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I caught you, my poor boy,” said his mamma; “and very cruel it was,
- I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks of
- minding those things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You should have seen him, Henrietta,” said his mother; “his shoes looked
- as if he had been walking through a river.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but so were all the others,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such
- sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. But
- you—if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you
- know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up
- with a bad cold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never catch cold,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boys always say so,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford; “it is a—what
- shall I call it?—a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always
- defeat when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I
- won’t put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the
- fender croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with
- stick-liquorice and Ivanhoe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma,”
- said Henrietta, “just to see how grandmamma will nurse it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing the
- arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford’s maid; who had come in such
- good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed a whole
- quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary punctuality
- without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, sitting round
- the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. Langford; and Uncle
- Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a leisure time; and there
- was so much merriment in talking over the walk, and discussing the plans
- for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved never again to miss such a
- pleasant reunion by her own tardiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by
- getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the room
- to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and by
- finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of her
- own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was going
- on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. She kept
- her list of Uncle Geoffrey’s manifold applicants on the table before her,
- and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business unknown, who
- sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud and eager appeal from
- Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a question of taste on the
- shades of grandmamma’s carpet-work, and by her own query how to translate
- a difficult German passage which had baffled herself, mamma, and Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, Queen Bee’s number, fifty, had not been attained, and her majesty
- was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of a day, for
- which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain her
- resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford
- evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two
- children’s own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her sleep
- something about “delightful,” “bright leaves and red berries,” and then,
- “and ‘tis for my own dear papa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta and
- Frederick as serenely happy as she was?
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta,
- but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome
- her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to a
- degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. She
- sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called a
- sparrow’s allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained
- nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut
- her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if
- each piece was to serve as a model for future generations.
- </p>
- <p>
- The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her
- spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party—a New-year’s
- party on Monday week, the second of January. “It would be pleasant for the
- young people,” she thought, “if Mary did not think it would be too much
- for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer
- would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should be
- very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great treat
- to Henrietta and Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We will have the carpet up in the dining-room,” added Mrs. Langford, “and
- Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a nice
- little set for a dance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O thank you, grandmamma,” cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford
- looked at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor innocent, you little know!” murmured Queen Bee to herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “I like to see young
- people like young people, not above a dance now and then,—all in
- moderation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Above dancing,” said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection
- on his pet, Queen Bee, “that is what you call being on the high rope,
- isn’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you on the high rope, Queenie?” asked Fred, who sat next to her: “do
- you despise the light fantastic—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know: I do not mind it much,” was all she could bring herself to
- say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious before
- her father. “Not much in itself,” she added, in a lower tone, as the
- conversation grew louder, “it is the people, Philip Carey, and all,—but
- hush! listen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at
- each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her Aunt
- Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and the
- stream of conversation flowed away from the fête.
- </p>
- <p>
- The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered
- Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at the
- Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. “Bring
- him safe,” said she, “for if you fail, and prove a corbie messenger, I
- promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up
- after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma’s writing-case down for
- her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help
- waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing
- between her mother and uncle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, “I think not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you,”
- said he in a voice of kind solicitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you very much, Geoffrey,” she replied, in an earnest tone, “but
- indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on
- such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand,” said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the
- writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment’s perception of
- the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious family
- of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the bright sunshine
- near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy flower-pots, instantly
- sprang forward with, “O grandmamma, let me help.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she was
- gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried the myrtle,
- the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant deeply-indented
- leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, and was deep in the
- story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been planted by Uncle
- Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed likely to grow beyond
- the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when Beatrice came down and beheld
- her with consternation—“Henrietta! Henrietta! what are you about?”
- cried she, breaking full into the story. “Do make haste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will come in a minute,” said Henrietta, who was assisting in adjusting
- the prop to which the old daphne was tied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stop for me, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford: “there, don’t let me be
- in your way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Henrietta,” persisted the despotic Queen Bee, “we really ought to be
- there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is all this about?” said grandmamma, not particularly well pleased.
- “There, go, go, my dear; I don’t want any more, thank you: what are you in
- such a fuss for now, going out all day again?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, “did you not hear that Mr. Franklin
- asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time in
- these short days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I never
- heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very different
- now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed “Do make haste,” and
- then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, “I do not see why young
- ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than
- arraying themselves for balls and dances!”
- </p>
- <p>
- True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her
- father or mother stand before her at that moment?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, well! it is all very well,” said grandmamma, shaking her head, as she
- always did when out-argued by Beatrice, “you girls think yourselves so
- clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better let
- old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were born,
- and such a litter as you will make the Church won’t be fit to be seen
- to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could
- consent, Henrietta looks very delicate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure she is hoarse this morning,” proceeded Mrs. Langford; “I shall
- speak to her mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O don’t, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would
- Mr. Franklin do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O very well, I promise you, as he has done before,” said Mrs. Langford,
- hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted upstairs
- to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could arrive. It
- was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to have many
- scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would be to be
- obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of reach; so she
- let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a far less leisurely
- and discriminating manner than was usual with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose,” said
- Beatrice, “to go down the back stairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True,” said Henrietta, “we will even take the bull by the horns.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And trust to our heels,” said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; “the
- coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not stop us if
- they can help it. One, two, three, and away!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green
- walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, and
- take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. And
- after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have gone openly
- and with clear consciences, had they but properly and submissively waited
- the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who did not know how
- ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been very sorry to
- interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother to it, in his
- own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had been entirely caused
- by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of objecting when it had
- been first mentioned the evening before, and had not Beatrice not first
- fidgeted and then argued, would only have regarded it as a pleasant way of
- occupying their morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could scold you, Miss Drone,” said Beatrice when the two girls had set
- themselves to rights, and recovered breath; “it was all the fault of your
- dawdling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, perhaps it was,” said Henrietta, “but you know I could not see
- grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to be
- helped?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then she was very kind to me,” replied Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see how it will be,” said Beatrice, smiling, “you will be grandmamma’s
- pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get her to let me
- help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either
- grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also
- with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was
- determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was of
- course equally resolute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is an amazing person!” said Henrietta. “Is she eighty yet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seventy-nine,” said Beatrice; “and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say I
- think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and grandmothers,
- if there was one like Uncle Roger’s fat cattle shows. You know she thinks
- nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and all over the village
- besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the Sutton Leigh path. Let
- me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, that’s right! Capital!”
- cried she in high glee; “here is Birnam wood coming across the field.” And
- springing on one of the bars of the gate near the top, she flourished her
- handkerchief, chanting or singing,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, With
- all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my—quick
- descending:”
- </p>
- <p>
- she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring
- precipitately down to avoid a fall. “It made a capital conclusion,
- however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen,” as four
- or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush—“Well,
- gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With sair fingers, you mean,” said Fred; “these bushes scratch like half
- a dozen wild cats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is in too good a cause for me to pity you,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or
- not,—“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let
- me see, I have my penknife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, Alex,
- how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said
- Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; I
- tell her then she can’t be driven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not
- yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not told
- the news yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What news?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Euphrosyne is coming home,” cried the boys with one voice. “Had we
- not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any
- day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is something like news,” said Queen Bee; “I thought it would only be
- that the puppies could see, or that Tom’s tooth was through. Grandpapa has
- not heard it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa is going up to tell him,” said John. “I was going too, only Alex
- bagged me to carry his holly-bush.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so the great Rogero is coming home!” said Beatrice. “How you will
- learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially if
- he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must
- practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, Careys
- and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred’s great love of dancing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I love dancing?” exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and contempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was proposed?
- I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for the first
- quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it comes at all you must start me, Bee,” said Alex, “for I am sure I
- can’t dance with any one but you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me request it now,” said Fred, “though why you should think I like
- dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it
- endurable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are compliments to your Majesty,” cried Henrietta, laughing; “one
- will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it
- endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Time will show,” said Beatrice; “I shall ponder on their requests, and
- decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against hater
- of the dance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t love it, I declare,” exclaimed Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t mind it, if you dance with me,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself the
- object of attention to both.
- </p>
- <p>
- Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to think
- applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal
- appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have thought
- herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of attention, her
- delight in playing off her two cousins against each other? Beauty, or the
- consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. Henrietta, if ever the
- matter occurred to her, could not help knowing that she was uncommonly
- pretty, yet no one could be more free from any tendency to this habit.
- Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, but that did not make the
- least difference; if any, it was rather on the side of vanity, in being
- able without a handsome face, so to attract and engross her cousins. It
- was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel her power to play them off,
- and irritate the little feelings of jealousy which she had detected; and
- thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she pursued her course.
- </p>
- <p>
- On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had
- brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they had
- to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha’s to fetch the key. In a
- few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them ready to
- fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a huge heap
- of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on the
- top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but she
- thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field upon
- which she had to work began to alarm her imagination.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations
- with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the aisle,
- and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring that they
- could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made no
- objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly
- observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and
- Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves?
- Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed,
- we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us,
- and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him,
- rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies’
- work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his assistance
- when she asked Fred’s, and she felt secure of them both.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see
- if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to
- make a festoon if we cannot fasten it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t see anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, give me your hand, and I’ll look.” Up tripped the little Bee, just
- holding by his hand. “Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great rough nail
- sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a sailor’s knot
- round it. Help me down first though—thank you. Fred, will you trim
- that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We must have a
- long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the screen. How tough
- this ivy is! Thank you—that’s it. Well, Mr. Franklin, I hope we
- shall get on in time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself
- of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses
- Langford would not tire themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- Angels’ work is Church decoration—work fit for angels, that is to
- say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its
- greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory
- of God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches
- before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a more
- favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures
- who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with those
- bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary?
- </p>
- <p>
- Angels’ work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon
- earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence,
- when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was that spirit of
- holy fear—that sole desire for His glory—the chief thought
- with these young people?
- </p>
- <p>
- Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word
- or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone
- and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for
- the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down ladders and
- steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and
- adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what
- it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people,
- under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- But still Beatrice’s great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the two
- boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful power
- it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment so little
- accordant with their nature; kept them amused without irreverence, and
- doing good service all the time. But it was a power of which she greatly
- enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen the rivalry between
- them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a hassock, very happy, and
- very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath which she had yesterday
- proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other three—certainly
- neglected—but she did not feel it so; she had rather be quiet, for
- she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked to think over
- the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought to her mind.
- Uncle Geoffrey’s conversation dwelt upon her too; she began to realize his
- meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his desire, by
- entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. Opportunities
- for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she
- had been looking forward to having him all to herself here, when he must
- wish to visit his father’s grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that
- his first attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first
- thought was there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds
- to anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the
- present was full of tranquil enjoyment.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all,
- or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been
- little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it possible!” exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the
- single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. “I
- thought you would have given us at least eleven more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a quantity remains to be done!” sighed Henrietta, laying down the
- wreath which she had just completed. “Your work looks beautiful, Queenie,
- but how shall we ever finish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A short winter’s day, too!” said Beatrice. “One thing is certain—that
- we can’t go home to luncheon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What will grandmamma think of that?” said Henrietta doubtfully. “Will she
- like it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice could have answered, “Not at all;” but she said, “O never mind,
- it can’t be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and
- besides we might be caught and stopped.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that would be worse than anything,” said Henrietta, quite convinced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you mean to starve,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See what slaves men are to creature comforts,” said Beatrice; “what do
- you say, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had much rather stay here,” said Henrietta; “I want nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better fun to go without,” said Fred, who had not often enough
- missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what will do best of all!” cried Queen Bee. “You go to Dame
- Reid’s, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme
- of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men’s bench in the porch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts,” said Alex. “I
- thought she would soon come down to other mortals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only to gratify her famishing subjects,” said Beatrice, “you disloyal
- vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure
- to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey
- is coming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For his private eating?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the
- village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the
- children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny
- Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But
- come, Alex, why are you not off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I don’t happen to have a sixpence,” said Alex, with an honest
- openness, overcoming his desire to add “in my pocket.” It cost him an
- effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and
- comparisons perpetually made, Fred’s superior wealth and larger allowance
- had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not,
- or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to
- be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Every one is poor at the end of the half,” said Fred, tossing up his
- purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. “Here is
- a sixpence, though, at her Majesty’s service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to
- loyalty?” said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. “We are not fallen quite
- so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in
- my desk at home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And my purse is in my workbox,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present,” said Beatrice, “if
- it won’t quite break you down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are more where that came from,” said Fred, with a careless air.
- “Come along, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they went. “That is unlucky,” soliloquised Queen Bee: “if I could
- have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come
- back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them
- no more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, that would be rather too bad,” said Henrietta. “I am sure Fred
- will behave better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mark what I say,” said Beatrice. “I know how it will be; a dog or a gun
- is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again
- ‘twill be a nine days’ wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to
- look at your wreath.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time
- in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in
- protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness
- of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the
- door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held
- out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round,
- hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid’s grandson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” said she. “Did Master Alexander give you this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, that’s right!” and away he went.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see,” said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came
- out to the porch. “Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!” and she
- took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary’s handwriting to Fred,
- on the back of which Alex had written, “Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey
- and Dick are going up to Andrews’s about his terrier.—A. L.” “Very
- cool, certainly!” said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique.
- “What a life I will lead them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you were a true prophet,” said Henrietta, “and after all it does
- not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but
- still I thought Fred would have behaved better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me,
- and Fred with his own congeners,” said Beatrice; “you don’t know half the
- phases of boy nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected
- him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was
- nothing—that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and
- true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father’s grave. He
- was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that
- it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one
- moment’s doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to
- each other at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had
- passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and
- smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the
- natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the
- churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well
- pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. They
- worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires
- was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the
- right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service
- came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion
- which she fancied had been with her the whole day.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was
- kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low,
- timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth,
- and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones
- echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and
- thankfulness for the “good tidings of great joy.” Another and another
- Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices;
- and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath
- their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta,
- turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the
- door watching them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beautiful!” said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; “your
- work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don’t
- think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She did, of course, papa,” said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. “Who
- else could?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a very successful arrangement,” said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about
- to find the spot for obtaining the best view. “It is an arrangement to
- suggest so much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time
- perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the
- altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves and
- scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in the
- centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around
- them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the
- many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar
- stiff gracefulness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it now!” said she, in a low voice full of awe. “Uncle, I did not
- mean to make it so!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is like Good Friday!” said she, as the resemblance to the crown of
- thorns struck her more and more strongly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, why not, my dear?” said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a
- sort of alarm. “Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good
- Friday?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are those verses that say—let me see—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
- ‘And still Thy Church’s faith Shall link,
- In all her prayer and praise,
- Thy glory with Thy death.’
-</pre>
- <p>
- So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, “It
- is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art—or, what shall I call
- it?—is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the
- author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the
- spirit in which a thing is done,” said her father: “But have you much more
- to do? Those columns look very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, are you come to help us, papa?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your not
- coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again just
- at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, “Very well,
- we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make her
- think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows that
- it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was promised.
- He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste and execution,
- the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin came in, his
- surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had grown up in his
- absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of evergreen at the east end,
- centring in the crown and letters; the spiral festoons round the pillars;
- the sprays in every niche; the tower of holly over the font—all were
- more beautiful, both together and singly, than he had even imagined, and
- he was profuse in admiration and thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied
- survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the
- pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As
- they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal:
- children’s voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance,
- were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with
- </p>
- <p>
- “As shepherds watch’d their flocks by night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little voices
- was brought on the still frosty wind—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,—how
- really Christmas-like—how well it suited the soft half-light, the
- last pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn
- stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and
- sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!—and
- how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta’s eyes!
- </p>
- <p>
- The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, with
- Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary’s beautiful voice, was
- not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was teasing Fred
- all the time about his defection? The church singers came up to the Hall,
- and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to listen to them;
- grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk with them, and so
- passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the many little troops
- of young small voices outside the windows, to whom Mrs. Langford’s plum
- buns, and Mr. Geoffrey’s sixpences, were a very enjoyable part of the
- Christmas festivities.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with
- many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must be
- so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the
- whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer
- hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the party,
- while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage by old Mr.
- Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with recollecting that no
- companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It was a sight to be
- remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his arm, her sweet
- expression of peace and resignation, making her even more lovely than when
- last she entered there—her face in all its early bloom of youthful
- beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that “peace which passeth all
- understanding;” and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her
- eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and
- she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go
- through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged
- their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather
- than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome
- channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her
- more full of her father’s presence than of any other, so now, throughout
- the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and
- entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work
- herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her mamma’s
- own anxieties for Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all
- left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to talk
- her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured by them
- that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from it. But
- though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was not much
- likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had always been
- sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when Fred saw that his
- mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of agitation, he dismissed
- anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at his sister’s alarms.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he
- was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations which
- had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, replying to
- the scolding with which she visited their desertion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations,
- which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning
- sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the
- compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. The
- old women had “never seen nothing like it,”—the school children
- whispered to each other, “How pretty!” Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin
- admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted;
- grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and
- Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it “was like magic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been
- accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall was
- so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in time
- for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which she had
- often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, the
- Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the
- farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick
- Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own
- apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement
- of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow
- path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking
- sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept him
- estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for execution.
- Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their grandfather was
- wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping them to feed the cows
- with turnips, and guarding them from going behind their heels. Henrietta
- was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was doing the honours for her,
- and instructing her in the difference between a Guernsey cow and a
- short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen Bee all to himself in a
- remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old spotted Nancy’s curly brow,
- catching at her polished black-tipped horn, and listening to his hopes and
- fears for the next half year. Not so Frederick, as he stood at the door
- with Jessie Carey, who, having no love for the cow-house, especially when
- in her best silk, thought always ready to take care of the children there,
- was very glad to secure a companion outside, especially one so handsome,
- so much more polished than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply
- to her small talk. Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how
- he longed to be listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking
- holly into the cows’ halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the
- hay-loft with Carey and William—anywhere, rather than be liable to
- the imputation of being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house.
- </p>
- <p>
- This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still
- an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman,
- and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and
- the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while
- Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, “Well, Fred, I congratulate
- you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, you can’t deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me for
- finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay so bad
- a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I was
- actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that great
- print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy roof,
- and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, the haze
- of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite poetical,” said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. “How
- charmed Jessie must have been!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why?” said Fred, rather provoked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be quite
- her phoenix; and how much ‘Thomson’s Seasons’ you will have to hear! I
- dare say you have had it already—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- ‘Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “Well, very good advice, too,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hate and detest Thomson,” said Beatrice; “above all, for travestying
- Ruth into ‘the lovely young Lavinia;’ so whenever Jessie treated me to any
- of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I said, by
- great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an imposition
- for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a capital hit,
- for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much of him, and
- since that time I have heard no more of ‘Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson!
- O!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, reaching
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with his mother,
- made him suspect that the young people were getting into such spirits as
- were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked them some
- trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, and brought
- it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had
- to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the
- dining-room—an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin
- was dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the
- whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to her,
- as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, but for
- the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular music, it
- might as well have been any other day of the week.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had a
- long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and she
- helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions about
- her mother’s health and habits, and heard a good deal that interested her,
- but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. At Rocksand she used to
- sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the darkening summer twilight, or
- the bright red light of the winter fire, repeating or singing hymns, and
- enjoying the most delightful talks that the whole week had to offer, and
- now she greatly missed the conversation that would have “set this strange
- week to rights in her head,” as she said to herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at
- night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as
- difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a new
- day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by Knight
- Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she asked
- herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change in her way
- of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last Sunday that
- she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at Rocksand. Enough
- had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was fulfilled; the
- airy castle of former days had become a substance, and she was inhabiting
- it: and was she really so very much happier? There she went into a reverie—but
- musing is not meditating, nor vague dreamings wholesome reflections; she
- went on sitting their, chiefly for want of energy to move, till the fire
- burnt low, the clock struck twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed
- in a sleepy voice, “My dear, are you going to sleep there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the
- Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in
- Knight’s Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin
- without loss of time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are coming, are you not, Bee?” said Alex, leaning over the back of
- her chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said she, nearly whispering “only take care. It is taboo there,”—and
- she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, “and don’t frighten
- Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey’s doing the deed as fast as
- he can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and Fred
- was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, hoping it
- might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take care of himself
- since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the alarmed expression had
- come over her face, as she asked Alexander whether his father had looked
- at the ice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Alex, “but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and
- it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is pretty well to be trusted,” said his grandfather, “more especially
- as it would be difficult to get drowned there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there,” said
- Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The travelling man did,” exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t they come in just like the Greek chorus?” said Beatrice, in a
- whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend to
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought he was drowned in the river,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the duckweed
- grows so rank in summer,” said Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey laughed. “I am sorry to interfere with your romantic
- embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since you
- are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always thought it was there,” said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always heard it was at Knight’s Pool,” repeated Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know what you may have heard,” said Uncle Geoffrey; “but as it
- happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not
- argue the point.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grandpapa,” persisted Carey, “was it not in Knight’s Pool?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly not,” was the answer drily given.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Carey, “I am sure you might drown yourself there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather than own yourself mistaken,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction,” said grandmamma, rising and rustling
- past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced face. “Take
- your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and stand like a
- gentleman. Do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All in vain!” said Beatrice. “To the end of his life he will maintain
- that Knight’s Pool drowned the travelling man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, never mind,” said John, impatiently, “are we coming to skate this
- morning or are we not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really wish,” said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, “without
- distrusting either old Knight’s Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that you
- would ask some one to look at it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should like just to run down and see the fun,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran
- joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, Beatrice
- to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked her son
- Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable shutting
- of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done it, he
- readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all else give
- way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, “I shall be
- ready by the time the young ladies come down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice
- appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the boys
- looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight Sutton,
- being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but a messenger
- came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except Sunday, and
- returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient arrangement,
- as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might probably say for
- twenty years more.
- </p>
- <p>
- As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., and
- Fred’s face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written
- business-like sheets.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred, my poor fellow,” said his uncle, looking up, “I am sorry for you,
- but one or two must be answered by this day’s post. I will not be longer
- than I can help.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then do let us come on,” exclaimed the chorus.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Queenie,” added Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- She delayed, however, saying, “Can I do any good, papa?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save time
- if you could just copy a letter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O thank you, pray let me,” said Beatrice, delighted. “Go on, Henrietta, I
- shall soon come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her
- brother, which she did not like to lose.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in
- the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, “Freddy, I believe you think me
- very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice
- till one of your uncles has said it is safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Roger trusts Alex,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of you
- together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be dangerous
- places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear,” added she, as the
- others were preparing to start, “only I beg you will not attempt to skate
- till your uncle comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he
- showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not to
- set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had
- resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest
- days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place on
- his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been
- voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in vain
- with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should bring
- the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself for the
- entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of
- disobedience.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red
- leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move,
- apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like
- the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in fact
- the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat opposite to
- him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely happy, for to the
- credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that no talk with
- Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, no, not even a
- flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in her estimation to
- the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though it was copying a dry
- legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the smooth hard ice, in the
- bright winter morning’s sunshine.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty or
- five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice looked
- up, and without speaking, held up her sheet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now
- then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel for
- him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:” and muttering
- a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer’s indefatigable pen;
- and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off with her droll,
- tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so well with her little
- alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black velvet bonnet, a tight
- black velvet “jacket,” as she called it, and a brown silk dress, with
- narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, because it was the colour
- of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, boa, or ribbon about her, but
- all close and compact, fit for the diversion which she was eager to enjoy.
- The only girl among so many boys, she had learnt to share in many of their
- sports, and one of the prime favourites was skating, a diversion which
- owes as much of its charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to
- the degree of skill which it requires.
- </p>
- <p>
- She arrived at the stile leading to “Knight’s Portion,” as it was called,
- and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if it was
- all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner of a
- down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied all the
- attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of precipice,
- where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old chalk pit
- formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the foot of a
- hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply traced
- circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger ones with
- those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which the unskilful
- are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick and Henrietta
- stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly cheerful; but
- both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came to meet her with
- eager inquiries for her papa.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from
- the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and who
- hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been
- entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour,
- and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, or
- to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for was
- impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and
- exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his own
- hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had occasioned
- the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps in a sort of
- secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as to form in his
- eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown himself so
- unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction she beheld
- her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height above, and
- while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to herself, “It
- will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once to
- use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement for
- the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as skating
- with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection might have
- shown her how much more annoying the privation would be rendered by the
- sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which he was debarred.
- It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon against her as a fault
- that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of anything so “boyish,” and
- had long ago entreated her to be more like a young lady. There was no
- positive order in this case, and her papa and mamma did not object. So she
- eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was
- gliding merrily on the surface of the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins
- watched her dexterity with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more
- grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his
- complaints. At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own
- security to bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a
- quarter of an hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising
- to the pitch where consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own
- phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never mind,
- Fred, the post must go some time or other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an hour!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her
- ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in the
- midst of her next circular sweep she chanted—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that any
- reason why I should be drowned?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh,
- nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the
- house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What news of Uncle Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle
- Roger went to him there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most provoking
- face of wonder and curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Presently,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious,
- though it was only rude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller
- than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what they
- pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His mamma won’t let him,” was Dick’s polite answer. Fred could have
- knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place he
- was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in the
- third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper enough
- left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling with him, so
- contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that he had him as
- his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what she thought of
- the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., &c.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar
- frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue much
- longer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the
- hedge!” said Henrietta; “and look, these pieces of chalk are almost cased
- in glass.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O I do love such a sight!” said Jessie. “Here is a beautiful bit of stick
- crusted over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a perfect little Giant’s Causeway,” said Henrietta; “do look at
- these lovely little columns, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Jessie, “Myriads of little salts, or hook’d or shaped like
- double wedges.—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she
- came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line,
- looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered—“O
- Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be
- making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey’s side, was more
- than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey was not
- coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience gave way,
- and he exclaimed, “Well, I shan’t wait any longer, it is not of the least
- use.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Fred, consider!” said his sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right, Freddy,” shouted Carey, “he’ll not come now, I’ll answer
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know he promised he would,” pleaded Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the
- sea,” said Fred, “the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not
- wait any longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Think of mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?” exclaimed Fred impatiently,
- “do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them must
- needs break with me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not suppose there is any danger,” said Henrietta, “but for the sake
- of poor mamma’s entreaties!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of my
- life?” said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to
- silence his sister and his conscience. “I have submitted to such absurd
- nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in
- the sight of everybody; so here goes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of the
- pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta turned
- away her eyes full of tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, Henrietta,” shouted the good-natured Alexander, “I’ll engage
- to fish him out if he goes in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex,” returned Fred, slightly
- affronted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case,” said the
- naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the
- consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible,
- then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction,
- “Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience
- he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Whether Alex smiled at the words “past fear,” or whether Fred only thought
- he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, “I only wish there
- was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there is one,” said Alex, laughing, “where Carey drowns the
- travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, so
- you may try—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t, Fred—I beg you won’t!” cried Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!” implored
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shan’t look, I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Jessie, turning away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across
- the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the middle
- of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his achievement,
- a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles stood before them.
- The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a short run, and slide
- right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle Roger stood by laughing
- and saying, “Well done, Geoffrey, you are not quite so heavy as I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by the
- arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice that had
- all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released from school, “I
- hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is franked! Where’s
- Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen Bee’s
- complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander who had
- spirit to answer, “We thought you were not coming at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed!” said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, “Why, Alex,
- Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises,” a truth to which every one
- gave a mental assent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle
- Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of their
- merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all the
- other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy more
- than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her
- brother’s conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her uncle,
- wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind to do so,
- for fear of her mamma’s asking about Fred; and whilst she was still
- doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding her of
- the saint’s day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton to which she
- had so long looked forward. Yet here was another disappointment. The
- uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. Jessie said she must
- take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys could do as they
- pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey’s hand was going with him, but
- the rest continued their sport, and among them was Fred. He had never
- disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not have done so now, but
- as he saw none of his male companions setting off, he fancied that to
- attend a week-day service in the holidays might be reckoned a girlish
- proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as soon as his back was
- turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey’s grave looks that he might be
- taken to task when no longer protected by the presence of the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- He therefore replied with a gruff short “No” to his sister’s anxious
- question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end
- of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and
- vexed at finding himself mistaken after all—at least so far as
- regarded Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last
- moment, and now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at
- full speed after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they
- reached the village.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of
- footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to Church
- grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in general
- look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present case there
- were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to plead to Uncle
- Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity towards her poor
- Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how much he had been teased.
- This, however, she could not tell him without complaining of his daughter,
- and in fact it was an additional pain that Queen Bee should have used all
- her powerful influence in the wrong direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in such
- circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put her arm
- into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that could
- sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, “My poor
- Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this time,
- but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything
- happening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for
- persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did,
- and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you would
- not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would go into
- the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? I could
- have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no harm done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is your papa displeased with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and
- beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred—I should like to
- make a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever
- act a charade, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never; I scarcely know what it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told
- you of fool-hardy, for now we can’t have that, but this evening, O, this
- evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex!
- Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and was
- presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently persuading
- him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta was not
- sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All her
- thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before all
- her mother’s fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had recovered
- her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of his Heavenly
- Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of many a moral tale,
- was tormenting herself with the expectation of retribution, and dwelling
- on a fancied figure of her brother lifted senseless out of the water, with
- closed eyes and dripping hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little thing,
- and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as she
- returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, “Papa,
- you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much plagued, and he
- only had just begun when you came.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The other boys had been teasing him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on
- the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was my
- fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only worthy
- of Dick himself, but at poor Fred’s own disconsolate looks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know how
- easily I am run away with by high spirits.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no
- right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but there are
- many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are irresistible, or
- seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I know I was to blame,
- only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really did seem rather
- unreasonable to keep him there parading about with Henrietta and Jessie,
- when the ice was quite safe for everybody else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way to
- the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not show
- any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position for a
- boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these restraints.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And cannot you—” said Beatrice, stopping short.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks
- right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very reason I
- will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that his amusement
- should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his amusement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet surely this cannot go on for life,” said Beatrice, as if she was half
- afraid to hazard the remark.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and
- gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do not
- set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can plead
- the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; you know the
- greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful responsibility
- incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to lead him astray for
- the sake of—of vanity—of amusement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to
- Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, and
- she answered earnestly, “I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of saying
- clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for I could
- have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is vanity, and
- I will try to subdue it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and would
- blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed reproof
- by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was self-deception,
- for it was not as if it was herself whom she was analysing, but rather as
- if it was some character in a book; indeed, she would have described
- herself almost exactly as she is here described, except that her
- delineation would have been much more clever and more exact. She would not
- have spared herself—for this reason, that her own character was more
- a study to her than a reality, her faults rather circumstances than sins;
- it was her mind, rather than her soul, that reflected and made
- resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been resolutions, if they
- had possessed any real earnestness, and not been done, as it were,
- mechanically, because they became the occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and she
- ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following course:
- “I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and wrong, and
- all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll to see how
- provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and after all, I
- don’t think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only it flatters
- his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as girls, not Alex
- though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for me, and I have
- put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought those charades
- are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on superior ground, and
- there will be none of these foolish questions who can be most manly mad.
- Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and I thought papa could not
- find it in his heart to be angry with him. How capitally he will act, and
- how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make them take to the charades, it
- will be so very delightful, and keep Fred quite out of mischief, which
- will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused grandpapa will be! What shall
- it be to-night? What Alex can manage to act tolerably. Ce n’est que le
- premier pas qui conte, and the premier pas must be with our best foot
- foremost. I give myself credit for the thought; it will make all smooth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more
- rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her
- swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was
- standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, which
- with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. “Don’t look dismal,
- Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. Cheer up,
- you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to
- receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought him
- excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all the
- wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all fear of
- Uncle Geoffrey’s eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, and he
- entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle was vexed to
- see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her entreaty had not
- been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for she liked better to
- trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too many boys, did not think
- concealment blameable where there was no actual falsehood.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of
- wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, and
- was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into
- different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some
- extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, and
- with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him the
- loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant’s uniform; then she darted into the
- drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger’s voice, and conjured him not to
- forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, “Willy must
- wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger’s dirk, and above all, beg,
- borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger’s fishing boots.” Her next descent was upon
- Aunt Mary, in her own room: “Aunt, would you do me a great favour, and ask
- no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the three little
- marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday evening. Only for
- this one evening, and I’ll take great care.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like
- myself in such finery,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as Beatrice
- took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had the
- discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft of its
- plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in the secret
- of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the work-room,
- which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and Judith,
- gratified by a visit from “Miss Bee,” dived for her sake into boxes and
- drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to rummage.
- </p>
- <p>
- All this might ultimately be for Henrietta’s entertainment, but at present
- it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own resources
- in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, listened to
- a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the new pig-sty,
- wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to ask Uncle
- Geoffrey’s advice, tried to talk over things in general with her mamma,
- but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming in and out of
- the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt deserted, gave up
- work, and had just found an entertaining book, when grandmamma came in,
- and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She readily accepted, but for
- want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her grandmamma waiting longer than
- she liked, and had more of a scolding than was agreeable. The chickens
- were all gone to roost by the time they arrived, the cock just peering
- down at them with his coral-bordered eye, and the ducks waddling
- stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, the hen-wife gone, and
- Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but she
- had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, they met
- Mr. Langford, who called out, “So you have been walking with grandmamma!
- Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with grandpapa. I
- am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my ‘merry Christmas’ will
- be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be
- refused, and she was at her grandpapa’s side in an instant, thanking him
- so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. “I wish we had
- Fred here too,” said he, as they walked on, “the old man will be very glad
- to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was he one of mamma’s many admirers in the village?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was old
- Daniels’ chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for carpentry,
- especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he was at work at
- the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have held up his head
- again when our great trouble came on us. He used to touch his hat, and
- turn away without looking me in the face. And there you may see stuck up
- over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new chisel that your father gave
- him when he had broken his old one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear old man!” said Henrietta, warmly, “I am so very glad that we have
- come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, and
- not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were come out
- of banishment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it is all the better for you,” said Mr. Langford; “if we had had
- you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few
- granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is that
- little Busy Bee—by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are not
- you in her secret?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came
- out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would not
- let me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She turns us all round her finger,” said grandpapa. “I never found the
- person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you do
- not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and it
- is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandpapa!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here!” and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he
- disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. “Is
- this weak?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it is strong in energy,” said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic
- cane sprang back to its former shape.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that
- should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let your
- own determination be only to keep upright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But women are admired for influence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it is
- unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, take
- care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own personal
- wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially for young
- ladies towards their elders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice,
- grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how
- applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the
- moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. It
- brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched
- workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat but
- for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was Henrietta’s first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness and
- interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as fine-looking
- as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages always are in
- books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It was a very nice
- trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on Mr. Langford’s knock,
- and the room was neatness itself, but the old carpenter was not at all
- what she had imagined. He was a little stooping old man, with a shaking
- head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and did not seem to have
- anything to say beyond “Yes, sir,” and “Thank you, sir,” when Mr. Langford
- shouted into his deaf ears some of the “compliments of the season.”
- Looking at the young lady, whom he evidently mistook for Beatrice, he
- hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were quite well. His face lighted up a
- little for a moment when Mr. Langford told him this was Mr. Frederick’s
- daughter, but it was only for an instant, and in a somewhat querulous
- voice he asked if there was not a young gentleman too.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Mr. Langford, “he shall come and see you some day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He would not care to see a poor old man,” said Daniels, turning a little
- away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by saying, “He
- is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting tired going to
- church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he has been so
- fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then
- asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in the
- workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak to him,
- leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary waiting
- time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class with whom
- she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself agreeable, but
- completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk to the old man,
- and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation quite impossible
- except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with her—she tried to
- recollect what storied young ladies did say to old men, but nothing she
- could think of would do, or was what she could find herself capable of
- saying. At last she remembered, in “Gertrude,” the old nurse’s complaint
- that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, and she hazarded her
- voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not suffer from it. Clear
- as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for she was really in a
- fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man’s ear, and his
- daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in a shrill sharp
- scream, that almost went through her ears; then while the old man was
- answering something in a muttering maundering way, she proceeded with a
- reply, and told a long story about his ways with the doctor, in her Sussex
- dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The conversation dropped,
- until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at the Hall was quite well,
- and as she inquired after them one by one, this took up a reasonable time;
- but then again followed a silence. Mrs. Daniels was not a native of Knight
- Sutton, or she would have had more to say about Henrietta’s mother; but
- she had never seen her before, and had none of that interest in her that
- half the parish felt. Henrietta wished there had been a baby to notice,
- but she saw no trace in the room of the existence of children, and did not
- like to ask if there were any. She looked at the open hearth, and said it
- was very comfortable, and was told in return that it made a great draught,
- and smoked very much. Then she bethought herself of admiring an
- elaborately worked frame sampler, that hung against the wall; and the
- conversation this supplied lasted her till, to her great joy, grandpapa
- made his appearance again, and summoned her to return, as it was already
- growing very dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought he might have made something of an apology for the
- disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting that
- she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that cottage
- visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an occupation,
- when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking about her mother’s
- health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with her, saying how very
- glad he was to have her there again, and how like his own daughter she had
- always been. He went on to tell of his first sight of his two
- daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would be such, he went
- to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from India under the
- care of General St. Leger. “There they were,” said he; “I can almost see
- them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt a brown little
- sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, and your mamma such
- a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I felt quite ashamed to
- take her among all my great scrambling boys.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she recollects
- the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a carriage; but she
- cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey or the coming here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed that
- in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys receiving
- her,—Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,—for Roger was at school. How
- they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like a
- little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too
- rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass.
- And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was when she was six,” said Henrietta, “and papa must have been
- ten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! and
- come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was
- almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And were they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she did
- not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they knight and
- giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many’s the time I have
- laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived creature more
- without will of her own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never,” responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford might
- commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so appropriate
- a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by her own
- daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in another
- tone, “Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more on you than
- on any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would do anything on earth for her!” said Henrietta, feeling it from
- the bottom of her heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure you would, my dear,” said Mr. Langford, “and she deserves it.
- There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think
- of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, it
- won’t do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, that
- I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, as I am
- sure it was for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his
- eldest son calling “Out late, sir,” and looking round, Henrietta saw what
- looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt Roger, and
- their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming to the Hall
- for the regular Christmas dinner-party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries
- whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent
- manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had been
- saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her
- mother’s youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and
- which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the
- scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother
- having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and
- resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the
- conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side.
- She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her
- grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old
- carpenter’s averted head—she thought what must have been the agony
- of the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on
- whom the world was just opening so brightly,—and the young wife—the
- infant children—how fearful it must have been! “It was almost a
- cruel dispensation,” thought Henrietta. “O, how happy and bright we might
- have been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his
- kiss, to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her
- joyousness and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it
- not so? And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner
- he did say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it!
- To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma,
- grandpapa—no, I never shall understand it. They were good before;
- why did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying ‘Thy will be
- done?’ Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta,” said Bennet;
- “it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been telling
- me that I must get you ready faster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink
- again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, “I can’t,
- Bennet, it breaks my neck.” Her will was not with her mother’s, in a
- trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself
- to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly
- Parent, in what is above reason?
- </p>
- <p>
- The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed in to
- dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having already
- been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again abandoned to
- Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, partly because he
- was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for the evening, and
- partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was saying to Fred, in
- the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the loud voice of Mr.
- Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other sounds. Some
- inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and her aunt, Lady
- Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great lamentation for her
- mother’s absence, and from thence into a description of what Lady Susan
- exacted from her friends. “Aunt Susan is a regular fidget,” said she; “not
- such a fidget as some people,” with an indication of Mrs. Langford. “Some
- people are determined to make others comfortable in a way of their own,
- and that is a fidget to be regarded with considerable respect; but Aunt
- Susan’s fidgeting takes the turn of sacrificing the comfort of every one
- else to her own and her little dog’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on mamma’s
- coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her sister and
- brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when she may be
- taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous state that Mr.
- Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence,” said Beatrice, in an
- imitative tone, which made Fred laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by her
- querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or unselfishness
- either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was kind to her when
- she came home from India, and she manages to keep her quiet better than
- anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma’s cheerful voice, which
- drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot think how funny it is to
- see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the cat the wrong way, and
- mamma to smooth her down the right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. Langford
- said, “What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O you are telling it all—O don’t, Bee!” cried Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to
- discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all—it
- was the partridges—the conversation drifted away again from the
- younger party.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging her
- grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at present
- stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where there was a
- door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent rustlings were
- heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or whispering, and a sound of
- moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. Langford, that, starting up, she
- exclaimed that she must go and see what they were doing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are taking great care, grandmamma,” called Alexander. “We won’t hurt
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far
- from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage of
- discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that all
- was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her—the latter, in
- a marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself,
- and yet in great terror lest the others should tell.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and
- presently there was a call from behind the screen, “Are you ready, good
- people?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go it,” answered Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are the elders ready?” said Beatrice’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa, don’t go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!” cried Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, all attention,” said grandpapa. “Now for it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown,
- ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a tiara
- and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them a
- nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, adorned
- with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the form of
- ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. As Uncle
- Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it proceeded in
- due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and present them to the
- king and princess in the name of the Marquis Carabbas.
- </p>
- <p>
- The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis might
- be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king
- cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him,
- until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner,
- “I’ve told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won’t believe me, I can’t
- help it!” and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful a
- manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to have
- his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in
- preparation for Scene II.
- </p>
- <p>
- Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so as
- to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close to
- the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart
- measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his head,
- and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, reclined Alex,
- his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an old,
- long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had with
- some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little figure in
- a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox’s brush, and
- with Mrs. Frederick Langford’s three feathers, and a coat bearing
- marvellous resemblance to Beatrice’s own black velvet spencer, crossed
- over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew full well.
- “Do thou stand for my father,” began this droll little shape, “and examine
- me in the particulars of my life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, acted
- beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes were often
- directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, obtained not
- only a view of Prince Hal’s pink petticoat, but of a great Shakespeare
- laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of the heir
- apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was strongly
- suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It was with
- great spirit that the parting appeal was given, “Banish fat Jack, and
- banish all the world!” And there was great applause when fat Jack and
- Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; though Uncle
- Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain historical and
- antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was likely to wear
- the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts at Eastcheap.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant’s uniform made a great
- figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf,
- and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his arm,
- looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low bow,
- which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish bonnet,
- also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue ribbon.
- Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine stood
- confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled off, or
- supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off the view;
- and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, while Prince
- Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced round Mr.
- Langford, asking if he had guessed it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an amusement
- likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of her
- boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to imitate
- it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the way of
- scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were to dine at the
- Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there should be a grand
- charade, with all the splendour that due preparation could bestow upon it.
- “It was such an amusement to grandpapa,” as Beatrice told Henrietta, “and
- it occupied Fred so nicely,” as she said to her father; both which
- observations being perfectly true, Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing
- to promote the sport, and to tranquillise his mother respecting the
- disarrangement of her furniture.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their own—some
- for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, others for
- Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already grouped her
- dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta’s picturesque face and
- figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her and Fred
- represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she had always
- believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for “another touch at
- Prince Hal,” and devised numerous ways of acting Anonymous, for the sake
- of “Anon, anon, sir.” Henrietta wanted to contrive something in which
- Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy bee, and had very pretty visions
- of making her a beneficent spirit in a little fanciful opera, for which
- she had written three or four verses, when Fred put an end to it be
- pronouncing it “nonsense and humbug.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was
- beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday
- morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some
- chance a wig of her papa’s was in the house, and a charade they must and
- would have which would bring in the wig. “Come and see it,” said she,
- drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being
- the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. “There now,
- is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is certain!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister’s wig before,
- were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in turn.
- While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of her own fair
- ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door suddenly opened,
- and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, “What! nothing safe
- from you, you impertinent kittens?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!” cried Henrietta, blushing crimson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t take it off till I have looked at you,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Why,
- you would make a capital Portia!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Queen Bee, “that is it: Portia she shall be, and I’ll be
- Nerissa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!” said Henrietta: “I am sure I
- can’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I have set my heart on being the ‘little scrubby lawyer’s clerk,’”
- said Busy Bee; “it is what I am just fit for; and let me see—Fred
- shall be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and
- you shall have Alex for your Bassanio.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine
- Seyton?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me see,” said Beatrice; “bond—bondage, jew—jeweller,
- juniper,—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lawsuit,” said Fred. “Ay, don’t you see, all the scenes would come out of
- the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ There is ‘law’ when the old Jew is crying out
- for his ducats, and—but halloo!” and Fred stood aghast at the sight
- of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Traitor!” said Beatrice; “but never mind, I believe we must have let him
- into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Bee,” whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, “don’t tease him with our
- nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock’s part, when he has all
- that pile of papers on the table.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is some
- ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Such was Uncle Geoffrey’s reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered to
- the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, and
- then clapped their hands in delighted admiration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you really know it all?” asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful awe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It won’t cost me much trouble to get it up,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford;
- “Shylock’s growls stick in one’s memory better than finer speeches.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then will you really be so very kind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table this
- morning,” said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a certain
- degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as if it was
- entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he did
- actually enjoy it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only
- place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex could not
- be taken to the maids’ workroom, and none of the downstairs apartments
- could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their preparations.
- Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing Uncle Geoffrey, but
- his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon at an end when she
- perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, and laughing, no more
- than if they had been so many little sparrows twittering on the eaves, but
- pursued the even tenor of his writing uninterruptedly, even while she
- fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, which her ingenious fingers had
- compounded of the lining of certain ugly old curtains.
- </p>
- <p>
- His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs.
- Langford’s periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she would
- assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have come to a
- collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole scheme.
- </p>
- <p>
- It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta’s list of his avocations,
- and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people
- during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine by
- the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were the
- looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the curing
- grandmamma’s old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing of an
- emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle
- supposed “to have no answer,” and the mending of some extraordinary spring
- that was broken in Uncle Roger’s new drill. Beatrice was charmed with the
- list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to every one; and
- grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was ashamed to find that
- his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to which Uncle Geoffrey
- replied, that it was too true that “all work and no play make Jack a very
- dull boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and rain,
- was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away all
- temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and Antonio
- and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey was heard to
- observe that it might just as well be half year. They had besides their
- own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of Arragon and
- Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa as possible,
- had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, all into the one
- scene belonging to “suit.” It was one of those occasions on which she
- showed little consideration, for she thus gave Portia an immense quantity
- to learn in only two days; persuading herself all the time that it was no
- such hard task, since the beautiful speech about mercy Henrietta already
- knew by heart, and she made no difficulties about the rest. Indeed,
- Beatrice thought herself excessively amiable in doing all she could to
- show off her cousin’s beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part
- herself; forgetting that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in
- taking willingly that which is assigned us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well as
- at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil the
- pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good earnest
- to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her hand; she
- learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, resisting
- many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before daylight,
- was up and learning again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged:
- grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger
- that it would be over now and out of the children’s heads, for they turned
- the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like
- play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out
- one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always
- making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want of
- his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt Mary,
- and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very pretty,
- and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to crack;
- Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be magnificos,
- found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to
- Shylock’s excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed
- chasing him across the stage, crying, “The law, his ducats, and his
- daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her hair,
- almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed expression in
- her glowing face was little accordant with the calm dignified
- self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a handkerchief
- folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet lambswool worked
- into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with bright ribbon, made a
- complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, pert reply to her lady’s
- first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to restore Portia to herself,
- and they got on well and with spirit through the description of the
- suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. Portia looked
- excessively dignified, and Nerissa’s by-play was capital. Whether it was
- owing to Bassanio’s awkwardness or her own shyness, she did not prosper
- quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; Bassanio seemed more
- afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more at Nerissa than at her,
- whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as cold and measured a way, as if
- it had been the Prince of Morocco who had unfortunately hit upon the right
- casket.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be wished.
- She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the glowing
- carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath which a few
- bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand raised, and the
- other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the Jew, as if she
- either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in Antonio’s case, for
- they glistened with tears, and her voice had a tremulous pleading tone,
- which fairly made her grandfather and mother both cry heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by
- Bassanio from crying “No, he shan’t!” Nerissa was so absorbed as even to
- have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to
- the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick were
- hanging with breathless attention on the “but,” when suddenly there was a
- general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with a voice
- and face full of delight, announced “Master Roger,” and there entered a
- young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and
- handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another,
- the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger
- Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford
- fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his
- arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, “What,
- Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Miss Jessie,” exclaimed Roger; “that is right: I have not seen such a
- crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost your
- pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary,” said his mother; and instantly there was a
- subduing of the young sailor’s boisterous mirth, as he turned to answer
- her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the appearance of
- the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio’s short black cloak
- and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his burnt cork eyebrows
- and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know him; Uncle Geoffrey
- still in Shylock’s yellow cap, and Fred somewhat grim with the Prince of
- Morocco’s complexion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How d’ye do, Phil?” said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the hand
- with interest. “What! are not you Philip Carey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, Roger!” cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden
- predominated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d’ye do, aunt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done, Roger! That’s right! Go on!” cried his father, laughing
- heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as
- like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I
- thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not this
- Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are you Fred
- Langford, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Right this time,” said Fred, “so now you must shake hands with me in my
- own name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very glad to do so, and see you here at last,” said Roger, cordially.
- “And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were
- crossing the Line?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall hear what it is all about, and see too,” said Mr. Langford. “We
- must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But where
- is my little Portia? What is become of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fled, I suspect,” said her mother, “gone to turn into herself before her
- introduction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, it was so jolly,” Carey was now heard to say above the
- confusion of voices. “Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a pound
- of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a lawyer’s wig,
- and had just found such a dodge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore
- there, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you dined?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cold turkey—excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper—a
- cup of tea—no, but we will have the beef in—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the answers
- and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa exclaimed, “Ah!
- here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new cousin for you, Roger;
- here is the advocate for you when you have a tough law-suit! Lucky for
- you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, or your nose would soon be
- put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared you make your mother and
- grandfather cry their hearts out?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir,” said Mrs. Frederick
- Langford. “I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you
- know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But to
- see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking savage
- with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of actors, all of
- you, and we must see the end of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with Henrietta
- for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates decreed
- otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to carve it, and
- soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to his eldest grandson
- about his travels. A sailor just returned from four years on the South
- American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot condors on the Andes,
- caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks in the Atlantic, and
- heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could not fail to be very
- entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas of Peru, and could
- tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and accordingly everyone was
- greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who sat in a corner of the
- sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering how long Roger would go on
- eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and strangling the yawns induced by
- her inability to attract the notice of either of her squires, whose eyes
- and ears were all for the newcomer. She was not even missed; if she had
- been, it would have been some consolation; but on they went, listening and
- laughing, as if the course of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the
- adventures of her crew, were the only subjects of interest in the world.
- He was only at home for a week, but so much the worse, that would be till
- the end of Beatrice’s own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but
- Euphrosyne the whole time.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask
- about his cousins and all the neighbours.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any
- practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be
- doctored by Master Philip!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip,” said Jessie.
- “I assure you,” nodding to Fred, “I take it as a great compliment, and so
- will Philip.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! grown quite fat and coarse,” said Jessie; “but you may judge for
- yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a regular
- Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And we are to
- dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the county; the floor
- is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield assembly-room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate,” said Roger.
- “This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I took
- the prettiest girl there in to supper—don’t be jealous, Jessie, she
- had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the next
- ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather a thick
- sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she found? A
- great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever saw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you horrid creature!” cried Jessie, “I am sure it was your doing. I am
- sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or some
- dreadful creature! I won’t let you take me in to supper on Monday, I
- declare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I won’t have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my partner,
- if she will have me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Cousin Roger,” faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with the
- doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie might be
- vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, looking at
- her more fully than he had done before, went on, “Much honoured, cousin.
- Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the prettiest girl in the
- room for my partner. But how slow of them all not to have engaged her
- before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope for Queen Bee,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Jessie must dance with me, because I don’t know how,” said Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dears, this will never do!” interposed grandmamma. “You can’t all
- dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never heard
- of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with little
- Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” cried Roger, “I won’t give up my partner, ma’am; I am a
- privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of
- Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta,
- stick fast to your engagement; you can’t break the first promise you ever
- made me. Here,” proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, “let
- us begin this minute; I’ll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian
- ladies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a pity. Come, Jessie, then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something
- which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie answered
- her cousin’s summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance at his
- evident preference of Henrietta’s newer face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can’t waltz, I can play for you,” said Henrietta, willing not to
- seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and
- Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving shocks
- against the furniture and minding them not the least in the world, till at
- last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon the sofa.
- </p>
- <p>
- The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into
- silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, as
- was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he
- apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured
- him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no
- waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no
- possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as
- much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring that
- she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her days were
- contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything newer, they
- might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would not hear of
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her
- grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the
- universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, as
- she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining within
- herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing up and
- play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice came to her aunt’s room, when they went upstairs, and petitioned
- for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind pity for her
- present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even allowed her to
- outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of the charade, and
- the history of the preparations and contrivances gave subject to a very
- animated conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all to wish
- for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense dislike to
- the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, and there
- were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much without
- restraint as to Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, and
- here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had only
- heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the doings of
- the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly shocked and
- amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and pleading for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear!” said Beatrice, laughing, “I do not know what you would do if
- you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the days
- of her life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and the
- society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that make
- the difference, not the temper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite true, Busy Bee,” said her aunt, “temper may be the same in very
- different circumstances.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is very curious, mamma,” said Henrietta, “how people can be
- particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your pardon,
- only I know you don’t mind it, Jessie did not approve of your skating.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice, “every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at
- those of other people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging,” said
- Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But then, mamma,” said Henrietta, “we must hold to the right scruples,
- and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less—less
- desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we
- are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, it is just according to what you are brought up to,” said Beatrice. “A
- Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you think
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that will not do,” said Henrietta. “Something must be actually wrong.
- Mamma, do say what you think.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an instinct
- which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and whatever at the
- first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her own individual case.
- The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by education, or wilful
- dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, though alive and active
- on others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, as if satisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And above all,” said her mother, “it, like other gifts, grows dangerous,
- it may become affectation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pruding,” said Beatrice, “showing openly that you like it to be observed
- how prudent and proper you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious of
- anything wrong,” said Henrietta. “Wrong I do not exactly mean, but
- something on the borders of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Aunt Mary, “and above all, do not let this delicacy show
- itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion
- of ourselves, and very soon turns into ‘judging our neighbour.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is false delicacy, aunt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion
- tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in her
- cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and newly
- arrived after five years’ absence, he had considerable claims to
- attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold
- open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that
- Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even
- grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been
- amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and
- have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But
- between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never
- had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all
- the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest,
- thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either
- Henrietta or Jessie.
- </p>
- <p>
- If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was struck
- with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself to
- engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, it
- may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, might
- have carried her out of her natural character in the style that suited
- him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her own
- affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked him, but she
- showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to appropriate him.
- She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the attention due to
- any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness than if it had
- been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last of whom was a
- pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his stories of adventures,
- or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and a delighted ear; but all
- common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell flat; she either did not
- catch them, or did not catch at them. She might blush and look confused,
- but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified embarrassment, and if she
- found an answer, it was one either to change the subject, or honestly
- manifest that she was not pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought
- at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to admire
- her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, was not in
- the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of enjoyment,
- Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her mamma was still more
- rejoiced to see her act so properly without self-consciousness or the
- necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee ought to have been duly
- grateful to the one faithful vassal who was proof against all allurements
- from her side and service.
- </p>
- <p>
- She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is
- usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and been
- very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did not feel
- in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been much more
- proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on which their
- attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; for though the
- world may be of opinion that they had had quite a sufficiency of
- amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their success on Thursday,
- and the sudden termination in the very height of their triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of
- Shylock’s trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation,
- and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast in
- the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely cleared of
- all their various goods and chattels, Portia’s wig in its box, the three
- caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke’s throne safe in its
- place in the hall, and even Shylock’s yellow cap picked to pieces, and
- rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to come of use in
- seven years’ time. Judith, who was putting the finishing touches to the
- re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great chair, and
- restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the table, gave in
- answer to her exclamations the information that “Missus had been up since
- seven o’clock, helping to put away the things herself, for she said she
- could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey’s room not fit for anybody to sit in.”
- This might certainly be considered as a tolerably broad hint that they had
- better discontinue their representations, but they were arrived at that
- state of eagerness which may be best illustrated by the proverb referring
- to a blind horse. Every one, inclined to that same impetuosity, and want
- of soberness, can remember the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded
- checks will recur to the mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of
- the self-justification which truly answers that their object was not even
- comprehended. Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of
- dissent from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma’s dislike, and
- Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a fidgety
- fancy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and
- greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make a
- pair of asses’ ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the
- weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, and
- Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to be
- her own “primest of viziers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And,” said Beatrice, “what an exquisite interlude it will make to relieve
- the various plagues of Monday evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why you don’t mean to act then!” exclaimed Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not? You don’t know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse
- for getting away from all the stupidity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure it will,” cried Fred. “A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall
- have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But would grandmamma ever let us do it?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will manage,” said Beatrice. “I will make grandpapa agree to it, and
- then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before so many people!” said Henrietta. “O, Queenie, it will never do! It
- would be a regular exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, what nonsense!” said Beatrice. “Why, it is all among friends and
- neighbours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Friends and neighbours to you,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or
- inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account,” said Fred.
- “But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such nonsense
- and affectation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Affectation! O, Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, to be sure it is,” said Fred: “to set up such scruples as these.
- Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when once
- you get into the spirit of the thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is affectation,” said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, “but
- thinking what other people will think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some
- degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation,
- especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever and
- determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in
- preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering of
- wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged not
- to be Titania.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you must, you silly child,” said Beatrice. “I have such designs for
- dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa laugh
- by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But consider, Bee,” said Henrietta, “how much too tall I am for a fairy.
- It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom himself—spoil
- the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls to be the other
- fairies, and take Titania yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made part
- of the show,” said Beatrice. “Little Anna Carey has sense enough, I think;
- ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep you to
- come out in grand force in the last scene—Queen Eleanor sucking the
- poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an
- excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming to
- see King Richard when he was ‘old-man-of-the-mountains.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” cried Fred, “stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no
- more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I
- could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, in the
- gentleman’s own presence, too,” said Beatrice. “Monsieur is apparemment
- the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the French
- governess in Miss Edgworth’s book?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the
- mistake,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I do not wonder at it,” said Beatrice, “the mistake, I mean. Fred’s
- white hands there have just the look of a doctor’s; of course Roger
- thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for want
- of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You insulting creature!” said Fred. “Just as if I tried to look genteel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do, then, whether you try or not. You can’t help it, you know, and I
- am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your hand
- just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger thought
- he had succeeded in attaining his object.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He could not be a Carey and be otherwise,” said Busy Bee. “And besides,
- what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith
- and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to
- Roger’s proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows
- the extent of a Carey’s intellects; and what is left for the poor man to
- do but to study the cut of his boots?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you say much more about it, Queenie,” said Henrietta, “you will make
- Fred dance in Bottom’s hob-nailed shoes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is a melancholy business,” said Beatrice; “but it cannot be
- helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is this?”
- exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such violence as to
- shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, heated and
- almost breathless. “Rats! rats!” was his cry; “Fred, that’s right. But
- where is Uncle Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gone to Allonfield.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “More’s the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at
- home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the place
- regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for you and
- Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly—like smoke—while I go
- and tell grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room hurried
- Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. Langford for
- shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa laughed, thanked
- him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time for the rat hunt, as
- he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary thither and to the
- Pleasance that afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the
- girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at
- Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased,
- for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass before
- they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their
- arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates of
- Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of
- dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war
- was at its height.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! the glories of a rat hunt!” cried Beatrice. “Come, Henrietta, here is
- a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not to be
- lost.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into the
- farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on a
- multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors which
- were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown violently back
- and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of ecstatic expectation,
- tail straight out, head bent forward, now springing in rapture on the
- prey; the boys rushing about with their huge sticks, and coming down now
- and then with thundering blows, the labourers with their white shirt
- sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the straw, Uncle Roger with a
- portentous-looking club in the thick of the fight. On the ladder, cheering
- them on, stood grandpapa, holding little Tom in his arms, and at the
- bottom, armed with small sticks, were Charlie and Arthur, consoling
- themselves for being turned out of the melée, by making quite as much
- noise as all those who were doing real execution, thumping unmercifully at
- every unfortunate dead mouse or rat that was thrown out, and charging
- fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese that now and then came up to
- inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such accidents will occur in the
- best regulated families, to devour a share of the prey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice’s first exclamation was, “O! if papa was but here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing can go on without him, I suppose,” said Henrietta. “And yet, is
- this one of his great enjoyments?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, don’t you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born
- Englishman to delight in hunting ‘rats and mice and such small beer,’ as
- much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that all
- the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat hunt,
- and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There goes Fred!” cried Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There—there! O what
- a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid
- sort of light on the mist of dust at the top.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa’s head! I think that grandpapa
- with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle
- face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets
- frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor
- rats as keenly as anybody!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” said Henrietta, “there is something very odd in man’s nature;
- they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being cruel!
- Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind and
- gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and killing—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what town-people never can understand,” said Beatrice, “that
- hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried down,
- and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those people
- could have seen what I did last summer—grandpapa calling Carey, and
- holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their nest
- that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when Dick did
- something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years ago, and Alex
- and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they were really punished
- for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those bursts of generous
- indignation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a very curious thing,” said Henrietta, “the soldier spirit it must
- be, I suppose—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you philosophising about, young ladies?” asked Mr. Langford,
- coming up as Henrietta said these last words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, “what the
- pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies,” said grandpapa. “I
- have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or more, and
- I can’t say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going at it, for the
- first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old veterans, and he has
- a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is any satisfaction to
- you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that’s it—there he goes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, “I want just
- to speak to you. Don’t you think we might have a little charade-acting on
- Monday to enliven the evening a little?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think
- they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of
- Shylock?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Beatrice, “we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a
- new word and a beauty, and don’t you think it will do very well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private
- theatricals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it won’t be nearly such regular acting as the last,” said Beatrice,
- “I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so many
- spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a very nice
- diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I don’t see any harm in it,” said grandpapa, “so long as grandmamma
- does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no,” said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would
- make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred’s calling her
- affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent to
- anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise
- power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some
- subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she
- was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles’ wife
- might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son.
- </p>
- <p>
- After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy,
- recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she said.
- The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, where
- the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the first occasion;
- for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views respecting the
- appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick Langford was harassed
- and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the wishes of both, and vex
- neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look over every corner, and
- discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair at the fatigue her mother
- was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in vain for a seat for her, and
- having at last discovered a broken-backed kitchen chair in some of the
- regions below, kept diligently carrying it after her in all her
- peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that Uncle Geoffrey would come,
- but in vain; and between the long talking at Sutton Leigh, the wandering
- about the house, and the many discussions, her mamma was completely tired
- out, and obliged, when they came home, to confess that she had a headache.
- Henrietta fairly wished her safe at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading
- her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one
- matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand
- object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting
- down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with “Now listen
- to me, my dear child,” and proceeded with a long story of certain private
- theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain knowledge, ended in
- a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice set to work to argue:
- in the first place it was not probable that either she or Henrietta would
- run away with their cousins; secondly, that the former elopement was not
- chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that these were not private
- theatricals at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And pray what are they, then—when you dress yourselves up, and
- speak the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pay us a great compliment,” said Beatrice, who could sometimes be
- pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her explanation
- of how very far this was from anything that could be called theatrical; it
- was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was the important point.
- The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it was play-acting, and that
- was enough for her, and she would not have it done.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent.” This was a powerful
- piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at the first
- moment the shot did not tell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this,” said Mrs. Langford,
- “and let who would consent, she would never have her granddaughters
- standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before a whole room
- full of company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, grandmamma, I’ll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not
- have one single scene out of Shakespeare—not one. Won’t that do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse,” said Mrs.
- Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it
- shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come in
- at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so nicely!
- and grandpapa has said we may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. “Ah, well! you always will have your
- own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things in
- my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when their
- elders had once said, ‘No.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it up
- if you did; but pray do not—we will manage very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn everything
- upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can’t have it done. I shall want the
- study to put out the supper in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We can dress in our own rooms, then,” said Beatrice, “never mind that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your
- fathers and mothers like to let you, I can’t help it—that’s all I
- have to say,” said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred
- entered from the other side a moment after. “Victory, victory, my dear
- Fred!” cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. “I have
- prevailed: you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever!
- announced for Monday night, before a select audience!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee,” said Fred; “why Alex has just
- been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma’s
- dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone ‘coon, as they say in
- America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I got grandpapa first,” said Beatrice, “and then I persuaded her; she
- told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long lecture
- which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last that the chief
- points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the confusion in the
- study; so by giving up those two I gained everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean that you gave up bully Bottom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses’ ears. You shall wear them
- in the character of King Midas.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” said the ungrateful Fred, “that you might as well have given it
- all up together as Bottom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will
- decidedly make him King of California, and I’ll be the priestess of
- Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most
- excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, ‘King
- Midas has the ears of an ass.’ I would have made more of a fight for
- Bottom, if that had not come into my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you will have nothing to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very little,
- and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the world in
- all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as Queen
- Eleanor; she will look so regal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister’s praises. “You are a wondrous
- damsel, busy one,” said he, “to be content to play second fiddle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you
- would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall we
- ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till Monday
- evening to do everything in!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you will do it,” said Fred. “I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot
- do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in,” he exclaimed, as he
- heard the front door open.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I must go and dress,” said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste,
- which did not speak well for the state of her conscience.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters.
- “So you are entered with the vermin, Fred,” called he, as the two came out
- of the drawing-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just
- come in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, we were having a consultation about the charades,” said Fred; “the
- higher powers consent to our having them on Monday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grandmamma approving?” asked Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Fred, in all honesty, “she only objected to our taking a
- regular scene in a play, and ‘coming it as strong’ as we did the other
- night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs,
- listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained so
- plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to dress
- in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would have
- doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but hearing
- of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, was likely
- to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, she knew he
- had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his mother; and
- since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, could Beatrice
- actually say so to her own secret soul?
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked
- her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy
- castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the
- resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly and
- carnal lusts:” so speaks the collect with which we begin the new year—such
- the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, “Amen:” but what
- was its application to them? What did they do with the wicked world in
- their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he was in the world. It
- might be for him to pray for that spirit which enabled him to pass
- unscathed through the perils of his profession, neither tempted to grasp
- at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his way, unhardened and
- unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness on every side. This
- might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, with her love of dress,
- and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely pray that she might live
- less to the vanities of the world; there were others, whose worn
- countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of the world; but to
- those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught how to prize vain pomp
- and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, looking from a safe
- distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; were not they truly
- kept from that world which they had renounced?
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that if
- education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, and
- more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. A
- pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own
- devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission;
- these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but
- if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how
- could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and
- stronger ones which would meet their riper years?
- </p>
- <p>
- Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall,
- there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than
- those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the
- midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand,
- she whisked through the passages, Frederick’s voice was heard demanding
- whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was made
- wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. Zealous
- indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish them anywhere
- else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and newspaper, from one
- corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly out into the hall,
- threatening them with what Missus would say to them. At last grandmamma
- came down with a party of neat little notes in her hand, to be immediately
- sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, and Martin came to the door
- leading to the kitchen regions to receive his directions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O how lucky!” cried Queen Bee, springing up. “The cotton velvet for the
- ears! I’ll write a note in a second!” Then she paused. “But I can’t do it
- without Henrietta, I don’t know how much she wants. Half a yard must do, I
- suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of donkey-coloured
- velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have not you heard her bell?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had better ask Bennet,” said Fred; “she sometimes gets up quietly,
- and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives
- her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress’s
- room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon
- disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin
- departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations.
- </p>
- <p>
- About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as any
- one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had been
- broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the bell
- was, that she was not ready for Bennet.
- </p>
- <p>
- As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble
- confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for the
- morning’s laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears?
- </p>
- <p>
- The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta was
- engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh with
- Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than done,
- and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with success,
- for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were hailed by the
- loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of four brothers,
- marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some three miles off.
- Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee’s summons, but he could do nothing
- for her, for he had that morning been taken to task for not having made a
- visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and especially ordered off to
- call upon her, before meeting her at the party that evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How abominably provoking!” cried Beatrice; “just as if it signified. If I
- had but a fairy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Carey!” called Alex, “here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won’t
- you take Dumple and go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not I,” responded Carey; “I want to walk with Roger. But there’s Dumple,
- let her go herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, ride him?” asked Beatrice, “thank you, Carey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred might drive you,” said Carey; “O no, poor fellow, I suppose he does
- not know how.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred coloured with anger. “I do,” said he; “I have often driven our own
- horses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay,” said Beatrice, “with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary
- little guessing what you were doing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I assure you, Queen,” said Fred, very earnestly, “I do really know how to
- drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with me, I
- will bring you home quite safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know you can have the gig,” said Carey, “for papa offered it to Roger
- and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of
- doubting whether to drive old Dumple!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t question,” said Fred; “I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. I
- won’t break your neck, I promise you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt Mary,
- but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the reverse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t advise you, Bee,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, as to that,” said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, “I
- have great faith in Dumple’s experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, as
- the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My chief
- doubt is about Aunt Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred’s successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly made
- him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother’s desires,
- and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, “O, you know I
- only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so intensely
- miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by knowing
- nothing about it, I don’t think it need be considered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next
- moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this
- case.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much
- annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not
- wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say,
- “Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at
- home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex,” said
- Beatrice, laughing. “No, no, I know very well that nobody will care when
- it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love my own
- neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. Come, if
- that will put you into a better humour, I’ll dance with you first
- to-night.” Alex turned away, muttering, “I don’t like it—I’d go
- myself, but—Well, I shall speak to Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had
- excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are sure now,” said he, “that you can drive safely? Remember it would
- be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come
- from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of his
- rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, that he
- could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only wished that
- their own horses were come from Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I have no more to say,” said Alex, “only please to mind this,
- Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him
- to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice’s that I
- spoke.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much obliged, Langford senior,” replied Fred, making himself as tall as
- he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, “Now,
- Carey, we won’t stop you any longer, if you’ll only just be so good as to
- tell your man to get out the gig.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long,
- for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur running
- after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in his very
- sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, Beatrice
- knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from him which
- might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she explained in
- a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors stood, and how the
- boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive to Allonfield. Good
- natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should not drive as well as
- Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or nothing of his
- sister-in-law’s fears, and would, perhaps, have taken Fred’s side of the
- question if he had, did exactly as she intended, declared them perfectly
- welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy into the house for the
- driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did not fear even her father, who
- was not likely to allow in words what a nonentity the authority of Uncle
- Roger might really be esteemed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he might
- go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, of which
- Roger’s return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. His cousins
- were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly consenting, he
- was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice’s complacency was
- diminished as Uncle Roger called out, “Ha! Fred take care! What are you
- doing?—you’ll be against the gate-post—don’t bring his head so
- short round. If you don’t take more care, you’ll certainly come to a smash
- before you get home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick
- would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their bold
- design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their own way
- to yield, and Fred’s pride would never have allowed him to acknowledge
- that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly undertaken.
- Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of ignorance,
- and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys to have many
- anxieties on their account, let them go on without further question, and
- turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest uneasiness
- respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way of warning,
- at least twenty times before.
- </p>
- <p>
- Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some
- points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise
- enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the
- way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him,
- and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the
- common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked into
- the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded in
- obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted that
- donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent their
- colour. As Fred’s finances were in a much more flourishing state since New
- Year’s day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy by a present
- of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes had often
- before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in some dismay
- on perceiving that it was nearly one o’clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must go straight home,” said Beatrice, “or this velvet will be of no
- use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no
- means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, well
- aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately determined
- that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest road to his own
- stable.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he
- made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a
- little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the whip,
- but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a
- demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set off
- over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred pulled
- hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. “Sit still,” cried
- Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, “the gate will stop him;” but
- ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement of his own,
- or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was thrown violently to
- the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him no more. Instinct,
- rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to the carriage with one
- hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, to prevent him from
- being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to side by the ruts and
- stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes more, and their way was
- barred by a gate—that which she had spoken of—the horse, used
- to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood still, looking over it as
- if nothing had happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy
- beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her steps
- swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it seemed as if
- her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart dragged her
- back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet her, but it
- was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but too plainly. He was
- stretched at full length on the ground, senseless—motionless. She
- sank rather than knelt down beside him, and called him; but not a token
- was there that he heard her. She lifted his hand, it fell powerless, and
- clasping her own, she sat in an almost unconscious state of horror, till
- roused by little Willy, who asked in a terrified breathless whisper,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bee, is he dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no,” cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; “he
- is only stunned. He is—he must be alive. He will come to him-self!
- Help me to lift him up—here—that is it—his head on my
- lap—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, the blood!” said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it
- streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is not the worst,” said Beatrice. “There—hold him toward the
- wind.” She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him;
- but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight on
- her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for help;
- but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except Willy,
- who stood helplessly looking at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!” cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish
- of mind. “Fred—dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh,
- only speak to me! O what shall I do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray to God,” whispered Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—you—Willy; I can’t—it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!”
- A few moments passed in silence, then she exclaimed, “What are we doing
- here? Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through
- the plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not
- there, find grandpapa—any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don’t let
- her hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand—any one but
- Aunt Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, Willy
- required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade fare to
- bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the
- ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the
- surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin’s head, all clear
- and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which made
- her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest motion,
- the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She wiped
- away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and softly
- laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the fair
- shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself
- whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, and
- again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes were
- being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of lip or
- nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, and yet so
- wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle Frederick,
- and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so nearly in this
- same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking which would almost
- make her believe in a fate on the family. And that Fred should be cut off
- in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she the cause! O thought
- beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for herself, for her aunt,
- but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found her mind pursuing Willy,
- following him through all the gates and gaps, entering the garden, opening
- the study door, seeing her father’s sudden start, hearing poor Henrietta’s
- cry, devising how it would be broken to her aunt; and again, the misery of
- recollecting her overpowered her, and she gave a groan, the very sound of
- which thrilled her with the hope that Fred was reviving, and made her, if
- possible, watch with double intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh.
- She wished it was she who lay there, unconscious of such exceeding
- wretchedness, and, strange to say, her imagination began to devise all
- that would be said were it really so; what all her acquaintance would say
- of the little Queen Bee, how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how
- long Henrietta would cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently
- Alex would grieve. “He would be a son to papa,” she thought; but then came
- a picture of her home, her father and mother without their only one, and
- tears came into her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the
- absurdity of crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over
- this but too positive and present distress.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, and
- not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was perfectly
- still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle of the
- sheep-bell, the woodsman’s axe in the plantations, and now and then the
- rattle of Dumple’s harness, as she shook his head or shifted his feet at
- the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled above her head
- in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each other from the high
- furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near her with their broad
- wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note like lamentation.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse’s
- tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it might,
- some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive solitude,
- which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, would be
- relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer might pass
- by, she gently laid her cousin’s head on the grass, and flew rather than
- ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the horseman had
- passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the shoulders, and
- with a scream almost wild in its energy, called “Philip! O, Philip Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement at
- finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer by
- leading the way down the lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored
- him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking
- questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the
- plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending
- her voice before her with the good news, “He is alive! Philip Carey says
- he is alive!” and with these words she stood before her father and her
- Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white and
- still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped for
- an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never could
- forget. “Beatrice, my child!” he exclaimed, “you are hurt!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, papa,” she cried. “It is Fred’s blood—I am quite, quite
- safe!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow,
- with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could never
- remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the embrace,—all
- had revealed to her the fervour of her father’s affection, beyond—far
- beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one instant that he
- gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood beside Frederick as
- soon as his sister-in-law.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle
- incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail
- wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers from
- chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and appealing
- to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though never
- allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often came to her
- help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe displeasure of
- the absent queen, by laying aside Midas’s robes to assist in the
- arrangements. “That picture is crooked, I am sure!” said Mrs. Langford;
- and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned Geoffrey from
- the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon a chair to
- settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked Uncle Roger.
- “Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma’am, you are making
- yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has ridden over to see the South Farm,” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,—I understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?” asked Mrs. Frederick
- Langford. “They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton Leigh,
- and I have not seen them since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Mr. Roger Langford, “I can tell you what has become of them;
- they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, and
- Will with them, after some of their acting affairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this
- intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him
- full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs.
- Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in dismay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean that Fred was driving?” said her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,—surely
- he knows how!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, what have you done!” said she faintly, as if the exclamation
- would break from her in spite of herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, mamma,” said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, “I assure you
- Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was
- sitting up by Dawson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, Mary,” said Uncle Roger, “never fear. Depend upon it, boys do
- many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with whole
- bones after all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey’s face, in
- hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn
- nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting,” said Mrs.
- Langford; “and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot think.
- So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as well have
- sent by Martin!” And her head being pretty much engrossed with her present
- occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, without much
- perception of the consternation that prevailed in the drawing-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you know they were going, Henrietta?” asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather
- sternly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there
- is any danger?” exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of
- fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling to
- overcome. Her mother’s inquiring, imploring glance followed her question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Foolish children!” said Uncle Geoffrey, “I am very much vexed with the
- Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is
- hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to
- young hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some
- degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger
- Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:—“Come,
- Mary, you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you.
- You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound
- imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be the
- mamma’s boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you cannot
- keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time or
- other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know I am very foolish,” said she, trying to smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you,” said Uncle Roger. “She would
- have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all
- such occasions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland,” said
- Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at his
- ease, and divert his brother’s attention. “And by the by, Roger, you never
- told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life,” said
- his brother. “Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when you
- yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting
- Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings at
- the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a few
- stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood up,
- seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,—then took a
- long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran
- after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was not
- alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. “Thank you, my dear,”
- said she. “I—no, really—you know how foolish I am, my dear,
- and I think I had rather be alone. Don’t stay here and frighten yourself
- too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left
- alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know when
- they come home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and descended
- to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears were from
- Uncle Roger. “Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe at home
- again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to have let them
- go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of
- little Bee,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I had guessed it,” said Uncle Roger; “but then, you know, any of my
- boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,—even Dick I have
- trusted,—and they came up—you should have seen them—as
- confidently as if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life.
- Upon my word your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew
- that he could not drive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A tolerable spirit of self-will,” said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. “But
- did you see them off, how did they manage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame,” said his brother. “They
- did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might
- have questioned a little closer. But never mind, ‘tis all straight road. I
- would lay any wager they will come back safe,—boys always do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that he,
- too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his
- tranquillity deserted her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o’er again of his battles
- at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window,
- where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a start,
- “Here is Willy running across the paddock!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” said Uncle Roger, “they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the opposite way!” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same
- moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta’s heart throbbed fearfully as
- she saw how wearied was the boy’s running, and yet how rapid. She could
- hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the
- same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as,
- breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and threw
- himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging as if
- he could not stand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?” said his father,
- kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as he
- almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. “What is the matter now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of the boy.
- Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle Geoffrey
- stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of wine and some
- water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his forehead, laid
- her cold hand on it, and said, “Poor little fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered
- something unintelligible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?” were questions
- anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in
- administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to his
- aunt,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t—tell—her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying,
- “Don’t be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. Henrietta’s
- violently throbbing heart took from her almost the perception of what was
- happening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take breath, Willy,” said his father; “don’t keep us all anxious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey,” said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she safe?” asked Aunt Mary, earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to God,” said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, with a
- look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible mournfulness
- which went to his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Fred?” said Uncle Roger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not ask, Roger,” said she, still as calmly as before; “I always knew
- how it would be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one
- word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few
- confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters
- in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came
- to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was
- still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, dear child,”—but it was Mrs. Langford’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” again said she. “Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does the
- room turn round?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have not been well, my dear,” said her grandmother; “but drink this,
- and lie still, you will soon be better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is mamma?” repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but
- Mrs. Langford and Bennet. “Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her I
- am better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But weren’t there a great many people?” said Henrietta. “Were we not in
- the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, where
- are mamma and Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will soon be here, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, grandmamma,” cried she vehemently, turning herself round as clearer
- recollection returned, “something has happened—O! what has happened
- to Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford. “It was
- Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles
- are gone to see about him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, tell
- me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and
- bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all that
- she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance on her, and
- had only heard the main fact of Willy’s story. Henrietta clapped her hands
- wildly together in an agony of grief. “He is killed—he is, I’m sure
- of it!” said she. “Why do you not tell me so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred,
- Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O,
- Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of
- sorrow. “And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O,
- my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “you do not know what you are saying; you
- must bear the will of God, be it what it may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t, I can not,” repeated Henrietta; “if I am to lose him, I can’t
- live; I don’t care for anything without Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your mother, Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma! O, don’t speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, without
- him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish;
- there was little thought of her mother,—little, indeed, for anything
- but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and
- sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly tried
- to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and saying, “I
- can’t be patient—no, I can’t!” and then again repeating her
- brother’s name with all the fondest terms of endearment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived—and she
- became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required
- her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel
- disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, fancying
- herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being told really
- and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was urgent to go out
- and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. Langford would not
- permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful sight, which might
- shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from taking it so; her
- habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite of her usual
- gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, and she burst
- into a passionate fit of weeping.
- </p>
- <p>
- In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps,
- scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it as a
- subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of a long
- previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; gentle,
- caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and deceitful.
- But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her mother, prepared
- for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a support to her; she
- would have remembered how terrible must be the shock to her grandmother in
- her old age, and how painful must be the remembrances thus excited of the
- former bereavement; and in the attempt to console her, the sense of her
- own sorrow would have been in some degree relieved; whereas she now seemed
- to forget that Frederick was anything to any one but herself. She prayed,
- but it was one wild repetition of “O, give him back to me!—save his
- life!—let him be safe and well!” She had no room for any other
- entreaty; she did not call for strength and resignation on the part of
- herself and her mother, for whatever might be appointed; she did not pray
- that his life might be granted only if it was for his good; she could ask
- nothing but that her own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and
- she ended her prayer as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she
- began it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and
- Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and greatly
- relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick’s life, and of
- Philip Carey’s arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their first
- entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their
- narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and
- when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again
- turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look at
- Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one flesh
- from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one word, one
- kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled ringlets that
- floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead rested, and meantime
- submitted with a kind of patient indifference to her grandmother’s caress,
- drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, and finally was sent upstairs
- to change her dress. Too restless, too anxious, too wretched to stay there
- alone, longing for some interchange of sympathy,—but her mind too
- turbid with agitation to seek it where it would most surely have been
- found,—she hastened down again. Grandmamma was busied in giving
- directions for the room which was being prepared for Fred; Uncle Roger had
- walked out to meet those who were conveying him home: and Henrietta was
- sitting in the window, her forehead resting against the glass, watching
- intently for their arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they coming?” asked Beatrice anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as if
- her cousin’s entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went up
- and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand that
- lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, “Henrietta, you forgive
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised her
- face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, “Of course, Bee,
- only I am so wretched. Don’t talk to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with a
- more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; it
- was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her
- whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost
- choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the
- cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,—longed for her
- almost as much for her papa’s, her Aunt Mary’s and her grandmother’s sake,
- as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with her
- have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to her, but
- her hand was trembling—every pulse throbbing; she could not even sit
- still enough to make the attempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the window
- beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by Uncle
- Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one side, and
- on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that moment
- for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and deposited for a
- few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed between her uncles,
- and made her way up to him, unconscious of the presence of anyone else—even
- of her mother—while she clasped his hand, and hanging over him
- looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless features. The next
- moment she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, and was forced to turn
- round and look into her face: the sweet mournful meekness of which came
- for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the dry burning desert of her
- grief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor child,” said the gentle voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, is—is—.” She could not speak; her face was
- violently agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They hope for the best, my dear,” was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey
- Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the
- intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only
- took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended to
- convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was telling
- her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her to take
- some rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, ma’am,—thank you very much indeed—you are very
- kind: I am very sorry to give you so much trouble,” were her answers; and
- simple as were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at that
- moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was retreating,
- as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in Henrietta’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not see you, before, Queenie,” she said, holding out her hand and
- kissing her, “you have gone through more than any one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee’s
- eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful
- name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and
- contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was no
- one to attend to her—the patient occupied the whole attention of
- all. He was carried to his mother’s room, placed in bed, and again
- examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence that
- there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. While
- this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, her head
- on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As evening
- twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went down to
- make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the
- drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, and
- beg to be let in.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the
- bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first stood
- by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down on a
- footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother’s lap, gave herself up
- to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the very luxury of
- grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching his sister-in-law even
- more anxiously than the patient, and thus a considerable interval passed
- in complete silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire, the ticking
- of the watches, or some slight change of posture of one or other of the
- three nurses. At last the stillness was interrupted by a little movement
- among the bedclothes, and with a feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the
- hand, which had hitherto lain so still and helpless, stretched somewhat
- out, and the head turned upon the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and
- Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed her daughter’s hand with a sort of
- convulsive tremor. A faint voice murmured “Mamma!” and while a flush of
- trembling joy illumined her pale face, she bent over him, answering him
- eagerly and fondly, but he did not seem to know her, and again repeating
- “Mamma,” opened his eyes with a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express
- some complaint.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness.
- He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the sake
- of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, not
- even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, while
- his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering his
- half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with assistance
- and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially supporting
- his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance so precious
- to a sinking heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that she
- might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick Langford
- only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful smile that it
- was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta to go. The former
- complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would create downstairs; but
- Henrietta declared that she could not bear the thoughts of going down, and
- it was only by a positive order that he succeeded in making her come with
- him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded
- her plate with all that was best on the table, but she looked at it with
- disgust, and leaning back in her chair, faintly begged not to be asked to
- eat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which
- startled her by its unwonted severity, “This will not do, Henrietta; I
- cannot allow you to add to your mamma’s troubles by making yourself ill. I
- desire you will eat, as you certainly can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have
- interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling of
- being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and
- having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner,
- by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, and
- returned to Fred’s room as soon as he could, without giving that
- appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm.
- Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after
- him, and neither of the two came down again to tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course very
- glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the conversation
- kept up with him for civility’s sake. She had been leading a forlorn
- dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping grandmamma to write
- notes to be sent to the intended guests, and afterwards, with a feeling of
- intense disgust, putting out of sight all the preparations for their own
- self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and yet when she found it, it was
- unendurable, and to talk to her father or grandfather would be a great
- relief, yet the first beginning might well be dreaded. Neither of them was
- forthcoming, and now in the evening to hear the quiet grave discussion of
- Allonfield gossip was excessively harassing and irritating. No one spoke
- for their own pleasure, the thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only
- talked thus for the sake of politeness; but she gave them no credit for
- this, and felt fretted and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was
- better than when they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of
- the accident, requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it.
- She hurried over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my dear,” said Mrs. Roger Langford, “what could have made you so
- anxious to go to Allonfield?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Aunt Roger, it was very—” but here Beatrice, whose agitated
- spirits made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized
- with such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an
- expedition, with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass’s ears,
- that she was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt
- Roger, after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up,
- and came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more
- uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and
- when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed the
- more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment
- succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind
- demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and a
- certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all.
- When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the
- dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a
- violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite
- still, except for the trembling, which she could not control.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could not
- bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. Langford’s
- offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that she should go
- up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit her when he
- came out of Fred’s room. Her grandmamma came up with her, helped her to
- undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and summoned Judith
- to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible for Henrietta, who
- was to sleep with her that night. It was with much difficulty that she
- could avoid making a promise to go to bed immediately, and not to get up
- to breakfast. At last, with a very affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her
- to brush her hair, an operation which she resolved to lengthen out until
- her papa’s visit.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the
- passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before him,
- her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual from the
- contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white nightcap and
- dressing-gown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is Fred?” asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her to
- speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? Your
- grandmamma said—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, papa,” interrupted she, “only tell me this—is Fred in
- danger?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard all we can tell, my dear—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped her
- hands: “I know—I know; but what do you think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own impression is,” said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost
- reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, “that there is
- no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain the
- extent of the injury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon
- it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his
- face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly,
- “Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face did not express surprise or horror—nothing but kindness and
- compassion, while he answered, “My poor girl, I was afraid how it might
- have been.” Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so as to
- let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her time. He
- might be in haste, but it was no time to show it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, “Yes, yes, papa, it was the
- very thing you warned me against—I mean—I mean—the being
- set in my own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to
- tell you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me,” and she touched
- her throat. “I can’t get it out in words! O!” Poor Beatrice even groaned
- aloud with oppression.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not try to express it,” said her father: “at least, it is not I who
- can give you the best comfort. Here”—and he took up a Prayer Book.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa,” said
- Beatrice; “but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up in
- me. Not one prayer or confession would come;—but now, O! now you
- know it, and—and—I feel as if He would not turn away His face.
- Do you know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even
- ‘deliver me from blood-guiltiness,’ it would only make me shudder! O,
- papa, it was dreadful!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father’s answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and
- read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer for
- persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord’s Prayer. Beatrice,
- when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not speak, nor weep,
- but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her anxiously and
- affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so much time on
- her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again spoke, it was
- in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, “Aunt Mary will forgive me, I
- know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will not be quite so bad! Now I
- can pray that he may be saved—O, papa—disobedient, and I the
- cause; how could I ever bear the thought?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can only pray,” replied her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now that I can once more,” said Beatrice; and again there was a silence,
- while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual habit, not
- speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her repentant feelings
- by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. So they remained for
- nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it time to leave her, and
- made some movement as if to do so. Then she spoke, “Only tell me one
- thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any hope? There was something—something
- death-like in her face. Does she hope?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. “Not yet,” said he. “I think it may
- be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning the
- hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it will be as
- it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his accident.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But surely, surely,” said Beatrice eagerly, “this is a very different
- case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he
- is convinced that there is no fracture—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a morbid feeling,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “and therefore
- impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and I
- shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor dear aunt!” sighed Beatrice. “I am glad, if it was to be, that you
- were here, for nobody else would understand her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Understand her!” said he, with something of a smile. “No, Bee, such
- sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be
- understood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort,
- said, “I suppose mamma will soon be here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think not,” said her father, “I shall tell her she had better wait to
- see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is
- needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, and
- I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, I am of
- more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if he is a long
- time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her coming fresh,
- and not half knocked up with previous attendance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how she will wish to be here!” exclaimed Beatrice, “and how you will
- want her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt of that, Queenie,” said her father smiling, “but we must reserve
- our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I must go.
- Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With me,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with
- her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite
- oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know what to do about her!” said Beatrice with more dejection
- than she had yet shown, “I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I
- can’t—I shall never do good to anybody—only harm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear the harm, and the good will come,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. “Good
- night, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on her
- father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest,
- unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew
- not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of
- such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never
- known before.
- </p>
- <p>
- So she continued till she heard Henrietta’s approaching steps, when she
- rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection and
- consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on her
- eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour on half
- her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole person, as if
- but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, and took her
- candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. “No better,” was
- all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed answers to all
- her cousin’s questions. She would have done the same to her grandmamma, or
- any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, but this conduct
- gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done to any one else, since
- it kept up the last miserable feeling of being unforgiven. Beatrice let
- her sit still for some minutes, looking at her all the time with an almost
- piteous glance of entreaty, of which Henrietta was perfectly unconscious,
- and then began to beg her to undress, seconding the proposal by beginning
- to unfasten her dress.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta,” said Beatrice; “if you would but let
- me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I shan’t,” said Henrietta shortly, “never mind me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t go to bed,” replied Henrietta, “thank you, Bee, never mind—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any
- service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta’s grief than by the
- unkind rejection of herself. “Papa thinks there is great hope,” said she
- abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma does not,” said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to put
- an end to the subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard it
- was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door—it was
- grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice of
- the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours ago;
- she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all Henrietta’s
- feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, grandmamma
- peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another half-hour the
- cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta’s lethargy had become a heavy
- sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every sound, forming every
- possible speculation on the future, and to her own overstretched fancy
- seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each other through her
- throbbing head.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Half-past one,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual
- observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal
- twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though carefully
- avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick bed, he
- knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he again heard
- her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it had a tremulous
- tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the
- expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the
- crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when
- the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught at
- the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only answer
- had been, “As you think right.” She spoke so as to show the greatest
- consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with her usual
- confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to be called in
- entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and returned to her
- station by Frederick, who had already missed and summoned her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice’s sarcasm,
- was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had owed
- much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded with great
- reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience and diffident
- of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance in this, the
- first very serious case which had fallen under his own management. The
- proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a cause of great
- rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to the measure. In
- her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged fraternity in which
- she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice from London would, she
- thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. Roger Langford, and all the
- Carey connection, but seriously injure the reputation of young Mr. Carey
- in his own neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such
- considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against
- Frederick’s life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till her
- son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted her by
- letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and persuading
- her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip’s practice that his
- opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note.
- </p>
- <p>
- The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before
- she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely
- satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already
- taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was
- genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy’s sake. He gave them, too,
- more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had
- ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the
- brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do
- well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had
- begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment was
- agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to enter on
- a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged to go away
- the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty that Fred would
- be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys shared the
- belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired them all with
- something like hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick Langford
- and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a considerable
- degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his mother’s voice
- did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew restless and
- uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, “Is Uncle Geoffrey here?” was many
- times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his usual answer to her
- was “You speak so loud;” though in reality, her tone was almost exactly
- the same as her mother’s; and above all others he disliked the presence of
- Philip Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is that?” inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious of
- the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked
- quickly, “Is he gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering
- considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and
- distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared,
- glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle could
- scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it were, by the
- slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with pain, incapable of
- thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his faculties, as it seemed,
- restored only to be the means of suffering. Mrs. Langford came to the door
- to announce that Philip Carey was come. Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to
- speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta began to arrange the room a
- little for his reception. Fred, however, soon stopped this. “I can’t bear
- the shaking,” said he. “Tell them to leave off, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing that
- she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs in order,
- but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and exclamation, and
- Mrs. Langford remarked, “Well, if he cannot bear it, it cannot be helped;
- but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!” And out she went, Fred
- frowning with pain at every step she took.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you let people come?” asked he sharply of his mother. “Where is
- Uncle Geoffrey gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him
- directly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t want Philip Carey; don’t let him come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may do
- something for this sad pain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey opened
- the door to ask if Fred was ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would
- not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily for
- his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face a little
- more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window shutters
- partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his intention,
- as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of pain, he
- turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes over it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear boy,” said his mother, pleadingly, “for one moment only!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you I could not bear the light,” was all the reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you would but oblige me for a few seconds,” said Philip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred!” said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as if
- to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face again,
- saying, “I can’t;” and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the shutter,
- unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had opened it,
- and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient scarcely
- vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted the room,
- and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a “Don’t go, mamma,” was
- immediately heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must spare me for a very little while, my dear,” said she, gently but
- steadily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stay long, then,” replied he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light as
- a woman’s, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, and for a
- few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost immediately he
- renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and had it been any
- other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have grumbled at his
- not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted with a discontented
- murmur. “What an immense time you have stayed away!”—presently
- after, “I wish you would not have that Carey!” and then, “I wish we were
- at Rocksand,—I wish Mr. Clarke were here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as well
- as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it comes
- as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly in the
- young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the old and
- querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To a certain
- degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of strength, and
- the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses of the young,
- often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their patience and
- forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who have seen germs
- of far other dispositions. And when this is not the case, who would have
- the heart to complain? Certainly not those who are like the mother and
- uncle who had most to endure from the exacting humours of Frederick
- Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain degree of gentleness
- of character, and a home where, though he was not over indulged, there was
- little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined to make him appear one of
- the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever existed; but there was no
- substance in this apparent good quality, it was founded on no real
- principle of obedience or submission, and when to an habitual spirit of
- determination to have his own way, was superadded the irritability of
- nerves which was a part of his illness, when his powers of reflection were
- too much weakened to endure or comprehend argument; when, in fact, nothing
- was left to fall back upon but the simple obedience which would have been
- required in a child, and when that obedience was wanting, what could
- result but increased discomfort to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as
- we should lay up a store of prayers against that time when we shall be
- unable to pray for ourselves, so surely should we lay up a store of habits
- against the time when we may be unable to think or reason for ourselves!
- How often have lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning
- instantaneous obedience!
- </p>
- <p>
- Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and
- future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet too
- disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was subjecting
- his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission would have
- led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually interrupting
- even the short repose which she would now and then be persuaded to seek on
- the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, harassing complaints,
- not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every thing and every person
- who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the only person against whom
- he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled against measures to which he
- was obliged to submit in the end, after he had distressed every one and
- exhausted himself by his fruitless opposition.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would
- endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of those
- spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are nevertheless
- capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to look worn and almost
- aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still indefatigable, unconscious
- of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in the thought of her son, and yet
- not so absorbed as not to be full of consideration for all around. All
- looked forward with apprehension to the time when the consequences of such
- continued exertion must be felt, but in the meantime it was not in the
- power of any one except her brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to
- her, and her relations could only wait and watch with such patience as
- they could command, for the period when their services might be effectual.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her
- very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the
- upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever she
- entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always created a
- disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was the aim of
- the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, as may be
- supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa’s “You had better not, my dear,” checked
- her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: Uncle Geoffrey,
- who might have had the best chance, had not time to spare for her; and no
- one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how dangerous it was to
- attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed the whole household for
- indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times a day pronounced that he
- would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did the best she could to
- tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash did not accord
- particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much depressed to
- queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in the midst of the
- suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and above all, poor
- child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of confession and
- parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; she was anxious
- and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be all that her mother
- was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that sat so heavy on her
- mind was not one for discussion with any one but a mother, and this
- consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with him, such as had
- never before existed between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that chiefly
- because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong affection and
- esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now manifested, and
- the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions served but to make
- the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his brothers, and spent every
- moment he could at the Hall, either reading in the library, or walking up
- and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One of the many conversations
- which they held will serve as a specimen of the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So they do not think he is much better to-day?” said Alex, walking into
- the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice shook her head. “Every day that he is not worse is so much
- gained,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very odd,” meditated Alex: “I suppose the more heads have in them,
- the easier it is to knock them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice smiled. “Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee,” and he examined his own
- face in the glass over the chimney; “there, do you see a little bit of a
- scar under my eyebrow?—there! Well, that was where I was knocked
- over by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred could
- have come against the ground,—but what harm did it do me? Why
- everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black
- eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise.
- Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing I
- saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I got
- up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was the
- worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would give
- anything now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but Alex, I don’t understand. You were very good friends at the
- bottom, after all; you can’t have anything really to repent of towards
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, haven’t I though?” was the reply. “It was more the other fellows’
- doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing
- all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of you,
- had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be such a
- friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was—a
- fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl’s, and that did not even
- know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could
- begin it all over again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But do you mean that he was really a—a—what you call a Miss
- Molly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who said so? No, not a bit of it!” said Alex. “No one thought so in
- reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend to
- think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times more
- spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been knocked
- about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. The
- matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I shan’t care
- if we do win.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the prize,” said Beatrice, “the scholarship!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey had not
- a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the summer, why
- then—hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no time,
- clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don’t you think so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee shook her head. “They say he must not read or study for a very
- long time,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but six months—a whole year is an immense time,” said Alex. “O
- yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does
- other people; and his verses, they never fail—never except when he
- is careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time.
- That is right. Why there!” exclaimed Alex joyfully, “I do believe this is
- the very best thing for his success!” Beatrice could not help laughing,
- and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed him, that if
- Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason to be
- thankful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this,” proceeded he.
- “There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters
- either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The masters, perhaps,” said Beatrice; “but I thought you said there was a
- party against him among the boys?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they
- had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all
- his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough to
- let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. I
- shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon as I
- go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have not the
- slightest notion what a fellow he is. I’ll just tell you one story of
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to
- illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again
- and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed
- between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more
- conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted fellow,
- that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to
- Frederick’s; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, if
- only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that the
- only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters which
- her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of those of
- cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred’s room. She thought she
- could have borne everything excepting Henrietta’s coldness, which still
- continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness to forgive,
- but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her own troubles to
- realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her uncle Geoffrey had
- succeeded in awakening her consideration for her mother; but with her and
- Fred it began and ended, and when outside the sick room, she seemed not to
- have a thought beyond a speedy return to it. She seldom or never left it,
- except at meal-times, or when her grandfather insisted on her taking a
- walk with him, as he did almost daily. Then he walked between her and
- Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse her to talk, and she, replying as
- shortly as possible when obliged to speak, left her cousin to sustain the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the Epiphany,
- and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which their own hands
- had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the glistening leaves
- unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear began to gather in
- Beatrice’s eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if she could not bear the
- sight of those branches, so lately gathered by her brother. As they were
- leaving the church, both looked towards the altar at the wreath which
- Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a deeper and more awful meaning
- than she had designed. Their eyes met, and they saw that they had the same
- thought in their minds.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee
- stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but
- with a gesture that was almost timid, saying,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of
- this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And—mark it
- well—e’en there He wears His Crown of Thorns.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set around,
- of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping foe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They go very deep,” sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful
- complaining glance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct on
- Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the “thing profane”
- that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she had even
- appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning to speak,
- but Henrietta cut her short by saying, “Yes, yes, but I can’t stay,” and
- was flying along the passage the next moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in
- recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of her
- recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured out
- her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the very
- germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: and a
- calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, began to
- dawn on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave her
- alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had heard
- the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that her
- presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the
- gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even
- stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be
- comforted by talking to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her thought was only the repining one: “the thorns go deep!” Poor child,
- had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful
- surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden source
- of the malady.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton
- carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and her
- father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when alone
- together.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring
- breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery
- threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy grass,
- the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver “pussycats” on the withy, and the
- tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such sights
- were a refreshment—a sort of holiday—after the many springs
- spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long
- attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking
- deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if it
- would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she had
- not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! Her
- father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, and
- no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on
- changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her
- mother’s place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going
- to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, and they
- would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning themselves the
- next morning to Westminster.
- </p>
- <p>
- They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs.
- Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new
- books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey’s for some medicines; and
- then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train.
- </p>
- <p>
- Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,—the
- dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions;
- the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the dress
- so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy Beatrice
- was that first moment of feeling herself at her side!
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear! my own dear child!” Then anxiously following her husband with
- her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, “How thin he looks,
- Queenie!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, he has been doing so much,” said Busy Bee. “It is only for this last
- week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred’s room.
- This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to Church, and
- a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. “Come, Beatrice,” said he
- to his wife, “I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh face of
- yours will do us all so much good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One thing is certain,” said she; “I shall send home orders that you shall
- be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall hide half
- the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, Geoffrey, are
- you really well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn,” said her husband
- laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to
- lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch’s outlines to look at: so you may
- guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the
- books and prints?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only
- take care, they must not be at Henrietta’s discretion, or his own, or he
- will be overwhelmed with them,—a very little oversets him, and might
- do great mischief.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep
- him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite is
- returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of poor
- Mary’s over gentleness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some
- strange prejudice against Philip Carey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while her
- father proceeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand it at all: Philip’s manners in a sick room are
- particularly good—much better than I should have expected, and he
- has been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has
- shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most of
- it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the London
- doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than Philip has
- ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks and exclaims
- the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of wishing for
- old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for never having
- proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great faith in the old
- man, but I believe it was only her mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really
- are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am
- very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing but
- her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if I did not know that,” said he, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I should
- like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred’s part. Have you ever
- asked him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the
- prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and
- again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence
- in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp enough
- to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the great
- trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned it, for
- fear of annoying my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” said Busy Bee, “I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It was
- my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor Fred
- about Roger’s having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of things
- that I did not really mean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hem!” said her father. “Well, I should think it might be so; it always
- struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, the
- memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am
- to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might do
- away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; only do
- not let him think it has been under discussion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?” said her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Too wonderfully,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “in a way which I fear will
- cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way as she
- ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of the old
- complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am persuaded
- that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said his wife, with great concern, “that is just what I have been
- dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ——, how
- strongly he forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let
- me come? I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting
- off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice,” said he, smiling; “a
- sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to make
- themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I did not
- see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother and
- me; you could not have saved either of us an hour’s nursing then, whereas
- now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she will suffer
- it, and that she will do better from you than from any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee
- was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as it
- had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. Even
- her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was so much
- to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that they had
- not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived at the
- gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, excessively
- delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs.
- Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of a
- curiously varying and always opposite description. When her
- daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of
- respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable
- life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning,
- lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these prejudices
- in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own sake, as well
- as because she was Geoffrey’s wife. On the contrary, the younger Beatrice,
- while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,—the Queen of Bees,
- the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has already been shown
- how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or had once done so,
- though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there had been only one
- collision between them for the last ten days, and that was caused by her
- strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred was not yet fit for
- boiled chicken and calves’ foot jelly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford’s greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her mamma
- hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is he tired?” asked Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of
- Queen Bee’s promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had not
- seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know how to
- begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, while Henrietta
- went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, Henrietta opened it,
- and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by the fire, in his
- dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless manner that betokens
- great feebleness. There were the purple marks of leeches on his temples;
- his hair had been cropped close to his head; his face was long and thin,
- without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked large and bright; and he
- smiled and held out his hand: “Ah, Queenie, how d’ye do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How d’ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see I have the asses’ ears after all,” said he, pointing to his own,
- which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort,
- and succeeded, while she said, “I should have complimented you on the
- increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head was
- so like papa’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Aunt Geoffrey come?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said his sister: “but mamma thinks you had better not see her till
- to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going,” said Fred. “Nobody else has the
- least notion of making one tolerably comfortable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, your mamma, Fred!” said Queen Bee.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work in
- London,” said Henrietta; “but I do not know what we should have done
- without him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know what we shall do now,” said Fred, in a languid and doleful
- tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost
- alarmed eagerness, “O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will enjoy
- having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and Philip
- Carey manages you so well—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Manages!” said Fred; “ay, and I’ll tell you how, Queenie; just as the man
- managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he thinks I
- am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he knew himself
- what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire through my
- hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a
- merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing else on
- earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the strength of
- a midge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but of course he knows,” said Busy Bee; “Papa says he has had an
- excellent education, and he must know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how
- to keep a patient when he has got one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign
- you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am talking no nonsense,” said Fred, sharply; “I am as serious as
- possible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you can’t really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such
- an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor
- too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! when that man gets I don’t know how many guineas from mamma every
- time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should get
- well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Fred,” interposed his sister, “you are exciting yourself, and
- that is so very bad for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to be
- shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding twice
- a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey’s pockets! Now, there was old
- Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; but this
- man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to kick him out
- of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying to be gen-tee-eel,
- and condoling; and those boots—O! Busy Bee! those boots! whenever he
- makes a step I always hear them say, ‘O what a pretty fellow I am!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be very merry here, my dears,” said Aunt Mary, coming in;
- “but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even
- before I opened the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not absolutely
- to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, sitting down,
- began to talk to the visitor, “Well, my little Queen, we have seen very
- little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose you. I suppose
- your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must not expect any,
- but we shall want very much to know how you get on with Aunt Susan and her
- little dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O very well, I dare say,” said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was
- looking at her aunt’s delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her
- father had been saying.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Queenie,” continued her aunt, earnestly, “you must take great care of
- your papa—make him rest, and listen to your music, and read
- story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Bee,” said Fred, “you don’t mean that you are going to be shut up
- with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don’t you stay here, and
- let her take care of herself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is really
- ill, Fred,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is too bad, now I am just getting better—if they would let me, I
- mean,” said Fred: “just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you
- go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it is, Fred,” said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once she
- would have answered him, “a great shame in you not to have learned to feel
- for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, Bee,” said Aunt Mary, smiling; “tell him he ought to be
- ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the comfort
- of your household. I am sure I am,” added she, her eyes filling with
- tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice’s hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee’s heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to the
- expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only pressed
- her aunt’s long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face to the
- fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was a little
- silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the engravings at
- which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till the dressing bell
- rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook hands with Fred,
- saying cheerfully, “Well, good-bye, I hope you will be better friends with
- the doctors next time I see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!” repeated Fred, as she
- left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma in
- the space allowed for dressing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick’s own place,
- there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet to sit
- with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old
- man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both
- Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and
- talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was
- ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again,
- Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with
- Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either
- writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly
- like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, she
- was no repiner. “I deserve it,” said she to herself, “and surely I ought
- to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. Besides,
- with even one little bit of papa’s company I am only too well off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no
- one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed
- upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were much
- more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about Fred,
- and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful
- gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously amiss
- with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to rights.
- Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain of remorse
- was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every little gesture
- and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the accident.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so much
- talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of his
- uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, but
- still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, for
- when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as he watched
- the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time sedulously making
- for his comfort, “Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you very much; I am
- afraid I have been a great plague to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle
- Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully
- expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, coupled
- with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was salutary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anything for your good, my dear sir,” said he, with a smile. “You are
- welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma is
- not quite so tough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I do try to be considerate about her,” said Fred. “I mean to make
- her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to
- save her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her
- discussions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the
- early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly
- harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which Henrietta
- had left on the sofa. “I like those very much,” said Fred, “especially the
- Fight with the Dragon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know Schiller’s poem on it?” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Henrietta has it in German.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a
- dragon-killing expedition,” said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- ‘The duty hardest to fulfil,
- To learn to yield our own self-will.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “There is very little hasty pudding in the case,” said Fred, rather
- disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of
- resolution of this kind, “I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let
- that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it,
- unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit
- to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up
- to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head and
- aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful
- than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and
- besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so much
- so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have half an
- hour’s talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at last, however,
- and his first question was, “What do you think of the little Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able
- to do for some time past,” was the answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child, she has felt it very deeply,” said he, “I have been grieved
- to have so little time to bestow on her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am disposed to think,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, “that
- it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much talk has
- always been the mischief with her, as with many another only child, and it
- struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so little. There was
- something very touching in the complete absence of moralizing to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None of her sensible sayings,” said her father, with a gratified though a
- grave smile. “It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self in
- it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness
- about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have
- seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much
- pleased with her, she was so simple: ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I hope I
- shall be able to make her comfortable:’ no begging off, no heroism. And
- really, Beatrice, don’t you think we could make some other arrangement? It
- is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very well,
- and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor little
- Queen here with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Geoffrey,” said his wife, “that would never do: I do not mean on
- my aunt’s account, but on the Busy Bee’s; I am sure, wish it as we may,”
- and the tears were in her eyes, “this is no time for even the semblance of
- neglecting a duty for her sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so much hers as yours,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “you have more on
- your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a
- valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it
- is your turn to keep her now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no,” she repeated, though not without an effort, “it is best as
- it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write to
- me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred times
- more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death with no
- one to remonstrate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost both
- mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which they kept
- close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one fragment of
- each other’s company; but they had very few moments alone together, and
- those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in minute directions as
- to the little things that conduced to keep Lady Susan in good humour, and
- above all, the arrangements for papa’s comfort. There was thus not much
- time for Beatrice to spend with Henrietta, nor indeed would much have
- resulted if there had been more. As she grew more at ease about her
- brother, Henrietta had gradually resumed her usual manner, and was now as
- affectionate to Beatrice as ever, but she was quite unconscious of her
- previous unkindness, and therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen
- Bee had ceased to think of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the
- two girls, they neither of them perceived it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London
- so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but their
- hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, who came
- in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey about his
- school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a merrier
- meeting next summer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety for
- her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to allow
- that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than she had
- hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and after a
- few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe fit of the
- spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at intervals, and
- was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, relying with
- complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her son.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to devote
- herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of Frederick, who
- was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she only gave him as
- much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and to superintend the
- regulation of his room. He had all the society he wanted in his sister,
- who was always with him, and in grandpapa and grandmamma, whose short and
- frequent visits he began greatly to enjoy. He had also been more amenable
- to authority of late, partly in consequence of his uncle’s warning, partly
- because it was not quite so easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and
- partly too because, excepting always the starving system, he had nothing
- in particular of which to complain. His mother’s illness might also have
- its effect in subduing him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or
- Henrietta’s, as they were too much accustomed to her ill health to be
- easily alarmed on her account.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in the
- afternoon—Fred’s best time in the day—to take his leave. All
- the morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good
- deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he had
- been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay away
- from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and
- finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be thus
- laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and leading
- member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable that he
- would never return there again.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be
- missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees,
- and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: the
- “beech-crowned steep,” girdled in with the “hollow trench that the Danish
- pirate made;” the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of the
- chapel, the surpliced scholars,—even the very shops in the streets
- had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he sighed
- at the thought that there he would be known no more,—all would go on
- as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of compassion,
- he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race of
- distinction; his school-boy career be at an end.
- </p>
- <p>
- His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford’s entrance with Aunt
- Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, to
- walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after putting
- a book within Fred’s reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma were quite
- willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his
- health, and the present mode of treatment,—a subject on which they
- were perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as
- the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully
- dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for a
- long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room without
- excessive giddiness—what was that but the effect of want of
- nourishment? “If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the thing
- was wholesome.” So she said, and her grandson assented with his whole
- heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most
- tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandmamma!” said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively lighted
- up at the sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very good.
- It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must do you
- good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice,” said Fred, gazing on it
- with wistful eyes, “but really I do not think I ought.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a
- thing,” said Mrs. Langford. “But I have lived a good many more years in
- the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all
- this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the
- neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the
- fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the
- system,—that was what he used to say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!” sighed Fred. “I know my system would
- like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid stuff;
- but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if they knew
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind,” said grandmamma; “‘tis all my doing, you know. Come, to
- oblige me, taste it, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One spoonful,” said Fred—“to oblige grandmamma,” added he to
- himself: and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could
- bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a little,—“There
- is wine in it!” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A very little—just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any
- difference. Do you like it, my dear?” as the spoon scooped out another
- transparent rock. “Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt
- Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am in for it now,” thought Fred. “Well, ‘tis excellent,” said he;
- “capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers’ ends,” added he with a
- smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles
- remaining in the small end.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!” said grandmamma,
- hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it
- implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of his own
- case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very imprudently,—that
- is to say, his better sense was aware—but his spirit of self-will
- made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and was greatly
- confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. Grandmamma
- returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed her, and after
- shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the alteration in Fred’s
- appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over
- school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his friends,
- discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, the studies,
- the employments; Alex lamenting Fred’s absence, engaging to write,
- undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his speedy
- recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,—the prize. Never had the
- two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was no
- competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both felt
- great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud became their
- glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not in perfect
- health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; and finding Fred
- so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest farewells and good
- wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie quiet and rest, and sat
- down herself to see that he did so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and
- eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went on
- more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some one
- who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but he
- grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the time
- for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and sent Bennet
- to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a quiescent state.
- He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of the evening; but so
- wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began to be alarmed, and
- fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was in the right after all.
- Towards morning, however, a short sleep visited him, and he awoke at
- length quite sufficiently refreshed to be self-willed as ever; and,
- contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his bed at his usual hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip Carey came at about twelve o’clock, and was disappointed as well as
- surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as he could
- not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was unsatisfactory; but
- Philip thought the excitement of the interview with Alex well accounted
- for the sleepless night, as well as for the exhaustion of the present day:
- and Fred persuaded himself to believe so too.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take a
- ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone by
- was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in his
- granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be too bustling a
- nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently impatient to be left
- alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick Langford, resolving, however,
- not to be long absent.
- </p>
- <p>
- In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, in
- spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent
- irritation of Philip’s last visit made him more willing to act in
- opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of
- swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in which
- he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale glass
- safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford’s door was
- opened at the other end of the passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred’s sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,—too
- high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa,
- too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly
- though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought she
- did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain concluding
- shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him in a
- passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came in, and it
- seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the horses’ feet
- upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because his sister went
- first to her mamma’s room; and it was grandpapa who came to him full of a
- story of Henrietta’s good management of her horse when they suddenly met
- the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in her habit, her hair
- hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and eyes lighted up by the
- exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, begging his pardon for
- having kept him waiting, but saying she thought he did not want her
- directly, as he had grandpapa.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of
- spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong
- scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then insisted
- on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating to him from
- the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she sat down
- directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to be thus
- satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her translation, and
- desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read first so fast that
- he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was quite unbearable, and
- she must go on translating. With the greatest patience and sweetest temper
- she obeyed; only when next he interrupted her to find fault, she stopped
- and said gently, “Dear Fred, I am afraid you are not feeling so well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I suppose.
- Well, never mind, I will go on for myself,” said he, snatching the book.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to vindicate
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would
- not be so silly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you would only let me go on, dear Fred,” said she, thinking that
- occupying him would be better than arguing. “It is so dark where you are,
- and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time,
- till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when the
- failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light from
- the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad of her,
- when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that horrible red
- flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, which had been
- one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so alarmed her that
- she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and was heartily glad to
- see her enter the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, how are you going on?” she said, cheerfully. “Why, my dear, how hot
- you must be in that habit!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather,” said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her
- perplexity, was almost crimson. “We have been reading ‘Nicolo,’ and I am
- very much afraid it is as bad as Alex’s visit, and has excited Fred
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!” said Fred, impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt,” said Aunt Geoffrey. “But
- yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta
- that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?” said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as well
- as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to acquire
- sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and still she
- held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in the hope that
- it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! ‘tis faster?” asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when
- she released him at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are flushed, Fred,” she answered very quietly, though she felt full
- of consternation. “Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had better
- not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better than last
- night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I will ring for Stephens,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and
- there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms
- that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without
- exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to
- recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as she
- left her sister’s room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had left with
- Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been giving him any
- of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey Langford could hardly
- believe that either party could have acted so foolishly, yet when she
- remembered a few words that had passed about the jelly that morning at
- breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly reproached herself for
- not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of her suspicion she however
- said nothing, but sealing her note, she went down to the drawing-room,
- told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred quite so well that evening,
- and asked him if he did not think it might be better to let Philip Carey
- know. He agreed instantly, and rang the bell to order a servant to ride to
- Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who could not bear any one but Geoffrey to
- act without consulting her, pitied man and horse for being out so late,
- and opined that Beatrice forgot that she was not in London, where the
- medical man could be called in so easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger,
- for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was not
- easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. “Well, it is very kind in you
- to attend to my London fancies,” said she; “I think if we can do anything
- to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Langford. “It is very disappointing when
- he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something
- imprudent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her daughter-in-law
- had long since come to a resolution never to convey to her anything like
- reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken kindness of heart, or
- her respectable prejudices; so, without entering on what many in her place
- might have made a scene of polite recrimination, she left the room, and on
- her way up, heard Frederick’s door gently opened. Stephens came quickly
- and softly to the end of the passage to meet her. “He is asking for you,
- ma’am,” said he; “I am afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring,
- for fear of alarming my mistress, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and
- exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion
- and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and
- looked wildly about. “Oh, Aunt Geoffrey,” he exclaimed, “what shall I do?
- It is as bad—worse than ever!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have been doing something imprudent, I fear,” said Aunt Geoffrey,
- determined to come to the truth at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that glass of jelly—if I had guessed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma’s doing. Don’t let her know
- that I told. I wish mamma was here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could
- not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The inflammation is coming back!” he cried, in an agony of apprehension
- that almost overcame the sense of pain. “I shall be in danger—I
- shall lose my senses—I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lie still, my dear Fred,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand on
- him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to sit up.
- “Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. You must
- control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will do the best
- in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you think me very ill?” said Fred, trying to speak more composedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will keep
- yourself quiet, both mind and body. There—” she settled him as
- comfortably as she could: “Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make a
- resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall
- soon come back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as a
- favour to spare her, and yet his aunt’s tone was so affectionate, as well
- as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left the room,
- and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant against the
- wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite overwhelmed,
- and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, or even for one
- short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, there was no time,
- and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning up her energies, she
- walked on to the person whom she at that moment most dreaded to see, her
- sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her arm-chair, Henrietta with her,
- both looking very anxious, and she was glad to find her prepared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” was the first eager question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has been attempting rather too much of late,” was the answer, “and has
- knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better stay
- with him, and perhaps you might miss me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as that
- you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much
- trouble. Don’t stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if he
- misses you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother
- said, “No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means,” said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; “he will be quieter
- without her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting down
- to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus checked, and
- she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her brother as her
- aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on which it is
- susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for her brother,
- whereas it was impatience of being ordered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. “Aunt Geoffrey is a capital
- nurse,” said she; “there is something so decided about her that it always
- does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of thinking for
- oneself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had rather judge for myself,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is all very well to talk of,” said her mother, smiling sadly, “but
- it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what do you like to hear?” said Henrietta, who found herself too
- cross for conversation. “The old man’s home?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. You
- would want ‘lungs of brass’ to go on all day to both of us. You had better
- not. I should like to talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it
- gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting a
- hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred conversation.
- So she took up a book, and began, without any perception of the sense of
- what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly on her brother, and
- partly on her aunt’s provoking ways. She read on through a whole chapter,
- then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, “I must go and see what Aunt
- Geoffrey is doing with Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is not such a very dangerous person,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford,
- almost laughing at the form of the expression.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was
- just going to sleep now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take
- care, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must go, I can’t bear it any longer; I will only just listen,” said
- Henrietta; “I will not be a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me have the book, my dear,” said her mother, who knew but too well
- the length of Henrietta’s moments, and who had just, by means of a great
- effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred’s room was
- ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing
- round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from
- Frederick’s temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long
- gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. “Leeches!” thought Henrietta,
- as she started with consternation and displeasure. “This is pretty strong!
- Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing something
- with him indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, till
- at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some bottle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me do something,” said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she
- thought likely to be the right one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, “You had better
- stay with your mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has he
- ordered it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much
- obliged if you would go back to your mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked up and
- still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, “Henrietta,
- you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses him; your mamma
- must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just going,” said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an additional
- offence, and walking off in a dignified way.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, the
- neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to lay upon her,
- and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much displeased, and too
- distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any precautions which her
- aunt might have tried to impress upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” asked her mother anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She would not let me stay,” answered Henrietta. “She has been putting on
- leeches.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Leeches!” exclaimed her mother. “He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is
- Mr. Carey here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that is the odd thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has he not been sent for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I don’t know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her
- own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!” said
- Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And never to tell you!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should
- be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very faint, I thought,” said Henrietta, “there seemed to be a great deal
- of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows exactly what to do,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “How well it
- was that she should be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother’s complete confidence in
- her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue it
- away. “Aunt Geoffrey is so quick—she does things without half the
- consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be
- even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you
- were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied that
- she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I am
- satisfied, no one else has any right to object.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but
- to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of
- distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more
- than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and
- the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did to
- fly to her son’s room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by the
- fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The tears,
- whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and restored
- her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather alarmed,
- too, when she saw her mamma’s pale looks, as she leant back almost
- exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little idea
- of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer them
- both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then they
- heard sounds announcing Philip Carey’s arrival, and presently after in
- came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and that
- his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, saying,
- “Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you so long,
- and I believe Henrietta,” looking at her with a smile, “thinks I have used
- you very ill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe she did,” said her mother, “but I was sure you would do right;
- you say he is better? Let me hear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better; only—. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should
- go to bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me hear about him first.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one
- would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified
- Henrietta’s opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own
- responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and Fred,
- already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had felt
- considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip Carey,
- who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. Now,
- however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, and,
- although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, had
- pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the
- patient’s life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had now
- come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all that
- had passed, and ask her pardon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and Geoffrey
- have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? and is it
- not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always will do so?
- You know that is the reason I never thank you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and
- ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, “You thought it very hard
- to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for it,
- but I had not much time to be polite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry I was in the way,” said she, an acknowledgment such as she had
- seldom made.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in his
- progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the worst
- fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations
- of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, that
- she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding,
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame
- better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. I
- think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I do not
- speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed herself
- quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to imagine that
- she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, and I think it
- much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. Lady Amelia
- comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman’s penance may be
- over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no doubt that it is a
- heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and an hour’s freedom from
- that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk sufficiently testify.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of no
- slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been so
- stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his
- danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he had
- suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses
- perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to the
- grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over him,
- as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute of
- clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And how
- had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much of
- that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had been
- exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved to be
- cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an earnest
- thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made in silence
- during the two or three days that passed, partly in such thoughts as
- these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes his aunt,
- sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his bed-side
- unchidden for not being “mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Above all,” said he to himself, “he would for the future devote himself,
- to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for his sake.
- Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the rest of his
- life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?” It was very
- disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do for her
- was to send her messages—and affection does not travel well by
- message,—and at the same time to show submission to her known
- wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown
- submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to be
- argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have
- indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of
- their futility.
- </p>
- <p>
- So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to grumble,
- and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less unpleasant even
- external things appeared, and how much his health benefited by the
- tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing to be pleased with
- all that was done with that intent; and as he grew better, it certainly
- was a strange variety with which he had to be amused throughout the day.
- Very good naturedly he received all such civilities, especially when Willy
- brought him a bottle of the first live sticklebacks of the season,
- accompanied by a message from Arthur that he hoped soon to send him a
- basin of tame tadpoles,—and when John rushed up with a basket of
- blind young black satin puppies, their mother following in a state of
- agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford and Judith.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and spent
- much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond what
- could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable
- correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still unable
- to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between the two
- rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or droll
- descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of the
- fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of a bunch of
- violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the headache, the
- fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting their saws on the
- next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks who were building
- their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford’s window, and whom she
- watched so much that she was said to be in a fair way of solving the
- problem of how many sticks go to a crow’s nest; criticisms of the books
- read by each party, and very often a reference to that celebrated billet,
- unfortunately delivered over night to Prince Talleyrand, informing him
- that his devoted friend had scarcely closed her eyes all night, and then
- only to dream of him!
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers as in
- their younger days,—depending upon her, participating in all her
- pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, by
- their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the
- beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most
- valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom
- looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories of
- down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or school; had
- a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration for the spring
- flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of budding woods,
- soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma enjoyed comparing
- notes with her about those same woods and dells, and would describe the
- adventures of her own youth! And now it might be noticed that she did not
- avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta’s father had been engaged; nay,
- she dwelt on them by preference, and without the suppressed sigh which had
- formerly followed anything like a reference to him. Sometimes she would
- smile to identify the bold open down with the same where she had run races
- with him, and even laugh to think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the
- shady woodland walk would make her describe their nutting parties, or it
- would bring her thoughts to some fit of childish mischief and concealment,
- and to the confession to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at
- length led her. Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken
- together when older grown, when each had become prime counsellor and
- confidante of the other; and the interests and troubles of home and of
- school were poured out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged.
- How Fred and Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love
- had grown up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady
- coombs, and green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened
- with advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been
- to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of
- crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if
- she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same
- time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to tell
- Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most
- characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, that
- she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his death,
- as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of his
- memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so much as
- her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these
- recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them anxious
- about her mother’s health, but for her own part she did not think her
- worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued in nearly
- the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was so cheerful,
- and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even though there was
- no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint there was, as she knew
- of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed so long, that after the
- first shock of being told of it two years ago, she had almost ceased to
- think about it. She satisfied herself to her own mind that it could not,
- should not be progressing, and that this was only a very slow recovery
- from the last attack.
- </p>
- <p>
- Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and merry
- when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or take
- less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet he grew
- grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother grew
- minute and anxious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said he, one day when they were alone together, “I was trying
- to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have told me that so many times,” said Fred. “I think I must try to
- get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey
- comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, “But
- how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey
- went.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fourth,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first
- spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Henrietta, “you know she was five weeks without stirring out
- of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is getting
- better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think it is getting better,” said Fred. “You always say so, but I
- don’t think you have anything to show for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might say the same for yourself,” said Henrietta, laughing. “You have
- been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not boast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, at least I can show something for it,” said Fred; “they allow me a
- lark’s diet instead of a wren’s, I can hold up my head like other people
- now, and I actually made my own legs and the table’s carry me to the
- window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not think it
- is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or eleven
- o’clock; now I don’t believe she ever is till one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has been close, damp weather,” said Henrietta, surprised at the
- accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. “She misses the cold
- bracing wind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t like it,” said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval
- beginning again more earnestly, “Henrietta, neither you nor any one else
- are keeping anything from me, I trust?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, no, no!” said Henrietta, eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are quite sure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite,” responded she. “You know all I know, every bit; and I know all
- Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr.
- Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong
- things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would not
- do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think they would,” said Fred; “but I am not satisfied. Recollect
- and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only recovering
- slowly—I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not a thing
- to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as well as
- usual?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” said Henrietta, “and you know I am more used to her illness than
- any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how bad
- the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we could
- not expect her to get on faster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just like
- Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure you could not
- get any more information from her than from me, and impressions—I am
- sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never lost
- one of his mother’s little notes, placing them as soon as read in his
- pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta to
- lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her marriage. It
- represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the long ringlets and
- plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the arch suppressed smile
- on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep blue eye. He looked at it
- for a little while, and then asked Henrietta if she thought that she could
- find, among the things sent from Rocksand which had not yet been unpacked,
- another portrait, taken in the earlier months of her widowhood, when she
- had in some partial degree recovered from her illness, but her life seemed
- still to hang on a thread. Mrs. Vivian, at whose especial desire it had
- been taken, had been very fond of it, and had always kept it in her room,
- and Fred was very anxious to see it again. After a long search, with
- Bennet’s help, Henrietta found it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and
- in the deep black garments, there was much more general resemblance to her
- present appearance in this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling
- bride. “And yet,” said Fred, as he compared them, “do not you think,
- Henrietta, that there is more of mamma in the first?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see what you mean,” said Henrietta. “You know it is by a much better
- artist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said he, “the other is like enough in feature,—more so
- certainly to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet
- what is it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their
- look, and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind
- of hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet
- smile, that is quite her own!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you could but see her now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “I think you would
- indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that
- lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks
- about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the
- miniature, all but her thinness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father,” murmured
- Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her eyes; then
- a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she began to
- speak of something else as fast as she could.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a minute’s
- visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his
- sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister’s information
- that “it was on business,” and only was in a slight degree reassured by
- being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day.
- Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially
- anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she would
- not leave him alone in Fred’s room, knowing full well that no questions
- would be asked except in private—none at least of the description
- which she dreaded.
- </p>
- <p>
- All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he might
- visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it was
- possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged that on
- Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, his uncle
- should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them both.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great
- undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at length
- the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to take away
- all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited a few
- moments; then said, with some hesitation, “Fred, you must be prepared to
- see her a good deal altered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do
- not ask it for your own sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, resolutely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his uncle’s
- arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she sat by the
- fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on one knee
- before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on his face, and a
- quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then rising, he sank back
- into another great chair, which his sister had arranged for him close to
- hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he passively let Henrietta make
- him comfortable there; while holding his mother’s hand, he kept his eyes
- fixed upon her, and she, anxious only for him, patted his cushions,
- offered her own, and pushed her footstool towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I still think it a great risk,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I should not feel justified in preventing it,” was his answer, “only
- do not leave them long alone.” Then opening the door he called,
- “Henrietta, there is the last bell.” And Henrietta, much against her will,
- was obliged to go with him to Church.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, my dear,” said her mother. “Think of us prisoners in the right
- way at Church, and not in the wrong one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the
- window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of the
- rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear and
- blue, the buds were bursting into life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How very lovely it is!” added she.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His
- eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of what
- was to him a thousand times more lovely,—that frail wasted form,
- namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had
- described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the
- rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness
- under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as
- sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her
- face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the
- chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen
- about her,—more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was
- not an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with
- a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow
- towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the
- exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated with
- pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in shaking off
- the traces of illness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last
- stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant spray
- of the budding sweet-briar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bees are coming out with you, Freddy,” said she. “I have just been
- round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How delicious!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered the
- sweet-briar. “Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up with his
- journey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you,” said Fred, sitting up
- vigorously; “you do not know how strong I am growing.” And then turning to
- the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook’s nest, as
- she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more cheerful questions
- and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. Frederick Langford proposed
- that the reading of the service should begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took the
- alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, and as
- he now and then raised his eyes to his mother’s face, he saw her lips
- follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a glistening
- in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal
- their sickness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking of
- the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the
- former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole
- room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother’s face. It was a
- sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his
- memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, with
- its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright fire, and
- the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all around, all
- conduced to that impression which never left him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the
- “Christian Year,” and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as it
- may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there was some
- conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. Silent as he
- was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more than ten minutes,
- when sounds were heard of the rest of the family returning from Church,
- and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many
- kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a few
- cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister
- responded with pleasure, said, “Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I am
- coming back almost directly to carry you off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So soon!” exclaimed Henrietta. “Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure of
- seeing you together?”
- </p>
- <p>
- No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed behind
- his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then bent
- forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, “Mamma,
- say you forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head
- against her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own dear boy,” said she, “I will not say I have nothing to forgive,
- for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely
- forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been against
- my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!” she added, pressing her
- hand upon his head. “His choicest blessings be with you forever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey’s knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, was
- folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, suffered his
- uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to his own. He
- stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, and gave two or
- three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, though his uncle
- could scarcely determine whether by grief or by physical exhaustion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say nothing:
- and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which he
- remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down to
- watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in which she
- had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long time tranquil,
- if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, complained that his
- head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in quiet. It might be
- that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt a charm upon him which
- he could not bear to break. At any rate, he scarcely looked up or spoke
- all the rest of the evening, excepting that, when he went to bed, he sent
- a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey would come to his room the next
- morning before setting off, as he was obliged to do at a very early hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he had
- slept little, and allowing that his head still ached.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at
- him earnestly, “would it be of no use to have further advice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His uncle understood him, and answered, “I hope that Dr. ——
- will come this evening or to-morrow morning. But,” added he, slowly and
- kindly, “you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from
- the feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that
- he can be of use.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there is no hope?” said Fred, with a strange quietness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Man can do nothing,” answered his uncle. “You know how the case stands;
- the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of
- its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may
- yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but think so!” said Fred. “But I cannot. Her face will not let
- me hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint,” said Uncle
- Geoffrey,—but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away,
- walked to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you must go?” said Fred, when he came back to his side again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Nothing but the most absolute necessity
- could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man if
- I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, at
- latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort to
- Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta knows all this?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As far as she will bear to believe it,” said his uncle. “We cannot grudge
- her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for her in the
- end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, good-bye, and may
- God bless and strengthen you in your trial!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had
- ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her whom
- he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and reverence,—the
- gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful being he knew! Who
- would ever care for him as she did? To whom would it matter now whether he
- was in danger or in safety? whether he distinguished himself or not? And
- how thoughtlessly had he trifled with her comfort, for the mere pleasure
- of a moment, and even fancied himself justified in doing so! Even her
- present illness, had it not probably been brought on by her anxiety and
- attendance on him? and it was his own wilful disobedience to which all
- might be traced. It was no wonder that, passing from one such miserable
- thought to another, his bodily weakness was considerably increased, and he
- remained very languid and unwell; so much so that had Philip Carey ever
- presumed to question anything Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he
- would have pronounced yesterday’s visit a most imprudent measure. In the
- afternoon, as Fred was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs,
- and going along the passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is that?” said he; “the new doctor already? It is a strange step.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! Fred, don’t be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were at
- the worst,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But do you know who it is?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is Mr. Franklin,” said Henrietta. “You know mamma has only been once
- at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So
- you must not fancy she is worse, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish we were confirmed,” said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, “My
- Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small print,”
- said she; “I will read anything you want to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was
- to say, “I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could against
- it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask Aunt
- Geoffrey’s consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss the
- opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to fetch
- Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no reason to
- regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much oppressed
- and weighted down when she again returned to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick
- Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his opinion
- was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to expect. It was
- impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: another attack
- might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be deferred for weeks
- or months, or even now it was possible that she might rally, and return to
- her usual state of health.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, probability,
- that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as if unsaid; she
- would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that brought the least
- impression of the kind. The only occasion when she would avow her fears
- even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and then how wild and
- unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and wretched she would
- feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute she would drive off
- her fears as by force; call up a vision of a brightly smiling future;
- think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes would prevent the approach of
- the enemy she dreaded.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa,
- though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to sadden
- her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for the future,
- till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his deep sigh was
- the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for much argument,
- and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, was easily
- silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the patient. Her
- whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to “Mary,” the friend,
- the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended upon with something of
- the reverent devotedness with which an angel might be watched and served,
- were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; feeling it a privilege each
- day that she was still permitted to attend her, and watching for each
- passing word and expression as a treasure to be dwelt on in many a
- subsequent year.
- </p>
- <p>
- It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on marking
- no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that her mother
- was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her always cheerful,
- ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and still with the
- playfulness which never failed to light up all that approached her. A
- flower,—what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her smile would be!
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on the evening of the day after the physician’s visit, that
- Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering
- her mother’s spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford
- had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the
- flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, “Your papa planted a root
- of those in my little garden the first summer I was here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child,”—she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon
- her, frightened at the manner—“you must not build upon our favourite
- old plan; you must prepare—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago;
- and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!” said her mother, taking her hand.
- “But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to you. I
- want you to make up your mind—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. “Mamma! mamma! you
- must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think
- despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,—I can’t bear it!” she
- cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, which
- her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend with. She
- rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully followed with
- her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, who continued to
- arrange the things on the table, and make desperate attempts to regain her
- composure; but completely failing, caught up her bonnet, and hurried out
- of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor dear child,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, “I wish she was more
- prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I
- leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man;
- but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more
- like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear me—but
- no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might give her pain
- in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I would say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now.
- Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life:
- how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and his
- children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how
- crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved
- chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying.
- And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you
- remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was after we were gone home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so utterly
- unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came with those
- verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be forgiven for not
- being able to follow them. Now I can own with all my heart the mercy that
- would not grant my blind wish for death. My treasure was indeed in heaven,
- but O! it was not the treasure that was meant. I was forgetting my mother,
- and so selfish and untamed was I, that I was almost forgetting my poor
- babies! Yes, tell her this, Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and
- happiness sprang up all around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought
- myself, so much the more will they for her; and ‘at evening time there
- shall be light.’ Tell her that I look to her for guiding and influencing
- Fred. She must never let a week pass without writing to him, and she must
- have the honoured office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and
- grandmother. I think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are
- fond of her, and she seems to suit them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have
- especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I
- have tried to teach Beatrice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should not
- see her, give her her godmother’s love, and tell her that she and
- Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I
- trust that after thirty-five years’ friendship, they will still have as
- much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. I
- have written her name in one of these books,” she added after a short
- interval, touching some which were always close to her. “And, Beatrice,
- one thing more I had to say,” she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and
- finding out a place in it. “Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous
- man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his
- turn, then show him this.” She pointed out the verse, “Be as a father to
- the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou be
- as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy mother
- doth.” “Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary’s last
- blessing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night’s rest.
- Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She thought
- it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head turned,
- the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for
- some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. “How is
- mamma? Does she want me? Why?” Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it
- seemed beyond her power.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, aunt, aunt!” cried she, “what is the matter? What has happened? Speak
- to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, “she bade you
- bear up for your brother’s sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But—but—” said Henrietta, breathlessly; “and she—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child, she is at rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to
- realise what she had heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me,” she said, after a few moments.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. “It
- was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very
- quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her face
- looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt oppressed,
- and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning against my arm,
- there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we must only think of
- her as in perfect peace!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a
- sort of anger, “O, why did you not call me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of
- disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, why was I not there? I would—I would—she must have heard
- me. I would not have let her go. O, mamma!” cried Henrietta, almost
- unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of
- ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent
- exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but all
- she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she found
- herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in some
- degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as poor
- Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs grew less
- loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey thought she could
- be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, “Now we must pray
- that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, and try to help
- your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred, O poor Fred!” and she seemed on the point of another burst of
- lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking—“I must go to him; he has
- yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are
- dressed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! O
- no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!” A fresh fit of
- weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in
- great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this
- condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go to
- poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must leave you, my dear,” said she, at last. “Think how your dear
- mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who
- alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I
- hope you will be more composed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good
- preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness
- made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and hastened
- down from Henrietta’s room with a hurried step.
- </p>
- <p>
- She knocked at Fred’s door, and was answered by his voice. As she entered
- he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, said, “I
- know what you are come to tell me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Fred,” said she; “but how?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was sure of it,” said Fred. “I knew I should never see her again; and
- there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has been crying very much,” said his aunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! she would never believe it,” said Fred. “But after last Sunday—O,
- no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any
- longer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We could not wish it for her sake,” said his aunt, for the first time
- feeling almost overcome.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me hear how it was,” said Frederick, after a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked
- quickly, “What did you do? I did not hear you ring.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I
- met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and—and was
- very kind—then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and
- went to wait for Henrietta’s waking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, “Poor Henrietta! Is she very
- much overcome?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So much, that I hardly know how to leave her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but I
- don’t think anything is much good to me.” He hid his face as he spoke
- thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred,” said she, gently. “Then I will go to
- your sister again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you.” And she had reached the door when he asked, “When does Uncle
- Geoffrey come?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the four o’clock train,” she answered, and moved on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of
- agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister’s.
- O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the
- frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for a
- moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; but
- then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even exist
- under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of misery seemed
- chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of another person he
- could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in which he had already
- done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it was, did not affect
- his health as the first anticipation of it had done. With Henrietta things
- were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in a sort of stupor, in
- which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance of any person into her
- room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, ever increasing in
- vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was left to herself, but she
- could not, or would not, turn where alone comfort could be found, and
- repelled, almost as if it was an insult to her affection, any entreaty
- that she would even try to be comforted. Above all, in the perverse-ness
- of her undisciplined affliction, she persisted in refusing to see her
- brother. “She should do him harm,” she said. “No, it was utterly
- impossible for her to control herself so as not to do him harm.” And
- thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She would not touch a morsel of
- food; she would not consent to leave her bed when asked to do so, though
- ten minutes after, in the restlessness of her misery, she was found
- walking up and down her room in her dressing-gown.
- </p>
- <p>
- Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr.
- Langford, who had loved “Mary” like his own child, did indeed bear up
- under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian
- submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little
- assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share.
- Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down in
- her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for “poor Mary,” or “dear
- Frederick,” all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then rising
- vigorously, saying, “Well, it is His will; it is all for the best!” and
- hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make some
- arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey’s room ready for him. And
- in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to sympathise,
- or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she did. In the
- course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from Sutton Leigh,
- and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and assisting Mrs.
- Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there were the two
- young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only resting now
- and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow far too selfish
- and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of Him Who sent it,
- or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was gone; and as once
- the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care for her mother, so
- now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration for Frederick; so
- that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make any exertion for
- his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize her except Aunt
- Geoffrey’s reading to her; and then it was only that she was lulled by the
- sound of the voice, not that the sense reached her mind. But then, how go
- on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was left in his lonely room, to
- bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? For though Mr. and Mrs.
- Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him many brief kind visits, they
- all of them had either too much on their hands, or were unfitted by
- disposition to be the companions he wanted. It was only Aunt Geoffrey who
- could come and sit by him, and tell him all those precious sayings of his
- mother in her last days, which in her subdued low voice renewed that idea
- of perfect peace and repose which came with the image of his mother, and
- seemed to still the otherwise overpowering thought that she was gone. But
- in the midst the door would open, and grandmamma would come in, looking
- much distressed, with some such request as this—“Beatrice, if Fred
- can spare you, would you just go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was
- better, and that it was as well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for
- one of her dresses, to send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has
- set her off crying to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing
- with her. I wish Geoffrey was come!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one
- wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only
- person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in
- hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield;
- and at length Fred’s sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage
- wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as their
- own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden bursts of
- lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, wanted to talk
- to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only his father who
- seemed even to recollect that his wife might want him more than all. And
- so she did. Her feelings were very strong and impetuous by nature, and the
- loss was one of the greatest she could have sustained. Nothing save her
- husband and her child was so near to her heart as her sister; and worn out
- as she was by long attendance, sleepless nights, and this trying day, when
- all seemed to rest upon her, she now completely gave way, and was no
- sooner alone with her husband and daughter, than her long repressed
- feelings relieved themselves in a flood of tears, which, though silent,
- were completely beyond her own control. Now that he was come, she could,
- and indeed must, give way; and the more she attempted to tell him of the
- peacefulness of her own dear Mary, the more her tears would stream forth.
- He saw how it was, and would not let her even reproach herself for her
- weakness, or attempt any longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on
- her bed, and told her that he and Queen Bee could manage very well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had
- scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt’s death; and new as affliction
- was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether this was her
- own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother’s grief seemed to her almost
- more like a dream.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been
- named, “I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she
- thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go straight up to her,” continued her mother; “don’t wait to let her
- think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do the
- same.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but do her any good,” sighed Beatrice, as she opened the door
- and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for an
- answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry,
- threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around
- was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee’s heart when she was
- thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to know
- what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that occurred
- to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and call her by
- the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was as yet fit to
- bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out to her cousin all
- her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. Beatrice was sometimes
- indeed startled by the want of all idea of resignation, but she could not
- believe that any one could feel otherwise,—least of all Henrietta,
- who had lost her only parent, and that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she
- feel herself good enough to talk seriously to Henrietta; she considered
- herself as only sent to sit with her, so she did not make any attempt to
- preach the resignation which was so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had
- all day been hearing of it, and rebelling against it, was almost grateful
- to her. So Henrietta talked and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the
- same dreary views of the future coming over and over again; and Beatrice’s
- only answer was to agree with all her heart to all that was said of her
- own dear Aunt Mary, and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was
- still left for her in so many hearts on earth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined
- to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the same
- discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to her, and
- thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a tolerable
- meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with tears, put
- her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept quietly down
- to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the drawing-room good
- night, she reflected whether she had done what she ought for her cousin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her head,”
- said she to herself; “for as to the reading, she did not attend to that.
- But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself before I
- try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be allowed to
- be any comfort at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Thanks partly to Beatrice’s possessing no rightful authority over
- Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to
- make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But
- nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could not
- endure to pass “that door,” where ever before the fondest welcome awaited
- her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred yesterday,
- seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of perverseness—for
- it really deserved no better name—was that it began to vex Fred.
- “But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, “I
- should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything so strange.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after
- leaving Fred’s room he knocked at his niece’s door. She was sitting by the
- fire with a book in her hand, but not reading.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, my dear,” said he, taking her languid hand. “I bring you a
- message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned away her head. “Poor dear Fred!” said she; “but it is quite
- impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and do
- him harm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why cannot you bear it as he does?” said her uncle gravely. “You do
- not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the advantages
- of health and strength.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no one can feel as I do!” cried Henrietta, with one of her passionate
- outbreaks. “O how I loved her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred did not love her less,” proceeded her uncle. “And why will you leave
- him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister’s love that should be
- his chief stay?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He does not doubt it,” sobbed Henrietta. “He knows me better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which is
- not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments’ painful
- emotion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out of this
- room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the house—to
- go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, your affection for him is not strong enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. “You do not
- know me, Uncle Geoffrey,” said she proudly, and then she almost choked
- with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief
- and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which you
- will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making yourself
- useless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the
- first weapon she could. “Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I
- am,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though if
- he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would have
- repressed even such demonstrations as he made. “Henrietta, this is too
- bad! Has she been weakly yielding?—has she been shutting herself up
- in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she
- should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and
- distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to
- do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after
- she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now,
- when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she has made
- for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her resting, you
- fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your mother would
- have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have no more to
- say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the
- accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that
- she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. “Uncle Geoffrey!” she
- cried, “O, uncle—” but he was gone; and forgetting everything else,
- she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything
- else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, “O uncle, do not
- think I meant that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. “Henrietta!”
- said he, “I am glad to see you downstairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then
- laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle’s arm, said, “Only say you are
- not angry with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person,” said he
- with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her
- surprise at finding herself downstairs after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you do not imagine me ungrateful?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not when you are in your right senses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ungrateful!” exclaimed Mr. Langford. “What is he accusing you of,
- Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “but that Henrietta and I have both been
- somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not,
- Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing
- Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning
- her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa’s with
- very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened and
- admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to receive
- their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?” said
- grandpapa.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I was only going to Fred,” said she, growing as desirous of seeing
- him as she had before been averse to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “that you were to take a turn or two round
- the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, and you
- will bring Fred in a fresher face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will fetch your bonnet,” said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top of
- the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at seeing
- her cousin in the hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a
- shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had
- opened the sashed door into the garden.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the
- sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft
- masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening with
- drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. Henrietta’s
- burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, she could not
- help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first thing she began
- to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a warm expression
- of gratitude towards her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two turns
- in silence; but Henrietta’s heart began to fail her when she thought of
- going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could hardly
- resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, gave her
- shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred’s door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that you?” was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward to
- meet her. “Poor Henrietta!” was all he said, as she put her arm round his
- neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his sofa, made
- her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for her comfort.
- She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no longer, but she
- reproached herself excessively for having left him to himself so long,
- when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to make some apology.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, it is of no use to talk about it,” said Fred, playing with her long
- curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in times
- long gone by. “You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you been
- out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And how
- are you this morning, Freddy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, pretty well I think,” said he, sighing, as if he cared little about
- the matter. “I wanted to show you this, Henrietta.” And he took up a book
- where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks in some
- other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading yesterday,
- and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, as she could
- not help feeling herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here was the first great point gained, though there was still much for
- Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been conscious of
- her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her proneness to make all
- give way to her own feeling of the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta
- shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it
- before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there,
- partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and partly
- from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was willing to
- do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day’s neglect: and
- she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at least Fred
- seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much
- to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour
- of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion,
- she had figured to herself her father’s funeral, little thinking of the
- reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, than what
- any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her perfectly
- impossible that she should ever have power to go through with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the prospect
- gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, she found the
- reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing nothing, observing
- nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked along, wrapped in one
- absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first words that “broke the
- stillness of that hour,” healing as they were, seemed but to add certainty
- to that one thought that “she was gone.” But while the Psalms and the
- Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression of grief seemed in some
- degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and the words reached her mind;
- a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who had wiped away the tears from
- her mother’s eyes, and by Whom the sting of death had been taken away.
- Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, in meek submission, until now
- her long widowhood was over; and what better for her could those who most
- loved her desire, than that she should safely sleep in the chancel of the
- Church of her childhood, close to him whom she had so loved and so
- mourned, until the time when both should once more awaken,—the
- corruptible should put on incorruption, the mortal should put on
- immortality, and death be swallowed up in victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears
- flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was
- enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round
- the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against the
- expression that it was “in great mercy that the soul of this our dear
- sister” was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound of the
- earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever the most
- loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for ever,—might
- she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection and the Life—might
- she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive the blessing to be
- pronounced to all that love and fear Him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. Langford
- moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before doing so, she
- raised her eyes to her father’s name, to take leave of him as it were, as
- she always did before going out of Church. She met her Uncle Geoffrey’s
- eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as she was out of the
- church, she said almost in a whisper, “Uncle, I don’t wish for him now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak,
- for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might
- safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which
- was coming upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- They came home—to the home that looked as if it would fain be once
- more cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn
- stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, for
- she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape veil.
- She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose on
- hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. Beatrice
- came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful how to
- address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and looking
- earnestly in her face, repeated—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To run
- untir’d love’s blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, Over the
- grave their Lord have met.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Queenie,” said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, “it is a very
- different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, you
- must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time past,
- though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness.” She kissed her
- affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me! me, of all people,” she said. “O, Henrietta!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must talk of it all another time,” said Henrietta, “but now it will
- not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don’t think this like the days
- when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee—that time when I
- would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While she spoke, there was something of the “new bracing” visible in every
- movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, which of
- late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, that showed
- how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about her whole
- frame.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, do not stay with me,” said Queen Bee, “I am going”—to mamma,
- she would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking
- to Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, understanding her. “And tell her, Bee—for I
- am sure I shall never be able to say it to her,—all about our
- thanks, and how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her
- comfort.” “If I had only believed, instead of blinding myself so
- wilfully!” she almost whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now
- ready, she ran downstairs and entered her brother’s room. His countenance
- bore traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he
- looked anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her
- hand into his, and said, “Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over,” said Fred. “I have
- been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very different
- thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will all come to you when you go to Church again,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How little I thought that New Year’s Day—!” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer’s holidays!” said
- Henrietta. “If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; but it was
- my determination to come here that seems to have caused everything, and
- that is the thought I cannot bear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night,” said Fred,
- “and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with
- consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the
- horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame
- himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not
- think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened now;
- that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the results.
- Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, to be sure,
- that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much disobedience,
- and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing came of it, except
- that I grew more wilful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “but I shall always feel as if everything had been
- caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was just as much my wish as yours,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you pleased,
- and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of course, to make
- her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was always doing, and now
- I can never make up for it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Fred, “we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how
- she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same as
- ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to remember,
- now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don’t you see, Henrietta, my
- dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?—that if you did domineer over her,
- it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you must not
- accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. He says he
- does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most for her
- comfort, if—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well
- again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta.
- Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and
- attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that I
- might have gone on to much worse at school and college.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, never!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not now, I hope,” said Fred; “but that was not what I meant to say. No
- one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on
- either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing,
- and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was
- convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been
- here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa
- and grandmamma’s sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to have
- been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful that she
- had come to die in my father’s home, after seeing us well settled here,
- instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How little we guessed it was for that,” said Henrietta. “O what were we
- doing? But if it made her happy—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand,” said
- Fred. “I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave of
- everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle
- Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and
- the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much
- for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Home!” said Henrietta, “how determinedly we used to call it so! But O,
- that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all
- overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot
- complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devices and desires of our own hearts!” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own
- sake,” proceeded Henrietta. “Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to me,
- as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again for me;
- so that it was all twofold!” Here she hid her face, and her tears streamed
- fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that Fred also was
- much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more than
- I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still obeying her.
- I think at last I may get something of the right sort of feeling; for I am
- sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used to mean when they
- talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to read to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford.
- Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother’s wish, their home; and
- there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and
- summer, of watching her brother’s recovery, which was very slow, but at
- the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as he
- required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as quite
- a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than she had ever
- been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to return to
- Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the vacation
- would bring them all back to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great
- disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred
- would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able
- indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume many
- of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in a
- condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application.
- Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as Alex had
- numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and kindness, by
- silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, and again and
- again silently giving up some favourite scheme of amusement when Fred
- proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself almost learned to trust
- Fred to Alex’s care, which was so much less irritating than her own; and
- how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is best shown, when it is related,
- that neither by word nor look did she once interrupt the harmony between
- them, or attempt to obtain the attention, of which, in fact, she always
- had as large a share as any reasonable person could desire.
- </p>
- <p>
- How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the best
- requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer—a very
- adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it—to undertake
- little Willy’s Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger’s knowledge,
- had been under Alex’s care for the holidays. Willy was a very good pupil
- on the whole—better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had been—and
- very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such a test as
- perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an insensible
- manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over to Henrietta,
- whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect quite made up, in
- grandmamma’s eyes, for her very tolerable amount of acquirements in Latin
- and Greek.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time care for her brother’s health had ceased to be Henrietta’s
- grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue
- his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up
- around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful and
- valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted with
- when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a
- granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil to
- the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful to her, as
- well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and Charlie, as for
- the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used to exercise her
- taste when Henrietta’s wardrobe failed to afford her sufficient
- occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, and demonstrated
- it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners gradually acquired
- the influence over them which Queen Bee had only exerted over Alex and
- Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew less awkward and
- bearish, without losing their honest downright good humour and good
- nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in attributing the change to
- her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was also the friend of the poor
- women, the teacher and guide of the school children, and in their eyes and
- imagination second to no one but Mr. Franklin. And withal she did not
- cease to be all that she had ever been to her brother, if not still more.
- His heart and soul were for her, and scarce a joy and sorrow but was
- shared between them. She was his home, his everything, and she well
- fulfilled her mother’s parting trust of being his truest friend and
- best-loved counsellor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented
- her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! This
- was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through life;
- and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, there was
- linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and domineering on
- her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that spoke only of
- blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to her whom she had
- lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the steps of Him Who
- “came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that sent Him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- THE END <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
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diff --git a/old/hwish10.txt b/old/hwish10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 88a1dce..0000000 --- a/old/hwish10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9962 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge -(#28 in our series by Charlotte M. Yonge) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: Henrietta's Wish - -Author: Charlotte M. Yonge - -Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5124] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on May 5, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HENRIETTA'S WISH *** - - - - -This Project Gutenberg etext of Henrietta's Wish by Charlotte M Yonge -was prepared by Sandra Laythorpe, laythorpe@tiscali.co.uk A web page -for Charlotte M Yonge will be found at www.menorot.com/cmyonge.htm. -Thanks to the Victorian Women Writers Project at Indiana University for -generating this public domain eBook. - - - - - -HENRIETTA'S WISH; OR, DOMINEERING - -by - -Charlotte M Yonge - - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - -On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was -waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as -the railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently -enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to -express their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek -shining skins, but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself -now and then to whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end -of his whip. - -Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about -sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and -flushed complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two -or three minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand -to examine the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, -and study the countenances of the bystanders to see whether they -expressed any anxiety respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, -however, seemed quite at their ease, and after a time the arrival of -the railway omnibus and two or three other carriages, convinced her -that the rest of the world only now began to consider it to be due. -At last the ringing of a bell quickened everybody into a sudden state -of activity, and assured her that the much-desired moment was come. -The cloud of smoke was seen, the panting of the engine was heard, the -train displayed its length before the station, men ran along tapping -the doors of the carriages, and shouting a word which bore some distant -resemblance to "Teignmouth," and at the same moment various travellers -emerged from the different vehicles. - -Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, -after a hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, -hurried to the carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly -alike in form, complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed -together, then withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the -scene, but the hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone -of the "Well, Fred!" "Well, Henrietta!" which formed the greeting of -the twin brother and sister. - -"And was not mamma well enough to come?" asked Frederick, as the -carriage turned away from the station. - -"She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write -yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; -but she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of -your school affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?" - -"I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will -lie between us next year." - -"Surely," said Henrietta, "you must be able to beat him then, if you -are before him now." - -"Don't make too sure, Henrietta," said Frederick, shaking his head, -"Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should -not have been before him now if it had not been for my verses." - -"I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander," said Henrietta, "she -would make a great deal of his success." - -"Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?" said Frederick with -some dissatisfaction. - -"O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she -patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. -And indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to -her that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think -him worth cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched -up together in an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander -the Great. And how she always talks about Alex when she is here." - -"Is she at Knight Sutton?" - -"Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to be -far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only -think, Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close -to the village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept -on saying how well it would do for us." - -"O, if we could but get mamma there!" said Fred. "What does she say?" - -"She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one," said -Henrietta; "but that is not an inch--no, not the hundredth part of an -inch--towards going there!" - -"It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought to -believe so," said Frederick. "All her attachments are there--her own -home; my father's home." - -"There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here," said Henrietta. -"Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to -acquaintance, the people are always changing." - -"And there is nothing to do," added Fred; "nothing possible but boating -and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as -Uncle Geoffrey says. It is very, very--" - -"Aggravating," said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of -family slang words. - -"Yes, aggravating," said he with a smile, "to be placed under the -necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!" - -"Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through -when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you -were on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at -all a timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind -rose, I am sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have -seen it again and again that she is not easily frightened." - -"No: and I do not think she is afraid for you." - -"Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious -than girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that -I think that is reasonable." - -"Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it," -said Fred: "he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the -sudden shock--" - -"What? Our father's accident?" asked Henrietta. "I never knew rightly -about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old." - -"No one saw it happen," said Fred; "he went out riding, his horse came -home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road." - -"Did they bring him home?" asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling -tone in which her brother spoke. - -"Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said 'Mary,' once or -twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!" - -"Terrible!" said Henrietta, with a shudder. "O! how did mamma ever -recover it?--at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,--but I -meant live, or be even as well as she is." - -"She was fearfully ill for long after," said Fred, "and Uncle Geoffrey -thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says -they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to -be wondered at." - -"O no, no," said Henrietta. "What a mystery it has always seemed to us -about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish -days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma -stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to -utter his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have -found it a comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had -not always cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her." - -"But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his -death?" - -"O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we -had, and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from -talking to each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did -Uncle Geoffrey tell you this?" - -"Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to -speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be -kept back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the -penalty of being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to -show me how it is." - -"But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which -one would have thought she would have dreaded most of all." - -"That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said -to him, 'Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to -ride, never mind my folly.' He says that he thinks it cost her as much -resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about -going to school." - -"Yes, yes; exactly," said Henrietta, "if she thinks it is right, bear -it she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy -Bee says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people -as she does." - -"I never saw anyone so like a queen," said Fred. "No, nor anyone so -beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her -in her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of -your own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live -to be a hundred." - -"You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own, -Master Fred," retorted his sister; "but one comfort is, that I shall -grow more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all -the little likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I -was going to say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of -truth in what Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor -grandmamma made it worse. You know she had always been in India, and -knew less about boys than mamma, who had been brought up with papa and -my uncles, so she might really believe that everything was dangerous; -and I have often seen her quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about -you--her consolations just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, -and making mamma twice as bad." - -"Well," said Fred, sighing, "that is all over now, and she thought she -was doing it all for the best." - -"And," proceeded Henrietta, "I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this -perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. -She imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and -that it was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving--" - -"Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke," added Fred. - -"Till now, I really believe," said Henrietta, "that the possibility of -moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes -that she can do it than that the house can." - -"Yes," said Fred, "I do not think a journey occurs to her among events -possible, and yet without being very fond of this place." - -"Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike -about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she -once went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own -friends, instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma's time -it was not so bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. -Rocksand has all the loneliness of the country without its advantages." - -"There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all," said Fred. - -"No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be -well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how -useless one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor -people, no clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. -O how nice it would be at Knight Sutton!" - -"And perhaps she would be cured of her fears," added Fred; "she would -find no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins -there come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!" - -"Well, we will see what we can do," said Henrietta. "I do think we may -persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and -for yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be -done." - -And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the -steep straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently -were within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the -verandahed Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer's -lodging, but was little fitted for a permanent abode. - -In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no -ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with -more affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford -sprung from the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving -and returning such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious -that he had done nothing to forfeit home love and confidence. - -Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford -looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively, -"All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle -Geoffrey? Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. -And now, Freddy, tell us about your examination," added she, as fondly -leaning on his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat -down together on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously. - -Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in -truth one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the -admiration expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the -features were beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet -placid resignation which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. -The eyes were deep dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had -dimmed their brightness, their softness was increased; the smile was -one of peace, of love, of serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, -as it were, before her time, had lived on in meek patience and -submission, almost a child in her ways, as devoted to her mother, as -little with a will and way of her own, as free from the cares of this -work-a-day world. The long luxuriant dark brown hair, which once, as -now with Henrietta, had clustered in thick glossy ringlets over her -comb and round her face, was in thick braids beneath the delicate lace -cap which suited with her plain black silk dress. Her figure was -slender, so tall that neither her well-grown son nor daughter had yet -reached her height, and, as Frederick said, with something queenlike in -its unconscious grace and dignity. - -As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had -great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of -the moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to her -manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her -spirit would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in -earlier days. - -Frederick's account of his journey and of his school news was heard and -commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next -matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival was -to talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey's proceedings, and the Knight -Sutton affairs. - -"So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?" said Fred. - -"Yes, on a special retainer," said Mrs. Langford, "and very much he -seems to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral." - -"He wrote to me in court," said Fred, "to tell me what books I had -better get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled all -over one side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was -beautiful beyond all he ever imagined." - -"Had he never seen it before?" said Henrietta. "Lawyers seem made to -travel in their vacations." - -"Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared," said her mamma; "I do not know -what Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his -holidays than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed -to take his own pleasure." - -"Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta. - -"He goes home just as he used from school," said Mrs. Langford. -"Indeed, except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least -altered from those days; his work and play come in just the same way." - -"And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet," added -Henrietta, "only rivalled by Busy Bee herself." - -"No," said Fred, "according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one -sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa's pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma's. It -must be great fun to see them." - -"Happy people!" said Mrs. Langford. - -"Henrietta says," proceeded Fred, "that there is a house to be let at -Knight Sutton." - -"The Pleasance; yes, I know it well," said his mother: "it is not -actually in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty -place." - -"With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, "said Henrietta, "and -looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in -mamma's room." - -"What size is it?" added Fred. - -"The comparative degree," said Mrs. Langford, "but my acquaintance with -it does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking drawing- -room with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed to run -about when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old Miss -Drakes. I wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys can -scarcely, I should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are all -at home." - -"I wish some one else would take it," said Fred. - -"Some one," added Henrietta, "who would like it of all things, and be -quite at home there." - -"A person," proceeded the boy, "who likes Knight Sutton and its inhab- -itants better than anything else." - -"Only think," joined in the young lady, "how delightful it would be. -I can just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a -summer's day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to -the nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle and -Aunt Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without -ringing at the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt -Geoffrey all the vacation!" - -"Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton," said Mrs. -Langford. "Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, -Henrietta, riding shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your -mamma did before you." - -"And being as happy as a queen," said Henrietta; "and the poor people, -you know them all, don't you, mamma?" - -"I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. -But I should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys -used to work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old -schoolmistress in her spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the -introduction of a noun and a verb!" - -"Who has been so cruel?" asked Fred. "Busy Bee, I suppose." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "she teaches away with all her might; but she -says she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for -there is no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I -should like to be Queen Bee's deputy." - -"But," said Fred, "how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure -such novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the -old mistress herself." - -"Queen Bee's is not merely a nominal sovereignty," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Besides," said Henrietta, "the new Clergyman approves of all that sort -of thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - ->From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles -in the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought -of the brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, -as Henrietta truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to -talk of what she still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of -the pang it must give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to -the burial-place of her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been -augmented by the tender over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, -who had strenuously endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a -proposal into consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it -out of the question. - -A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of -Mrs. Vivian's life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, -her daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there -was a general impression throughout the family that now was the time -for her to come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was -but beginning to dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building -castles and imagining scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of -their being realized, or that it only depended upon her, to find -herself at home there; and when Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by -this manner of talking, pressed it upon her, she would reply with some -vague intention of a return some time or other, but still thinking of -it as something far away, and rather to be dreaded than desired. - -It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind -that it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take -a lease of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her -present abode; and from this time it might be perceived that she always -shrank from entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little -reason to hope. - -"Yet, I think," said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they -were walking together on the sands; "I think if she once thought it was -right, if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would -really tell her that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would -resolve upon it." - -"But why did he not do so long ago?" said Fred. - -"O! because of grandmamma, I suppose," said Henrietta; "but he really -does wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put -it into his head to do it." - -"Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her," said Fred; "but it never -answers to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do -it; he always says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect." - -"If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all -parties, I would not say so much about it," said Henrietta, in a tone -rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of -domineering over her mother. - -To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good -sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide -for herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and -during her long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her -brother-in-law, Mr. Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, -and in lesser ones upon her children. Girls are generally older of -their age than boys, and Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother's -constant companion, occupied a position in the family which amounted to -something more than prime minister. Some one person must always be -leader, and thus she had gradually attained, or had greatness thrust -upon her; for justice requires it to be stated, that she more -frequently tried to know her mamma's mind for her, than to carry her -own point, though perhaps to do so always was more than could be -expected of human nature at sixteen. The habit of being called on to -settle whether they should use the britska or the pony carriage, -whether satin or silk was best, or this or that book should be ordered, -was, however, sufficient to make her very unwilling to be thwarted in -other matters of more importance, especially in one on which were fixed -the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the wishes of all the family. - -Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best -calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick, -having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed -on their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had -the same occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, -and Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now -the custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and -Euclid for those which he received in Italian and music. For present -amusement there was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied -many beautiful walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. -Langford in the pony carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and -scrambling, were the order of the day. Boating too was a great -delight, and had it not been for an occasional fretting recollection -that he could not go out sailing without his mamma, and that most of -his school fellows were spending their holidays in a very different -manner, he would have been perfectly happy. Fortunately he had not -sufficient acquaintance with the boys in the neighbourhood for the -contrast to be often brought before him. - -Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care with -which he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his -accomplishments, of his handsome features, and she would willingly have -been proud of his excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she -was proud of the spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it -by her full and entire sympathy. The belief that the present -restraints must be diminished at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring -with her, as much as her own wish for the scenes round which -imagination had thrown such a brilliant halo. Of society they had -hitherto seen little or nothing; Mrs. Langford's health and spirits had -never been equal to visiting, nor was there much to tempt her in the -changing inhabitants of a watering-place. Now and then, perhaps, an -old acquaintance or distant connexion of some part of the family came -for a month or six weeks, and a few calls were exchanged, and it was -one of these visits that led to the following conversation. - -"By the by, mamma," said Fred, "I meant to ask you what that foolish -woman meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly -approved of Aunt Geoffrey's marriage." - -"About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy," replied -Mrs. Langford, "considering that I was always accused of having made -the match." - -"Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you -really?" - -"Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the -credit as I do." - -"Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey's?" - -"O yes, Fred," said Henrietta, "to be sure you knew that. You have -heard how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his -little boy and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their -mother?" - -"Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I -used to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course -talked to my friend--" - -"Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it." - -"I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the -other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend -Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one -Easter vacation. It was when the general was in command at ----, and -Beatrice was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the -house, entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call -brilliant." - -"Were you there, mamma?" - -"Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and -very droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each -other; she to find her brother's guide, philosopher, and friend, the -Langford who had gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered -youth, very shy at first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and -making giggle; and he to find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, -so really simple in tastes and habits." - -"Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?" asked Fred. - -"She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual -beauty but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a -really handsome person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she -had, and indeed has now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for -want of a better word, I must call fashion in her appearance, that she -was always very striking." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, -and it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is -something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met -her in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a -coronet. And then and there they fell in love, did they?" - -"In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, -but in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked -either wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not -suppose that anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was -only twenty, and Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king's -daughter of Hongarie." - -"O yes, of course," said Henrietta, "but that only makes it more -delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in -their history." - -"That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth -or a truism often repeated, Henrietta," said her mother with a soft -sigh, which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: "Poor Frank's -illness and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a -very different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the -last, and was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful -they were to him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried -his youthful spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and -night, and looking ill and overworked." - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey," cried Henrietta, in an -ecstasy; "you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could -not fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and -pining away all the time and saying nothing about it." - -"Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, -after the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading -succeeded; he took a double first class, and very proud of him we -were." - -"And still he saw nothing of her," said Fred. - -"Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the -Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most -matters a wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by -some unlucky speculation which was to have doubled his daughter's -fortune, managed to lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay." - -"Capital!" cried Frederick, "that brings her down to him." - -"So it did," said his mother, smiling; "but the spectators did not -rejoice quite so heartily as you do. The general's health was failing, -and it was hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. -Leger's family, though very kind, were not more congenial than they are -now. As soon as all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and -the general, who was very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant -to wait until it was prudent, of course, and were well contented; but -just after it was all settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and -died. Geoffrey was with him, and he treated him like a son, saying it -was his great comfort to know that her happiness was in his hands. -Poor Beatrice, she went first to the St. Legers, stayed with them two -or three months, then I would have her to be my bridesmaid, though"-- -and Mrs. Langford tried to smile, while again she strangled a sobbing -sigh--"she warned me that her mourning was a bad omen. Well, she -stayed with my mother while we went abroad, and on our return went with -us to be introduced at Knight Sutton. Everybody was charmed, Mrs. -Langford and Aunt Roger had expected a fine lady or a blue one, but -they soon learnt to believe all her gaiety and all her cleverness a -mere calumny, and grandpapa was delighted with her the first moment. -How well I remember Geoffrey's coming home and thanking us for having -managed so well as to make her like one of the family, while the truth -was that she had fitted herself in, and found her place from the first -moment. Now came a time of grave private conferences. A long -engagement which might have been very well if the general had lived, -was a dreary prospect now that Beatrice was without a home; but then -your uncle was but just called to the bar, and had next to nothing of -his own, present or to come. However, he had begun his literary works, -and found them answer so well, that he believed he could maintain -himself till briefs came in, and he had the sort of talent which gives -confidence. He thought, too, that even in the event of his death she -would be better off as one of us, than as a dependent on the St. -Legers; and at last by talking to us, he nearly persuaded himself to -believe it would be a very prudent thing to marry. It was a harder -matter to persuade his father, but persuade him he did, and the wedding -was at Knight Sutton that very summer." - -"That's right," cried Fred, "excellent and glorious! A farthing for -all the St. Legers put together." - -"Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion -that it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady Amelia -were present, so that no one had any reason to say that they -disapproved. Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, -I would also suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple -comme il-y-en a peu, it would neither have been excellent nor -glorious." - -"Why, they are very well off," said Fred; "he is quite at the head of -his profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name -is, if I belong to Langford the barrister." - -"Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily -bread, if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the -buoyant school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a -child to its play, his health could never have stood it." - -"But then it has been success and triumph," said Fred; "one could work -like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery." - -"It was not all success at first," said his mother; "there was hard -work, and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to -bear it, and to win through with it." - -"And were they very poor?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. -The house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and -cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt -Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan's -visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was -to find 'poor Beatrice' looking so bright and like herself, and how -little she guessed at her morning's work, the study of shirt-making, -and the copying out a review of her husband's, full of Greek -quotations." - -"Well, the poverty is all over now," said Henrietta; "but still they -live in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey's connexions and -the fortune he has made." - -"Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?" said Mrs. -Langford. - -Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a -cousin of her aunt Geoffrey's of whom she had seen something in the -last year. - -"The truth is," said Mrs. Langford, "that your aunt had display and -luxury enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not -desire it except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, -beyond what any one knows or suspects." - -"Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school," -said Fred. - -"Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta, "the -school, and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, -mamma, if you made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your -work." - -"There's nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always -maintain," said Fred. - -His mother sighed, saying, "I don't know what we should have done -without him!" and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her -countenance which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more -was said till it was discovered that it was bed time. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - -"Where is Madame?" asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the -breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in -her hand. - -"A headache," answered Henrietta, "and a palpitation." - -"A bad one?" - -"Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it -will not do, and we must give it up." - -"How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do -with it? Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for -her?" - -"Just listen what an effect last evening's conversation had upon her. -Last night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there I -saw her kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just -then it struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her -know I was awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am -sure she did not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her -most uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, -when I looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to -come down to-day." - -"And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that -brought it on?" said Fred, with much concern; "yet it did not seem to -have much to do with my father." - -"O but it must," said Henrietta. "He must have been there all the time -mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always -together when they were children." - -"Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding," said -Fred. "Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt -Geoffrey and with her, after they had been young and happy together. -Yes, no doubt it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into -letting them marry!" - -"And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death," said -Henrietta. "No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those -thoughts." - -"And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. -Well, I suppose we must give it up," said Fred, with a sigh. "After -all, we can be very happy here!" - -"O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I -wished it," said the sister. - -"And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it -would be pleasanter for you when I am away," said Fred. - -"And so," said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, "we agree to persuade -each other that we don't care about it." - -Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to -make her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her of -fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain -feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence. - -After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got -up, but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a -walk by her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and -on their return they found her lying on the sofa. - -"Mamma has been in mischief," said Fred. "She did not think herself -knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly." - -"Oh, mamma!" was Henrietta's reproachful exclamation, as she looked at -her pale face and red swollen eyelids. - -"Never mind, my dears," said she, trying to smile, "I shall be better -now this is done, and I have it off my mind." They looked at her in -anxious interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. "You -will seal that letter with a good will, Henrietta," she said. "It is -to ask Uncle Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance." - -"Mamma!" and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: -then Henrietta exclaimed-- - -"No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it." - -"Yes," said Fred; "indeed we agreed this morning that it would be -better not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace -and comfort. I am sure it suits you best." - -"Thank you, thank you, my dear ones," said she, drawing them towards -her, and fondly kissing them, "but it is all settled, and I am sure it -is better for you. It is but a dull life for you here." - -"O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you," cried -Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. "We are, -indeed we are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are -discontented; do not think we want a change." - -Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile. - -"But we would not have you to do it on our account," said Fred. "Pray -put it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a -passing fancy." - -"You will not talk me out of it, my dears," said Mrs. Langford. "I -know it is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my -mind that was the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as -either of you, when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, -and do not let that letter be too late for the post." - -"I do not half like it," said Fred, pausing at the door. - -"I have not many fears on that score," said she, smiling. "No, do not -be uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be -happy there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear -old places again." - -"O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering," -said Henrietta. "You do not know how I wish you would give it up!" - -"Give it up! I would not for millions," said Mrs. Langford. "Now go, -my dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again." - -The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough -for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept -back the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if she -were doing wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and -remorseful, something like a tyrant between the condemnation and -execution of his victim. But by the time the first course was over, -and she and Frederick had begun to recollect their long-cherished -wishes, they made up their minds to be happy, and fell into their usual -strain of admiration of the unknown haven of their hopes, and of -expectations that it would in the end benefit their mother. - -The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs -proceeded in the usual manner; Frederick's holidays came to an end, and -he returned to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and -sister, but with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting -might be at Knight Sutton. - -"Here, Henrietta," said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a -day or two after Frederick's departure, turning over to her the letter -of which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open -some others. It was Uncle Geoffrey's writing, and Henrietta read -eagerly: - - -"MY DEAR MARY,--I would not write till I could give you some positive -information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a -conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that -you think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel -certain that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones -who are set upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the -charge, but you know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, -we are too much the gainers to investigate motives closely, and I -cannot but believe that the effort once over, you would find it a great -comfort to be among your own people, and in your own country. I fully -agree with you also in what you say of the advantage to Henrietta and -Fred. My father is going to write, and I must leave him to do justice -to his own cordiality, and proceed to business." - - -Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease, -repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; -she knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to -her wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather -alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to -make the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them -while they were bargaining for it. - -"O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear," said she, "I -dare say it will not ruin us." - -"Not exactly," said Mrs. Langford, smiling, "but gentlemen consider it -a disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be -allowed to have his own way." - -"O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it." - -"A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped -up before you can look at them," said Mrs. Langford; "I have no fears -but that it is to be had." But Henrietta could not help fancying that -her mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was -to go off independently of any determination of hers. - -Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and -often talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate -letters of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a -little. She now fully perceived that it had only been from -forbearance, that they had not before urged her return, and as she saw -how earnestly it was desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached -herself as for a weakness for not having sooner resolved upon her -present step. Henrietta's work was rather to keep up her spirits at -the prospect, than to prevent her from changing her purpose, which -never altered, respecting a return to the neighbourhood of Knight -Sutton, though whether to the house of the tempting name, was a -question which remained in agitation during the rest of the autumn, for -as surely as Rome was not built in a day, so surely cannot a house be -bought or sold in a day, especially when a clever and cautious lawyer -acts for one party. - -Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays -was reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick -Langford laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy -again at their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to -be persuaded to accept Mr. Langford's invitation to take up her -quarters at the Hall, and look about her a little before finally -deciding upon the Pleasance. Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the -greatest charms in the eyes of Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time -had they listened to the descriptions given con amore by Beatrice -Langford, to whom that place had ever been a home, perhaps the more -beloved, because the other half of her life was spent in London. - -It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while -no other of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she -could not bear that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her -daughter lose the pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and -Mrs. Langford be deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she -therefore arranged to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and -her father went as usual to Knight Sutton. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from -Devonshire, but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had -no merely personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, -declared herself perfectly willing and able to manage with no -companions but her daughter and maid, with whom she was to travel to -his house in London, there to be met in a day or two by the two school- -boys, Frederick and his cousin Alexander, and then proceed all together -to Knight Sutton. - -Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was -really come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would -find her under a different roof from that which she had never left. -She did not know till now that she had any attachments to the place she -had hitherto believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she -could not bid it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman -with his rough kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there -was the rocky beach where she and her brother had often played on the -verge of the ocean, watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight -the ripple of the advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, -the woods, streams, and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and -Uncle Geoffrey had often told her, were more beautiful than anything -she was likely to find in Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected -with her grandmother, which she grieved much at parting with, but she -shunned talking over her regrets, lest she should agitate her mother, -whom she watched with great anxiety. - -She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little -time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the calm -quietness with which she went through the few trying days that -immediately preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant -employment so great a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on -her own account, as well as her mother's, when every possible order had -been given, every box packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit -opposite to each other, on each side of the fire, in the idleness which -precedes candle-light. Her mother leant back in silence, and she -watched her with an anxious gaze. She feared to say anything of -sympathy with what she supposed her feeling, lest she should make her -weep. An indifferent speech would be out of place even if Henrietta -herself could have made it, and yet to remain silent was to allow -melancholy thoughts to prey upon her. So thought the daughter, longing -at the same time that her persuasions were all unsaid. - -"Come here, my dear child," said her mother presently, and Henrietta -almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the -tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a low -footstool, leaning against her. "You are very much afraid for me," -continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of -her face, far different from her own, "but you need not fear, it is all -well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are -not really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here." - -All Henrietta's consideration for her mother could not prevent her from -bursting into tears. "O mamma, I did not know it would be so like -going away from dear grandmamma." - -"Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on -whether we are in our duty or not." - -"Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did -not know it till now!" - -"Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our -home, Henrietta, to your father's home in life and death, and it must -be good for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for -us. Knight Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us -to be." - -Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she -who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most -ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest -trial. It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that -her mother's calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment -to the place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she -accused herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her -mind to do what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of -trial, when the wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. -Not that she blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that -she was so much attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so -much with her; and after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring -her to composure, they talked long and earnestly over old times and -deeper feelings. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - -The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey's -house at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be -imagined, as a visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite -visions of her cousin Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two -girls were soon deep in the delights of a conversation in which sense -and nonsense had an equal share. - -The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, -while Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by -Beatrice and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece's great -amazement, professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as -she did. A short December day, though not what they would have chosen, -had this advantage, that the victim could not be as completely fagged -and worn out as in a summer's day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in -high spirits when they drove home and found to their delight that the -two schoolboys had already arrived. - -Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but -Alexander, though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked -shyly at the new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished -them elsewhere. She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that -her brother regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore -surprised to see that his broad honest face expressed more good humour -than intellect, and his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably well- -featured, with light eyes and dark hair, and though half a year older -than his cousin, was much shorter, more perhaps in appearance than -reality, from the breadth and squareness of his shoulders, and from not -carrying himself well. - -Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son -of Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at -Sutton Leigh, a small house on his father's estate, busied with -farming, sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived -to make a narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their -endless tribe of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the -second, in India; and Alexander owed his more learned education to -Uncle Geoffrey, who had been well recompensed by his industry and good -conduct. Indeed his attainments had always been so superior to those -of his brothers, that he might have been considered as a prodigy, had -not his cousin Frederick been always one step before him. - -Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so -that on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but -this was but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had -to endure out of school during his first half-year. Unused to any -training or companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, -bewildered, derided in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to -fight his way among rude brothers, instantly found his level, and even -extended a protecting hand to his cousin, who requited it with little -gratitude. Soon overcoming his effeminate habits, he grew expert and -dexterous, and was equal to Alex in all but main bodily strength; but -the spirit of rivalry once excited, had never died away, and with a -real friendship and esteem for each other, their names or rather their -nicknames had almost become party words among their schoolfellows. - -Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this -first occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself -open to that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account -at once of his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge of -accomplishments; but he did not guess at the feeling which made -Alexander on his side regard those very accomplishments with a feeling -which, if it were not jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it. - -Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very -little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called -her skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair of -very large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant -expression, and showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from -sublime to ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature -otherwise. And if instead of being "like the diamond bright," they had -been "dull as lead," it would have been little matter to Alex. -Beatrice had been, she was still, his friend, his own cousin, more than -what he could believe a sister to be if he had one,--in short his own -little Queen Bee. He had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in -all the civilization which he possessed, and it was with considerable -mortification that he thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison -with his old rival, as old a friend of hers, with the same claim to -cousinly affection; and instead of understanding only what she had -taught him, familiar with the tastes and pursuits on which she set -perhaps too great a value. - -Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice's preference: it might be -that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister -of his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on -which he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely to -be secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school -studies and pastimes. - -For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice -books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, -and which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly -style of living which some people thought befitted them. She called to -her brother who was standing by the fire, "Fred, do come and look at -this beautiful Albert Durer of Sintram." - -He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an -acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, "Yes, it was an old -promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be -pronounced insensible." - -"A wonderful old fellow was that Albert," said Fred, looking, and -forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. -"Yes; O how wondrously the expression on Death's face changes as it -does in the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it -up! Have you seen it, mamma?" - -His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, -and Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of -the old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to -have a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of -the prints with no practised hand. "Take care, Alex, take care," cried -Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; "don't you see what a pinch -you are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there -is a pattern for you," pointing to Fred. - -She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the -table. Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which -possessed any tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen -Bee's black eyes perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing -triumph. - -But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very -sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, -she stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain -parting cautions. - -"How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in -her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person -who can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I--" - -"Had better let it alone," rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. "You will -do more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, -that Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place." - -"Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some -consideration! To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands -just when we always go home!" - -"We have lamented that often enough," said her mother smiling. "It is -unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes -must sometimes bend." - -"You say that for me, mamma," said Beatrice. "You think grandmamma and -I have too much will for each other." - -"If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that -wilful will of yours." - -"I hope I shall," said Beatrice, "but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good -night, mamma." - -And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she -well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to -the many fervent resolutions she had made against it. - -The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and -set out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole -railroad carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and -Beatrice sat opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton -delights with animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other -cousins with explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading -the newspaper and talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford. - -The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the -early winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, -or they had reached the Allonfield station. - -"Here we are!" exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the -same moment a loud voice called out, "All right! where are you, Alex?" -upon which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of -the carriage-door, replying, "Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you -brought Dumpling?" And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, "How -d'ye do, Carey?" - -When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him -shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough -great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred -handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and -Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh -man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt -Mary, upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness, -presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied -to the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at -home. - -"Is the Hall carriage come?" asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff -affirmative, added, "then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while -Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage," offered his arm with tolerable -courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. "There," said he, "Carey -has driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with -him." - -"Is the horse steady?" asked his aunt, anxiously. - -"Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?" said -Alex, patting his old friend. - -"And no lamps?" - -"O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen -times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat." - -"And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time." - -"Lots of ruts," muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, "A -few ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places." - -By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state -of things, said, "I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? -I should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the -house, and then Dumpling's feelings won't be hurt by passing the turn -to Sutton Leigh." - -Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle -Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, -as the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw -Alexander's own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was -letting the boys have their own way. She had been rather depressed in -the morning on leaving her mother, but as she came nearer home her -spirits mounted, and she was almost wild with glee. "Aunt Mary, do you -know where you are?" - -"On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks." - -"Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d'ye do? You beginning of -home! I don't know when it is best coming to you: on a summer's -evening, all glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night -like this. There is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile -further to the gate." - -"Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school," said her -aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their -blithe young hearts, and added cheerfully, "Just the same as ever, I -see: how well I know the outline of the bank there!" - -"Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something -inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can't you get up a little -enthusiasm?" - -"Oceans, without getting it up," replied Fred. "I never was more -rejoiced in my whole life," and he began to hum Domum. - -"Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton," -cried Henrietta. - -And the voices began, "Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;" even Aunt Mary -herself caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself -coming to her own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was -her situation, and threw herself into the delight of returning. - -"Now, Fred," said Henrietta, "let us try those verses that you found a -tune for, that begin 'What is home?'" - -This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a -gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. "This is the -beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta," said Mrs. -Frederick Langford. - -"The wood with glades like cathedral aisles," said Henrietta. "O, how -delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!" - -"Which I have never seen," said Beatrice. "I tell papa he has made his -fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it." - -"In which I fully agree with him," said her aunt. "I should not like -to see him with nothing to do." - -"O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do," -said Henrietta. - -"No," said her mother, "but people are always happier with work made -for them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle -Geoffrey has too much talent to be spared." - -"Ay," said Fred, "I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little -Busy Bee." - -"It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me -so," said Beatrice. "I believe after all, I should break my heart if -papa did retire without--" - -"Without what, Bee?" - -"Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose," said Henrietta very seriously. "I -am sure I should." - -"His being in Parliament will content me for the present," said -Beatrice, "for I have been told too often that high principles don't -rise in the world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him -as if he was." - -"You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee," said -Henrietta; "but where are we now?" added she, as a gate swung back. - -"Coming into the paddock," said Beatrice; "don't you see the lights in -the house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and -that large one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don't you see -that red fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be -sure to have." - -Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in -the nervous pressure of her mother's hand. The carriage stopped at the -door, whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to -darkness; but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but -have recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more -than one visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald -forehead, clear eye, and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather -than handing his daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing -her brow; then he hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, -while she received the kiss of Mrs. Langford. - -They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he -gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more -embraced her, saying, "Bless you, my own dear Mary!" She clung to him -for a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself -in an instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying -to administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which -suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of -the black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair -was perfectly white. "Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. -You had better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your -room? But where is Geoffrey?" - -"He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh," said Beatrice. - -"Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?" said grandpapa, holding out -his arms to her. "And," added he, "is not this your first introduction -to the twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would -wish to see on a summer's day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell -you apart, when you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No -mistake now though. Well, I am right glad to have you here." - -"Won't you take off some of your wraps, Mary?" proceeded Mrs. Langford, -and her daughter-in-law, with a soft "Thank you," passively obeyed. -"And you too, my dear," she added to Henrietta. - -"Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta," proceeded grandpapa. "Let me -see whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own -face, Mary." - -"Do not you think his forehead like--" and she looked to the end of the -room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers -Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now -she could attend to nothing but her mamma. - -"Like poor dear Frederick?" said grandmamma. "Well, I can't judge by -firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very -image." - -"You can't be the image of any one I should like better," said Mr. -Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta's hand. -"I wish nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside -and out." - -"Ah, there's Geoffrey!" cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost -running to meet him. - -"Well, Geoffrey, how d'ye do?" added his father with an indescribable -tone and look of heartfelt delight. "Left all your cares behind you?" - -"Left my wife behind me," said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face. - -"Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come," said both -the old people, "but how is poor Lady Susan?" - -"As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand. -Well, Mary, you look tired." - -Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other -accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, -and it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. -Henrietta thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the -trouble, but this would not have been at all according to the habits of -grandmamma or granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to a -large cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she -supposed Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to -their maid, who was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, -stirred the already bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her -daughter-in-law who was standing like one in a dream, she gave her a -fond kiss, saying, "There, Mary, I thought you would like to be here." - -"Thank you, thank you, you are always kind." - -"There now, Mary, don't let yourself be overcome. You would not bring -him back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There--that is -right--and don't think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had -better not, don't you?" - -"Much better not, thank you, grandmamma," said Henrietta, as she -assisted in settling her mother on the sofa. "She is tired and -overcome now, but she will be herself after a rest." - -"And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of -coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won't you have a cup of -coffee, Mary, my dear?" - -"Thank you, no thank you," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising -herself. "Indeed I am sorry--it is very foolish." Here the choking -sob came again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, -warming a shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. -"Poor thing, poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my -dear? I'll fetch one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? -Some sal-volatile? Yes, Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?" - -And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively -distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck, -wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again, -saying, "I did not think I was so weak!" - -"Dearest mamma," said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty. - -"If I have not distressed grandmamma!" said her mother anxiously. "No, -never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and--" - -Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the -unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal -days when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a -new thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard -there again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was -altered? But it had been only the first few moments that had -overwhelmed her, and the sound of Mrs. Langford's returning footsteps -recalled her habit of self-control; she thanked her, held out her -quivering hand, drank the sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, -and asked pardon for having given so much trouble. - -"Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you -better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first -time; but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better--Ah! well, I see -you can't bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best -thing. Don't let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my -dear." - -There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick -Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would -have waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear at -table, and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very -fortunately, as Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which -she pronounced to be "the half-hour bell," and she hastened away, -telling her granddaughter that dinner would be ready at half-past five, -and calling the maid outside the door to giver her full directions -where to procure anything that her mistress might want. - -"Dear grandmamma! just like herself!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford. -"But Henrietta, my dear," she added with some alarm, "make haste and -dress: you must never be too late in this house!" - -Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too -anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair -was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her -mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. -"You don't know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting," said -she. - -At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled, -evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the -door to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest -inquired, and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them -to eat her turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party -were perhaps damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford's absence and its cause, -for the dinner was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very -amusing to Henrietta and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of -the country neighbourhood, in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much -interest. - -As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to -her mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. "But, O mamma, is -this a good thing for you?" said Henrietta, looking at the red case -containing her father's miniature, which had evidently been only just -closed on her entrance. - -"The very best thing for me, dearest," was the answer, now given in her -own calm tones. "It does truly make me happier than anything else. -No, don't look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might -hurt me, but I trust it is not." - -"And does this really comfort you, mamma?" said Henrietta, as she -pressed the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. "O, I -cannot fancy that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it -might have been, think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till -sometimes, O mamma, I feel quite rebellious!" - -"You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child," said her -mother, sadly. "As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to -wish him here?" - -"And can you bear to say so, mamma?" - -She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had gone -too far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the -daughter timidly asked, "And was this your old room, mamma?" - -"Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish -books. Bring that one," she added, as Henrietta took one out, and -opening it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written "F.H. -Langford," with the giver's name; and below in round hand, scrawled all -over the page, "Mary Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred." "I believe -that you may find that in almost all of them," said she. "I am glad -they have been spared from the children at Sutton Leigh. Will you -bring me a few more to look over, before you go down again to -grandmamma?" - -Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a -selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another -talk, in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the -entrance of Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of -health, strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there -was a good fire in Geoffrey's room, telling Henrietta that tea would -soon be ready. - -Henrietta's ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. Vivian, -naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although -considerably younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in -speechless amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. "But, my dear -child," she said, "I beg you will go down. It will never do to have -you staying up here all the evening." - -Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she -was stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking -maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had -been nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time "Miss Mary" arrived from -India, and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been -called ladies'-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, -if anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known -to all who are happy enough to possess a "Judith." - -"I beg your pardon, miss," said she, as Henrietta opened the door just -before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called -out, "O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see -me." - -She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking -the thin white hand stretched out to her. "I hope you are better, -ma'am. It is something like old times to have you here again." - -"Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith," was the answer, "and very -glad to see you looking like your own dear self." - -"Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma'am; I wish I could see you -looking better." - -"I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been -introduced to Henrietta, there." - -"But I have often heard of you, Judith," said Henrietta, cordially -holding out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with -affectionate earnestness. "Sure enough, miss," said she, "as Missus -says, you are the very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I -think I see a look of poor Master Frederick too." - -"Have you seen my brother, Judith?" asked Henrietta, fearing a second -discussion on likenesses. - -"Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus's room, when Mr. -Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said 'Here's a new -acquaintance for you, Judith,' and there was Master Frederick. I -should have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. -A fine young gentleman he is, to be sure." - -"Why, we must be like your grandchildren!" said Henrietta; "but O! here -comes Fred." - -And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to -his sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail -on grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself. - -They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa's chair, -with one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say -Henrietta was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her by -declaring he should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish -days. Then he called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their -home doings, showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed -and stood amazed. "Ah," said grandpapa, "you forgot that I had a Queen -Bee to enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go -buzzing over the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven't -we, Busy, Busy Bee?" - -Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit -round the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and -it was rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called -out, "Come, young ladies, I've been wearying for a tune these three -months. I hope you are not too tired to give us one." - -"O no, no, grandpapa!" cried Beatrice, "but you must hear Henrietta. -It is a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all -my London masters too." - -And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice -came to her aunt's room to wish her good-night, and to hear Henrietta's -opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater wonder-- -grandmamma so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a grandpapa to -be proud of! - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - -It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free -from headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to -breakfast. The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first -morning light that shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; -and Henrietta, as usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of -the elms and the last year's rooks' nests, to make the most of her -time; so that the bell for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her -mamma would not leave her, and remained to help her. Just as they were -going down at last, they met Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries -for poor Mary. She would have almost been better pleased with a slight -indisposition than with dawdling; but she kindly accepted Henrietta's -apologies, and there was one exclamation of joy from all the assembled -party at Mrs. Frederick Langford's unhoped-for entrance. - -"Geoffrey, my dear," began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and -congratulations were over, "will you see what is the matter with the -lock of this tea-chest?--it has been out of order these three weeks, -and I thought you could set it to rights." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old -servant, put in his head. - -"If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. -Geoffrey about his son on the railway." - -Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker -awaited him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: -"Geoffrey, I put those papers on the table in the study, if you will -look over them when you have time, and tell me what you think of the -turnpike trust." - -A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three -boys, shouting with one voice--"Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you -must come and see which of Vixen's puppies are to be saved!" - -"Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!" was Uncle Geoffrey's answer; "don't you -know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw -such wild men of the woods." - -"All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey," said grandmamma. "Ah, he -spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. -There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie," she added, as -they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. - -Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of -Alexander. "How shall I ever know them apart?" said she to Beatrice. - -"Like grandmamma's nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below -another," said Beatrice. "However, I don't require you to learn them -all at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, -have you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?" - -Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter -make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen -Bee's side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly -discomposed by Henrietta's neighbourhood. - -John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and -in another minute they made their appearance. "Good morning sir; good -morning, ma'am," were Uncle Roger's greetings, as he came in. "Ah, -Mary, how d'ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.- --Ah, good morning, good morning," as he quickly shook hands with the -younger ones. "Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new -drill into the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth -keeping." - -And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, -during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised -to see him look so young--younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; -but in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour -had thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey's hair, paled his cheek, and -traced lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the -light that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that -often played over his countenance, according with the slender active -figure that might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, -and much more robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his -face ruddy brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather -heavy. In his plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the -fire, he looked the model of a country squire; but there was an -indescribable family likeness, and something of the same form about the -nose and lip, which recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in -Uncle Geoffrey. - -The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the -signal for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up -stairs for her mother's work, and came down again laughing. "I am -sure, Queenie," said she, "that your papa chose his trade rightly. He -may well be called a great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of -him at breakfast, I have just come across a consultation on the stairs -between him and Judith about--what was it?--some money in a savings' -bank." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these -degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give -'Master Geoffrey' all the management of it. But if you are surprised -now, what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not -asked in at least fifty matters." - -"I'll count," said Henrietta: "what have we had already?" and she took -out pencil and paper--"Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, -and the turnpike trust--" - -"Vixen's puppies and the drill," suggested her mamma. - -"And Judith's money," added Henrietta. "Six already--" - -"To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not -hear of," said Beatrice; "and look here, what I am going to seal for -him, one, two, three--eight letters." - -"Why! when could he possibly have written them?" - -"Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more -grandmamma will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to -sit up with a candle after eleven o'clock. I really believe that there -is not another living creature in the world who could do it in this -house. There, you may add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for -he is going to the Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar." - -"O, I wish we could walk there!" - -"I dare say we can. I'll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like -Henrietta to go and see the Pleasance?" - -"Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee," said -Aunt Mary; "but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day." - -"Walk to Sutton Leigh!" echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the -moment; "not you, surely, Mary?" - -"O no, no, grandmamma," said Beatrice, laughing; "she was only talking -of Henrietta's doing it." - -"Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go -this morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to -see you, and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I -wanted to send over for poor Tom's sore mouth." - -Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked, -"Have they no currant jelly themselves?" - -"O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don't mean that -the boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, -poor Elizabeth can never make any preserves." - -"But," objected Queen Bee, "if one of the children is ill, do you think -Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could -take the jelly." - -"O nonsense, Bee," said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; "you don't -like to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can't be as -good-natured to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the -village." - -"Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that." - -"O no, no, grandmamma," joined in Henrietta, "we shall be very glad to -take it. Pray let us." - -"Yes," added Beatrice, "if it is really to be of any use, no one can be -more willing." - -"Of any use?" repeated Mrs. Langford. "No! never mind. I'll send -someone." - -"No, pray do not, dear grandmamma," eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; "I do -beg you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to -let me be useful." - -Grandmamma was pacified. "When will you set out?" she asked; "you had -better not lose this bright morning." - -"We will go directly," said Queen Bee; "we will go by the west turning, -so that Henrietta may see the Pleasance." - -"My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won't have you -getting wet in your feet and catching cold." - -"O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it -has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning." - -"As if he knew, or cared anything about it!--and you will be late for -luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day -she feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will -always have your own way." - -Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this -altercation; and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her -cousin, she would have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would -have interfered in another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey -gave a sudden turn to affairs. - -"Who likes to go to the Pleasance?" said he, as he entered. "All whose -curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots." - -"Here are the girls dying to go," said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased -as if she had not been objecting the minute before. - -"Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens." Then, -turning to his mother, "Didn't I hear you say you had something to send -to Elizabeth, ma'am?" - - "Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if--" - -"O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don't cheat me," exclaimed -Henrietta. "If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better -with me than in Uncle Geoffrey's pocket." - -"Ay, that will be the proper division of labour," said Uncle Geoffrey, -looking well pleased with his niece; "but I thought you were off to get -ready." - -"Don't keep your uncle waiting, my dear," added her mamma; and -Henrietta departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there -exclaiming, "If there is a thing I can't endure, it is going to Sutton -Leigh when one of the children is poorly! It is always bad enough--" - -"Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!" cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear -of any flaw in her paradise. - -"You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the -wooden bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break -your shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips -that crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the -house. It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over -sum, es, est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven -brothers in a small house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are -laughing instead of getting ready." - -"So are you." - -"My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I'll tell you -what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you -to 'improve each shining hour;' for nothing will get you into such dire -disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great -shame to waste papa's time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and -now I will trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself." - -In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta -still measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She -hunted her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa -at the door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that -usually waited there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together -some time since, and the party now set forth, the three gentlemen -walking together first. Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a -sufficient distance that she might study the aspect of the house. It -did not quite fulfil her expectations; it was neither remarkable for -age nor beauty; the masonry was in a sort of chessboard pattern, -alternate squares of freestone and of flints, the windows were not -casements as she thought they ought to have been, and the long wing, or -rather excrescence, which contained the drawing-room, was by no means -ornamental. It was a respectable, comfortable mansion, and that was -all that was to be said in its praise, and Beatrice's affection had so -embellished it in description, that it was no wonder that Henrietta -felt slightly disappointed. She had had some expectation, too, of -seeing it in the midst of a park, instead of which the carriage-drive -along which they were walking, only skirted a rather large grass field, -full of elm trees, and known by the less dignified name of the paddock. -But she would not confess the failure of her expectations even to -herself, and as Beatrice was evidently looking for some expressions of -admiration, she said the road must be very pretty in summer. - -"Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves," said Queen Bee. -"Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to -have this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but -I carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to -me as the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and -rabbits. But here are the outfield and the drill." - -And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they -entered a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and -gravelled, so as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, -as the gentlemen left them to march up and down there by themselves, -whilst they were discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine -which was travelling along the furrows. It was rather a trial of -patience, but Beatrice was used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to -be pleased with anything. - -At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his -granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with -Martin. - -"Well, young ladies," said he, "this is fine drilling, in patience at -least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger's -new-fangled machines." - -"That is right, grandpapa," said Queen Bee; "you hate them as much as I -do, don't you now?" - -"She is afraid they will make honey by steam," said grandpapa, "and -render bees a work of supererogation." - -"They are doing what they can towards it," said Beatrice. "Why, when -Mr. Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow- -feeling for my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy -destroyed. And they won't even let them swarm their own way--a most -unwarrantable interference with the liberty of the subject." - -"Well done, Queenie," said Mr. Langford, laughing; "a capital champion. -And so you don't look forward to the time when we are to have our hay -made by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed -by a third--ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?" - -"Bird-starving!" repeated Henrietta. - -"Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother's elegant -diminutive," said Beatrice, "serving as live scarecrows." - -"I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose," -said Henrietta. - -"This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten -minutes," said grandpapa; "but I told Uncle Roger we would have none of -them here unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at -every third explosion." - -"Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?" said Henrietta. - -"He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes -home with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I -leave him to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast." - -"Don't they succeed, then?" said Henrietta. - -"Why--ay--I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we -achieved a prize ox,--such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could -not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more -such waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog." - -Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or -earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little -liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which -possessed manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal -of playful grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger. - -"There is Sutton Leigh," said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low -white house among farm buildings. "Well, Henrietta, are you prepared -for an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie -Carey into the bargain?" - -"Jessie Carey!" exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay. - -"Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for -her with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton -Leigh." - -"Is she one of Aunt Roger's nieces?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Beatrice. "And--O! grandpapa, don't look at me in that -way. Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?" - -"I won't have Henrietta prejudiced," said Mr. Langford. "Don't listen -to her, my dear: and I'll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an -honest, good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every -one, never thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness." - -"Now for the but, grandpapa," cried Beatrice. "I allow all that, only -grant me the but." - -"But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down -on us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual -society." - -"O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don't really believe that. -O, say you don't!" And Beatrice's black eyes were full of tears. - -"If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee," and he -added, half whispering, "take care some of us do not believe the other -half. But don't look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of -your waxen cells, and don't lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort -to you, I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most -entertaining companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same -sort as yours." - -They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little -altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden -in front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came -in sight there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown -holland, all darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs -and arms. - -"Let me loose, you varlets," he cried, and disengaging one hand, in -another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, -which he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all -the urchins in pursuit. - -At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford -appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing -Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never -seen a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and -a drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in -fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery. - -Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie -Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty -girl of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and -a face which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton -Leigh. - -But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very -tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but for -its novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick -Langford, then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave -the history of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on -Uncle Geoffrey's knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of -his watch. Henrietta's list, too, was considerably lengthened; for -Uncle Geoffrey advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of -Charlie's, and assisted Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise. - -It was almost one o'clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates -was heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to -luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on -with him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own -affairs at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She -had hardly ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and -she was not only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable -and uncalled-for fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be -remarking on deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in -the management of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; -nor was the matter mended by the attempts at correction made from time -to time by their father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better than -Beatrice, whose face ill concealed an expression of disgust and -weariness, and who maintained a silence very unlike her usual habits. - -At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their -walk, and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had -quitted the house, that the boys were too well occupied with their -pudding to wish to accompany them, but she did not venture on any -further remarks before her papa. He gave a long whistle, and then -turned to point out all the interesting localities to Henrietta. There -was something to tell of every field, every tree, or every villager, -with whom he exchanged his hearty greeting. If it were only a name, it -recalled some story of mamma's, some tradition handed on by Beatrice. -Never was walk more delightful; and the girls were almost sorry to find -themselves at the green gate of the Pleasance, leading to a gravel -road, great part of which had been usurped by the long shoots of the -evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be said to correspond in -appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted, unfurnished state; but -the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle Geoffrey was deep in -the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted about from garret -to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing possibilities, in -complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for ever; and rather -tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of the stairs, -and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next summer; then -talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last books they -had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey, being more -merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and summoned them -to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road, through -the village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet seen. -It was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in -gardens, and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed -the care of the proprietor. - -"O, here is the church," said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they -came to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground -occupied by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm -trees, amongst which could just be seen the small old church, with its -large deep porch and curious low tower. - -"The door is open," said Beatrice; "I suppose they are bringing in the -holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?" - -"I do not know," said she, looking at her uncle. "Mamma--" - -"I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and -herself too," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"I am sure I should wish it very much," said Henrietta, and they -entered the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone -columns and low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly -awful and impressive to Henrietta's present state of mind. Uncle -Geoffrey led her on into the chancel, where, among numerous mural -tablets recording the names of different members of the Langford -family, was one chiefly noticeable for the superior taste of its Gothic -canopy, and which bore the name of Frederick Henry Langford, with the -date of his death, and his age, only twenty-six. One of the large flat -stones below also had the initials F.H.L., and the date of the year. -Henrietta stood and looked in deep silence, Beatrice watching her -earnestly and kindly, and her uncle's thoughts almost as much as hers, -on what might have been. Her father had been so near him in age, so -constantly his companion, so entirely one in mind and temper, that he -had been far more to him than his elder brother, and his death had been -the one great sorrow of Uncle Geoffrey's life. - -The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the door, -as the old clerk's wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and -dragging a mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to -her courtesy, and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the -other end of the church to assist in the Christmas decorations. - -Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. "This is coming very -near him!" said she in a low voice. "Uncle; I wish I might be quite -sure that he knows me." - -"Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us," -said Uncle Geoffrey. "Think rather of 'I shall go to him, but he shall -not return to me.'" - -"But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me -and knows how--how I would have loved him, and how I do love him," she -added, while the tears rose to her eyes. - -"It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most -comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world: -but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to -dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it -depends but on ourselves." - -To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; -but he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta's mind to merge the -reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical -feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had -never heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she -lost sight of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards -her mother. It was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, -and with how many daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, that -though even to himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. -Geoffrey Langford resolved that his niece's first visit to her father's -grave should not be spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his -presence, alluring because involving neither self-reproach nor -resolution; but in thoughts which might lead to action, to humility, -and to the yielding up of self-will. - -Henrietta looked very thoughtful. "That time is so far away!" said -she. - -"How do you know that?" said her uncle in the deep low tone that -brought the full perception that "it is nigh, even at the doors." - -She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought -home to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father's -summons. - -"It is awful," she said. "I cannot bear to think of it." - -"Henrietta," said her uncle solemnly, "guard yourself from being so -satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, -most real future." He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: "The -present, which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of -visions and thoughts, but of deeds." - -Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, "But, uncle, that would -bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in -heart and mind ascend?" - -"Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of -earthly affection." - -"Then would you not have me think of him at all?" said she, almost -reproachfully. - -"I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb -the love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the -same time you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you -think that is what your father would desire?" - -"You mean," she said sadly, "that while I do not think enough of God, -and while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the -thought I love best, the thought that he is near." - -"Take it rather as a caution than as blame," said Uncle Geoffrey. A -long silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new -idea opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory -of her father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too -much worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as -it was by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother's -mind, the truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to -perceive it, but still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was -cherished so as to be almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey's manner -was so kind that she could not be vexed with him, but she was -disappointed, for she had hoped for a narration of some part of her -father's history, and for the indulgence of that soft sorrow which has -in it little pain. Instead of this she was bidden to quit her beloved -world, to soar above it, or to seek for a duty which she had rather not -believe that she had neglected, though--no, she did not like to look -deeper. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature -it might be, he could not guess, and then said, "One thing more before -we leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth -commandment in its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your -influence. Will you try to exert it in the right way?" - -"You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age," said -Henrietta. - -"Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better -than what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the -sake of obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice's operations with the holly -had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the -church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance -showed Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of -whom she had heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the -holly in her hand. "Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing." - -"I was just helping old Martha," said Beatrice; "we came in to show my -cousin the church, and--" - -By this time the others had advanced. - -"How well the church looks this dark afternoon," said Uncle Geoffrey, -speaking in a low tone, "it is quite the moment to choose for seeing it -for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your -adornments." - -"I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little -to the arrangement myself," said Mr. Franklin, "but I am afraid I know -very little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist -us with your taste." - -Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled -with delight. "I should like it exceedingly," said the former; "I was -just thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it -beautifully." - -"Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what -can be done?" - -"Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard," -said Queen Bee. "And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the -places that are out of reach." - -"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; "I assure you the -matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is, -certainly has not the best taste in church dressing." - -"And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there -ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. -Look, papa, do you not think so?" - -"You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel," -said her papa, "and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch -cherubs at the head of the tables of commandments." - -"O, and don't you see," said Henrietta, "there in front of the altar is -a space, where I really think we might make the cross and 'I H S' in -holly?" - -"But could you, Henrietta?" asked Beatrice. - -"O yes, I know I can; I made 'M.L.' in roses on mamma's last birthday, -and set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure -we could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!" - -"Ah!" said Mr. Franklin, "I have heard of such things, but I had always -considered them as quite above our powers." - -"They would be, without Henrietta," said Queen Bee, "but she was always -excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice -taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, -and we will do our work so as to amaze the parish." - -"And now," said Uncle Geoffrey, "we must be walking home, my young -ladies. It is getting quite dark." - -It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading -on the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet -beauty on the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part -of the way home with them, adding to Henrietta's list by asking counsel -about a damp spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be -adopted with a refractory farmer. - -By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the -sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet -them in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been -lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they -were dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the -two girls up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with -their things on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at -half-past five. - -"Is mamma gone up?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is -gone to rest herself." - -"And how long have you been at home, Fred?" said Queen Bee. "Why, you -have performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet -us?" - -"I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone," -said Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta's ears, implied that he was -not quite pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on -to her, "I wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex -and Carey thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, -and thereby they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear -up to change his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for -the day. I declare it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I -am not made of sugar candy." - -With Uncle Geoffrey's admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints -sounded painfully in Henrietta's ears, and she would gladly have -soothed away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find -the stairs for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally -appropriate, especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming -down from above and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred -therefore retreated into their mamma's room, where they found her -sitting on a low stool by the fire, reading by its light one of the old -childish books, of which she seemed never to weary. Fred's petulance, -to do him justice, never could endure the charm of her presence, and -his brow was as bright and open as his sister's as he came forward, -hoping that she was not tired. - -"Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear," said she, smiling; "I enjoyed -my walk exceedingly." - -"A walk!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with -grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen -garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?" - -"I've been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen," answered Henrietta, -gaily. "I have seen everything--Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and -the church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the -church for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? -Only think of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I -always thought it something too great and too happy for me ever to do." - -"I hope you will be able to succeed in it," said her mamma. "What a -treat it will be to see your work on Sunday." - -"And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and -reach the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures." - -Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole live -stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the -plantations, and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out -on the bark of the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely -happy. He "was just going to see Dumpling and Vixen's puppies at -Sutton Leigh, when--" - -"When I caught you, my poor boy," said his mamma; "and very cruel it -was, I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again." - -"I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks -of minding those things." - -"You should have seen him, Henrietta," said his mother; "his shoes -looked as if he had been walking through a river." - -"Well, but so were all the others," said Fred. - -"Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such -sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. -But you--if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and -you know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid -up with a bad cold." - -"I never catch cold," said Fred. - -"Boys always say so," said Mrs. Frederick Langford; "it is a--what -shall I call it?--a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always -defeat when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I -won't put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the -fender croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with stick- -liquorice and Ivanhoe." - -"You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma," -said Henrietta, "just to see how grandmamma will nurse it." - -A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing -the arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford's maid; who had come in -such good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed a -whole quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary -punctuality without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, -sitting round the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. -Langford; and Uncle Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a -leisure time; and there was so much merriment in talking over the walk, -and discussing the plans for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved -never again to miss such a pleasant reunion by her own tardiness. - -Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by -getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the -room to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, -and by finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy -piece of her own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle -that was going on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new -book. She kept her list of Uncle Geoffrey's manifold applicants on the -table before her, and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, -business unknown, who sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a -loud and eager appeal from Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, -by a question of taste on the shades of grandmamma's carpet-work, and -by her own query how to translate a difficult German passage which had -baffled herself, mamma, and Fred. - -However, Queen Bee's number, fifty, had not been attained, and her -majesty was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of a -day, for which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be -continued. - -Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain -her resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford -evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two -children's own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her -sleep something about "delightful," "bright leaves and red berries," -and then, "and 'tis for my own dear papa." - -And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta -and Frederick as serenely happy as she was? - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - -Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, -but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome -her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to -a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. -She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa -called a sparrow's allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby -gained nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which -Henrietta cut her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter -on them as if each piece was to serve as a model for future -generations. - -The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her -spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year's -party on Monday week, the second of January. "It would be pleasant for -the young people," she thought, "if Mary did not think it would be too -much for her." - -Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer -would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should -be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great -treat to Henrietta and Fred. - -"We will have the carpet up in the dining-room," added Mrs. Langford, -"and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up -a nice little set for a dance." - -"O thank you, grandmamma," cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford -looked at her. - -"Poor innocent, you little know!" murmured Queen Bee to herself. - -"That is right, Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "I like to see young -people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in -moderation." - -"Above dancing," said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a -reflection on his pet, Queen Bee, "that is what you call being on the -high rope, isn't it?" - -Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. - -"Are you on the high rope, Queenie?" asked Fred, who sat next to her: -"do you despise the light fantastic--?" - -"I don't know: I do not mind it much," was all she could bring herself -to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious -before her father. "Not much in itself," she added, in a lower tone, -as the conversation grew louder, "it is the people, Philip Carey, and -all,--but hush! listen." - -He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at -each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her -Aunt Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and -the stream of conversation flowed away from the fête. - -The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered -Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at -the Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. -"Bring him safe," said she, "for if you fail, and prove a corbie -messenger, I promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most -angry bee." - -Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up -after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma's writing-case down -for her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not -help waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was -passing between her mother and uncle. - -"Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?" he asked. - -"Thank you," she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, "I think not." - -"Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits -you," said he in a voice of kind solicitude. - -"Thank you very much, Geoffrey," she replied, in an earnest tone, "but -indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on -such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order." - -"I understand," said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the -writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment's perception -of the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her. - -In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious -family of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the bright -sunshine near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy flower- -pots, instantly sprang forward with, "O grandmamma, let me help." - -Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she -was gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried the -myrtle, the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant -deeply-indented leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, -and was deep in the story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been -planted by Uncle Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed -likely to grow beyond the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when -Beatrice came down and beheld her with consternation--"Henrietta! -Henrietta! what are you about?" cried she, breaking full into the -story. "Do make haste." - -"I will come in a minute," said Henrietta, who was assisting in -adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied. - -"Don't stop for me, my dear," said Mrs. Langford: "there, don't let me -be in your way." - -"O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much." - -"But, Henrietta," persisted the despotic Queen Bee, "we really ought to -be there." - -"What is all this about?" said grandmamma, not particularly well -pleased. "There, go, go, my dear; I don't want any more, thank you: -what are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?" - -"Yes, grandmamma," said Beatrice, "did you not hear that Mr. Franklin -asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time -in these short days." - -"Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I -never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very -different now!" - -Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed "Do make haste," and -then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, "I do not see why -young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better -than arraying themselves for balls and dances!" - -True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her -father or mother stand before her at that moment? - -"Ah, well! it is all very well," said grandmamma, shaking her head, as -she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, "you girls think yourselves -so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better -let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were -born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won't be fit to be -seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary -could consent, Henrietta looks very delicate." - -"O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed." - -"I am sure she is hoarse this morning," proceeded Mrs. Langford; "I -shall speak to her mamma." - -"O don't, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what -would Mr. Franklin do?" - -"O very well, I promise you, as he has done before," said Mrs. -Langford, hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter -darted upstairs to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a -prohibition could arrive. It was what Henrietta had too often assisted -Fred in doing to have many scruples, besides which she knew how grieved -her mamma would be to be obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her -safe out of reach; so she let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and -boas in a far less leisurely and discriminating manner than was usual -with her. - -"It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose," -said Beatrice, "to go down the back stairs." - -"True," said Henrietta, "we will even take the bull by the horns." - -"And trust to our heels," said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; -"the coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not -stop us if they can help it. One, two, three, and away!" - -Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green -walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, -and take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. -And after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have gone -openly and with clear consciences, had they but properly and -submissively waited the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey -Langford, who did not know how ill his daughter had been behaving, -would have been very sorry to interfere with the plan, and easily -reconciled his mother to it, in his own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed -her opposition had been entirely caused by Beatrice herself; she had -not once thought of objecting when it had been first mentioned the -evening before, and had not Beatrice not first fidgeted and then -argued, would only have regarded it as a pleasant way of occupying -their morning. - -"I could scold you, Miss Drone," said Beatrice when the two girls had -set themselves to rights, and recovered breath; "it was all the fault -of your dawdling." - -"Well, perhaps it was," said Henrietta, "but you know I could not see -grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her." - -"How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to -be helped?" - -"Then she was very kind to me," replied Henrietta. - -"I see how it will be," said Beatrice, smiling, "you will be -grandmamma's pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could -get her to let me help her in anything, she is so resolutely -independent." - -Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either -grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also -with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was -determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was -of course equally resolute. - -"She is an amazing person!" said Henrietta. "Is she eighty yet?" - -"Seventy-nine," said Beatrice; "and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say -I think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and -grandmothers, if there was one like Uncle Roger's fat cattle shows. -You know she thinks nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and -all over the village besides when there is anybody ill. But here is -the Sutton Leigh path. Let me see if those boys are to be trusted. -Yes, yes, that's right! Capital!" cried she in high glee; "here is -Birnam wood coming across the field." And springing on one of the bars -of the gate near the top, she flourished her handkerchief, chanting or -singing, - - - "Greet thee well, thou holly green, - Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, - With all thy glittering garlands bending, - As to greet my--quick descending:" - - -she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring -precipitately down to avoid a fall. "It made a capital conclusion, -however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen," as -four or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush-- -"Well, gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een." - -"With sair fingers, you mean," said Fred; "these bushes scratch like -half a dozen wild cats." - -"It is in too good a cause for me to pity you," said Beatrice. - -"Nor would I accept it if you would," said Fred. - -His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would -or not,--"How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? -Let me see, I have my penknife." - -"Stuff!" was Fred's gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. - -"But why did you not put on your gloves?" proceeded Henrietta. - -"Gloves, nonsense!" said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. - -"He will take up the gauntlet presently," said Beatrice. "By the by, -Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?" - -"O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield," said Alex. - -"Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them," said -Carey, "but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl's -things; I tell her then she can't be driven." - -Fred could not bear to hear of Carey's driving, a thing which he had -not yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, "You have -not told the news yet." - -"What news?" - -"The Euphrosyne is coming home," cried the boys with one voice. "Had -we not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here -any day!" - -"That is something like news," said Queen Bee; "I thought it would only -be that the puppies could see, or that Tom's tooth was through. -Grandpapa has not heard it?" - -"Papa is going up to tell him," said John. "I was going too, only Alex -bagged me to carry his holly-bush." - -"And so the great Rogero is coming home!" said Beatrice. "How you will -learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially -if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must -practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, -Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred's great love of -dancing." - -"I love dancing?" exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and -contempt. - -"Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was -proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for -the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!" - -"If it comes at all you must start me, Bee," said Alex, "for I am sure -I can't dance with any one but you." - -"Let me request it now," said Fred, "though why you should think I like -dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make -it endurable." - -"There are compliments to your Majesty," cried Henrietta, laughing; -"one will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find -it endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified." - -"Time will show," said Beatrice; "I shall ponder on their requests, and -decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against -hater of the dance." - -"I don't love it, I declare," exclaimed Fred. - -"I don't mind it, if you dance with me," said Alex. - -And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself -the object of attention to both. - -Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to -think applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal -appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have -thought herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of -attention, her delight in playing off her two cousins against each -other? Beauty, or the consciousness of beauty, has little to do with -it. Henrietta, if ever the matter occurred to her, could not help -knowing that she was uncommonly pretty, yet no one could be more free -from any tendency to this habit. Beatrice knew equally well that she -was plain, but that did not make the least difference; if any, it was -rather on the side of vanity, in being able without a handsome face, so -to attract and engross her cousins. It was amusing, gratifying, -flattering, to feel her power to play them off, and irritate the little -feelings of jealousy which she had detected; and thoughtless as to the -right or wrong, she pursued her course. - -On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had -brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they -had to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha's to fetch the key. -In a few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them -ready to fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed -a huge heap of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use. - -The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on -the top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but -she thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field -upon which she had to work began to alarm her imagination. - -Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations -with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the -aisle, and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring -that they could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice -made no objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she -justly observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping -Fred and Alex. - -"Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? -Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, -indeed, we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to -help us, and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing." - -Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following -him, rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young -ladies' work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his -assistance when she asked Fred's, and she felt secure of them both. - -"There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you -see if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no -use to make a festoon if we cannot fasten it." - -"I can't see anything." - -"Here, give me your hand, and I'll look." Up tripped the little Bee, -just holding by his hand. "Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great -rough nail sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make -a sailor's knot round it. Help me down first though--thank you. Fred, -will you trim that branch into something like shape. You see how I -mean. We must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend -with the screen. How tough this ivy is! Thank you--that's it. Well, -Mr. Franklin, I hope we shall get on in time." - -Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and -himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that -the Misses Langford would not tire themselves. - -Angels' work is Church decoration--work fit for angels, that is to say; -but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its -greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the -glory of God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the -palm-branches before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in -imagination a more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the -four young creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of -their Lord with those bright and glistening wreaths with which they -were adorning His sanctuary? - -Angels' work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon -earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful -reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was -that spirit of holy fear--that sole desire for His glory--the chief -thought with these young people? - -Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in -word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a -tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in -respect for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and -down ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the -little mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was -outwardly perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small -praise for four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone -together for so many hours. - -But still Beatrice's great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the -two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. -Wonderful power it was in reality, which kept them interested in -employment so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused -without irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a -power of which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing -to lessen the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting -apart on a hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram -and wreath which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten -by the other three--certainly neglected--but she did not feel it so; -she had rather be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen -Bee; and she liked to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her -employment brought to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey's conversation dwelt -upon her too; she began to realize his meaning, and she was especially -anxious to fulfil his desire, by entreating Fred to beware of -temptations to disobedience. Opportunities for private interviews -were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she had been looking -forward to having him all to herself here, when he must wish to visit -his father's grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that his first -attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first thought was -there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds to -anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the -present was full of tranquil enjoyment. - -If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at -all, or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have -been little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her. - -"Is it possible!" exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the -single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. "I -thought you would have given us at least eleven more." - -"What a quantity remains to be done!" sighed Henrietta, laying down the -wreath which she had just completed. "Your work looks beautiful, -Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?" - -"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain-- -that we can't go home to luncheon." - -"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will -she like it?" - -Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never -mind, it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off -now, and besides we might be caught and stopped." - -"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite -convinced. - -"So you mean to starve," said Alex. - -"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do -you say, Henrietta?" - -"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing." - -"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough -missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke. - -"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to -Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the -extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the -porch." - -"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I -thought she would soon come down to other mortals." - -"Only to gratify her famishing subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal -vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is -sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. -Geoffrey is coming." - -"For his private eating?" said Fred. - -"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the -village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the -children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little -Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. -But come, Alex, why are you not off?" - -"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest -openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him an -effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and -comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger -allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either -knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was -sufficiently awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his -poverty. - -"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his -purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here -is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty's service." - -"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to -loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen -quite so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, -locked up in my desk at home." - -"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta. - -"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, -"if it won't quite break you down." - -"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air. -"Come along, Alex." - -Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could -have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have -come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall -see them no more." - -"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure -Fred will behave better." - -"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a -gun is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them -again 'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I -want to look at your wreath." - -She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much -time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in -protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the -faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock -was heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown -paper parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round -frock, and a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other -than Dame Reid's grandson. - -"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?" - -"Ay." - -"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went. - -"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came -out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and -she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting -to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg -pardon, but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews's about his -terrier.--A. L." "Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but -still with a little pique. "What a life I will lead them!" - -"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does -not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; -but still I thought Fred would have behaved better." - -"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, -and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half -the phases of boy nature." - -Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she -expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for -that was nothing--that was only appearance, and her love was too -healthy and true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his -father's grave. He was now neglecting the church; and far from its -consoling her to hear that it was the way with all boys when they came -together, it gave her one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, -when they were all in all to each other at Rocksand. - -It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it -had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, -and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by -the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the -churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well -pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. -They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her -squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest -and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of -this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that -temper of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day. - -It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was -kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a -low, timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-- - - - "Hark! the herald angels sing - Glory to the new-born King, - Peace on earth, and mercy mild, - God and sinners reconciled." - - -Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their -tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with -delight and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another -and another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by -happier voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more -suitably beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed -away, till Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey -standing just within the door watching them. - -"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your -work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I -don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?" - -"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. -"Who else could?" - -"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving -about to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an -arrangement to suggest so much." - -Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time -perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the -altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves -and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in -the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and -around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, -the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their -peculiar stiff gracefulness. - -"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did -not mean to make it so!" - -"How?" he asked. - -"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of -thorns struck her more and more strongly. - -"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him -in a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not -for Good Friday?" - -"Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy." - -"Where are those verses that say--let me see-- - - - 'And still Thy Church's faith - Shall link, in all her prayer and praise, - Thy glory with Thy death.' - - -So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right." - -Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, -"It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art--or, what shall I -call it?--is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the -author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else." - -"There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of -the spirit in which a thing is done," said her father: "But have you -much more to do? Those columns look very well." - -"O, are you come to help us, papa?" - -"I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your -not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning -again just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you." - -Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, "Very -well, we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not -make her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?" - -It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows -that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was -promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste -and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin -came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had -grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of -evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the -spiral festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower -of holly over the font--all were more beautiful, both together and -singly, than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and -thanks. - -The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well- -satisfied survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking -forward to the pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it -to-morrow. As they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village -seemed vocal: children's voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened -by distance, were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with - - - "As shepherds watch'd their flocks by night." - - -And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little -voices was brought on the still frosty wind-- - - - "Glad tidings of great joy I bring - To you and all mankind." - -Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,--how -really Christmas-like--how well it suited the soft half-light, the last -pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn -stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines -and sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!-- -and how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta's eyes! - -The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, -with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary's beautiful -voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was -teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came -up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to -listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk -with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the -many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom -Mrs. Langford's plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey's sixpences, were a very -enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - -The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with -many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must -be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side -the whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no -longer hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of -the party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open -carriage by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself -with recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than -grandpapa. It was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, -leaning upon his arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, -making her even more lovely than when last she entered there--her face -in all its early bloom of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent -happiness. - -But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that "peace which passeth all -understanding;" and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her -eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and -she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go -through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged -their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency -rather than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and -wholesome channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church -seemed to her more full of her father's presence than of any other, so -now, throughout the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her -mother; and entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived -to work herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by -her mamma's own anxieties for Fred. - -Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they -all left the church together. What would she not have given to be able -to talk her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be -assured by them that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not -suffer from it. But though neither of them was indifferent or -unfeeling, there was not much likelihood of sympathy from them just at -present. Beatrice had always been sure that Aunt Mary would behave -like an angel; and when Fred saw that his mother looked tranquil, and -showed no symptoms of agitation, he dismissed anxiety from his mind, -and never even guessed at his sister's alarms. - -Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he -was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations -which had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, -replying to the scolding with which she visited their desertion. - -Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, -which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the -morning sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were -the compliments which the two young ladies received upon their -handiwork. The old women had "never seen nothing like it,"--the school -children whispered to each other, "How pretty!" Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. -Franklin admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were -delighted; grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had -expected; and Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it "was like magic." - -It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been -accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall -was so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in -time for evening service. After which, according to a practice of -which she had often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable -reminiscences, the Langford family almost always went in a body on a -progress to the farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows -milked. - -Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own -apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the -amusement of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where -a narrow path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle- -looking sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen. - -Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept him -estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for -execution. Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their -grandfather was wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping -them to feed the cows with turnips, and guarding them from going behind -their heels. Henrietta was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was -doing the honours for her, and instructing her in the difference -between a Guernsey cow and a short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he -had Queen Bee all to himself in a remote corner of the cow-house, -rubbing old spotted Nancy's curly brow, catching at her polished black- -tipped horn, and listening to his hopes and fears for the next half -year. Not so Frederick, as he stood at the door with Jessie Carey, -who, having no love for the cow-house, especially when in her best -silk, thought always ready to take care of the children there, was very -glad to secure a companion outside, especially one so handsome, so much -more polished than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply to her -small talk. Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how he -longed to be listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking -holly into the cows' halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the -hay-loft with Carey and William--anywhere, rather than be liable to the -imputation of being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house. - -This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but -still an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the -cowman, and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm- -yard, and the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own -abode, while Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, "Well, Fred, -I congratulate you on your politeness! How well you endured being -victimised!" - -"I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?" - -"Nay, you can't deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me -for finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay -so bad a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise." - -"How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I -was actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that -great print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy -roof, and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, -the haze of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns." - -"Quite poetical," said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. -"How charmed Jessie must have been!" - -"Why?" said Fred, rather provoked. - -"Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be -quite her phoenix; and how much 'Thomson's Seasons' you will have to -hear! I dare say you have had it already-- - - - 'Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!'" - - -"Well, very good advice, too," said Fred. - -"I hate and detest Thomson," said Beatrice; "above all, for travestying -Ruth into 'the lovely young Lavinia;' so whenever Jessie treated me to -any of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I -said, by great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an -imposition for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a -capital hit, for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much -of him, and since that time I have heard no more of 'Jemmy Thomson! -Jemmy Thomson! O!'" - -The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, -reaching Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with -his mother, made him suspect that the young people were getting into -such spirits as were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he -asked them some trifling question, which made him a party to the -conversation, and brought it back to a quieter, though not less merry -tone. - -Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee -had to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in -the dining-room--an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. -Franklin was dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander. - -Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the -whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to -her, as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, -but for the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular -music, it might as well have been any other day of the week. - -Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had -a long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, -and she helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her -questions about her mother's health and habits, and heard a good deal -that interested her, but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. -At Rocksand she used to sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the -darkening summer twilight, or the bright red light of the winter fire, -repeating or singing hymns, and enjoying the most delightful talks that -the whole week had to offer, and now she greatly missed the -conversation that would have "set this strange week to rights in her -head," as she said to herself. - -She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at -night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as -difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a -new day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by -Knight Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what -she asked herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the -change in her way of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was -only last Sunday that she had been sitting with her mother over their -fire at Rocksand. Enough had happened for a whole month. Her darling -project was fulfilled; the airy castle of former days had become a -substance, and she was inhabiting it: and was she really so very much -happier? There she went into a reverie--but musing is not meditating, -nor vague dreamings wholesome reflections; she went on sitting their, -chiefly for want of energy to move, till the fire burnt low, the clock -struck twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed in a sleepy voice, -"My dear, are you going to sleep there?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - -Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the -Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in -Knight's Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin -without loss of time. - -"You are coming, are you not, Bee?" said Alex, leaning over the back of -her chair. - -"O yes," said she, nearly whispering "only take care. It is taboo -there,"--and she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, "and -don't frighten Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey's doing -the deed as fast as he can." - -Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and -Fred was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, -hoping it might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take -care of himself since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the -alarmed expression had come over her face, as she asked Alexander -whether his father had looked at the ice. - -"No," said Alex, "but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, -and it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece." - -"He is pretty well to be trusted," said his grandfather, "more -especially as it would be difficult to get drowned there." - -"I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there," said -Alex. - -"The travelling man did," exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. - -"Don't they come in just like the Greek chorus?" said Beatrice, in a -whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend -to her. - -I thought he was drowned in the river," said Alex. - -"No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the -duckweed grows so rank in summer," said Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey laughed. "I am sorry to interfere with your romantic -embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since -you are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours." - -"I always thought it was there," said the boy. - -"And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off." - -"I always heard it was at Knight's Pool," repeated Carey. - -"I do not know what you may have heard," said Uncle Geoffrey; "but as -it happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better -not argue the point." - -"Grandpapa," persisted Carey, "was it not in Knight's Pool?" - -"Certainly not," was the answer drily given. - -"Well," continued Carey, "I am sure you might drown yourself there." - -"Rather than own yourself mistaken," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction," said grandmamma, rising and -rustling past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced -face. "Take your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, -and stand like a gentleman. Do!" - -"All in vain!" said Beatrice. "To the end of his life he will maintain -that Knight's Pool drowned the travelling man!" - -"Well, never mind," said John, impatiently, "are we coming to skate -this morning or are we not?" - -"I really wish," said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, "without -distrusting either old Knight's Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that -you would ask some one to look at it." - -"I should like just to run down and see the fun," said Uncle Geoffrey, -thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran -joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, -Beatrice to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked -her son Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable -shutting of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done -it, he readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all -else give way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, "I -shall be ready by the time the young ladies come down." - -So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and -Beatrice appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall -what the boys looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. -Knight Sutton, being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, -but a messenger came from Allonfield for the letters on every day -except Sunday, and returned again in the space of an hour. A very -inconvenient arrangement, as everyone had said for the last twenty -years, and might probably say for twenty years more. - -As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., and -Fred's face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written -business-like sheets. - -"Fred, my poor fellow," said his uncle, looking up, "I am sorry for -you, but one or two must be answered by this day's post. I will not be -longer than I can help." - -"Then do let us come on," exclaimed the chorus. - -"Come, Queenie," added Alex. - -She delayed, however, saying, "Can I do any good, papa?" - -"Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save -time if you could just copy a letter." - -"O thank you, pray let me," said Beatrice, delighted. "Go on, -Henrietta, I shall soon come." - -Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her -brother, which she did not like to lose. - -Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in -the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, "Freddy, I believe you think -me very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the -ice till one of your uncles has said it is safe." - -"Uncle Roger trusts Alex," said Fred. - -"Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of you -together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be -dangerous places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear," added -she, as the others were preparing to start, "only I beg you will not -attempt to skate till your uncle comes." - -"Very well," said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he -showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not -to set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had -resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest -days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place -on his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been -voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in -vain with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should -bring the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself -for the entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of -disobedience. - -In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red -leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move, -apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, -like the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was -in fact the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat -opposite to him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely -happy, for to the credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that -no talk with Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, -no, not even a flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in -her estimation to the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though -it was copying a dry legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the -smooth hard ice, in the bright winter morning's sunshine. - -The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty -or five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice -looked up, and without speaking, held up her sheet. - -"Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now -then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel -for him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:" and -muttering a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer's -indefatigable pen; and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding -off with her droll, tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited -so well with her little alert figure, and her dress, a small plain -black velvet bonnet, a tight black velvet "jacket," as she called it, -and a brown silk dress, with narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in -joke, because it was the colour of a bee), not a bit of superfluous -shawl, boa, or ribbon about her, but all close and compact, fit for the -diversion which she was eager to enjoy. The only girl among so many -boys, she had learnt to share in many of their sports, and one of the -prime favourites was skating, a diversion which owes as much of its -charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to the degree of -skill which it requires. - -She arrived at the stile leading to "Knight's Portion," as it was -called, and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed -if it was all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather -corner of a down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which -defied all the attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a -sort of precipice, where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather -extensive old chalk pit formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of -the ditch at the foot of a hedge. On the glassy surface already marked -by many a sharply traced circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were -careering, the younger ones with those extraordinary bends, twists, and -contortions to which the unskilful are driven in order to preserve -their balance. Frederick and Henrietta stood on the brink, neither of -them looking particularly cheerful; but both turned gladly at the sight -of the Busy Bee, and came to meet her with eager inquiries for her -papa. - -She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had -from the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and -who hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been -entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half- -hour, and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden -pleasure, or to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was -wishing for was impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the -others, and exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals -lamenting his own hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, -which had occasioned the delay, and magnifying the loss of his -pleasure, perhaps in a sort of secret hope that the temptation would so -far increase as to form in his eyes an excuse for yielding to it. -Seldom had he shown himself so unamiable towards her, and with great -relief and satisfaction she beheld her cousin descending the steep -slippery path from the height above, and while the cloud began to -lighten on his brow, she thought to herself, "It will be all right now, -he is always happy with Busy Bee!" - -So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once -to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement -for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as -skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment's reflection -might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be -rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from -which he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to -reckon against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to -hear of anything so "boyish," and had long ago entreated her to be more -like a young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her -papa and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander's -summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the -surface of the Knight's Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity -with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, -sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. -At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own security to -bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an -hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the -pitch where consideration is lost, she "could not help," in her own -phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred. - -"How woebegone he looks!" said she, as she whisked past, "but never -mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other." - -"It must be gone," said Fred. "I am sure we have been here above an -hour!" - -"Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her -ducklings to the water!" observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in -the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted-- - - - "Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, - Pray, is that any reason why I should be drowned?" - - -It was a great aggravation of Fred's calamities to be obliged to laugh, -nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from -the house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. - -"What news of Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"I did not see him," said Jessie: "I think he was in the study, Uncle -Roger went to him there." - -"No hope then!" muttered the unfortunate Fred. - -"Can't you skate, Fred?" asked little Arthur with a certain most -provoking face of wonder and curiosity. - -"Presently," said Fred. - -"He must not," cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, -though it was only rude. - -"Must not?" and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller -than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what -they pleased. - -"His mamma won't let him," was Dick's polite answer. Fred could have -knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place -he was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in -the third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper -enough left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling -with him, so contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that -he had him as his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her -what she thought of the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, -&c., &c. - -Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar -frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue -much longer. - -"How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the -hedge!" said Henrietta; "and look, these pieces of chalk are almost -cased in glass." - -"O I do love such a sight!" said Jessie. "Here is a beautiful bit of -stick crusted over." - -"It is a perfect little Giant's Causeway," said Henrietta; "do look at -these lovely little columns, Fred." - -"Ah!" said Jessie, "Myriads of little salts, or hook'd or shaped like -double wedges.--" - -She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she -came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, -looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered--"O -Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!" - -It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should -be making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey's side, -was more than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle -Geoffrey was not coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and -obedience gave way, and he exclaimed, "Well, I shan't wait any longer, -it is not of the least use." - -"O, Fred, consider!" said his sister. - -"That's right, Freddy," shouted Carey, "he'll not come now, I'll answer -for it." - -"You know he promised he would," pleaded Henrietta. - -"Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of -the sea," said Fred, "the post has been gone this half-hour, and I -shall not wait any longer." - -"Think of mamma." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?" exclaimed Fred -impatiently, "do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that -bears them must needs break with me?" - -"I do not suppose there is any danger," said Henrietta, "but for the -sake of poor mamma's entreaties!" - -"Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of -my life?" said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to -silence his sister and his conscience. "I have submitted to such -absurd nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a -fool of in the sight of everybody; so here goes!" - -And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of -the pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta -turned away her eyes full of tears. - -"Never mind, Henrietta," shouted the good-natured Alexander, "I'll -engage to fish him out if he goes in." - -"It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex," returned Fred, slightly -affronted. - -"Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case," said the -naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in -the consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation -irresistible, then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of -compunction, "Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what -exemplary patience he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past -fear." - -Whether Alex smiled at the words "past fear," or whether Fred only -thought he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, "I only -wish there was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate -over, Alex." - -"Well, there is one," said Alex, laughing, "where Carey drowns the -travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, -so you may try--" - -"Don't, Fred--I beg you won't!" cried Beatrice. - -"O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!" implored -Henrietta. - -"I shan't look, I can't bear it!" exclaimed Jessie, turning away. - -Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and -across the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In -the middle of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated -his achievement, a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two -uncles stood before them. The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to -take a short run, and slide right across the middle of the pond, while -Uncle Roger stood by laughing and saying, "Well done, Geoffrey, you are -not quite so heavy as I am." - -Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by -the arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice that -had all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released from -school, "I hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is -franked! Where's Fred?" - -Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen -Bee's complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander -who had spirit to answer, "We thought you were not coming at all." - -"Indeed!" said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, "Why, Alex, -Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises," a truth to which every -one gave a mental assent. - -Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle -Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of -their merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in -all the other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely -enjoy more than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved -at her brother's conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of -her uncle, wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her -mind to do so, for fear of her mamma's asking about Fred; and whilst -she was still doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, -reminding her of the saint's day service, one of the delights of Knight -Sutton to which she had so long looked forward. Yet here was another -disappointment. The uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to -go. Jessie said she must take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. -The boys could do as they pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey's -hand was going with him, but the rest continued their sport, and among -them was Fred. He had never disobeyed a Church bell before, and had -rather not have done so now, but as he saw none of his male companions -setting off, he fancied that to attend a week-day service in the -holidays might be reckoned a girlish proceeding, imagined his cousins -laughing at him as soon as his back was turned, and guessed from Uncle -Geoffrey's grave looks that he might be taken to task when no longer -protected by the presence of the rest. - -He therefore replied with a gruff short "No" to his sister's anxious -question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other -end of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised -and vexed at finding himself mistaken after all--at least so far as -regarded Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last -moment, and now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran -at full speed after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they -reached the village. - -Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of -footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to -Church grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in -general look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present -case there were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to -plead to Uncle Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity -towards her poor Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how much -he had been teased. This, however, she could not tell him without -complaining of his daughter, and in fact it was an additional pain that -Queen Bee should have used all her powerful influence in the wrong -direction. - -It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in -such circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put -her arm into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that -could sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, "My -poor Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all -this time, but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of -anything happening." - -"O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded -him." - -"I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for -persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, -and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you -would not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he -would go into the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of -bravado? I could have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all -safe, and no harm done." - -"There is your papa displeased with him." - -"O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and -beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred--I should like to -make a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you -ever act a charade, Henrietta?" - -"Never; I scarcely know what it is." - -"O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not -told you of fool-hardy, for now we can't have that, but this evening, -O, this evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze -you! Alex! Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this -instant." - -Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and -was presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently -persuading him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta -was not sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. -All her thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church -before all her mother's fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother -had recovered her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands -of his Heavenly Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of -many a moral tale, was tormenting herself with the expectation of -retribution, and dwelling on a fancied figure of her brother lifted -senseless out of the water, with closed eyes and dripping hair. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - -With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little -thing, and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as -she returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, -"Papa, you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much -plagued, and he only had just begun when you came." - -"The other boys had been teasing him?" - -"Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go -on the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it -was my fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was -only worthy of Dick himself, but at poor Fred's own disconsolate -looks." - -"Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?" - -"Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know -how easily I am run away with by high spirits." - -"And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no -right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless." - -"I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but there -are many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are -irresistible, or seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I -know I was to blame, only you must not be angry with Fred, for it -really did seem rather unreasonable to keep him there parading about -with Henrietta and Jessie, when the ice was quite safe for everybody -else." - -"I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way -to the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall -not show any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious -position for a boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than -these restraints." - -"And cannot you--" said Beatrice, stopping short. - -"Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she -thinks right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that -very reason I will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred -that his amusement should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to -his amusement." - -"Yet surely this cannot go on for life," said Beatrice, as if she was -half afraid to hazard the remark. - -"Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and -gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do -not set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who -can plead the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; -you know the greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful -responsibility incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to -lead him astray for the sake of--of vanity--of amusement." - -Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to -Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, and -she answered earnestly, "I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of -saying clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for -I could have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is -vanity, and I will try to subdue it." - -Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and -would blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed -reproof by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was -self-deception, for it was not as if it was herself whom she was -analysing, but rather as if it was some character in a book; indeed, -she would have described herself almost exactly as she is here -described, except that her delineation would have been much more clever -and more exact. She would not have spared herself--for this reason, -that her own character was more a study to her than a reality, her -faults rather circumstances than sins; it was her mind, rather than her -soul, that reflected and made resolutions, or more correctly, what -would have been resolutions, if they had possessed any real -earnestness, and not been done, as it were, mechanically, because they -became the occasion. - -The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and -she ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following -course: "I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and -wrong, and all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll -to see how provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and -after all, I don't think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, -only it flatters his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain -as girls, not Alex though, good downright fellow, who would do anything -for me, and I have put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital -thought those charades are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, -on superior ground, and there will be none of these foolish questions -who can be most manly mad. Fred is really a fine spirited fellow -though, and I thought papa could not find it in his heart to be angry -with him. How capitally he will act, and how lovely Henrietta will -look! I must make them take to the charades, it will be so very -delightful, and keep Fred quite out of mischief, which will set Aunt -Mary at ease. And how amused grandpapa will be! What shall it be to- -night? What Alex can manage to act tolerably. Ce n'est que le premier -pas qui conte, and the premier pas must be with our best foot foremost. -I give myself credit for the thought; it will make all smooth." - -These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more -rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her -swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was -standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, -which with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. "Don't -look dismal, Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not -mind it. Cheer up, you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun -for you this evening." - -Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to -receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought -him excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all -the wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all -fear of Uncle Geoffrey's eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, -and he entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle -was vexed to see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her -entreaty had not been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, -for she liked better to trust than to ask questions, and he, like far -too many boys, did not think concealment blameable where there was no -actual falsehood. - -All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of -wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, -and was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into -different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some -extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, -and with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him -the loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant's uniform; then she darted into the -drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger's voice, and conjured him not to -forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, "Willy -must wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger's dirk, and above all, -beg, borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger's fishing boots." Her next descent -was upon Aunt Mary, in her own room: "Aunt, would you do me a great -favour, and ask no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the -three little marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday -evening. Only for this one evening, and I'll take great care." - -"I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like -myself in such finery," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as -Beatrice took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had -the discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft -of its plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in -the secret of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the -work-room, which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, -and Judith, gratified by a visit from "Miss Bee," dived for her sake -into boxes and drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have -dared to rummage. - -All this might ultimately be for Henrietta's entertainment, but at -present it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own -resources in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a -little, listened to a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, -about the new pig-sty, wrote it down in her list when they went into -the study to ask Uncle Geoffrey's advice, tried to talk over things in -general with her mamma, but found it impossible with grandmamma -continually coming in and out of the room, yawned, wondered what Busy -Bee was about, felt deserted, gave up work, and had just found an -entertaining book, when grandmamma came in, and invited her to visit -the poultry yard. She readily accepted, but for want of Queen Bee to -hurry her, kept her grandmamma waiting longer than she liked, and had -more of a scolding than was agreeable. The chickens were all gone to -roost by the time they arrived, the cock just peering down at them with -his coral-bordered eye, and the ducks waddling stealthily in one by -one, the feeding was over, the hen-wife gone, and Mrs. Langford vexed -at being too late. - -Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but -she had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, -they met Mr. Langford, who called out, "So you have been walking with -grandmamma! Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn -with grandpapa. I am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my -'merry Christmas' will be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take -you with me." - -Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be -refused, and she was at her grandpapa's side in an instant, thanking -him so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. "I wish we -had Fred here too," said he, as they walked on, "the old man will be -very glad to see you." - -"Was he one of mamma's many admirers in the village?" - -"All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was old -Daniels' chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for -carpentry, especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he -was at work at the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have -held up his head again when our great trouble came on us. He used to -touch his hat, and turn away without looking me in the face. And there -you may see stuck up over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new -chisel that your father gave him when he had broken his old one." - -"Dear old man!" said Henrietta, warmly, "I am so very glad that we have -come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, -and not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were -come out of banishment." - -"Well, it is all the better for you," said Mr. Langford; "if we had had -you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few -granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is -that little Busy Bee--by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are -not you in her secret?" - -"O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I -came out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she -would not let me." - -"She turns us all round her finger," said grandpapa. "I never found -the person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am -glad you do not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is -enough, and it is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than -leading." - -"O, grandpapa!" - -"That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it." - -"Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, -grandpapa." - -"Look here!" and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he -disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. -"Is this weak?" - -"No, it is strong in energy," said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic -cane sprang back to its former shape. - -"Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, -that should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and -let your own determination be only to keep upright." - -"But women are admired for influence." - -"Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it -is unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, -take care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own -personal wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially -for young ladies towards their elders." - -Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice, -grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea -how applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at -the moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon -her. It brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the -thatched workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have -looked neat but for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages. - -This was Henrietta's first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness and -interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as fine- -looking as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages -always are in books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. -It was a very nice trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on -Mr. Langford's knock, and the room was neatness itself, but the old -carpenter was not at all what she had imagined. He was a little -stooping old man, with a shaking head, and weak red eyes under a green -shade, and did not seem to have anything to say beyond "Yes, sir," and -"Thank you, sir," when Mr. Langford shouted into his deaf ears some of -the "compliments of the season." Looking at the young lady, whom he -evidently mistook for Beatrice, he hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey -were quite well. His face lighted up a little for a moment when Mr. -Langford told him this was Mr. Frederick's daughter, but it was only -for an instant, and in a somewhat querulous voice he asked if there was -not a young gentleman too. - -"O yes," said Mr. Langford, "he shall come and see you some day." - -"He would not care to see a poor old man," said Daniels, turning a -little away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by -saying, "He is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting -tired going to church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he -has been so fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do -with him." - -Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then -asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in -the workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak -to him, leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary -waiting time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class -with whom she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself -agreeable, but completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk -to the old man, and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation -quite impossible except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with her-- -she tried to recollect what storied young ladies did say to old men, -but nothing she could think of would do, or was what she could find -herself capable of saying. At last she remembered, in "Gertrude," the -old nurse's complaint that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, -and she hazarded her voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did -not suffer from it. Clear as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous -(for she was really in a fright of embarrassment) to reach the old -man's ear, and his daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the -inquiry in a shrill sharp scream, that almost went through her ears; -then while the old man was answering something in a muttering -maundering way, she proceeded with a reply, and told a long story about -his ways with the doctor, in her Sussex dialect, almost -incomprehensible to Henrietta. The conversation dropped, until Mrs. -Daniels began hoping that every one at the Hall was quite well, and as -she inquired after them one by one, this took up a reasonable time; but -then again followed a silence. Mrs. Daniels was not a native of -Knight Sutton, or she would have had more to say about Henrietta's -mother; but she had never seen her before, and had none of that -interest in her that half the parish felt. Henrietta wished there had -been a baby to notice, but she saw no trace in the room of the -existence of children, and did not like to ask if there were any. She -looked at the open hearth, and said it was very comfortable, and was -told in return that it made a great draught, and smoked very much. -Then she bethought herself of admiring an elaborately worked frame -sampler, that hung against the wall; and the conversation this supplied -lasted her till, to her great joy, grandpapa made his appearance again, -and summoned her to return, as it was already growing very dark. - -She thought he might have made something of an apology for the -disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting -that she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that -cottage visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an -occupation, when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking -about her mother's health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed -with her, saying how very glad he was to have her there again, and how -like his own daughter she had always been. He went on to tell of his -first sight of his two daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that -they would be such, he went to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who -had come from India under the care of General St. Leger. "There they -were," said he; "I can almost see them now, as their black nurse led -them in; your aunt a brown little sturdy thing, ready to make -acquaintance in a moment, and your mamma such a fair, shrinking, -fragile morsel of a child, that I felt quite ashamed to take her among -all my great scrambling boys." - -"Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she -recollects the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a -carriage; but she cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey -or the coming here." - -"I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed -that in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys -receiving her,--Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,--for Roger was at school. -How they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her -like a little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would -be too rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of -glass. And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her -service!" - -"That was when she was six," said Henrietta, "and papa must have been -ten." - -"Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! -and come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I -was almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and -forgotten." - -"And were they?" - -"No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she -did not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they -knight and giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many's the -time I have laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never -lived creature more without will of her own." - -"Never," responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford might -commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so -appropriate a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by -her own daughter. - -"Eh!" said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in -another tone, "Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more -on you than on any one else." - -"I would do anything on earth for her!" said Henrietta, feeling it from -the bottom of her heart. - -"I am sure you would, my dear," said Mr. Langford, "and she deserves -it. There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. -To think of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her -now! Well, it won't do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her -face yesterday, that I could see, as well as believe, it was all for -the best for her, as I am sure it was for us." - -He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his -eldest son calling "Out late, sir," and looking round, Henrietta saw -what looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt -Roger, and their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, -coming to the Hall for the regular Christmas dinner-party. - -Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her -inquiries whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in -an absent manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her -grandfather had been saying. She was calling up in imagination the -bright scenes of her mother's youth; those delightful games of which -she had often heard, and which she could place in their appropriate -setting now that she knew the scenes. She ran up to her room, where -she found only Bennet, her mother having dressed and gone down; and -sitting down before the fire, and resigning her curls to her maid, she -let herself dwell on the ideas the conversation had called up, turning -from the bright to the darker side. She pictured to herself the -church, the open grave, her uncles and her grandfather round it, the -villagers taking part in their grief, the old carpenter's averted head- --she thought what must have been the agony of the moment, of laying in -his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on whom the world was just -opening so brightly,--and the young wife--the infant children--how -fearful it must have been! "It was almost a cruel dispensation," -thought Henrietta. "O, how happy and bright we might have been! What -would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his kiss, to look -for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her joyousness and -blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it not so? -And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner he -did say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it! -To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma, -grandpapa--no, I never shall understand it. They were good before; why -did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying 'Thy will be -done?' Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!" - -"Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta," said -Bennet; "it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has -been telling me that I must get you ready faster." - -Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink -again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, "I can't, -Bennet, it breaks my neck." Her will was not with her mother's, in a -trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve -itself to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her -Heavenly Parent, in what is above reason? - -The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed in -to dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having -already been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again -abandoned to Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, -partly because he was thinking with perturbation of the task set him -for the evening, and partly because he was trying to hear what Queen -Bee was saying to Fred, in the midst of the clatter of knives and -forks, and the loud voice of Mr. Roger Langford, which was enough to -drown most other sounds. Some inquiries had been made about Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford and her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, which had led -Beatrice into a great lamentation for her mother's absence, and from -thence into a description of what Lady Susan exacted from her friends. -"Aunt Susan is a regular fidget," said she; "not such a fidget as some -people," with an indication of Mrs. Langford. "Some people are -determined to make others comfortable in a way of their own, and that -is a fidget to be regarded with considerable respect; but Aunt Susan's -fidgeting takes the turn of sacrificing the comfort of every one else -to her own and her little dog's." - -"But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey," said Fred. - -"Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on -mamma's coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her -sister and brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when -she may be taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous -state that Mr. Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence," said -Beatrice, in an imitative tone, which made Fred laugh. - -"I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself," said he. - -"So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by her -querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or -unselfishness either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was -kind to her when she came home from India, and she manages to keep her -quiet better than anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma's -cheerful voice, which drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot -think how funny it is to see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the -cat the wrong way, and mamma to smooth her down the right." - -A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. -Langford said, "What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?" - -"O you are telling it all--O don't, Bee!" cried Willy. - -And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to -discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all--it -was the partridges--the conversation drifted away again from the -younger party. - -As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging -her grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at -present stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where -there was a door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent -rustlings were heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or -whispering, and a sound of moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. -Langford, that, starting up, she exclaimed that she must go and see -what they were doing. - -"We are taking great care, grandmamma," called Alexander. "We won't -hurt it." - -This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far -from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage -of discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced -that all was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed. - -She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her--the latter, in a -marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all -himself, and yet in great terror lest the others should tell. - -As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and -presently there was a call from behind the screen, "Are you ready, good -people?" - -"Go it," answered Carey. - -"Are the elders ready?" said Beatrice's voice. - -"Papa, don't go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!" cried Willy. - -"Ay, ay, all attention," said grandpapa. "Now for it!" - -The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, -ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a -tiara and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them a -nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, -adorned with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the -form of ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. As -Uncle Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it -proceeded in due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and -present them to the king and princess in the name of the Marquis -Carabbas. - -The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis -might be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king -cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, -until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, -"I've told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won't believe me, I -can't help it!" and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and -resentful a manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the -drawing-room to have his accoutrements admired, while the screen was -again spread in preparation for Scene II. - -Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so -as to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled -close to the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, -a quart measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on -his head, and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, -reclined Alex, his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an -old, long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had -with some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little -figure in a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox's -brush, and with Mrs. Frederick Langford's three feathers, and a coat -bearing marvellous resemblance to Beatrice's own black velvet spencer, -crossed over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew -full well. "Do thou stand for my father," began this droll little -shape, "and examine me in the particulars of my life." - -It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, -acted beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes -were often directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, -obtained not only a view of Prince Hal's pink petticoat, but of a great -Shakespeare laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of -the heir apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was -strongly suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It -was with great spirit that the parting appeal was given, "Banish fat -Jack, and banish all the world!" And there was great applause when fat -Jack and Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; though -Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain -historical and antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was -likely to wear the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his -haunts at Eastcheap. - -In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant's uniform made a great -figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white -scarf, and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack -under his arm, looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a -very low bow, which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a -Scottish bonnet, also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and -the blue ribbon. Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of -Bradwardine stood confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the -shoe pulled off, or supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained -to cut off the view; and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and -stretch, while Prince Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, -danced round Mr. Langford, asking if he had guessed it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - -Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an -amusement likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success -of her boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness -to imitate it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in -the way of scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were -to dine at the Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there -should be a grand charade, with all the splendour that due preparation -could bestow upon it. "It was such an amusement to grandpapa," as -Beatrice told Henrietta, "and it occupied Fred so nicely," as she said -to her father; both which observations being perfectly true, Mr. -Geoffrey Langford was very willing to promote the sport, and to -tranquillise his mother respecting the disarrangement of her furniture. - -But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their own- --some for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, -others for Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already -grouped her dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta's picturesque -face and figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making -her and Fred represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, -she had always believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for -"another touch at Prince Hal," and devised numerous ways of acting -Anonymous, for the sake of "Anon, anon, sir." Henrietta wanted to -contrive something in which Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy -bee, and had very pretty visions of making her a beneficent spirit in a -little fanciful opera, for which she had written three or four verses, -when Fred put an end to it be pronouncing it "nonsense and humbug." - -So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was -beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday -morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some -chance a wig of her papa's was in the house, and a charade they must -and would have which would bring in the wig. "Come and see it," said -she, drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study -being the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. -"There now, is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is -certain!" - -Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister's wig -before, were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in -turn. While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of -her own fair ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door -suddenly opened, and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, -"What! nothing safe from you, you impertinent kittens?" - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!" cried Henrietta, blushing -crimson. - -"Don't take it off till I have looked at you," said Uncle Geoffrey. -"Why, you would make a capital Portia!" - -"Yes, yes!" cried Queen Bee, "that is it: Portia she shall be, and I'll -be Nerissa." - -"Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!" said Henrietta: "I am sure -I can't." - -"But I have set my heart on being the 'little scrubby lawyer's clerk,'" -said Busy Bee; "it is what I am just fit for; and let me see--Fred -shall be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, -and you shall have Alex for your Bassanio." - -"But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and -Catherine Seyton?" said Henrietta. - -"Let me see," said Beatrice; "bond--bondage, jew--jeweller, juniper,--" - -"Lawsuit," said Fred. "Ay, don't you see, all the scenes would come -out of the 'Merchant of Venice.' There is 'law' when the old Jew is -crying out for his ducats, and--but halloo!" and Fred stood aghast at -the sight of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their -eagerness. - -"Traitor!" said Beatrice; "but never mind, I believe we must have let -him into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock." - -"O, Bee," whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, "don't tease him with our -nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock's part, when he has all -that pile of papers on the table." - - - "Jessica, my girl, - Look to my house. I am right loth to go; - There is some ill a-brewing to my rest, - For I did dream of money-bags to-night." - - -Such was Uncle Geoffrey's reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered -to the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first -started, and then clapped their hands in delighted admiration. - -"Do you really know it all?" asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful -awe. - -"It won't cost me much trouble to get it up," said Mr. Geoffrey -Langford; "Shylock's growls stick in one's memory better than finer -speeches." - -"Then will you really be so very kind?" - -"Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table this -morning," said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a -certain degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as -if it was entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that -he did actually enjoy it. - -The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the -only place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex -could not be taken to the maids' workroom, and none of the downstairs -apartments could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their -preparations. Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing -Uncle Geoffrey, but his daughter laughed at them all; and they were -soon at an end when she perceived that he minded their chattering, -spouting, and laughing, no more than if they had been so many little -sparrows twittering on the eaves, but pursued the even tenor of his -writing uninterruptedly, even while she fitted on his head a yellow -pointed cap, which her ingenious fingers had compounded of the lining -of certain ugly old curtains. - -His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs. -Langford's periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she -would assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have come -to a collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole -scheme. - -It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta's list of his -avocations, and really by making the utmost of everything he did for -other people during that whole week, she made the number reach even to -seventy-nine by the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these -employments were the looking over a new Act of Parliament with the -county member, the curing grandmamma's old gander of a mysterious -lameness, the managing of an emigration of a whole family to New -Zealand, the guessing a riddle supposed "to have no answer," and the -mending of some extraordinary spring that was broken in Uncle Roger's -new drill. Beatrice was charmed with the list; Aunt Mary said it was -delightful to be so precious to every one; and grandpapa, shaking his -head at his son, said he was ashamed to find that his family contained -such a Jack of all trades; to which Uncle Geoffrey replied, that it was -too true that "all work and no play make Jack a very dull boy." - -The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and -rain, was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away all -temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and -Antonio and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey was -heard to observe that it might just as well be half year. They had -besides their own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of -Arragon and Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of -Nerissa as possible, had determined to put their choice, and that of -Bassanio, all into the one scene belonging to "suit." It was one of -those occasions on which she showed little consideration, for she thus -gave Portia an immense quantity to learn in only two days; persuading -herself all the time that it was no such hard task, since the beautiful -speech about mercy Henrietta already knew by heart, and she made no -difficulties about the rest. Indeed, Beatrice thought herself -excessively amiable in doing all she could to show off her cousin's -beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part herself; forgetting -that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in taking willingly -that which is assigned us. - -Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well -as at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil -the pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good -earnest to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in -her hand; she learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up -late, resisting many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long -before daylight, was up and learning again. - -The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged: -grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger -that it would be over now and out of the children's heads, for they -turned the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very -like play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, -took out one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be -always making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair -for want of his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front -for Aunt Mary, and sat down by her, declaring that they would see -something very pretty, and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for -his old wits to crack; Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be -persuaded to be magnificos, found themselves a convenient station, and -the scene opened. - -It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to -Shylock's excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed -chasing him across the stage, crying, "The law, his ducats, and his -daughter!" - -Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her -hair, almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed -expression in her glowing face was little accordant with the calm -dignified self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a -handkerchief folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet -lambswool worked into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with -bright ribbon, made a complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, -pert reply to her lady's first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to -restore Portia to herself, and they got on well and with spirit through -the description of the suitors, and the choice of the two first -caskets. Portia looked excessively dignified, and Nerissa's by-play -was capital. Whether it was owing to Bassanio's awkwardness or her own -shyness, she did not prosper quite so well when the leaden casket was -chosen; Bassanio seemed more afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked -much more at Nerissa than at her, whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke -in as cold and measured a way, as if it had been the Prince of Morocco -who had unfortunately hit upon the right casket. - -In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be -wished. She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the -glowing carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath -which a few bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand -raised, and the other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the -Jew, as if she either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in -Antonio's case, for they glistened with tears, and her voice had a -tremulous pleading tone, which fairly made her grandfather and mother -both cry heartily. - - - "Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!" - - -The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by -Bassanio from crying "No, he shan't!" Nerissa was so absorbed as even -to have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up -to the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and -Dick were hanging with breathless attention on the "but," when suddenly -there was a general start throughout the party; the door opened; -Atkins, with a voice and face full of delight, announced "Master -Roger," and there entered a young man, in a pea jacket and worsted -comforter. - -Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and -handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from -another, the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. -Roger Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger -Langford fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick -tugging at his arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, -saying, "What, Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their -acting!" - -"Ah! Miss Jessie," exclaimed Roger; "that is right: I have not seen -such a crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not -lost your pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?" - -"Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary," said his mother; and instantly there was -a subduing of the young sailor's boisterous mirth, as he turned to -answer her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the -appearance of the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio's -short black cloak and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his -burnt cork eyebrows and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not -know him; Uncle Geoffrey still in Shylock's yellow cap, and Fred -somewhat grim with the Prince of Morocco's complexion. - -"How d'ye do, Phil?" said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the -hand with interest. "What! are not you Philip Carey?" - -"O, Roger, Roger!" cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden -predominated. - -"What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d'ye do, aunt?" - -"Well done, Roger! That's right! Go on!" cried his father, laughing -heartily. - -"Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are -grown as like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That -is a bore. I thought you would have all been in port here at -Christmas. And is not this Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead -of laughing there. Are you Fred Langford, then?" - -"Right this time," said Fred, "so now you must shake hands with me in -my own name." - -"Very glad to do so, and see you here at last," said Roger, cordially. -"And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were -crossing the Line?" - -"You shall hear what it is all about, and see too," said Mr. Langford. -"We must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? -But where is my little Portia? What is become of her?" - -"Fled, I suspect," said her mother, "gone to turn into herself before -her introduction." - -"O, Roger, it was so jolly," Carey was now heard to say above the -confusion of voices. "Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a -pound of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a -lawyer's wig, and had just found such a dodge!" - -"Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore -there, and--" - -"Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?" - -"Have you dined?" - -"Cold turkey--excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper--a cup of -tea--no, but we will have the beef in--" - -Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the -answers and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa -exclaimed, "Ah! here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new -cousin for you, Roger; here is the advocate for you when you have a -tough law-suit! Lucky for you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, -or your nose would soon be put out of joint. You little rogue! How -dared you make your mother and grandfather cry their hearts out?" - -"I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir," said Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you -know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying." - -"Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But -to see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking -savage with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of -actors, all of you, and we must see the end of it." - -This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with -Henrietta for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates -decreed otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to -carve it, and soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to -his eldest grandson about his travels. A sailor just returned from -four years on the South American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot -condors on the Andes, caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks -in the Atlantic, and heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, -could not fail to be very entertaining, even though he cared not for -the Incas of Peru, and could tell little about the beauties of an -iceberg; and accordingly everyone was greatly entertained, except the -Queen Bee, who sat in a corner of the sofa, playing with her watch- -chain, wondering how long Roger would go on eating pie, looking at the -time-piece, and strangling the yawns induced by her inability to -attract the notice of either of her squires, whose eyes and ears were -all for the newcomer. She was not even missed; if she had been, it -would have been some consolation; but on they went, listening and -laughing, as if the course of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and -the adventures of her crew, were the only subjects of interest in the -world. He was only at home for a week, but so much the worse, that -would be till the end of Beatrice's own visit, and she supposed it -would be nothing but Euphrosyne the whole time. - -There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask -about his cousins and all the neighbours. - -"And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get -any practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke -to be doctored by Master Philip!" - -"Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip," said -Jessie. "I assure you," nodding to Fred, "I take it as a great -compliment, and so will Philip." - -"And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?" - -"Oh! grown quite fat and coarse," said Jessie; "but you may judge for -yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a -regular Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. -And we are to dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the -county; the floor is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield -assembly-room." - -"No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate," said Roger. -"This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I -took the prettiest girl there in to supper--don't be jealous, Jessie, -she had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the -next ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather -a thick sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she -found? A great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever -saw." - -"O, you horrid creature!" cried Jessie, "I am sure it was your doing. -I am sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or -some dreadful creature! I won't let you take me in to supper on -Monday, I declare." - -"Perhaps I won't have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my -partner, if she will have me." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger," faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with -the doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie -might be vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, -looking at her more fully than he had done before, went on, "Much -honoured, cousin. Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the -prettiest girl in the room for my partner. But how slow of them all -not to have engaged her before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for -yourself?" - -"I hope for Queen Bee," said Alex. - -"And Jessie must dance with me, because I don't know how," said Carey. - -"My dears, this will never do!" interposed grandmamma. "You can't all -dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never -heard of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with -little Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson." - -"No, no," cried Roger, "I won't give up my partner, ma'am; I am a -privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much -of Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin -Henrietta, stick fast to your engagement; you can't break the first -promise you ever made me. Here," proceeded he, jumping up, and holding -out his hand, "let us begin this minute; I'll show you how we waltz -with the Brazilian ladies." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz," said Henrietta. - -"That's a pity. Come, Jessie, then." - -If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something -which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie -answered her cousin's summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance -at his evident preference of Henrietta's newer face. - -"If I can't waltz, I can play for you," said Henrietta, willing not to -seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and -Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving -shocks against the furniture and minding them not the least in the -world, till at last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing -upon the sofa. - -The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into -silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, -as was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he -apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return -assured him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment. - -Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no -waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was -no possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him -as much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring -that she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her -days were contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything -newer, they might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would -not hear of them. - -And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her -grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the -universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round -the table. - -With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, -as she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining -within herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as -dressing up and play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never -approve. - -Beatrice came to her aunt's room, when they went upstairs, and -petitioned for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind -pity for her present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even -allowed her to outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion -of the charade, and the history of the preparations and contrivances -gave subject to a very animated conversation. - -Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all to -wish for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense -dislike to the ball, and all the company, very nearly without -exception, and there were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk -so much without restraint as to Aunt Mary. - -The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, -and here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had -only heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the -doings of the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly -shocked and amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and -pleading for it. - -"My dear!" said Beatrice, laughing, "I do not know what you would do if -you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the -days of her life." - -"Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady." - -"Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and -the society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances -that make the difference, not the temper." - -"Quite true, Busy Bee," said her aunt, "temper may be the same in very -different circumstances." - -"But it is very curious, mamma," said Henrietta, "how people can be -particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your -pardon, only I know you don't mind it, Jessie did not approve of your -skating." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at -those of other people." - -"Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging," -said Aunt Mary. - -"But then, mamma," said Henrietta, "we must hold to the right scruples, -and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less-- -less desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety -then we are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such -things." - -"O, it is just according to what you are brought up to," said Beatrice. -"A Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you -think it." - -"No, that will not do," said Henrietta. "Something must be actually -wrong. Mamma, do say what you think." - -"I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an -instinct which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and -whatever at the first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her -own individual case. The fineness of the perception may be destroyed -by education, or wilful dulling, and often on one point it may be -silent, though alive and active on others." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, as if satisfied. - -"And above all," said her mother, "it, like other gifts, grows -dangerous, it may become affectation." - -"Pruding," said Beatrice, "showing openly that you like it to be -observed how prudent and proper you are." - -"Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious -of anything wrong," said Henrietta. "Wrong I do not exactly mean, but -something on the borders of it." - -"Yes," said Aunt Mary, "and above all, do not let this delicacy show -itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own -opinion of ourselves, and very soon turns into 'judging our -neighbour.'" - -"But there is false delicacy, aunt." - -"Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion -tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - -The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in -her cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, -and newly arrived after five years' absence, he had considerable claims -to attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and -bold open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder -that Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and -even grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter. - -This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been -amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and -have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But -between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never -had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with -all the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the -rest, thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than -either Henrietta or Jessie. - -If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was -struck with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself -to engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her -place, it may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of -teasing, might have carried her out of her natural character in the -style that suited him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too -full of her own affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. -She liked him, but she showed none of the little airs which would have -seemed to appropriate him. She was ready to be talked to, but only as -she gave the attention due to any one, nay, showing, because she felt, -less eagerness than if it had been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a -talk with the last of whom was a pleasure now longed for, but never -enjoyed. To his stories of adventures, or accounts of manners, she -lent a willing and a delighted ear; but all common-place jokes tending -to flirtation fell flat; she either did not catch them, or did not -catch at them. She might blush and look confused, but it was -uncomfortable, and not gratified embarrassment, and if she found an -answer, it was one either to change the subject, or honestly manifest -that she was not pleased. - -She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he -thought at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still -continued to admire her, and seek her out, whenever his former -favourite, Jessie, was not in the way to rattle with in his usual -style. Jessie was full of enjoyment, Henrietta was glad to be left to -her own devices, her mamma was still more rejoiced to see her act so -properly without self-consciousness or the necessity of interference, -and the Queen Bee ought to have been duly grateful to the one faithful -vassal who was proof against all allurements from her side and service. - -She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is -usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and -been very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did -not feel in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been -much more proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point -on which their attention could still be commanded, namely, the -charades; for though the world may be of opinion that they had had -quite a sufficiency of amusement, they were but the more stimulated by -their success on Thursday, and the sudden termination in the very -height of their triumph. - -They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of -Shylock's trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation, -and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast -in the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely -cleared of all their various goods and chattels, Portia's wig in its -box, the three caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke's -throne safe in its place in the hall, and even Shylock's yellow cap -picked to pieces, and rolled up in the general hoard of things which -were to come of use in seven years' time. Judith, who was putting the -finishing touches to the re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of -the great chair, and restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle -of the table, gave in answer to her exclamations the information that -"Missus had been up since seven o'clock, helping to put away the things -herself, for she said she could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey's room -not fit for anybody to sit in." This might certainly be considered as -a tolerably broad hint that they had better discontinue their -representations, but they were arrived at that state of eagerness which -may be best illustrated by the proverb referring to a blind horse. -Every one, inclined to that same impetuosity, and want of soberness, -can remember the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded checks -will recur to the mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of the -self-justification which truly answers that their object was not even -comprehended. Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such -indications of dissent from her will, did not once think of her -grandmamma's dislike, and Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, -wilfully despised it as a fidgety fancy. - -Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and -greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make -a pair of asses' ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the -weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, -and Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy -to be her own "primest of viziers." - -"And," said Beatrice, "what an exquisite interlude it will make to -relieve the various plagues of Monday evening." - -"Why you don't mean to act then!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"Why not? You don't know what a relief it will be. It will be an -excuse for getting away from all the stupidity." - -"To be sure it will," cried Fred. "A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We -shall have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort." - -"But would grandmamma ever let us do it?" said Henrietta. - -"I will manage," said Beatrice. "I will make grandpapa agree to it, -and then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it." - -"Before so many people!" said Henrietta. "O, Queenie, it will never -do! It would be a regular exhibition." - -"My dear, what nonsense!" said Beatrice. "Why, it is all among friends -and neighbours." - -"Friends and neighbours to you," said Henrietta. - -"And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt -or inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer." - -"A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account," said Fred. -"But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such -nonsense and affectation." - -"Affectation! O, Fred!" - -"Yes, to be sure it is," said Fred: "to set up such scruples as these. -Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when -once you get into the spirit of the thing." - -"And what is affectation," said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, "but -thinking what other people will think?" - -There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some -degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation, -especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever -and determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in -preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering -of wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she -begged not to be Titania. - -"O, you must, you silly child," said Beatrice. "I have such designs -for dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make -grandpapa laugh by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef." - -"But consider, Bee," said Henrietta, "how much too tall I am for a -fairy. It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom -himself--spoil the whole picture. You might surely get some little -girls to be the other fairies, and take Titania yourself." - -"Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made -part of the show," said Beatrice. "Little Anna Carey has sense enough, -I think; ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will -keep you to come out in grand force in the last scene--Queen Eleanor -sucking the poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will -make an excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are -Berengaria, coming to see King Richard when he was 'old-man-of-the- -mountains.'" - -"No, no," cried Fred, "stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have -no more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs -because I could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair." - -"And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, in -the gentleman's own presence, too," said Beatrice. "Monsieur is -apparemment the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, -the French governess in Miss Edgworth's book?" - -"Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the -mistake," said Henrietta. - -"And I do not wonder at it," said Beatrice, "the mistake, I mean. -Fred's white hands there have just the look of a doctor's; of course -Roger thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, -for want of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel -look." - -"You insulting creature!" said Fred. "Just as if I tried to look -genteel." - -"You do, then, whether you try or not. You can't help it, you know, -and I am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out -your hand just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder -Roger thought he had succeeded in attaining his object." - -"But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object," -said Henrietta. - -"He could not be a Carey and be otherwise," said Busy Bee. "And -besides, what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, -unless his kith and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthrop- -ically according to Roger's proposal, I do not see what chance he has, -where everyone knows the extent of a Carey's intellects; and what is -left for the poor man to do but to study the cut of his boots?" - -"If you say much more about it, Queenie," said Henrietta, "you will -make Fred dance in Bottom's hob-nailed shoes." - -"Ah! it is a melancholy business," said Beatrice; "but it cannot be -helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is -this?" exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such -violence as to shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed -in, heated and almost breathless. "Rats! rats!" was his cry; "Fred, -that's right. But where is Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"Gone to Allonfield." - -"More's the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at -home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the -place regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for -you and Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly--like smoke--while I go -and tell grandpapa." - -Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room -hurried Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. -Langford for shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa -laughed, thanked him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time -for the rat hunt, as he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary -thither and to the Pleasance that afternoon. - -Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and -the girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders -at Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she -pleased, for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible -pass before they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting -their arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the -gates of Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the -barking of dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed -that the war was at its height. - -"O! the glories of a rat hunt!" cried Beatrice. "Come, Henrietta, here -is a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not -to be lost." - -Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into -the farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on a -multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors -which were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown -violently back and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of -ecstatic expectation, tail straight out, head bent forward, now -springing in rapture on the prey; the boys rushing about with their -huge sticks, and coming down now and then with thundering blows, the -labourers with their white shirt sleeves and pitchforks pulling down -the straw, Uncle Roger with a portentous-looking club in the thick of -the fight. On the ladder, cheering them on, stood grandpapa, holding -little Tom in his arms, and at the bottom, armed with small sticks, -were Charlie and Arthur, consoling themselves for being turned out of -the melée, by making quite as much noise as all those who were doing -real execution, thumping unmercifully at every unfortunate dead mouse -or rat that was thrown out, and charging fiercely at the pigs, ducks, -and geese that now and then came up to inspect proceedings, and -perhaps, for such accidents will occur in the best regulated families, -to devour a share of the prey. - -Beatrice's first exclamation was, "O! if papa was but here!" - -"Nothing can go on without him, I suppose," said Henrietta. "And yet, -is this one of his great enjoyments?" - -"My dear, don't you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born -Englishman to delight in hunting 'rats and mice and such small beer,' -as much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt -that all the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked -a rat hunt, and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts." - -"There goes Fred!" cried Henrietta. - -"Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There--there! O -what a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that -solid sort of light on the mist of dust at the top." - -"And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa's head! I think that -grandpapa with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, -Bee." - -"To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful -gentle face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he -gets frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the -poor rats as keenly as anybody!" - -"Certainly," said Henrietta, "there is something very odd in man's -nature; they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being -cruel! Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as -kind and gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching -and killing--" - -"That is what town-people never can understand," said Beatrice, "that -hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried -down, and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those -people could have seen what I did last summer--grandpapa calling Carey, -and holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their -nest that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when -Dick did something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years -ago, and Alex and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they were -really punished for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those -bursts of generous indignation." - -"It is a very curious thing," said Henrietta, "the soldier spirit it -must be, I suppose--" - -"What are you philosophising about, young ladies?" asked Mr. Langford, -coming up as Henrietta said these last words. - -"Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa," said Beatrice, "what -the pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there." - -"Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies," said grandpapa. -"I have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or -more, and I can't say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going -at it, for the first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old -veterans, and he has a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it -is any satisfaction to you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that's it-- -there he goes!" - -"Now, grandpapa," said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, "I want -just to speak to you. Don't you think we might have a little charade- -acting on Monday to enliven the evening a little?" - -"Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I -think they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have -the end of Shylock?" - -"No," said Beatrice, "we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have -a new word and a beauty, and don't you think it will do very well?" - -"I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private -theatricals." - -"Well, it won't be nearly such regular acting as the last," said -Beatrice, "I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so -many spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a -very nice diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa." - -"Well, I don't see any harm in it," said grandpapa, "so long as -grandmamma does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, -Henrietta?" - -"O no," said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she -would make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred's -calling her affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her -mamma to consent to anything; for so little is it really the nature of -woman to exercise power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be -compensated by some subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta -ruled her mother, she was completely under the dominion of Fred and -Beatrice. Themistocles' wife might rule Athens, but she was governed -by her son. - -After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, -recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she -said. The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the -Pleasance, where the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on -the first occasion; for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different -views respecting the appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. -Frederick Langford was harassed and wearied by her vain attempts to -accede to the wishes of both, and vex neither. Grandmamma was -determined too to look over every corner, and discuss every room, and -Henrietta, in despair at the fatigue her mother was obliged to go -through, kept on seeking in vain for a seat for her, and having at last -discovered a broken-backed kitchen chair in some of the regions below, -kept diligently carrying it after her in all her peregrinations. She -was constantly wishing that Uncle Geoffrey would come, but in vain; and -between the long talking at Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the -house, and the many discussions, her mamma was completely tired out, -and obliged, when they came home, to confess that she had a headache. -Henrietta fairly wished her safe at Rocksand. - -While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and -persuading her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full -of but one matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded -her grand object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, -and sitting down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began -with "Now listen to me, my dear child," and proceeded with a long story -of certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her -certain knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. -Beatrice set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable -that either she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; -secondly, that the former elopement was not chargeable on poor -Shakespeare; thirdly, that these were not private theatricals at all. - -"And pray what are they, then--when you dress yourselves up, and speak -the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?" - -"You pay us a great compliment," said Beatrice, who could sometimes be -pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her -explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called -theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was -the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it -was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it -done. - -"But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent." This was a -powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at -the first moment the shot did not tell. - -"Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this," said Mrs. -Langford, "and let who would consent, she would never have her -granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, -before a whole room full of company." - -"Well, then, grandmamma, I'll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not -have one single scene out of Shakespeare--not one. Won't that do?" - -"You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse," said Mrs. -Langford. - -"No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it -shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come -in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so -nicely! and grandpapa has said we may." - -Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. "Ah, well! you always will have -your own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such -things in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a -scheme when their elders had once said, 'No.'" - -"Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it -up if you did; but pray do not--we will manage very well." - -"And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn -everything upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can't have it done. -I shall want the study to put out the supper in." - -"We can dress in our own rooms, then," said Beatrice, "never mind -that." - -"Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your -fathers and mothers like to let you, I can't help it--that's all I have -to say," said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred -entered from the other side a moment after. "Victory, victory, my dear -Fred!" cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. "I have -prevailed: you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! -announced for Monday night, before a select audience!" - -"Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee," said Fred; "why Alex has -just been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about -grandmamma's dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone 'coon, -as they say in America." - -"I got grandpapa first," said Beatrice, "and then I persuaded her; she -told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long -lecture which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last that -the chief points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the -confusion in the study; so by giving up those two I gained everything." - -"You don't mean that you gave up bully Bottom?" - -"Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses' ears. You shall wear -them in the character of King Midas." - -"I think," said the ungrateful Fred, "that you might as well have given -it all up together as Bottom." - -"No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will -decidedly make him King of California, and I'll be the priestess of -Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a -most excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the -reeds, 'King Midas has the ears of an ass.' I would have made more of -a fight for Bottom, if that had not come into my head." - -"But you will have nothing to do." - -"That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very -little, and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the -world in all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as -Queen Eleanor; she will look so regal." - -Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister's praises. "You are a -wondrous damsel, busy one," said he, "to be content to play second -fiddle." - -"Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, -you would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How -shall we ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only -till Monday evening to do everything in!" - -"Oh, you will do it," said Fred. "I wonder what you and Henrietta -cannot do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in," he -exclaimed, as he heard the front door open. - -"And I must go and dress," said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste, -which did not speak well for the state of her conscience. - -Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters. -"So you are entered with the vermin, Fred," called he, as the two came -out of the drawing-room. - -"O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?" - -"I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only -just come in?" - -"No, we were having a consultation about the charades," said Fred; "the -higher powers consent to our having them on Monday." - -"Grandmamma approving?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"O yes," said Fred, in all honesty, "she only objected to our taking a -regular scene in a play, and 'coming it as strong' as we did the other -night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously." - -Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs, -listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained -so plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to -dress in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would -have doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but -hearing of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, -was likely to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, -she knew he had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his -mother; and since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. -No, could Beatrice actually say so to her own secret soul? - -She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked -her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy -castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the -resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - -"Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly and -carnal lusts:" so speaks the collect with which we begin the new year-- -such the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, "Amen:" -but what was its application to them? What did they do with the wicked -world in their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he was in -the world. It might be for him to pray for that spirit which enabled -him to pass unscathed through the perils of his profession, neither -tempted to grasp at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his way, -unhardened and unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness on -every side. This might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, -with her love of dress, and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely -pray that she might live less to the vanities of the world; there were -others, whose worn countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of -the world; but to those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught -how to prize vain pomp and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, -looking from a safe distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; -were not they truly kept from that world which they had renounced? - -Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that -if education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, -cheaper, and more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for -them also. A pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was -of their own devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of -submission; these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet -reached them, but if they gave way to those which assailed them in -their early youth, how could they expect to have strength to bear up -against the darker and stronger ones which would meet their riper -years? - -Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall, -there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than -those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the -midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand, -she whisked through the passages, Frederick's voice was heard demanding -whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was -made wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. -Zealous indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish them -anywhere else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and -newspaper, from one corner of the study to the other, and at last -fairly out into the hall, threatening them with what Missus would say -to them. At last grandmamma came down with a party of neat little -notes in her hand, to be immediately sent off by Martin and the cart to -Allonfield, and Martin came to the door leading to the kitchen regions -to receive his directions. - -"O how lucky!" cried Queen Bee, springing up. "The cotton velvet for -the ears! I'll write a note in a second!" Then she paused. "But I -can't do it without Henrietta, I don't know how much she wants. Half a -yard must do, I suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of -donkey-coloured velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!" - -"Have not you heard her bell?" said Fred. - -"No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time." - -"You had better ask Bennet," said Fred; "she sometimes gets up quietly, -and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it -gives her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning." - -Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress's -room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture -upon disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, -Martin departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations. - -About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as -any one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma -had been broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung -the bell was, that she was not ready for Bennet. - -As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble -confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for -the morning's laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears? - -The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta -was engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton -Leigh with Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner -said than done, and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to -meet with success, for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they -were hailed by the loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the -head of four brothers, marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt -Carey, some three miles off. Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee's -summons, but he could do nothing for her, for he had that morning been -taken to task for not having made a visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came -home, and especially ordered off to call upon her, before meeting her -at the party that evening. - -"How abominably provoking!" cried Beatrice; "just as if it signified. -If I had but a fairy!" - -"Carey!" called Alex, "here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: -won't you take Dumple and go?" - -"Not I," responded Carey; "I want to walk with Roger. But there's -Dumple, let her go herself." - -"What, ride him?" asked Beatrice, "thank you, Carey." - -"Fred might drive you," said Carey; "O no, poor fellow, I suppose he -does not know how." - -Fred coloured with anger. "I do," said he; "I have often driven our -own horses." - -"Ay," said Beatrice, "with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary -little guessing what you were doing." - -"I assure you, Queen," said Fred, very earnestly, "I do really know how -to drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with -me, I will bring you home quite safe." - -"I know you can have the gig," said Carey, "for papa offered it to -Roger and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To -think of doubting whether to drive old Dumple!" - -"I don't question," said Fred; "I only want to know if Busy Bee will -go. I won't break your neck, I promise you." - -Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt Mary, -but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the -reverse. - -"I don't advise you, Bee," said he. - -"O, as to that," said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, "I -have great faith in Dumple's experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, -as the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My -chief doubt is about Aunt Mary." - -Fred's successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly -made him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother's -desires, and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, "O, -you know I only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so -intensely miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, -by knowing nothing about it, I don't think it need be considered." - -Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next -moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this -case. - -Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much -annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could -not wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, -and say, "Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up -about it at home." - -"O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex," -said Beatrice, laughing. "No, no, I know very well that nobody will -care when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. -I love my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a -scrape. Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I'll dance -with you first to-night." Alex turned away, muttering, "I don't like -it--I'd go myself, but--Well, I shall speak to Fred." - -Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had -excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance. - -"You are sure now," said he, "that you can drive safely? Remember it -would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little -Bee." - -This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come -from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of -his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, -that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only -wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand. - -"Well, I have no more to say," said Alex, "only please to mind this, -Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive -him to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and -Beatrice's that I spoke." - -"Much obliged, Langford senior," replied Fred, making himself as tall -as he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, -"Now, Carey, we won't stop you any longer, if you'll only just be so -good as to tell your man to get out the gig." - -Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, -for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur -running after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in -his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, -Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from -him which might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she -explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors -stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive -to Allonfield. Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred -should not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little -or nothing of his sister-in-law's fears, and would, perhaps, have taken -Fred's side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, -declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy -into the house for the driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did not -fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a -nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed. - -Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he -might go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, -of which Roger's return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. -His cousins were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly -consenting, he was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice's -complacency was diminished as Uncle Roger called out, "Ha! Fred take -care! What are you doing?--you'll be against the gate-post--don't -bring his head so short round. If you don't take more care, you'll -certainly come to a smash before you get home." - -If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and -Frederick would probably have been much better satisfied to have given -up their bold design after this debut, but they were far too much bent -on their own way to yield, and Fred's pride would never have allowed -him to acknowledge that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so -rashly undertaken. Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness -instead of ignorance, and too much used to dangerous undertakings of -his own boys to have many anxieties on their account, let them go on -without further question, and turned off to visit his young wheat -without the smallest uneasiness respecting the smash he had predicted, -as he had done, by way of warning, at least twenty times before. - -Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some -points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise -enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the -way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of -him, and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, -across the common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, -they walked into the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of -searching, succeeded in obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, -though Fred asserted that donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly -not unfit to represent their colour. As Fred's finances were in a much -more flourishing state since New Year's day, he proceeded to delight -the very heart of Willy by a present of a pair of little brass cannon, -on which his longing eyes had often before been fixed, and they then -returned to the carriage, in some dismay on perceiving that it was -nearly one o'clock. - -"We must go straight home," said Beatrice, "or this velvet will be of -no use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from -thence." - -Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by -no means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, -well aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately -determined that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest -road to his own stable. - -As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he -made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a -little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the -whip, but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a -demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set -off over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred -pulled hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. "Sit still," -cried Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, "the gate will stop -him;" but ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement -of his own, or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was -thrown violently to the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him -no more. Instinct, rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to -the carriage with one hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, -to prevent him from being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to -side by the ruts and stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes -more, and their way was barred by a gate--that which she had spoken of- --the horse, used to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood -still, looking over it as if nothing had happened. - -Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy -beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her -steps swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it -seemed as if her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart -dragged her back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to -meet her, but it was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but -too plainly. He was stretched at full length on the ground, senseless- --motionless. She sank rather than knelt down beside him, and called -him; but not a token was there that he heard her. She lifted his hand, -it fell powerless, and clasping her own, she sat in an almost -unconscious state of horror, till roused by little Willy, who asked in -a terrified breathless whisper, - -"Bee, is he dead?" - -"No, no, no," cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; -"he is only stunned. He is--he must be alive. He will come to him- -self! Help me to lift him up--here--that is it--his head on my lap--" - -"O, the blood!" said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it -streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face. - -"That is not the worst," said Beatrice. "There--hold him toward the -wind." She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him; -but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight on -her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for -help; but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except -Willy, who stood helplessly looking at her. - -"Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!" cried she, in a tone of the bitterest -anguish of mind. "Fred--dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! -Oh, only speak to me! O what shall I do?" - -"Pray to God," whispered Willy. - -"You--you--Willy; I can't--it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!" A few -moments passed in silence, then she exclaimed, "What are we doing here? -Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through the -plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not -there, find grandpapa--any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don't let -her hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand--any one but -Aunt Mary." - -Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, -Willy required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade -fare to bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the -ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the -surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin's head, all clear -and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which made -her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest -motion, the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. -She wiped away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, -and softly laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow -amid the fair shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not -satisfy herself whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand -between both her own, and again and again started with the hope that -the long black eyelashes were being lifted from the white cheek, or -that she saw a quivering of lip or nostril. All this while her -thoughts were straying miles away, and yet so wondrously and painfully -present. As she thought of her Uncle Frederick, and, as it were, -realized his death, which had happened so nearly in this same manner, -she experienced a sort of heart-sinking which would almost make her -believe in a fate on the family. And that Fred should be cut off in -the midst of an act of disobedience, and she the cause! O thought -beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for herself, for her -aunt, but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found her mind -pursuing Willy, following him through all the gates and gaps, entering -the garden, opening the study door, seeing her father's sudden start, -hearing poor Henrietta's cry, devising how it would be broken to her -aunt; and again, the misery of recollecting her overpowered her, and -she gave a groan, the very sound of which thrilled her with the hope -that Fred was reviving, and made her, if possible, watch with double -intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh. She wished it was she -who lay there, unconscious of such exceeding wretchedness, and, strange -to say, her imagination began to devise all that would be said were it -really so; what all her acquaintance would say of the little Queen Bee, -how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how long Henrietta would -cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently Alex would grieve. -"He would be a son to papa," she thought; but then came a picture of -her home, her father and mother without their only one, and tears came -into her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the absurdity -of crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over this but -too positive and present distress. - -There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, and -not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was -perfectly still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle -of the sheep-bell, the woodsman's axe in the plantations, and now and -then the rattle of Dumple's harness, as she shook his head or shifted -his feet at the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks -wheeled above her head in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering -each other from the high furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering -near her with their broad wings, floating movement, and long melancholy -note like lamentation. - -At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse's -tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it -might, some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive -solitude, which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, -would be relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer -might pass by, she gently laid her cousin's head on the grass, and flew -rather than ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the -horseman had passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of -the shoulders, and with a scream almost wild in its energy, called -"Philip! O, Philip Carey!" - -Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement -at finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer -by leading the way down the lane. - -In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have -adored him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived. - -A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking -questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the -plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, -sending her voice before her with the good news, "He is alive! Philip -Carey says he is alive!" and with these words she stood before her -father and her Aunt Mary. - -Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white -and still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford -stopped for an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she -never could forget. "Beatrice, my child!" he exclaimed, "you are -hurt!" - -"No, no, papa," she cried. "It is Fred's blood--I am quite, quite -safe!" - -He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, -with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could -never remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the -embrace,--all had revealed to her the fervour of her father's -affection, beyond--far beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was -but for one instant that he gave way; the next, he was hastening on, -and stood beside Frederick as soon as his sister-in-law. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - -The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle -incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail -wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers -from chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and -appealing to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, -though never allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, -often came to her help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the -severe displeasure of the absent queen, by laying aside Midas's robes -to assist in the arrangements. "That picture is crooked, I am sure!" -said Mrs. Langford; and of course she was not satisfied till she had -summoned Geoffrey from the study to give his opinion, and had made him -mount upon a chair to settle its position. In the midst of the -operation, in walked Uncle Roger. "Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to -now? So, ma'am, you are making yourself smart to-day. Where is my -father?" - -"He has ridden over to see the South Farm," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,--I understand." - -"Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?" asked Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton -Leigh, and I have not seen them since." - -"O yes," said Mr. Roger Langford, "I can tell you what has become of -them; they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the -gig, and Will with them, after some of their acting affairs." - -Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this -intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him -full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. -Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in -dismay. - -"You don't mean that Fred was driving?" said her mother. - -"Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,-- -surely he knows how!" - -"O, Roger, what have you done!" said she faintly, as if the exclamation -would break from her in spite of herself. - -"Indeed, mamma," said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, "I assure you -Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was -sitting up by Dawson." - -"Ay, ay, Mary," said Uncle Roger, "never fear. Depend upon it, boys do -many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with -whole bones after all." - -Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey's face, in -hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn -nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible. - -"I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting," said -Mrs. Langford; "and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot -think. So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as -well have sent by Martin!" And her head being pretty much engrossed -with her present occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the -kitchen, without much perception of the consternation that prevailed in -the drawing-room. - -"Did you know they were going, Henrietta?" asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather -sternly. - -"No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think -there is any danger?" exclaimed she, losing self-control in the -infection of fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother -struggling to overcome. Her mother's inquiring, imploring glance -followed her question. - -"Foolish children!" said Uncle Geoffrey, "I am very much vexed with the -Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is -hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to -young hands." - -Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some -degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger -Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:--"Come, Mary, -you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you. -You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound -imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be -the mamma's boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you -cannot keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time -or other." - -"O yes, I know I am very foolish," said she, trying to smile. - -"I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you," said Uncle Roger. "She -would have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do -on all such occasions." - -"Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland," said -Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at -his ease, and divert his brother's attention. "And by the by, Roger, -you never told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers." - -"Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life," said -his brother. "Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when -you yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?" - -Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting -Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings -at the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put -a few stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood -up, seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,--then took -a long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta -ran after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey -was not alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. "Thank you, -my dear," said she. "I--no, really--you know how foolish I am, my -dear, and I think I had rather be alone. Don't stay here and frighten -yourself too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I -am left alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let -me know when they come home." - -With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and -descended to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears -were from Uncle Roger. "Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were -safe at home again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not -to have let them go?" - -"I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of -little Bee," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"If I had guessed it," said Uncle Roger; "but then, you know, any of my -boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,--even Dick I have trusted,- --and they came up--you should have seen them--as confidently as if he -had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life. Upon my word your -daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew that he could -not drive." - -"A tolerable spirit of self-will," said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. -"But did you see them off, how did they manage?" - -"Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame," said his brother. -"They did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I -might have questioned a little closer. But never mind, 'tis all -straight road. I would lay any wager they will come back safe,--boys -always do." - -Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that -he, too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his -tranquillity deserted her. - -Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o'er again of his -battles at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the -window, where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed -with a start, "Here is Willy running across the paddock!" - -"All right!" said Uncle Roger, "they must have stopped at Sutton -Leigh!" - -"It is the opposite way!" said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same -moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta's heart throbbed fearfully -as she saw how wearied was the boy's running, and yet how rapid. She -could hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother -at the same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little -boy, as, breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the -hall, and threw himself upon his father, leaning his head against him -and clinging as if he could not stand. - -"Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?" said his father, -kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as -he almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. "What is the matter now?" - -There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of the -boy. Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle -Geoffrey stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of wine -and some water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his -forehead, laid her cold hand on it, and said, "Poor little fellow." - -At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered -something unintelligible. - -"What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?" were questions -anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in -administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to -his aunt, - -"Don't--tell--her." - -It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, -saying, "Don't be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it." - -He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. -Henrietta's violently throbbing heart took from her almost the -perception of what was happening. - -"Take breath, Willy," said his father; "don't keep us all anxious." - -"Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey," said the boy. - -"Is she safe?" asked Aunt Mary, earnestly. - -"Yes." - -"Thanks to God," said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, with -a look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible -mournfulness which went to his heart. - -"And Fred?" said Uncle Roger. - -"Do not ask, Roger," said she, still as calmly as before; "I always -knew how it would be." - -Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame -one word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard -a few confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of -waters in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When -she came to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and -all was still. - -"Mamma!" said she. - -"Here, dear child,"--but it was Mrs. Langford's voice. - -"Mamma!" again said she. "Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why -does the room turn round?" - -"You have not been well, my dear," said her grandmother; "but drink -this, and lie still, you will soon be better." - -"Where is mamma?" repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one -but Mrs. Langford and Bennet. "Was she frightened at my being ill? -Tell her I am better." - -"She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep." - -"But weren't there a great many people?" said Henrietta. "Were we not -in the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell -me, where are mamma and Fred?" - -"They will soon be here, I hope." - -"But, grandmamma," cried she vehemently, turning herself round as -clearer recollection returned, "something has happened--O! what has -happened to Fred?" - -"Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear," said Mrs. Langford. "It was -Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and -uncles are gone to see about him." - -"A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, -tell me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!" - -With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and -bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all -that she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance on -her, and had only heard the main fact of Willy's story. Henrietta -clapped her hands wildly together in an agony of grief. "He is killed- --he is, I'm sure of it!" said she. "Why do you not tell me so?" - -"My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned." - -"No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, -Fred, Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear -it! O, Fred!" - -She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy -of sorrow. "And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my -doing! O, my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without -him!" - -"Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "you do not know what you are saying; -you must bear the will of God, be it what it may." - -"I can't, I can not," repeated Henrietta; "if I am to lose him, I can't -live; I don't care for anything without Fred!" - -"Your mother, Henrietta." - -"Mamma! O, don't speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, -without him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing." - -Henrietta's grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly -selfish; there was little thought of her mother,--little, indeed, for -anything but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her -hands, and sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford -vainly tried to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning -away, and saying, "I can't be patient--no, I can't!" and then again -repeating her brother's name with all the fondest terms of endearment. - -Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived--and she -became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required -her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel -disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, -fancying herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being -told really and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was -urgent to go out and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this -Mrs. Langford would not permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some -fearful sight, which might shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far -from taking it so; her habitual want of submission made itself felt in -spite of her usual gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her -balance, and she burst into a passionate fit of weeping. - -In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps, -scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it -as a subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of -a long previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; -gentle, caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and -deceitful. But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her -mother, prepared for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a -support to her; she would have remembered how terrible must be the -shock to her grandmother in her old age, and how painful must be the -remembrances thus excited of the former bereavement; and in the attempt -to console her, the sense of her own sorrow would have been in some -degree relieved; whereas she now seemed to forget that Frederick was -anything to any one but herself. She prayed, but it was one wild -repetition of "O, give him back to me!--save his life!--let him be safe -and well!" She had no room for any other entreaty; she did not call -for strength and resignation on the part of herself and her mother, for -whatever might be appointed; she did not pray that his life might be -granted only if it was for his good; she could ask nothing but that her -own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and she ended her -prayer as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she began it. - -The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and -Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and -greatly relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick's life, -and of Philip Carey's arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on -their first entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened -to their narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a -word; and when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, -she again turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without -one look at Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart -of one flesh from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped -for one word, one kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half -uncurled ringlets that floated over the crossed arms on which her -forehead rested, and meantime submitted with a kind of patient -indifference to her grandmother's caress, drank hot wine and water, sat -by the fire, and finally was sent upstairs to change her dress. Too -restless, too anxious, too wretched to stay there alone, longing for -some interchange of sympathy,--but her mind too turbid with agitation -to seek it where it would most surely have been found,--she hastened -down again. Grandmamma was busied in giving directions for the room -which was being prepared for Fred; Uncle Roger had walked out to meet -those who were conveying him home: and Henrietta was sitting in the -window, her forehead resting against the glass, watching intently for -their arrival. - -"Are they coming?" asked Beatrice anxiously. - -"No!" was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as -if her cousin's entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice -went up and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking -the hand that lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, -"Henrietta, you forgive me?" - -The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised -her face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, "Of -course, Bee, only I am so wretched. Don't talk to me." - -Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, -with a more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no -forgiveness; it was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and -that when her whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up -oppression that almost choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her -burning forehead on the cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her -mother,--longed for her almost as much for her papa's, her Aunt Mary's -and her grandmother's sake, as for her own. But O! what an infinite -relief would one talk with her have been! She turned toward the table, -and thought of writing to her, but her hand was trembling--every pulse -throbbing; she could not even sit still enough to make the attempt. - -At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the -window beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by -Uncle Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one -side, and on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger's -arm. - -Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that -moment for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and -deposited for a few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed -between her uncles, and made her way up to him, unconscious of the -presence of anyone else--even of her mother--while she clasped his -hand, and hanging over him looked with an agonized intensity at his -motionless features. The next moment she felt her mother's hand on her -shoulder, and was forced to turn round and look into her face: the -sweet mournful meekness of which came for a moment like a soft cooling -breeze upon the dry burning desert of her grief. - -"My poor child," said the gentle voice. - -"O, mamma, is--is--." She could not speak; her face was violently -agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered. - -"They hope for the best, my dear," was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey -Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the -intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only -took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended to -convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was -telling her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her -to take some rest. - -"Thank you, ma'am,--thank you very much indeed--you are very kind: I am -very sorry to give you so much trouble," were her answers; and simple -as were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in -them. - -Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at -that moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was -retreating, as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been -in Henrietta's. - -"I did not see you, before, Queenie," she said, holding out her hand -and kissing her, "you have gone through more than any one." - -A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee's -eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful -name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and -contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was -no one to attend to her--the patient occupied the whole attention of -all. He was carried to his mother's room, placed in bed, and again -examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence -that there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. -While this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, -her head on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As -evening twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went -down to make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the -drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, -and beg to be let in. - -Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the -bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first -stood by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down -on a footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother's lap, gave -herself up to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the -very luxury of grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching his -sister-in-law even more anxiously than the patient, and thus a -considerable interval passed in complete silence, only broken by the -crackling of the fire, the ticking of the watches, or some slight -change of posture of one or other of the three nurses. At last the -stillness was interrupted by a little movement among the bedclothes, -and with a feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the hand, which had -hitherto lain so still and helpless, stretched somewhat out, and the -head turned upon the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and Mrs. -Frederick Langford pressed her daughter's hand with a sort of -convulsive tremor. A faint voice murmured "Mamma!" and while a flush -of trembling joy illumined her pale face, she bent over him, answering -him eagerly and fondly, but he did not seem to know her, and again -repeating "Mamma," opened his eyes with a vacant gaze, and tried in -vain to express some complaint. - -In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of -consciousness. He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, -as if for the sake of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any -other person, not even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing -sadly upon him, while his mother hung over him soothing his -restlessness, and answering his half-uttered complaints, and Uncle -Geoffrey was ever ready with assistance and comfort to each in turn, as -it was needed, and especially supporting his sister-in-law with that -sense of protection and reliance so precious to a sinking heart. - -Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that -she might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick -Langford only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful -smile that it was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta -to go. The former complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would -create downstairs; but Henrietta declared that she could not bear the -thoughts of going down, and it was only by a positive order that he -succeeded in making her come with him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made -her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded her plate with all that was best -on the table, but she looked at it with disgust, and leaning back in -her chair, faintly begged not to be asked to eat. - -Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which -startled her by its unwonted severity, "This will not do, Henrietta; I -cannot allow you to add to your mamma's troubles by making yourself -ill. I desire you will eat, as you certainly can." - -Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have -interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling -of being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and -having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable -dinner, by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed. - -Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, and -returned to Fred's room as soon as he could, without giving that -appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm. -Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran -after him, and neither of the two came down again to tea. - -Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course -very glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the -conversation kept up with him for civility's sake. She had been -leading a forlorn dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping -grandmamma to write notes to be sent to the intended guests, and -afterwards, with a feeling of intense disgust, putting out of sight all -the preparations for their own self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, -and yet when she found it, it was unendurable, and to talk to her -father or grandfather would be a great relief, yet the first beginning -might well be dreaded. Neither of them was forthcoming, and now in the -evening to hear the quiet grave discussion of Allonfield gossip was -excessively harassing and irritating. No one spoke for their own -pleasure, the thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only talked thus -for the sake of politeness; but she gave them no credit for this, and -felt fretted and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was -better than when they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke -of the accident, requiring of her a more exact and particular account -of it. She hurried over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was -a sting. - -"But, my dear," said Mrs. Roger Langford, "what could have made you so -anxious to go to Allonfield?" - -"O, Aunt Roger, it was very--" but here Beatrice, whose agitated -spirits made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was -seized with such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an -expedition, with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass's -ears, that she was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. -Grandmamma and Aunt Roger, after looking at her in amazement for a -moment, both started up, and came towards her with looks of alarm that -set her off again still more uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, -but that only made it worse, and when she perceived that she was -supposed to be hysterical, she laughed the more, though the laughter -was positive pain. Once she for a moment succeeded in recovering some -degree of composure, but every kind demonstration of solicitude brought -on a fresh access of laughter, and a certain whispering threat of -calling Philip Carey was worse than all. When, however, Aunt Roger was -actually setting off for the purpose, the dread of his coming had a -salutary effect, and enabled her to make a violent effort, by which she -composed herself, and at length sat quite still, except for the -trembling, which she could not control. - -Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could -not bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. -Langford's offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that -she should go up to bed on condition that her papa should come and -visit her when he came out of Fred's room. Her grandmamma came up with -her, helped her to undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, -and summoned Judith to prepare things as quickly and quietly as -possible for Henrietta, who was to sleep with her that night. It was -with much difficulty that she could avoid making a promise to go to bed -immediately, and not to get up to breakfast. At last, with a very -affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her to brush her hair, an operation -which she resolved to lengthen out until her papa's visit. - -It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the -passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before -him, her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual -from the contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white -nightcap and dressing-gown. - -"How is Fred?" asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her -to speak. - -"Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? -Your grandmamma said--" - -"Never mind, papa," interrupted she, "only tell me this--is Fred in -danger?" - -"You have heard all we can tell, my dear--" - -Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped -her hands: "I know--I know; but what do you think?" - -"My own impression is," said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost -reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, "that there -is no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to -ascertain the extent of the injury." - -Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon -it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on -his face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and -quietly, "Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing." - -His face did not express surprise or horror--nothing but kindness and -compassion, while he answered, "My poor girl, I was afraid how it might -have been." Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so as -to let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her -time. He might be in haste, but it was no time to show it. - -She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, "Yes, yes, papa, it was -the very thing you warned me against--I mean--I mean--the being set in -my own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to -tell you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me," and she -touched her throat. "I can't get it out in words! O!" Poor Beatrice -even groaned aloud with oppression. - -"Do not try to express it," said her father: "at least, it is not I who -can give you the best comfort. Here"--and he took up a Prayer Book. - -"Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa," said -Beatrice; "but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up -in me. Not one prayer or confession would come;--but now, O! now you -know it, and--and--I feel as if He would not turn away His face. Do -you know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even -'deliver me from blood-guiltiness,' it would only make me shudder! O, -papa, it was dreadful!" - -Her father's answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and -read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer -for persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord's Prayer. -Beatrice, when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not -speak, nor weep, but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her -anxiously and affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow -so much time on her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she -again spoke, it was in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, "Aunt -Mary will forgive me, I know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will -not be quite so bad! Now I can pray that he may be saved--O, papa-- -disobedient, and I the cause; how could I ever bear the thought?" - -"You can only pray," replied her father. - -"Now that I can once more," said Beatrice; and again there was a -silence, while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual -habit, not speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her -repentant feelings by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt -her. So they remained for nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought -it time to leave her, and made some movement as if to do so. Then she -spoke, "Only tell me one thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any -hope? There was something--something death-like in her face. Does she -hope?" - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. "Not yet," said he. "I think it -may be better after this first night is over. She is evidently -reckoning the hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation -that it will be as it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after -his accident." - -"But surely, surely," said Beatrice eagerly, "this is a very different -case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says -he is convinced that there is no fracture--" - -"It is a morbid feeling," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "and therefore -impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, -and I shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are -over." - -"Poor dear aunt!" sighed Beatrice. "I am glad, if it was to be, that -you were here, for nobody else would understand her." - -"Understand her!" said he, with something of a smile. "No, Bee, such -sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be -understood." - -Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort, -said, "I suppose mamma will soon be here?" - -"I think not," said her father, "I shall tell her she had better wait -to see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is -needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, -and I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, -I am of more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if -he is a long time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her -coming fresh, and not half knocked up with previous attendance." - -"But how she will wish to be here!" exclaimed Beatrice, "and how you -will want her!" - -"No doubt of that, Queenie," said her father smiling, "but we must -reserve our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I -must go. Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?" - -"With me," said Beatrice. - -"I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can -with her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is -quite oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!" - -"I don't know what to do about her!" said Beatrice with more dejection -than she had yet shown, "I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I -can't--I shall never do good to anybody--only harm." - -"Fear the harm, and the good will come," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. -"Good night, my dear." - -Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on -her father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest, -unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew -not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose -of such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had -never known before. - -So she continued till she heard Henrietta's approaching steps, when she -rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection -and consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on -her eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour -on half her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole -person, as if but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet -her, and took her candle, asking what account she brought of the -patient. "No better," was all the answer, and she sat down making no -more detailed answers to all her cousin's questions. She would have -done the same to her grandmamma, or any one else, so wrapped up was she -in her own grief, but this conduct gave more pain to Beatrice than it -could have done to any one else, since it kept up the last miserable -feeling of being unforgiven. Beatrice let her sit still for some -minutes, looking at her all the time with an almost piteous glance of -entreaty, of which Henrietta was perfectly unconscious, and then began -to beg her to undress, seconding the proposal by beginning to unfasten -her dress. - -Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed. - -"I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta," said Beatrice; "if you would but -let me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still." - -"No, I shan't," said Henrietta shortly, "never mind me." - -"But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but--" - -"I can't go to bed," replied Henrietta, "thank you, Bee, never mind--" - -Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any -service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta's grief than by -the unkind rejection of herself. "Papa thinks there is great hope," -said she abruptly. - -"Mamma does not," said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to -put an end to the subject. - -Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard -it was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door--it -was grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked -Beatrice of the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in -bed hours ago; she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept -away all Henrietta's feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was -summoned, grandmamma peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in -another half-hour the cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta's -lethargy had become a heavy sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening -to every sound, forming every possible speculation on the future, and -to her own overstretched fancy seeming actually to feel the thoughts -chasing each other through her throbbing head. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - -"Half-past one," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual -observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal -twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since. - -There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though -carefully avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the -sick bed, he knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when -he again heard her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, -it had a tremulous tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness. - -Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the -expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, -the crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and -when the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she -caught at the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before -her only answer had been, "As you think right." She spoke so as to -show the greatest consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then -with her usual confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person -to be called in entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and -returned to her station by Frederick, who had already missed and -summoned her. - -Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice's -sarcasm, was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his -education had owed much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom -he regarded with great reverence, and he was so conscious of his own -inexperience and diffident of his own opinion, as to be very anxious -for assistance in this, the first very serious case which had fallen -under his own management. The proposal had come at first from himself, -and this was a cause of great rejoicing to those who had to reconcile -Mrs. Langford to the measure. In her eyes a doctor was a doctor, -member of a privileged fraternity in which she saw no distinctions, and -to send for advice from London would, she thought, not only hurt the -feelings of Mrs. Roger Langford, and all the Carey connection, but -seriously injure the reputation of young Mr. Carey in his own -neighbourhood. - -Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such -considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against -Frederick's life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till -her son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted her -by letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and -persuading her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip's practice -that his opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note. - -The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before -she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely -satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already -taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was -genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy's sake. He gave them, -too, more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, -had ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion -of the brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient -would do well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms -which had begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future -treatment was agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed -spirits to enter on a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, -who was obliged to go away the next day, cheered up his brother Alex -into a certainty that Fred would be about again in a week, and though -no one but the boys shared the belief, yet the assurances of any one so -sanguine, inspired them all with something like hope. - -The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick Langford -and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a -considerable degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his -mother's voice did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew -restless and uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, "Is Uncle Geoffrey -here?" was many times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his -usual answer to her was "You speak so loud;" though in reality, her -tone was almost exactly the same as her mother's; and above all others -he disliked the presence of Philip Carey. - -"Who is that?" inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious -of the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked -quickly, "Is he gone?" - -The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering -considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and -distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared, -glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle -could scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it were, -by the slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with pain, -incapable of thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his -faculties, as it seemed, restored only to be the means of suffering. -Mrs. Langford came to the door to announce that Philip Carey was come. -Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to speak to him, and grandmamma and -Henrietta began to arrange the room a little for his reception. Fred, -however, soon stopped this. "I can't bear the shaking," said he. -"Tell them to leave off, mamma." - -Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing -that she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs in -order, but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and -exclamation, and Mrs. Langford remarked, "Well, if he cannot bear it, -it cannot be helped; but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!" And -out she went, Fred frowning with pain at every step she took. - -"Why do you let people come?" asked he sharply of his mother. "Where -is Uncle Geoffrey gone?" - -"He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with -him directly." - -"I don't want Philip Carey; don't let him come." - -"My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may -do something for this sad pain." - -Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey -opened the door to ask if Fred was ready. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred -would not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand -readily for his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see -his face a little more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the -window shutters partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to -frustrate his intention, as with an exclamation which had in it as much -of anger as of pain, he turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew -the bed-clothes over it. - -"My dear boy," said his mother, pleadingly, "for one moment only!" - -"I told you I could not bear the light," was all the reply. - -"If you would but oblige me for a few seconds," said Philip. - -"Fred!" said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as -if to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face -again, saying, "I can't;" and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the -shutter, unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had -opened it, and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient -scarcely vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted -the room, and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a "Don't go, -mamma," was immediately heard. - -"You must spare me for a very little while, my dear," said she, gently -but steadily. - -"Don't stay long, then," replied he. - -Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light -as a woman's, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, and -for a few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost -immediately he renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and -had it been any other than his uncle who had taken her place, would -have grumbled at his not going to call her. On her return, she was -greeted with a discontented murmur. "What an immense time you have -stayed away!"--presently after, "I wish you would not have that Carey!" -and then, "I wish we were at Rocksand,--I wish Mr. Clarke were here." - -Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as -well as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it -comes as a matter of course, and without previous training, -particularly in the young, and that peevishness is especially reserved -for the old and querulous, who are to try the amiability of the -heroine. To a certain degree, this is often the case; the complete -prostration of strength, and the dim awe of approaching death in the -acute illnesses of the young, often tame down the stubborn or petulant -temper, and their patience and forbearance become the wonder and -admiration of those who have seen germs of far other dispositions. And -when this is not the case, who would have the heart to complain? -Certainly not those who are like the mother and uncle who had most to -endure from the exacting humours of Frederick Langford. High spirits, -excellent health, a certain degree of gentleness of character, and a -home where, though he was not over indulged, there was little to ruffle -him, all had hitherto combined to make him appear one of the most -amiable good-tempered boys that ever existed; but there was no -substance in this apparent good quality, it was founded on no real -principle of obedience or submission, and when to an habitual spirit of -determination to have his own way, was superadded the irritability of -nerves which was a part of his illness, when his powers of reflection -were too much weakened to endure or comprehend argument; when, in fact, -nothing was left to fall back upon but the simple obedience which would -have been required in a child, and when that obedience was wanting, -what could result but increased discomfort to himself and all -concerned? Yes, even as we should lay up a store of prayers against -that time when we shall be unable to pray for ourselves, so surely -should we lay up a store of habits against the time when we may be -unable to think or reason for ourselves! How often have lives been -saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning instantaneous obedience! - -Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and -future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet -too disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was -subjecting his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission -would have led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of -perpetually interrupting even the short repose which she would now and -then be persuaded to seek on the sofa. He would have spared her his -perpetual, harassing complaints, not so much of the pain he suffered, -as of every thing and every person who approached him, his Uncle -Geoffrey being the only person against whom he never murmured. Nor -would he have rebelled against measures to which he was obliged to -submit in the end, after he had distressed every one and exhausted -himself by his fruitless opposition. - -It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would -endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of -those spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are -nevertheless capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to look -worn and almost aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still -indefatigable, unconscious of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in -the thought of her son, and yet not so absorbed as not to be full of -consideration for all around. All looked forward with apprehension to -the time when the consequences of such continued exertion must be felt, -but in the meantime it was not in the power of any one except her -brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to her, and her relations -could only wait and watch with such patience as they could command, for -the period when their services might be effectual. - -Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of -her very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse -the upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother -whenever she entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders -always created a disturbance, which created such positive injury, that -it was the aim of the whole family to prevent her visits there. This -was, as may be supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa's "You had better -not, my dear," checked her for a little while, but was far from -satisfying her: Uncle Geoffrey, who might have had the best chance, had -not time to spare for her; and no one could persuade her how -impossible, nay, how dangerous it was to attempt to reason with the -patient: so she blamed the whole household for indulging his fancies, -and half a dozen times a day pronounced that he would be the death of -his mother. Beatrice did the best she could to tranquillise her; but -two spirits so apt to clash did not accord particularly well even now, -though Busy Bee was too much depressed to queen it as usual. To feel -herself completely useless in the midst of the suffering she had -occasioned was a severe trial; and above all, poor child, she longed -for her mother, and the repose of confession and parental sympathy. -She saw her father only at meal times; she was anxious and uneasy at -his worn looks, and even he could not be all that her mother was. -Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that sat so heavy on her mind -was not one for discussion with any one but a mother, and this -consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with him, such as had -never before existed between them. - -Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that -chiefly because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong -affection and esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now -manifested, and the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions -served but to make the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his -brothers, and spent every moment he could at the Hall, either reading -in the library, or walking up and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. -One of the many conversations which they held will serve as a specimen -of the rest. - -"So they do not think he is much better to-day?" said Alex, walking -into the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters. - -Beatrice shook her head. "Every day that he is not worse is so much -gained," said she. - -"It is very odd," meditated Alex: "I suppose the more heads have in -them, the easier it is to knock them!" - -Beatrice smiled. "Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex." - -"Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee," and he examined his -own face in the glass over the chimney; "there, do you see a little bit -of a scar under my eyebrow?--there! Well, that was where I was knocked -over by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred -could have come against the ground,--but what harm did it do me? Why -everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black -eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise. -Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first -thing I saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, -and so I got up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. -That was the worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against -him. I would give anything now." - -"Well, but Alex, I don't understand. You were very good friends at the -bottom, after all; you can't have anything really to repent of towards -him." - -"Oh, haven't I though?" was the reply. "It was more the other fellows' -doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, -knowing all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and -all of you, had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred -was to be such a friend of mine. And then when he came to school, -there he was--a fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl's, and -that did not even know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! -Well, I wish I could begin it all over again." - -"But do you mean that he was really a--a--what you call a Miss Molly?" - -"Who said so? No, not a bit of it!" said Alex. "No one thought so in -reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend to -think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times more -spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been -knocked about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to -anything. The matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am -sure I shan't care if we do win." - -"And the prize," said Beatrice, "the scholarship!" - -"I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey had -not a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the -summer, why then--hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in -no time, clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don't you -think so?" - -Queen Bee shook her head. "They say he must not read or study for a -very long time," said she. - -"Yes, but six months--a whole year is an immense time," said Alex. "O -yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does -other people; and his verses, they never fail--never except when he is -careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time. -That is right. Why there!" exclaimed Alex joyfully, "I do believe this -is the very best thing for his success!" Beatrice could not help -laughing, and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed -him, that if Fred were living a week hence, they would have great -reason to be thankful. - -"Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this," proceeded -he. "There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the -masters either." - -"The masters, perhaps," said Beatrice; "but I thought you said there -was a party against him among the boys?" - -"Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because -they had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better -without all his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was -foolish enough to let them go on, though I knew all the time it was -nothing but chaff. I shall let them all know what fools they were for -their pains, as soon as I go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know -Fred at home, you have not the slightest notion what a fellow he is. -I'll just tell you one story of him." - -Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to -illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and -again and again blaming himself for the species of division which had -existed between them, although the fact was that he had always been the -more conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple- -hearted fellow, that each word was quite as much, or more, to his -credit, as to Frederick's; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt -proud of him. - -These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, -if only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not -that the only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the -letters which her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the -power of those of cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred's -room. She thought she could have borne everything excepting -Henrietta's coldness, which still continued, not from intentional -unkindness or unwillingness to forgive, but simply because Henrietta -was too much absorbed in her own troubles to realise to herself the -feelings which she wounded. Her uncle Geoffrey had succeeded in -awakening her consideration for her mother; but with her and Fred it -began and ended, and when outside the sick room, she seemed not to have -a thought beyond a speedy return to it. She seldom or never left it, -except at meal-times, or when her grandfather insisted on her taking a -walk with him, as he did almost daily. Then he walked between her and -Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse her to talk, and she, replying as -shortly as possible when obliged to speak, left her cousin to sustain -the conversation. - -The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the -Epiphany, and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which -their own hands had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the -glistening leaves unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear -began to gather in Beatrice's eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if -she could not bear the sight of those branches, so lately gathered by -her brother. As they were leaving the church, both looked towards the -altar at the wreath which Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a -deeper and more awful meaning than she had designed. Their eyes met, -and they saw that they had the same thought in their minds. - -When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee -stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but -with a gesture that was almost timid, saying, - -"Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of -this." - -And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse-- - - - "Such garland grave and fair, - His church to-day adorns, - And--mark it well--e'en there - He wears His Crown of Thorns. - - "Should aught profane draw near, - Full many a guardian spear - Is set around, of power to go - Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping foe." - - -"They go very deep," sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a -mournful complaining glance. - -Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct -on Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the "thing -profane" that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she -had even appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was -beginning to speak, but Henrietta cut her short by saying, "Yes, yes, -but I can't stay," and was flying along the passage the next moment. - -Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in -recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of -her recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and -poured out her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to -avoid the very germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth -in secret: and a calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true -repentance, began to dawn on her. - -It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave -her alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had -heard the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that -her presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the -gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even -stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be -comforted by talking to her. - -Her thought was only the repining one: "the thorns go deep!" Poor -child, had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the -skilful surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the -hidden source of the malady. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - -On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton -carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and -her father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when -alone together. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring -breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery -threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy -grass, the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver "pussycats" on the withy, and -the tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such -sights were a refreshment--a sort of holiday--after the many springs -spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long -attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking -deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if -it would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she -had not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! -Her father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in -London, and no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had -resolved on changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him -and take her mother's place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They -were now going to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield -station, and they would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, -returning themselves the next morning to Westminster. - -They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which -Mrs. Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some -new books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey's for some -medicines; and then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the -train. - -Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,--the -dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions; -the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the -dress so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy -Beatrice was that first moment of feeling herself at her side! - -"My dear! my own dear child!" Then anxiously following her husband -with her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, "How thin -he looks, Queenie!" - -"O, he has been doing so much," said Busy Bee. "It is only for this -last week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in -Fred's room. This is the first time he has been out, except last -Sunday to Church, and a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma." - -He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. "Come, Beatrice," -said he to his wife, "I am in great haste to have you at home; that -fresh face of yours will do us all so much good." - -"One thing is certain," said she; "I shall send home orders that you -shall be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall -hide half the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, -Geoffrey, are you really well?" - -"Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn," said her husband -laughing. - -"Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?" - -"He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to -lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch's outlines to look at: so you -may guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought -down the books and prints?" - -"Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight." - -"It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only -take care, they must not be at Henrietta's discretion, or his own, or -he will be overwhelmed with them,--a very little oversets him, and -might do great mischief." - -"You don't think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?" - -"O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep -him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite -is returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him." - -"I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of -poor Mary's over gentleness." - -"Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some -strange prejudice against Philip Carey." - -Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while -her father proceeded. - -"I do not understand it at all: Philip's manners in a sick room are -particularly good--much better than I should have expected, and he has -been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has -shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most -of it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the -London doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than -Philip has ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks -and exclaims the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking -of wishing for old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit -for never having proposed to send for him. I used to think she had -great faith in the old man, but I believe it was only her mother." - -"Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you -really are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; -and I am very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in -nothing but her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling -mamma about her." - -"As if I did not know that," said he, smiling. - -"And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I -should like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred's part. Have -you ever asked him?" - -"No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the -prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and -again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him -confidence in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was -sharp enough to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has -been the great trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have -mentioned it, for fear of annoying my mother." - -"Papa," said Busy Bee, "I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It -was my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor -Fred about Roger's having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of -things that I did not really mean." - -"Hem!" said her father. "Well, I should think it might be so; it -always struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd -notion, the memory of which had passed away, while the impression -remained." - -"And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I -am to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon." - -"Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might -do away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; -only do not let him think it has been under discussion." - -Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. - -"Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?" said her mother. - -"Too wonderfully," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "in a way which I fear -will cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give -way as she ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of -the old complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am -persuaded that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago." - -"Ah!" said his wife, with great concern, "that is just what I have been -dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ---, how strongly he -forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let me -come? I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting -off." - -"It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice," said he, smiling; -"a sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either -to make themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly -when I did not see you." - -"But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?" - -"Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother -and me; you could not have saved either of us an hour's nursing then, -whereas now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she -will suffer it, and that she will do better from you than from any one -else." - -They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee -was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as -it had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. -Even her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was -so much to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that -they had not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they -arrived at the gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and -Willy, excessively delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey. - -In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs. -Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of a -curiously varying and always opposite description. When her daughter- -in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of -respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the -fashionable life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence -the winning, lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all -these prejudices in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for -her own sake, as well as because she was Geoffrey's wife. On the -contrary, the younger Beatrice, while absent, was the dear little -granddaughter,--the Queen of Bees, the cleverest of creatures; and -while present, it has already been shown how constantly the two tempers -fretted each other, or had once done so, though now, so careful had -Busy Bee lately been, there had been only one collision between them -for the last ten days, and that was caused by her strenuous attempts to -convince grandmamma that Fred was not yet fit for boiled chicken and -calves' foot jelly. - -Mrs. Langford's greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her -mamma hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey. - -"My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!" - -"Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you -now!" - -"Is he tired?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking -of Queen Bee's promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?" - -Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had -not seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know -how to begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, while -Henrietta went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, -Henrietta opened it, and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by -the fire, in his dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless -manner that betokens great feebleness. There were the purple marks of -leeches on his temples; his hair had been cropped close to his head; -his face was long and thin, without a shade of colour, but his eyes -looked large and bright; and he smiled and held out his hand: "Ah, -Queenie, how d'ye do?" - -"How d'ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better." - -"You see I have the asses' ears after all," said he, pointing to his -own, which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition. - -Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort, -and succeeded, while she said, "I should have complimented you on the -increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head -was so like papa's." - -"Is Aunt Geoffrey come?" asked Fred. - -"Yes," said his sister: "but mamma thinks you had better not see her -till to-morrow." - -"I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going," said Fred. "Nobody else has the -least notion of making one tolerably comfortable." - -"O, your mamma, Fred!" said Queen Bee. - -"O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged." - -"Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work -in London," said Henrietta; "but I do not know what we should have done -without him." - -"I do not know what we shall do now," said Fred, in a languid and -doleful tone. - -The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost -alarmed eagerness, "O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will -enjoy having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and -Philip Carey manages you so well--" - -"Manages!" said Fred; "ay, and I'll tell you how, Queenie; just as the -man managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he -thinks I am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he -knew himself what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the -fire through my hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room -is in a merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is -nothing else on earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down -to the strength of a midge!" - -"Well, but of course he knows," said Busy Bee; "Papa says he has had an -excellent education, and he must know." - -"To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows -how to keep a patient when he has got one." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a -sign you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it." - -"I am talking no nonsense," said Fred, sharply; "I am as serious as -possible." - -"But you can't really think that if Philip was capable of acting in -such an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other -doctor too?" - -"What! when that man gets I don't know how many guineas from mamma -every time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I -should get well?" - -"My dear Fred," interposed his sister, "you are exciting yourself, and -that is so very bad for you." - -"I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to -be shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding -twice a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey's pockets! Now, there -was old Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old -fellow; but this man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am -ready to kick him out of the room when I hear that silky voice of his -trying to be gen-tee-eel, and condoling; and those boots--O! Busy Bee! -those boots! whenever he makes a step I always hear them say, 'O what a -pretty fellow I am!'" - -"You seem to be very merry here, my dears," said Aunt Mary, coming in; -"but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice -even before I opened the door." - -Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not -absolutely to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, -sitting down, began to talk to the visitor, "Well, my little Queen, we -have seen very little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to -lose you. I suppose your mamma will have all your letters, and -Henrietta must not expect any, but we shall want very much to know how -you get on with Aunt Susan and her little dog." - -"O very well, I dare say," said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was -looking at her aunt's delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her -father had been saying. - -"And Queenie," continued her aunt, earnestly, "you must take great care -of your papa--make him rest, and listen to your music, and read story- -books instead of going back to his work all the evening." - -"To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can." - -"But Bee," said Fred, "you don't mean that you are going to be shut up -with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don't you stay here, -and let her take care of herself?" - -"Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is -really ill, Fred," said Beatrice. - -"It is too bad, now I am just getting better--if they would let me, I -mean," said Fred: "just when I could enjoy having you, and now there -you go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame." - -"So it is, Fred," said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once -she would have answered him, "a great shame in you not to have learned -to feel for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself." - -"That is right, Bee," said Aunt Mary, smiling; "tell him he ought to be -ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the -comfort of your household. I am sure I am," added she, her eyes -filling with tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice's hand. - -Queen Bee's heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to the -expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only -pressed her aunt's long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her -face to the fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There -was a little silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the -engravings at which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till -the dressing bell rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook -hands with Fred, saying cheerfully, "Well, good-bye, I hope you will be -better friends with the doctors next time I see you." - -"Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!" repeated Fred, as she -left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma -in the space allowed for dressing. - -Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick's own -place, there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had -Bennet to sit with him, and besides, there was within call the -confidential old man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, -and in whom both Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence. - -Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and -talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was -ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits -again, Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in -London with Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with -papa either writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to -seem doubly like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever -faults she had, she was no repiner. "I deserve it," said she to -herself, "and surely I ought to bear my share of the trouble my -wilfulness has occasioned. Besides, with even one little bit of papa's -company I am only too well off." - -So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that -no one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been -imposed upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts -were much more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and -happy about Fred, and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with -all her playful gentleness, she could not think that there was anything -seriously amiss with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set -it all to rights. Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first -acute pain of remorse was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, -in every little gesture and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever -since the accident. - -Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so -much talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of -his uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, -but still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, -for when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as he -watched the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time -sedulously making for his comfort, "Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank -you very much; I am afraid I have been a great plague to you." - -Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle -Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully -expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, -coupled with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was -salutary. - -"Anything for your good, my dear sir," said he, with a smile. "You are -welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma -is not quite so tough." - -"Well, I do try to be considerate about her," said Fred. "I mean to -make her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling -how to save her." - -"You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her -discussions." - -Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the -early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly -harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which -Henrietta had left on the sofa. "I like those very much," said Fred, -"especially the Fight with the Dragon." - -"You know Schiller's poem on it?" said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Yes, Henrietta has it in German." - -"Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration." - -"I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a -dragon-killing expedition," said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh. - -"Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for-- - - - 'The duty hardest to fulfil, - To learn to yield our own self-will.'" - - -"There is very little hasty pudding in the case," said Fred, rather -disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of -resolution of this kind, "I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let -that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help -it, unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will -submit to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall -feel up to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this -swimming head and aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!" - -Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more -useful than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, -and besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, -so much so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to -have half an hour's talk with his wife. He did find the time for this -at last, however, and his first question was, "What do you think of the -little Bee?" - -"I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been -able to do for some time past," was the answer. - -"Poor child, she has felt it very deeply," said he, "I have been -grieved to have so little time to bestow on her." - -"I am disposed to think," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, -"that it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much -talk has always been the mischief with her, as with many another only -child, and it struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so -little. There was something very touching in the complete absence of -moralizing to-day." - -"None of her sensible sayings," said her father, with a gratified -though a grave smile. "It was perfectly open confession, and yet with -no self in it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and -sedateness about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far -as I have seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, -I was much pleased with her, she was so simple: 'Very well,' she said, -'I hope I shall be able to make her comfortable:' no begging off, no -heroism. And really, Beatrice, don't you think we could make some -other arrangement? It is too great a penance for her, poor child. -Lady Susan will do very well, and I can have an eye to her; I am much -inclined to leave the poor little Queen here with you." - -"No, no, Geoffrey," said his wife, "that would never do: I do not mean -on my aunt's account, but on the Busy Bee's; I am sure, wish it as we -may," and the tears were in her eyes, "this is no time for even the -semblance of neglecting a duty for her sake." - -"Not so much hers as yours," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "you have more -on your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a -valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, -it is your turn to keep her now." - -"No, no, no," she repeated, though not without an effort, "it is best -as it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to -write to me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a -hundred times more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself -to death with no one to remonstrate." - -So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost -both mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which -they kept close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily -one fragment of each other's company; but they had very few moments -alone together, and those were chiefly employed in practical matters, -in minute directions as to the little things that conduced to keep Lady -Susan in good humour, and above all, the arrangements for papa's -comfort. There was thus not much time for Beatrice to spend with -Henrietta, nor indeed would much have resulted if there had been more. -As she grew more at ease about her brother, Henrietta had gradually -resumed her usual manner, and was now as affectionate to Beatrice as -ever, but she was quite unconscious of her previous unkindness, and -therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen Bee had ceased to -think of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the two girls, they -neither of them perceived it. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to -London so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; -but their hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by -Alex, who came in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle -Geoffrey about his school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with -hopes of a merrier meeting next summer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety for -her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to -allow that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than -she had hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, -and after a few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a -severe fit of the spasms, to which she had for several years been -subject at intervals, and was obliged to confine herself entirely to -her own room, relying with complete confidence on her sister for the -attendance on her son. - -It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to -devote herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of -Frederick, who was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she -only gave him as much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and -to superintend the regulation of his room. He had all the society he -wanted in his sister, who was always with him, and in grandpapa and -grandmamma, whose short and frequent visits he began greatly to enjoy. -He had also been more amenable to authority of late, partly in -consequence of his uncle's warning, partly because it was not quite so -easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and partly too because, excepting -always the starving system, he had nothing in particular of which to -complain. His mother's illness might also have its effect in subduing -him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or Henrietta's, as they -were too much accustomed to her ill health to be easily alarmed on her -account. - -It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in -the afternoon--Fred's best time in the day--to take his leave. All the -morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good -deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he -had been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to -stay away from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his -powers, and finding his most exciting interests. It was very -mortifying to be thus laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of -an important and leading member of a community; at such an age too that -it was probable that he would never return there again. - -He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be -missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of -trees, and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the -meadows: the "beech-crowned steep," girdled in with the "hollow trench -that the Danish pirate made;" the old collegiate courts, the painted -windows of the chapel, the surpliced scholars,--even the very shops in -the streets had their part in his description: and then falling into -silence he sighed at the thought that there he would be known no more,- --all would go on as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and -expressions of compassion, he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass -him in the race of distinction; his school-boy career be at an end. - -His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford's entrance with Aunt -Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, -to walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after -putting a book within Fred's reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma -were quite willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother. - -Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about -his health, and the present mode of treatment,--a subject on which they -were perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet -as the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often -painfully dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to -read for a long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the -room without excessive giddiness--what was that but the effect of want -of nourishment? "If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the -thing was wholesome." So she said, and her grandson assented with his -whole heart. - -In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most -tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly. - -"O, grandmamma!" said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively -lighted up at the sight. - -"Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very -good. It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it -must do you good." - -"Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice," said Fred, gazing on -it with wistful eyes, "but really I do not think I ought." - -"If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a -thing," said Mrs. Langford. "But I have lived a good many more years -in the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of -all this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all -the neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while -the fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate -the system,--that was what he used to say." - -"Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!" sighed Fred. "I know my system -would like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid -stuff; but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if -they knew it." - -"Never mind," said grandmamma; "'tis all my doing, you know. Come, to -oblige me, taste it, my dear." - -"One spoonful," said Fred--"to oblige grandmamma," added he to himself: -and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could bear -to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a little,- --"There is wine in it!" said he. - -"A very little--just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any -difference. Do you like it, my dear?" as the spoon scooped out another -transparent rock. "Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old -Aunt Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith." - -"I am in for it now," thought Fred. "Well, 'tis excellent," said he; -"capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers' ends," added he with -a smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the -particles remaining in the small end. - -"That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!" said grandmamma, -hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as -it implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of -his own case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very -imprudently,--that is to say, his better sense was aware--but his -spirit of self-will made him consider all these precautions as -nonsense, and was greatly confirmed by his feeling himself much more -fresh and lively. Grandmamma returned to announce Alexander and Willy, -who soon followed her, and after shaking hands, stood silent, much -shocked at the alteration in Fred's appearance. - -This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over -school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his -friends, discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, -the studies, the employments; Alex lamenting Fred's absence, engaging -to write, undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating -his speedy recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,--the prize. -Never had the two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their -meeting. There was no competition; each could afford to do the other -justice, and both felt great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and -even so loud became their glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that -Fred was not in perfect health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an -end to it; and finding Fred so much excited, she made Alex bring his -blunt honest farewells and good wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired -Fred to lie quiet and rest, and sat down herself to see that he did so. - -Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and -eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went -on more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some -one who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, -but he grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced -the time for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and -sent Bennet to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a -quiescent state. He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of -the evening; but so wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began -to be alarmed, and fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was -in the right after all. Towards morning, however, a short sleep -visited him, and he awoke at length quite sufficiently refreshed to be -self-willed as ever; and, contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his -bed at his usual hour. - -Philip Carey came at about twelve o'clock, and was disappointed as well -as surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as he -could not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was unsatis- -factory; but Philip thought the excitement of the interview with Alex -well accounted for the sleepless night, as well as for the exhaustion -of the present day: and Fred persuaded himself to believe so too. - -Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take -a ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long -gone by was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in -his granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be too -bustling a nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently -impatient to be left alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick -Langford, resolving, however, not to be long absent. - -In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, -in spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent -irritation of Philip's last visit made him more willing to act in -opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of -swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in -which he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale -glass safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford's -door was opened at the other end of the passage. - -Fred's sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,--too -high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa, -too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly -though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought -she did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain -concluding shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put -him in a passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta -came in, and it seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and -the horses' feet upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked -because his sister went first to her mamma's room; and it was grandpapa -who came to him full of a story of Henrietta's good management of her -horse when they suddenly met the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, -at last, in her habit, her hair hanging loosely round her face, her -cheeks and eyes lighted up by the exercise, and some early primroses in -her hand, begging his pardon for having kept him waiting, but saying -she thought he did not want her directly, as he had grandpapa. - -Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of -spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong -scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then -insisted on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating -to him from the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, -she sat down directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to -be thus satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her -translation, and desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read -first so fast that he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was -quite unbearable, and she must go on translating. With the greatest -patience and sweetest temper she obeyed; only when next he interrupted -her to find fault, she stopped and said gently, "Dear Fred, I am afraid -you are not feeling so well." - -"Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I -suppose. Well, never mind, I will go on for myself," said he, -snatching the book. - -Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to -vindicate herself. - -"Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you -would not be so silly." - -"If you would only let me go on, dear Fred," said she, thinking that -occupying him would be better than arguing. "It is so dark where you -are, and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece -coming." - -Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time, -till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when -the failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some -light from the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too -bad of her, when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and -that horrible red flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This -dislike, which had been one of the symptoms of the early part of his -illness, so alarmed her that she had thoughts of going to call Aunt -Geoffrey, and was heartily glad to see her enter the room. - -"Well, how are you going on?" she said, cheerfully. "Why, my dear, how -hot you must be in that habit!" - -"Rather," said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her -perplexity, was almost crimson. "We have been reading 'Nicolo,' and I -am very much afraid it is as bad as Alex's visit, and has excited Fred -again." - -"I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!" said Fred, -impatiently. - -"Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt," said Aunt Geoffrey. -"But yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity." - -Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told -Henrietta that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse -was felt. - -"Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?" said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as -well as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to -acquire sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and -still she held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in -the hope that it was only some momentary agitation that had so -quickened them. - -"What! 'tis faster?" asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when -she released him at last. - -"You are flushed, Fred," she answered very quietly, though she felt -full of consternation. "Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you -had better not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no -better than last night." - -"Very well," said Fred. - -"Then I will ring for Stephens," said she. - -The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and -there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the -symptoms that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down -without exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going -back to recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered -that as she left her sister's room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom -she had left with Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she -have been giving him any of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford could hardly believe that either party could have -acted so foolishly, yet when she remembered a few words that had passed -about the jelly that morning at breakfast, she could no longer doubt, -and bitterly reproached herself for not having kept up a stricter -surveillance. Of her suspicion she however said nothing, but sealing -her note, she went down to the drawing-room, told Mr. Langford that she -did not think Fred quite so well that evening, and asked him if he did -not think it might be better to let Philip Carey know. He agreed -instantly, and rang the bell to order a servant to ride to Allonfield; -but Mrs. Langford, who could not bear any one but Geoffrey to act -without consulting her, pitied man and horse for being out so late, and -opined that Beatrice forgot that she was not in London, where the -medical man could be called in so easily. - -It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger, -for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was -not easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. "Well, it is very -kind in you to attend to my London fancies," said she; "I think if we -can do anything to spare him such a night as the last, it should be -tried." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Langford. "It is very disappointing -when he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something -imprudent." - -It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her daughter-in- -law had long since come to a resolution never to convey to her anything -like reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken kindness of -heart, or her respectable prejudices; so, without entering on what many -in her place might have made a scene of polite recrimination, she left -the room, and on her way up, heard Frederick's door gently opened. -Stephens came quickly and softly to the end of the passage to meet her. -"He is asking for you, ma'am," said he; "I am afraid he is not so well; -I did not like to ring, for fear of alarming my mistress, but--" - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and -exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion -and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, -and looked wildly about. "Oh, Aunt Geoffrey," he exclaimed, "what -shall I do? It is as bad--worse than ever!" - -"You have been doing something imprudent, I fear," said Aunt Geoffrey, -determined to come to the truth at once. - -"Only that glass of jelly--if I had guessed!" - -"Only one?" - -"One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma's doing. Don't let her -know that I told. I wish mamma was here!" - -Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could -not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed. - -"The inflammation is coming back!" he cried, in an agony of -apprehension that almost overcame the sense of pain. "I shall be in -danger--I shall lose my senses--I shall die! Mamma! O! where is -mamma?" - -"Lie still, my dear Fred," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand -on him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to -sit up. "Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything -else. You must control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure -I will do the best in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of -God." - -"Then you think me very ill?" said Fred, trying to speak more -composedly. - -"I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will -keep yourself quiet, both mind and body. There--"she settled him as -comfortably as she could: "Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make -a resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I -shall soon come back." - -This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as -a favour to spare her, and yet his aunt's tone was so affectionate, as -well as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left -the room, and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant -against the wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite -overwhelmed, and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, or -even for one short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, -there was no time, and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning -up her energies, she walked on to the person whom she at that moment -most dreaded to see, her sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her -arm-chair, Henrietta with her, both looking very anxious, and she was -glad to find her prepared. - -"What is it?" was the first eager question. - -"He has been attempting rather too much of late," was the answer, "and -has knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had -better stay with him, and perhaps you might miss me." - -"O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as -that you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much -trouble. Don't stay here answering questions. He will be so restless -if he misses you--" - -"Don't you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you." - -This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her -mother said, "No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he -wants her." - -"By no means," said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; "he will be -quieter without her." - -Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting -down to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus -checked, and she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her -brother as her aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on -which it is susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection -for her brother, whereas it was impatience of being ordered. - -Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. "Aunt Geoffrey is a -capital nurse," said she; "there is something so decided about her that -it always does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of -thinking for oneself." - -"I had rather judge for myself," said Henrietta. - -"That is all very well to talk of," said her mother, smiling sadly, -"but it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it." - -"Well, what do you like to hear?" said Henrietta, who found herself too -cross for conversation. "The old man's home?" - -"Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. -You would want 'lungs of brass' to go on all day to both of us. You -had better not. I should like to talk." - -Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it -gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting -a hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred -conversation. So she took up a book, and began, without any perception -of the sense of what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly -on her brother, and partly on her aunt's provoking ways. She read on -through a whole chapter, then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, "I -must go and see what Aunt Geoffrey is doing with Fred." - -"She is not such a very dangerous person," said Mrs. Frederick -Langford, almost laughing at the form of the expression. - -"Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?" - -"To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was -just going to sleep now." - -"Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door." - -"Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take -care, my dear." - -"I must go, I can't bear it any longer; I will only just listen," said -Henrietta; "I will not be a moment." - -"Let me have the book, my dear," said her mother, who knew but too well -the length of Henrietta's moments, and who had just, by means of a -great effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book. - -Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred's room was -ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing -round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from -Frederick's temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave -long gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. "Leeches!" thought -Henrietta, as she started with consternation and displeasure. "This is -pretty strong! Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call -doing something with him indeed." - -She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, -till at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some -bottle. - -"Let me do something," said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she -thought likely to be the right one. - -Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, "You had -better stay with your mamma." - -"But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? -Has he ordered it?" - -"He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much -obliged if you would go back to your mamma." - -Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked up -and still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, -"Henrietta, you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses -him; your mamma must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?" - -"I was just going," said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an -additional offence, and walking off in a dignified way. - -It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, -the neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to lay -upon her, and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much -displeased, and too distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any -precautions which her aunt might have tried to impress upon her. - -"Well!" asked her mother anxiously. - -"She would not let me stay," answered Henrietta. "She has been putting -on leeches." - -"Leeches!" exclaimed her mother. "He must be much worse. Poor fellow! -Is Mr. Carey here?" - -"No, that is the odd thing." - -"Has he not been sent for?" - -"I am sure I don't know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in -her own way." - -"It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!" -said Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed. - -"And never to tell you!" said Henrietta. - -"O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I -should be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem -to be?" - -"Very faint, I thought," said Henrietta, "there seemed to be a great -deal of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near." - -"She knows exactly what to do," said Mrs. Frederick Langford. "How -well it was that she should be here." - -Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother's complete confidence in -her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue -it away. "Aunt Geoffrey is so quick--she does things without half the -consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything." - -But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be -even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl. - -"My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you -were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied -that she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if -I am satisfied, no one else has any right to object." - -There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits -but to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find -of distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely -more than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence -them, and the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing -as she did to fly to her son's room, to see with her own eyes, and only -detained by the fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate -him. The tears, whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta -good, and restored her to something more like her proper senses. She -grew rather alarmed, too, when she saw her mamma's pale looks, as she -leant back almost exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation. - -Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little -idea of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to -cheer them both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. -Then they heard sounds announcing Philip Carey's arrival, and presently -after in came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was -better, and that his mother was not to be frightened. At last came -Aunt Geoffrey, saying, "Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very -sorry to leave you so long, and I believe Henrietta," looking at her -with a smile, "thinks I have used you very ill." - -"I believe she did," said her mother, "but I was sure you would do -right; you say he is better? Let me hear." - -"Much better; only--. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should go -to bed." - -"Let me hear about him first." - -Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every -one would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree -justified Henrietta's opinion that she had been doing a great deal on -her own responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the -bleeding, and Fred, already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted -that she had felt considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the -arrival of Philip Carey, who had not been at home when the messenger -reached his house. Now, however, all was well; he had fully approved -all that she had done, and, although she did not repeat this to Mrs. -Frederick Langford, had pronounced that her promptitude and energy had -probably saved the patient's life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen -asleep, and she had now come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to -tell his mother all that had passed, and ask her pardon. - -"Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and -Geoffrey have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? -and is it not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always -will do so? You know that is the reason I never thank you." - -Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and -ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, "You thought it very -hard to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry -for it, but I had not much time to be polite." - -"I am sorry I was in the way," said she, an acknowledgment such as she -had seldom made. - -Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in -his progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the -worst fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered. - -But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the -agitations of the evening before, that there was no reason for further -anxiety. - -It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, -that she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding, - -"As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame -better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. -I think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I do -not speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed -herself quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to -imagine that she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, -and I think it much that she has been allowed to continue in the -belief. Lady Amelia comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little -woman's penance may be over, for though she makes no complaints, there -is no doubt that it is a heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a -book, and an hour's freedom from that little gossiping flow of -plaintive talk sufficiently testify." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - -Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of -no slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had -been so stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious -of his danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of -what he had suffered. But this return to his former state, with all -his senses perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive -how near to the grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of -awe came over him, as he thought what it would have been to die then, -without a minute of clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful -disobedience. And how had he requited the mercy which had spared him? -He had shown as much of that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness -would permit; he had been exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well -indeed had he deserved to be cut off in the midst of the sin in which -he had persisted. - -He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an -earnest thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made -in silence during the two or three days that passed, partly in such -thoughts as these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes -his aunt, sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his -bed-side unchidden for not being "mamma." - -"Above all," said he to himself, "he would for the future devote -himself, to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for -his sake. Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the -rest of his life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?" -It was very disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt -to do for her was to send her messages--and affection does not travel -well by message,--and at the same time to show submission to her known -wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown -submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to -be argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have -indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced -of their futility. - -So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to -grumble, and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less -unpleasant even external things appeared, and how much his health -benefited by the tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing -to be pleased with all that was done with that intent; and as he grew -better, it certainly was a strange variety with which he had to be -amused throughout the day. Very good naturedly he received all such -civilities, especially when Willy brought him a bottle of the first -live sticklebacks of the season, accompanied by a message from Arthur -that he hoped soon to send him a basin of tame tadpoles,--and when John -rushed up with a basket of blind young black satin puppies, their -mother following in a state of agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. -Langford and Judith. - -Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and -spent much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, -beyond what could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh -party. - -When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable -correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still -unable to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between -the two rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or -droll descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of -the fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of a -bunch of violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the -headache, the fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting -their saws on the next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the -rooks who were building their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick -Langford's window, and whom she watched so much that she was said to be -in a fair way of solving the problem of how many sticks go to a crow's -nest; criticisms of the books read by each party, and very often a -reference to that celebrated billet, unfortunately delivered over night -to Prince Talleyrand, informing him that his devoted friend had -scarcely closed her eyes all night, and then only to dream of him! - -Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers -as in their younger days,--depending upon her, participating in all her -pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, by -their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the -beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most -valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of -whom looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her -histories of down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, -cottage, or school; had a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, -admiration for the spring flower or leaf, and power to follow her -descriptions of budding woods, soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. -How her mamma enjoyed comparing notes with her about those same woods -and dells, and would describe the adventures of her own youth! And now -it might be noticed that she did not avoid speaking of those in which -Henrietta's father had been engaged; nay, she dwelt on them by -preference, and without the suppressed sigh which had formerly followed -anything like a reference to him. Sometimes she would smile to -identify the bold open down with the same where she had run races with -him, and even laugh to think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the -shady woodland walk would make her describe their nutting parties, or -it would bring her thoughts to some fit of childish mischief and -concealment, and to the confession to which his bolder and more upright -counsel had at length led her. Or she would tell of the long walks -they had taken together when older grown, when each had become prime -counsellor and confidante of the other; and the interests and troubles -of home and of school were poured out to willing ears, and sympathy and -advice exchanged. How Fred and Mary had been companions from the very -first, how their love had grown up unconsciously, in the sports in the -sunny fields, shady coombs, and green woods of their home: how it had -strengthened and ripened with advancing years, and how bright and -unclouded their sunshine had been to dwell on: this was her delight, -while the sadness which once spoke of crushed hopes, and lost -happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if she still felt -herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same time, as if -she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to tell Henrietta -of those words and those ways of his which were most characteristic, -and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, that she could never -have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his death, as it -regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of his memory -alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so much as -her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these -recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy. - -Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them -anxious about her mother's health, but for her own part she did not -think her worse than she had often been before; and whilst she -continued in nearly the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm- -chair, and was so cheerful, and even lively, there could not be very -much amiss, even though there was no visible progress in amendment. -Serious complaint there was, as she knew of old, to cause the spasms; -but it had existed so long, that after the first shock of being told of -it two years ago, she had almost ceased to think about it. She -satisfied herself to her own mind that it could not, should not be -progressing, and that this was only a very slow recovery from the last -attack. - -Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and -merry when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, -or take less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet -he grew grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother -grew minute and anxious. - -"Henrietta," said he, one day when they were alone together, "I was -trying to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma." - -"O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more," said -Henrietta. - -"You have told me that so many times," said Fred. "I think I must try -to get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle -Geoffrey comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there." - -"It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!" said Henrietta. - -"Yes," said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, -"But how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, -is it not?" - -"Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here." - -"It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey -went." - -"The fourth," said Henrietta. - -"And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first -spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!" - -"Well," said Henrietta, "you know she was five weeks without stirring -out of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is -getting better." - -"I don't think it is getting better," said Fred. "You always say so, -but I don't think you have anything to show for it." - -"You might say the same for yourself," said Henrietta, laughing. "You -have been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not -boast." - -"Well, at least I can show something for it," said Fred; "they allow me -a lark's diet instead of a wren's, I can hold up my head like other -people now, and I actually made my own legs and the table's carry me to -the window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not -think it is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or -eleven o'clock; now I don't believe she ever is till one." - -"It has been close, damp weather," said Henrietta, surprised at the -accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. "She misses the -cold bracing wind." - -"I don't like it," said Fred, growing silent, and after a short -interval beginning again more earnestly, "Henrietta, neither you nor -any one else are keeping anything from me, I trust?" - -"O, no, no!" said Henrietta, eagerly. - -"You are quite sure?" - -"Quite," responded she. "You know all I know, every bit; and I know -all Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what -Mr. Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say -strong things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they -would not do so." - -"I don't think they would," said Fred; "but I am not satisfied. -Recollect and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only -recovering slowly--I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not -a thing to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as -well as usual?" - -"I do," said Henrietta, "and you know I am more used to her illness -than any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering -how bad the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going -through, we could not expect her to get on faster." - -"You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey." - -"O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just -like Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure you -could not get any more information from her than from me, and -impressions--I am sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch -mamma." - -Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never -lost one of his mother's little notes, placing them as soon as read in -his pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged -Henrietta to lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of -her marriage. It represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with -the long ringlets and plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, -the arch suppressed smile on her lips, and the laughing light in her -deep blue eye. He looked at it for a little while, and then asked -Henrietta if she thought that she could find, among the things sent -from Rocksand which had not yet been unpacked, another portrait, taken -in the earlier months of her widowhood, when she had in some partial -degree recovered from her illness, but her life seemed still to hang on -a thread. Mrs. Vivian, at whose especial desire it had been taken, had -been very fond of it, and had always kept it in her room, and Fred -was very anxious to see it again. After a long search, with Bennet's -help, Henrietta found it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and in the -deep black garments, there was much more general resemblance to her -present appearance in this than in the portrait of the beautiful -smiling bride. "And yet," said Fred, as he compared them, "do not you -think, Henrietta, that there is more of mamma in the first?" - -"I see what you mean," said Henrietta. "You know it is by a much -better artist." - -"Yes," said he, "the other is like enough in feature,--more so -certainly to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And -yet what is it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in -their look, and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more -in mind of hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And -the sweet smile, that is quite her own!" - -"If you could but see her now, Fred," said Henrietta, "I think you -would indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink -flush, that lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she -smiles and talks about those old times with papa, she does really look -just like the miniature, all but her thinness." - -"I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father," -murmured Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened -her eyes; then a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and -she began to speak of something else as fast as she could. - -Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a minute's -visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his sister- -in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister's information that -"it was on business," and only was in a slight degree reassured by -being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady- -day. Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was -especially anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being -frightened, she would not leave him alone in Fred's room, knowing full -well that no questions would be asked except in private--none at least -of the description which she dreaded. - -All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he -might visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it -was possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged -that on Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was -quiet, his uncle should help him to her room, where his aunt would read -to them both. - -Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great -undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at -length the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to -take away all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but -waited a few moments; then said, with some hesitation, "Fred, you must -be prepared to see her a good deal altered." - -"Yes," said Fred, impatiently. - -"And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? -I do not ask it for your own sake." - -"Yes," said Fred, resolutely. - -"Then come." - -And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his -uncle's arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she -sat by the fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on -one knee before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on his -face, and a quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then -rising, he sank back into another great chair, which his sister had -arranged for him close to hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he -passively let Henrietta make him comfortable there; while holding his -mother's hand, he kept his eyes fixed upon her, and she, anxious only -for him, patted his cushions, offered her own, and pushed her footstool -towards him. - -A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the -door. - -"I still think it a great risk," said she. - -"But I should not feel justified in preventing it," was his answer, -"only do not leave them long alone." Then opening the door he called, -"Henrietta, there is the last bell." And Henrietta, much against her -will, was obliged to go with him to Church. - -"Good-bye, my dear," said her mother. "Think of us prisoners in the -right way at Church, and not in the wrong one." - -Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the -window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of -the rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear -and blue, the buds were bursting into life. - -"How very lovely it is!" added she. - -Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. -His eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation -of what was to him a thousand times more lovely,--that frail wasted -form, namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which -Henrietta had described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory -whiteness of the rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet -subdued brightness under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, -though languidly yet as sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy -lines along the sides of her face; and but for the helplessness with -which the figure rested in the chair, there was less outward token of -suffering than he had often seen about her,--more appearance almost of -youth and beauty. But it was not an earthly beauty; there was -something about it which filled him with a kind of indescribable -undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow towards which he shrank -from looking. She thought him fatigued with the exertion he had made, -and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated with pleasure even the -slight advances which he had already made in shaking off the traces of -illness. - -The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last -stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant -spray of the budding sweet-briar. - -"The bees are coming out with you, Freddy," said she. "I have just -been round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses." - -"How delicious!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered -the sweet-briar. "Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up -with his journey." - -"O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you," said Fred, sitting up -vigorously; "you do not know how strong I am growing." And then turning -to the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook's -nest, as she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more -cheerful questions and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. -Frederick Langford proposed that the reading of the service should -begin. - -Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took -the alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, -and as he now and then raised his eyes to his mother's face, he saw her -lips follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a -glistening in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget. - -"He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal -their sickness." - -"He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their -names." - -He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking -of the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the -former one; but in after years he never read it again without that -whole room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother's face. It -was a sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene -in his memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining -sun, with its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the -bright fire, and the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded -all around, all conduced to that impression which never left him. - -The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the -"Christian Year," and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as -it may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there was -some conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. -Silent as he was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more -than ten minutes, when sounds were heard of the rest of the family -returning from Church, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet -them. - -In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many -kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a -few cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister -responded with pleasure, said, "Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I -am coming back almost directly to carry you off." - -"So soon!" exclaimed Henrietta. "Am I to be cheated of all the -pleasure of seeing you together?" - -No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed -behind his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then -bent forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, -"Mamma, say you forgive me." - -She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head -against her. - -"My own dear boy," said she, "I will not say I have nothing to forgive, -for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely -forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been -against my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!" she added, -pressing her hand upon his head. "His choicest blessings be with you -forever." - -Uncle Geoffrey's knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, -was folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, -suffered his uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to -his own. He stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, -and gave two or three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, -though his uncle could scarcely determine whether by grief or by -physical exhaustion. - -Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say -nothing: and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during -which he remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat -down to watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries -in which she had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a -long time tranquil, if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, -complained that his head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left -in quiet. It might be that, in addition to his great weariness, he -felt a charm upon him which he could not bear to break. At any rate, -he scarcely looked up or spoke all the rest of the evening, excepting -that, when he went to bed, he sent a message that he hoped Uncle -Geoffrey would come to his room the next morning before setting off, as -he was obliged to do at a very early hour. - -He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he -had slept little, and allowing that his head still ached. - -"Uncle Geoffrey," said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at -him earnestly, "would it be of no use to have further advice?" - -His uncle understood him, and answered, "I hope that Dr. --- will come -this evening or to-morrow morning. But," added he, slowly and kindly, -"you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from the -feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that -he can be of use." - -"Then there is no hope?" said Fred, with a strange quietness. - -"Man can do nothing," answered his uncle. "You know how the case -stands; the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a -probability of its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or -weeks, or she may yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer." - -"If I could but think so!" said Fred. "But I cannot. Her face will -not let me hope." - -"If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint," said -Uncle Geoffrey,--but he could not finish the sentence, and turning -away, walked to the window. - -"And you must go?" said Fred, when he came back to his side again. - -"I must," said Uncle Geoffrey. "Nothing but the most absolute -necessity could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an -honest man if I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again -on Thursday, at latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may -be a comfort to Henrietta." - -"Henrietta knows all this?" asked Fred. - -"As far as she will bear to believe it," said his uncle. "We cannot -grudge her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for -her in the end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, -good-bye, and may God bless and strengthen you in your trial!" - -Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had -ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her -whom he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and -reverence,--the gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful -being he knew! Who would ever care for him as she did? To whom would -it matter now whether he was in danger or in safety? whether he -distinguished himself or not? And how thoughtlessly had he trifled -with her comfort, for the mere pleasure of a moment, and even fancied -himself justified in doing so! Even her present illness, had it not -probably been brought on by her anxiety and attendance on him? and it -was his own wilful disobedience to which all might be traced. It was -no wonder that, passing from one such miserable thought to another, his -bodily weakness was considerably increased, and he remained very -languid and unwell; so much so that had Philip Carey ever presumed to -question anything Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he would -have pronounced yesterday's visit a most imprudent measure. In the -afternoon, as Fred was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the -stairs, and going along the passage. - -"Who is that?" said he; "the new doctor already? It is a strange step." - -"O! Fred, don't be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were -at the worst," said Henrietta. - -"But do you know who it is?" said Fred. - -"It is Mr. Franklin," said Henrietta. "You know mamma has only been -once at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy -Communion. So you must not fancy she is worse, Fred." - -"I wish we were confirmed," said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, -"My Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta." - -"You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small -print," said she; "I will read anything you want to you." - -He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it -was to say, "I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to -come to me." - -Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could -against it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask -Aunt Geoffrey's consent. Even then she would have done her best to -miss the opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was -obliged to fetch Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she -found no reason to regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not -seem so much oppressed and weighted down when she again returned to -him. - -The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. -Frederick Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and -his opinion was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to -expect. It was impossible to conjecture how long she might yet -survive: another attack might come at any moment, and be the last. It -might be deferred for weeks or months, or even now it was possible that -she might rally, and return to her usual state of health. - -It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, -probability, that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her -as if unsaid; she would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything -that brought the least impression of the kind. The only occasion when -she would avow her fears even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; -and then how wild and unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered -and wretched she would feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next -minute she would drive off her fears as by force; call up a vision of a -brightly smiling future; think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes -would prevent the approach of the enemy she dreaded. - -Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa, -though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to -sadden her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for -the future, till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and -his deep sigh was the only warning she received from him. Fred, too -weak for much argument, and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an -illusion, was easily silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone -but the patient. Her whole thought, almost her whole being, was -devoted to "Mary," the friend, the sister of her childhood, whom she -now attended upon with something of the reverent devotedness with which -an angel might be watched and served, were it to make a brief sojourn -upon earth; feeling it a privilege each day that she was still -permitted to attend her, and watching for each passing word and -expression as a treasure to be dwelt on in many a subsequent year. - -It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on -marking no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that -her mother was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her -always cheerful, ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and -still with the playfulness which never failed to light up all that -approached her. A flower,--what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet -her smile would be! - -It was on the evening of the day after the physician's visit, that -Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, -cheering her mother's spirits, of some double lilac primroses which -Mrs. Langford had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her -mamma smelt the flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, "Your -papa planted a root of those in my little garden the first summer I was -here." - -"Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma." - -"My dear child,"--she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon -her, frightened at the manner--"you must not build upon our favourite -old plan; you must prepare--" - -"O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days -ago; and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so -bright." - -"Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!" said her mother, taking her -hand. "But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to -you. I want you to make up your mind--" - -Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. "Mamma! mamma! you -must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think -despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!" - -"Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!" - -The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them. - -"No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,--I can't bear it!" she -cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, -which her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend with. -She rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully -followed with her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, -who continued to arrange the things on the table, and make desperate -attempts to regain her composure; but completely failing, caught up her -bonnet, and hurried out of the room. - -"Poor dear child," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, "I wish she was more -prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task -I leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a -man; but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have -been more like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only -bear to hear me--but no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to -her, it might give her pain in the recollection. Beatrice, you must -tell her all I would say." - -"If I could!" - -"You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is -now. Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my -life: how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me -and his children, in the prime of his health and strength. You -remember how crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my -life was saved chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief -that I was dying. And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself -recovering! Do you remember the first day I went to Church to return -thanks?" - -"It was after we were gone home." - -"Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so -utterly unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came -with those verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be -forgiven for not being able to follow them. Now I can own with all my -heart the mercy that would not grant my blind wish for death. My -treasure was indeed in heaven, but O! it was not the treasure that was -meant. I was forgetting my mother, and so selfish and untamed was I, -that I was almost forgetting my poor babies! Yes, tell her this, -Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and happiness sprang up all -around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought myself, so much the more -will they for her; and 'at evening time there shall be light.' Tell -her that I look to her for guiding and influencing Fred. She must -never let a week pass without writing to him, and she must have the -honoured office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and -grandmother. I think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They -are fond of her, and she seems to suit them." - -"Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have -especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what -I have tried to teach Beatrice." - -"Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should -not see her, give her her godmother's love, and tell her that she and -Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I -trust that after thirty-five years' friendship, they will still have as -much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. -I have written her name in one of these books," she added after a short -interval, touching some which were always close to her. "And, -Beatrice, one thing more I had to say," she proceeded, taking up a -Bible, and finding out a place in it. "Geoffrey has always been a -happy prosperous man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should -come to him in his turn, then show him this." She pointed out the -verse, "Be as a father to the fatherless, and instead of a husband to -their mother; so shalt thou be as the son of the Most High, and He -shall love thee more than thy mother doth." "Show him that, and tell -him it is his sister Mary's last blessing." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - -On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night's -rest. Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? -She thought it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the -head turned, the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over -her. - -Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for -some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. "How -is mamma? Does she want me? Why?" Her aunt made an effort to speak, -but it seemed beyond her power. - -"O, aunt, aunt!" cried she, "what is the matter? What has happened? -Speak to me!" - -"Henrietta," said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, "she bade -you bear up for your brother's sake." - -"But--but--" said Henrietta, breathlessly; "and she--" - -"My dear child, she is at rest." - -Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to -realise what she had heard. - -"Tell me," she said, after a few moments. - -Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. -"It was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very -quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her -face looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt -oppressed, and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning -against my arm, there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we -must only think of her as in perfect peace!" - -Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with -a sort of anger, "O, why did you not call me?" - -"There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of -disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late." - -"O, why was I not there? I would--I would--she must have heard me. -I would not have let her go. O, mamma!" cried Henrietta, almost -unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of -ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent -exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but -all she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she -found herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in -some degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as -poor Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs -grew less loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey -thought she could be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, -"Now we must pray that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it -patiently, and try to help your brother." - -"Fred, O poor Fred!" and she seemed on the point of another burst of -lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking--"I must go to him; he has -yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are -dressed." - -"O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it -will! O no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!" A fresh -fit of weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most -deeply, was in great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave -Henrietta in this condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity -that she should go to poor Fred, before any chance accident or -mischance should reveal the truth. - -"I must leave you, my dear," said she, at last. "Think how your dear -mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who -alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I -hope you will be more composed." - -The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good -preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness -made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and -hastened down from Henrietta's room with a hurried step. - -She knocked at Fred's door, and was answered by his voice. As she -entered he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, -said, "I know what you are come to tell me." - -"Yes, Fred," said she; "but how?" - -"I was sure of it," said Fred. "I knew I should never see her again; -and there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta -crying?" - -"She has been crying very much," said his aunt. - -"Ah! she would never believe it," said Fred. "But after last Sunday-- -O, no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any -longer!" - -"We could not wish it for her sake," said his aunt, for the first time -feeling almost overcome. - -"Let me hear how it was," said Frederick, after a pause. - -His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked -quickly, "What did you do? I did not hear you ring." - -"No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when -I met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and--and was -very kind--then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and went -to wait for Henrietta's waking." - -Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Henrietta! Is she -very much overcome?" - -"So much, that I hardly know how to leave her." - -"Don't stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but -I don't think anything is much good to me." He hid his face as he -spoke thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection. - -"Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred," said she, gently. "Then I will go -to your sister again." - -"Thank you." And she had reached the door when he asked, "When does -Uncle Geoffrey come?" - -"By the four o'clock train," she answered, and moved on. - -Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of -agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his -sister's. O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, -her tone! the frightful certainty that he should never see her more! -Then it would for a moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus -have passed away; but then returned the conviction, and he felt as if -he could not even exist under it. But this excessive oppression and -consciousness of misery seemed chiefly to come upon him when alone. In -the presence of another person he could talk in the same quiet matter- -of-fact way in which he had already done to his aunt; and the blow -itself, sudden as it was, did not affect his health as the first -anticipation of it had done. With Henrietta things were quite -otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in a sort of stupor, in which she -scarcely even thought; but the entrance of any person into her room -threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, ever increasing in vehemence; -then she was quieted a little, and was left to herself, but she could -not, or would not, turn where alone comfort could be found, and -repelled, almost as if it was an insult to her affection, any entreaty -that she would even try to be comforted. Above all, in the perverse- -ness of her undisciplined affliction, she persisted in refusing to see -her brother. "She should do him harm," she said. "No, it was utterly -impossible for her to control herself so as not to do him harm." And -thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She would not touch a morsel -of food; she would not consent to leave her bed when asked to do so, -though ten minutes after, in the restlessness of her misery, she was -found walking up and down her room in her dressing-gown. - -Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr. -Langford, who had loved "Mary" like his own child, did indeed bear up -under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian -submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little -assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share. -Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down -in her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for "poor Mary," or -"dear Frederick," all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then -rising vigorously, saying, "Well, it is His will; it is all for the -best!" and hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make -some arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey's room ready for -him. And in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or -to sympathise, or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what -she did. In the course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came -from Sutton Leigh, and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, -and assisting Mrs. Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still -there were the two young mourners. Henrietta was completely -unmanageable, only resting now and then to break forth with more -violence; and her sorrow far too selfish and unsubmissive to be soothed -either by the thought of Him Who sent it, or of the peace and rest to -which that beloved one was gone; and as once the anxiety for her -brother had swallowed up all care for her mother, so now grief for her -mother absorbed every consideration for Frederick; so that it was -useless to attempt to persuade her to make any exertion for his sake. -Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize her except Aunt Geoffrey's -reading to her; and then it was only that she was lulled by the sound -of the voice, not that the sense reached her mind. But then, how go on -reading to her all day, when poor Fred was left in his lonely room, to -bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? For though Mr. and Mrs. -Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him many brief kind visits, -they all of them had either too much on their hands, or were unfitted -by disposition to be the companions he wanted. It was only Aunt -Geoffrey who could come and sit by him, and tell him all those precious -sayings of his mother in her last days, which in her subdued low voice -renewed that idea of perfect peace and repose which came with the image -of his mother, and seemed to still the otherwise overpowering thought -that she was gone. But in the midst the door would open, and -grandmamma would come in, looking much distressed, with some such -request as this--"Beatrice, if Fred can spare you, would you just go up -to poor Henrietta? I thought she was better, and that it was as well -to do it at once; so I went to ask her for one of her dresses, to send -for a pattern for her mourning, and that has set her off crying to such -a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing with her. I wish -Geoffrey was come!" - -Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one -wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only -person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering -in hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at -Allonfield; and at length Fred's sharpened ears caught the sound of the -carriage wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by -all as their own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, -sudden bursts of lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as -usual, wanted to talk to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it -was only his father who seemed even to recollect that his wife might -want him more than all. And so she did. Her feelings were very strong -and impetuous by nature, and the loss was one of the greatest she could -have sustained. Nothing save her husband and her child was so near to -her heart as her sister; and worn out as she was by long attendance, -sleepless nights, and this trying day, when all seemed to rest upon -her, she now completely gave way, and was no sooner alone with her -husband and daughter, than her long repressed feelings relieved -themselves in a flood of tears, which, though silent, were completely -beyond her own control. Now that he was come, she could, and indeed -must, give way; and the more she attempted to tell him of the -peacefulness of her own dear Mary, the more her tears would stream -forth. He saw how it was, and would not let her even reproach herself -for her weakness, or attempt any longer to exert herself; but made her -lie down on her bed, and told her that he and Queen Bee could manage -very well. - -Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had -scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt's death; and new as -affliction was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether -this was her own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother's grief seemed -to her almost more like a dream. - -"Ah, yes," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had -been named, "I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before." - -"Very well," said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she -thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta. - -"Go straight up to her," continued her mother; "don't wait to let her -think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do -the same." - -"If I could but do her any good," sighed Beatrice, as she opened the -door and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting -for an answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little -cry, threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all -around was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee's heart when -she was thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and -longed to know what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but -all that occurred to her was to embrace and fondle her very -affectionately, and call her by the most caressing names. This was all -that Henrietta was as yet fit to bear; and after a time, growing -quieter, she poured out to her cousin all her grief, without fear of -blame for its violence. Beatrice was sometimes indeed startled by the -want of all idea of resignation, but she could not believe that any one -could feel otherwise,--least of all Henrietta, who had lost her only -parent, and that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she feel herself good -enough to talk seriously to Henrietta; she considered herself as only -sent to sit with her, so she did not make any attempt to preach the -resignation which was so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had all day -been hearing of it, and rebelling against it, was almost grateful to -her. So Henrietta talked and talked, the same repeated lamentation, -the same dreary views of the future coming over and over again; and -Beatrice's only answer was to agree with all her heart to all that was -said of her own dear Aunt Mary, and to assure Henrietta of the fervent -love that was still left for her in so many hearts on earth. - -The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was -inclined to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, -and the same discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to -read to her, and thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to -make a tolerable meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were -blistered with tears, put her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. -Then, as she crept quietly down to inquire after her mamma, and wish -the others in the drawing-room good night, she reflected whether she -had done what she ought for her cousin. - -"I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her -head," said she to herself; "for as to the reading, she did not attend -to that. But after all I could not have done it. I must be better -myself before I try to improve other people; and it is not what I -deserve to be allowed to be any comfort at all." - -Thanks partly to Beatrice's possessing no rightful authority over -Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to -make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But -nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could not -endure to pass "that door," where ever before the fondest welcome -awaited her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred -yesterday, seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of -perverseness--for it really deserved no better name--was that it began -to vex Fred. "But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey," -said he, "I should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything -so strange." - -Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon -after leaving Fred's room he knocked at his niece's door. She was -sitting by the fire with a book in her hand, but not reading. - -"Good morning, my dear," said he, taking her languid hand. "I bring -you a message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see -him." - -She turned away her head. "Poor dear Fred!" said she; "but it is quite -impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and -do him harm." - -"And why cannot you bear it as he does?" said her uncle gravely. "You -do not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the -advantages of health and strength." - -"Oh, no one can feel as I do!" cried Henrietta, with one of her -passionate outbreaks. "O how I loved her!" - -"Fred did not love her less," proceeded her uncle. "And why will you -leave him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister's love that -should be his chief stay?" - -"He does not doubt it," sobbed Henrietta. "He knows me better." - -"Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which is -not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments' painful -emotion?" - -"Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out of -this room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the house-- -to go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it." - -"No, your affection for him is not strong enough." - -Henrietta's pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. "You do not -know me, Uncle Geoffrey," said she proudly, and then she almost choked -with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness. - -"I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your -grief and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner -which you will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in -making yourself useless." - -Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the -first weapon she could. "Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I -am," said she. - -If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though -if he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would -have repressed even such demonstrations as he made. "Henrietta, this -is too bad! Has she been weakly yielding?--has she been shutting -herself up in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed -her, lest she should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been -perplexing and distressing, and harassing her with your wilful -selfishness, refusing to do the least thing to assist her in the care -of your own brother, after she has been wearing herself out in watching -over your mother? And now, when her strength and spirits are exhausted -by the exertions she has made for you and yours, and I have been -obliged to insist on her resting, you fancy her example an excuse for -you! Is this the way your mother would have acted? I see arguing with -you does you no good: I have no more to say." - -He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the -accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that -she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. "Uncle Geoffrey!" -she cried, "O, uncle--" but he was gone; and forgetting everything -else, she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected -anything else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, "O -uncle, do not think I meant that!" - -At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. Henrietta!" -said he, "I am glad to see you downstairs." - -Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then -laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle's arm, said, "Only say you -are not angry with me." - -"No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person," said -he with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her -surprise at finding herself downstairs after all. - -"And you do not imagine me ungrateful?" - -"Not when you are in your right senses." - -"Ungrateful!" exclaimed Mr. Langford. "What is he accusing you of, -Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?" - -"Nothing," said Uncle Geoffrey, "but that Henrietta and I have both -been somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have -we not, Henrietta?" - -It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing -Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of -turning her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of -grandpapa's with very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall -door opened and admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, -but stayed to receive their greetings before turning to ascend the -stairs. - -"You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?" said -grandpapa. - -"No, I was only going to Fred," said she, growing as desirous of seeing -him as she had before been averse to it. - -"Suppose," said Uncle Geoffrey, "that you were to take a turn or two -round the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, -and you will bring Fred in a fresher face." - -"I will fetch your bonnet," said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top -of the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at -seeing her cousin in the hall. - -And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a -shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had -opened the sashed door into the garden. - -It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of -the sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge -soft masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were -glistening with drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs -around. Henrietta's burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed -heavily, she could not help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that -the first thing she began to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt -Geoffrey, and a warm expression of gratitude towards her. - -Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two -turns in silence; but Henrietta's heart began to fail her when she -thought of going in without having her to greet. She lingered and -could hardly resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the -stairs, gave her shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred's -door. - -"Is that you?" was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward -to meet her. "Poor Henrietta!" was all he said, as she put her arm -round his neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to -his sofa, made her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude -for her comfort. She had cried so much that she felt as if she could -cry no longer, but she reproached herself excessively for having left -him to himself so long, when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she -tried to make some apology. - -"I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred." - -"O, it is of no use to talk about it," said Fred, playing with her long -curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in -times long gone by. "You are come now, and that is all I want. Have -you been out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came -in." - -"Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. -And how are you this morning, Freddy?" - -"O, pretty well I think," said he, sighing, as if he cared little about -the matter. "I wanted to show you this, Henrietta." And he took up a -book where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper -marks in some other books, and perceived with shame that he had been -reading yesterday, and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish -sister, as she could not help feeling herself. - -And here was the first great point gained, though there was still much -for Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been -conscious of her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her -proneness to make all give way to her own feeling of the moment. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - -There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta -shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it -before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there, -partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and -partly from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was -willing to do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day's -neglect: and she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that -at least Fred seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her. - -Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung -much to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such -an hour of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of -agreeable emotion, she had figured to herself her father's funeral, -little thinking of the reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, -as she thought, than what any of them could even then have felt; and it -seemed to her perfectly impossible that she should ever have power to -go through with it. - -In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the -prospect gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, she -found the reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing -nothing, observing nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked -along, wrapped in one absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first -words that "broke the stillness of that hour," healing as they were, -seemed but to add certainty to that one thought that "she was gone." -But while the Psalms and the Lessons were read, the first heavy -oppression of grief seemed in some degree to grow lighter. She could -listen, and the words reached her mind; a degree of thankfulness arose -to Him Who had wiped away the tears from her mother's eyes, and by Whom -the sting of death had been taken away. Yes; she had waited in faith, -in patience, in meek submission, until now her long widowhood was over; -and what better for her could those who most loved her desire, than -that she should safely sleep in the chancel of the Church of her -childhood, close to him whom she had so loved and so mourned, until the -time when both should once more awaken,--the corruptible should put on -incorruption, the mortal should put on immortality, and death be -swallowed up in victory. - -Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the -tears flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. -She was enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the -standing round the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell -rebelliously against the expression that it was "in great mercy that -the soul of this our dear sister" was taken, even though she shrank and -shivered at the sound of the earth cast in, which would seem to close -up from her for ever the most loved and loving creature that she would -ever know. No, not for ever,--might she too but keep her part in Him -Who is the Resurrection and the Life--might she be found acceptable in -His sight, and receive the blessing to be pronounced to all that love -and fear Him. - -It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. -Langford moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before -doing so, she raised her eyes to her father's name, to take leave of -him as it were, as she always did before going out of Church. She met -her Uncle Geoffrey's eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon -as she was out of the church, she said almost in a whisper, "Uncle, I -don't wish for him now." - -He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not -speak, for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she -might safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation -which was coming upon her. - -They came home--to the home that looked as if it would fain be once -more cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the -solemn stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own -room, for she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long -crape veil. She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, -but rose on hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same -room. Beatrice came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if -doubtful how to address her; but at last she put her hand on her -shoulder, and looking earnestly in her face, repeated-- - - - "Then cheerily to your work again, - With hearts new braced and set, - To run untir'd love's blessed race, - As meet for those who, face to face, - Over the grave their Lord have met." - - -"Yes, Queenie," said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, "it is a very -different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, -you must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long -time past, though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness." She -kissed her affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice. - -"Me! me, of all people," she said. "O, Henrietta!" - -"We must talk of it all another time," said Henrietta, "but now it will -not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don't think this like the -days when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee--that time -when I would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly." - -While she spoke, there was something of the "new bracing" visible in -every movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, -which of late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, -that showed how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about -her whole frame. - -"O no, do not stay with me," said Queen Bee, "I am going"--to mamma, -she would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when -speaking to Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Henrietta, understanding her. "And tell her, Bee--for I am -sure I shall never be able to say it to her,--all about our thanks, and -how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her comfort." "If I -had only believed, instead of blinding myself so wilfully!" she almost -whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now ready, she ran -downstairs and entered her brother's room. His countenance bore traces -of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he looked -anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her -hand into his, and said, "Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go." - -"I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over," said Fred. "I -have been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very -different thing." - -"It will all come to you when you go to Church again," said Henrietta. - -"How little I thought that New Year's Day--!" said Fred. - -"Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer's holidays!" -said Henrietta. "If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; -but it was my determination to come here that seems to have caused -everything, and that is the thought I cannot bear." - -"I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night," said -Fred, "and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with -consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the -horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to -blame himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he -did not think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has -happened now; that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead -of the results. Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, -except, to be sure, that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just -as much disobedience, and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though -nothing came of it, except that I grew more wilful." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "but I shall always feel as if everything had -been caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again." - -"It was just as much my wish as yours," said Fred. - -"Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you -pleased, and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of -course, to make her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was -always doing, and now I can never make up for it!" - -"O yes," said Fred, "we can never feel otherwise than that. To know -how she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the -same as ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort -to remember, now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don't you see, -Henrietta, my dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?--that if you did -domineer over her, it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; -but that you must not accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by -bringing her here. He says he does not know whether it was not, after -all, what was most for her comfort, if--" - -"O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!" - -"If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well -again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, -Henrietta. Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little -things, and attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely -it was that I might have gone on to much worse at school and college." - -"Never, never!" said Henrietta. - -"Not now, I hope," said Fred; "but that was not what I meant to say. -No one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought -on either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long -standing, and must have made progress some time or other; and he said -that he was convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had -rather have been here than anywhere else. She said she could only be -sorry for grandpapa and grandmamma's sake, but that for herself it was -great happiness to have been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she -was most thankful that she had come to die in my father's home, after -seeing us well settled here, instead of leaving us to come to it as a -strange place." - -"How little we guessed it was for that," said Henrietta. "O what were -we doing? But if it made her happy--" - -"Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand," said -Fred. "I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave -of everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle -Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and -the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so -much for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already." - -"Home!" said Henrietta, "how determinedly we used to call it so! But O, -that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been -all overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I -cannot complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my -own way." - -"The devices and desires of our own hearts!" said Fred. - -"I don't think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own -sake," proceeded Henrietta. "Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to -me, as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again -for me; so that it was all twofold!" Here she hid her face, and her -tears streamed fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that -Fred also was much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute. - -"But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more -than I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still -obeying her. I think at last I may get something of the right sort of -feeling; for I am sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa -used to mean when they talked about dear papa. And now do you like for -me to read to you?" - -Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford. -Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother's wish, their home; -and there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring -and summer, of watching her brother's recovery, which was very slow, -but at the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as -long as he required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon -her, not as quite a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far -more than she had ever been to her before; and when at length she was -obliged to return to Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think -how soon the vacation would bring them all back to Knight Sutton. - -The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great -disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred -would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able -indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume -many of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in -a condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application. -Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as Alex -had numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and -kindness, by silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, -and again and again silently giving up some favourite scheme of -amusement when Fred proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself -almost learned to trust Fred to Alex's care, which was so much less -irritating than her own; and how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is -best shown, when it is related, that neither by word nor look did she -once interrupt the harmony between them, or attempt to obtain the -attention, of which, in fact, she always had as large a share as any -reasonable person could desire. - -How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the -best requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer--a very -adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it--to undertake -little Willy's Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger's -knowledge, had been under Alex's care for the holidays. Willy was a -very good pupil on the whole--better, it was said by most, than Alex -himself had been--and very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar -formed such a test as perhaps their alliance would scarcely have -endured, if in an insensible manner Willy and his books had not -gradually been made over to Henrietta, whose great usefulness and good -nature in this respect quite made up, in grandmamma's eyes, for her -very tolerable amount of acquirements in Latin and Greek. - -By the time care for her brother's health had ceased to be Henrietta's -grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue -his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up -around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful -and valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted -with when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a -granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil -to the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful to -her, as well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and -Charlie, as for the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used -to exercise her taste when Henrietta's wardrobe failed to afford her -sufficient occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, -and demonstrated it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners -gradually acquired the influence over them which Queen Bee had only -exerted over Alex and Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew -less awkward and bearish, without losing their honest downright good -humour and good nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in -attributing the change to her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was -also the friend of the poor women, the teacher and guide of the school -children, and in their eyes and imagination second to no one but Mr. -Franklin. And withal she did not cease to be all that she had ever -been to her brother, if not still more. His heart and soul were for -her, and scarce a joy and sorrow but was shared between them. She was -his home, his everything, and she well fulfilled her mother's parting -trust of being his truest friend and best-loved counsellor. - -Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented -her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! -This was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her -through life; and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved -mother, there was linked a painful memory of a long course of -wilfulness and domineering on her own part. But there was much to be -dwelt on that spoke only of blessedness and love, and each day brought -her nearer to her whom she had lost, so long as she was humbly striving -to walk in the steps of Him Who "came not to do His own will, but the -will of Him that sent Him." - -THE END - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HENRIETTA'S WISH *** - -This file should be named hwish10.txt or hwish10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hwish11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hwish10a.txt - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. 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Yonge - -Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5124] -Posting Date: April 8, 2009 -Last Updated: October 12, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA’S WISH *** - - - - -Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and the Victorian Women -Writers Project at Indiana University - - - - - - - - - -HENRIETTA’S WISH; - -OR, DOMINEERING - - -By Charlotte M. Yonge - - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - -On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was -waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as -the railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently -enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to -express their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek -shining skins, but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now -and then to whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of -his whip. - -Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about -sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and -flushed complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two -or three minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand -to examine the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, -and study the countenances of the bystanders to see whether they -expressed any anxiety respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, -however, seemed quite at their ease, and after a time the arrival of the -railway omnibus and two or three other carriages, convinced her that the -rest of the world only now began to consider it to be due. At last the -ringing of a bell quickened everybody into a sudden state of activity, -and assured her that the much-desired moment was come. The cloud of -smoke was seen, the panting of the engine was heard, the train displayed -its length before the station, men ran along tapping the doors of the -carriages, and shouting a word which bore some distant resemblance to -“Teignmouth,” and at the same moment various travellers emerged from the -different vehicles. - -Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after -a hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to -the carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form, -complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then -withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the -hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the “Well, -Fred!” “Well, Henrietta!” which formed the greeting of the twin brother -and sister. - -“And was not mamma well enough to come?” asked Frederick, as the -carriage turned away from the station. - -“She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write -yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; -but she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your -school affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?” - -“I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie -between us next year.” - -“Surely,” said Henrietta, “you must be able to beat him then, if you are -before him now.” - -“Don’t make too sure, Henrietta,” said Frederick, shaking his head, -“Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should -not have been before him now if it had not been for my verses.” - -“I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander,” said Henrietta, “she would -make a great deal of his success.” - -“Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?” said Frederick with -some dissatisfaction. - -“O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she -patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. -And indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to -her that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think -him worth cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched -up together in an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the -Great. And how she always talks about Alex when she is here.” - -“Is she at Knight Sutton?” - -“Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to -be far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only -think, Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close -to the village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept -on saying how well it would do for us.” - -“O, if we could but get mamma there!” said Fred. “What does she say?” - -“She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one,” said -Henrietta; “but that is not an inch--no, not the hundredth part of an -inch--towards going there!” - -“It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought -to believe so,” said Frederick. “All her attachments are there--her own -home; my father’s home.” - -“There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here,” said -Henrietta. “Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to -acquaintance, the people are always changing.” - -“And there is nothing to do,” added Fred; “nothing possible but boating -and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as -Uncle Geoffrey says. It is very, very--” - -“Aggravating,” said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of -family slang words. - -“Yes, aggravating,” said he with a smile, “to be placed under the -necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!” - -“Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through -when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were -on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a -timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I -am sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it -again and again that she is not easily frightened.” - -“No: and I do not think she is afraid for you.” - -“Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious -than girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I -think that is reasonable.” - -“Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it,” - said Fred: “he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden -shock--” - -“What? Our father’s accident?” asked Henrietta. “I never knew rightly -about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old.” - -“No one saw it happen,” said Fred; “he went out riding, his horse came -home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road.” - -“Did they bring him home?” asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling -tone in which her brother spoke. - -“Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said ‘Mary,’ once or -twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!” - -“Terrible!” said Henrietta, with a shudder. “O! how did mamma ever -recover it?--at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,--but I -meant live, or be even as well as she is.” - -“She was fearfully ill for long after,” said Fred, “and Uncle Geoffrey -thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says -they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be -wondered at.” - -“O no, no,” said Henrietta. “What a mystery it has always seemed to us -about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish -days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma -stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter -his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a -comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always -cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her.” - -“But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his -death?” - -“O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we -had, and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from -talking to each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did -Uncle Geoffrey tell you this?” - -“Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to -speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept -back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of -being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how -it is.” - -“But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which -one would have thought she would have dreaded most of all.” - -“That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said -to him, ‘Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to -ride, never mind my folly.’ He says that he thinks it cost her as much -resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about -going to school.” - -“Yes, yes; exactly,” said Henrietta, “if she thinks it is right, bear it -she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee -says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as -she does.” - -“I never saw anyone so like a queen,” said Fred. “No, nor anyone so -beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her -in her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of -your own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live -to be a hundred.” - -“You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own, -Master Fred,” retorted his sister; “but one comfort is, that I shall -grow more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all -the little likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was -going to say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth -in what Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made -it worse. You know she had always been in India, and knew less about -boys than mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so -she might really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have -often seen her quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you--her -consolations just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making -mamma twice as bad.” - -“Well,” said Fred, sighing, “that is all over now, and she thought she -was doing it all for the best.” - -“And,” proceeded Henrietta, “I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this -perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. -She imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and -that it was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving--” - -“Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke,” added Fred. - -“Till now, I really believe,” said Henrietta, “that the possibility of -moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes -that she can do it than that the house can.” - -“Yes,” said Fred, “I do not think a journey occurs to her among events -possible, and yet without being very fond of this place.” - -“Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike -about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she -once went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own -friends, instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma’s time -it was not so bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. -Rocksand has all the loneliness of the country without its advantages.” - -“There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all,” said Fred. - -“No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be -well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless -one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no -clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it -would be at Knight Sutton!” - -“And perhaps she would be cured of her fears,” added Fred; “she would -find no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins -there come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!” - -“Well, we will see what we can do,” said Henrietta. “I do think we may -persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and -for yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done.” - -And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep -straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were -within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed -Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer’s lodging, but was -little fitted for a permanent abode. - -In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no -ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with -more affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung -from the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and -returning such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that -he had done nothing to forfeit home love and confidence. - -Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford -looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively, -“All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey? -Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now, -Freddy, tell us about your examination,” added she, as fondly leaning on -his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together -on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously. - -Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in -truth one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the -admiration expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the -features were beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet -placid resignation which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. -The eyes were deep dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed -their brightness, their softness was increased; the smile was one of -peace, of love, of serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it -were, before her time, had lived on in meek patience and submission, -almost a child in her ways, as devoted to her mother, as little with -a will and way of her own, as free from the cares of this work-a-day -world. The long luxuriant dark brown hair, which once, as now with -Henrietta, had clustered in thick glossy ringlets over her comb and -round her face, was in thick braids beneath the delicate lace cap which -suited with her plain black silk dress. Her figure was slender, so tall -that neither her well-grown son nor daughter had yet reached her height, -and, as Frederick said, with something queenlike in its unconscious -grace and dignity. - -As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had -great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of -the moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to -her manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her -spirit would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in -earlier days. - -Frederick’s account of his journey and of his school news was heard and -commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next -matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival -was to talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey’s proceedings, and the Knight -Sutton affairs. - -“So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?” said Fred. - -“Yes, on a special retainer,” said Mrs. Langford, “and very much he -seems to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral.” - -“He wrote to me in court,” said Fred, “to tell me what books I had -better get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled -all over one side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was -beautiful beyond all he ever imagined.” - -“Had he never seen it before?” said Henrietta. “Lawyers seem made to -travel in their vacations.” - -“Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared,” said her mamma; “I do not know -what Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his -holidays than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed -to take his own pleasure.” - -“Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta. - -“He goes home just as he used from school,” said Mrs. Langford. “Indeed, -except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered -from those days; his work and play come in just the same way.” - -“And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet,” added -Henrietta, “only rivalled by Busy Bee herself.” - -“No,” said Fred, “according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one -sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa’s pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma’s. It -must be great fun to see them.” - -“Happy people!” said Mrs. Langford. - -“Henrietta says,” proceeded Fred, “that there is a house to be let at -Knight Sutton.” - -“The Pleasance; yes, I know it well,” said his mother: “it is not -actually in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty -place.” - -“With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, “said Henrietta, “and -looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in -mamma’s room.” - -“What size is it?” added Fred. - -“The comparative degree,” said Mrs. Langford, “but my acquaintance -with it does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking -drawing-room with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed -to run about when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old -Miss Drakes. I wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys -can scarcely, I should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are -all at home.” - -“I wish some one else would take it,” said Fred. - -“Some one,” added Henrietta, “who would like it of all things, and be -quite at home there.” - -“A person,” proceeded the boy, “who likes Knight Sutton and its -inhabitants better than anything else.” - -“Only think,” joined in the young lady, “how delightful it would be. I -can just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a -summer’s day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to -the nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle -and Aunt Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without -ringing at the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt -Geoffrey all the vacation!” - -“Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton,” said Mrs. -Langford. “Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, -Henrietta, riding shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your -mamma did before you.” - -“And being as happy as a queen,” said Henrietta; “and the poor people, -you know them all, don’t you, mamma?” - -“I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But -I should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used -to work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress -in her spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a -noun and a verb!” - -“Who has been so cruel?” asked Fred. “Busy Bee, I suppose.” - -“Yes,” said Henrietta, “she teaches away with all her might; but she -says she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for -there is no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should -like to be Queen Bee’s deputy.” - -“But,” said Fred, “how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure -such novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old -mistress herself.” - -“Queen Bee’s is not merely a nominal sovereignty,” said Mrs. Langford. - -“Besides,” said Henrietta, “the new Clergyman approves of all that sort -of thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - -From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles -in the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought -of the brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as -Henrietta truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk -of what she still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the -pang it must give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the -burial-place of her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been -augmented by the tender over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, -who had strenuously endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a -proposal into consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it -out of the question. - -A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of -Mrs. Vivian’s life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her -daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was -a general impression throughout the family that now was the time for -her to come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but -beginning to dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles -and imagining scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being -realized, or that it only depended upon her, to find herself at home -there; and when Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of -talking, pressed it upon her, she would reply with some vague intention -of a return some time or other, but still thinking of it as something -far away, and rather to be dreaded than desired. - -It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind -that it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take -a lease of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present -abode; and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank -from entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason -to hope. - -“Yet, I think,” said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they -were walking together on the sands; “I think if she once thought it was -right, if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really -tell her that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon -it.” - -“But why did he not do so long ago?” said Fred. - -“O! because of grandmamma, I suppose,” said Henrietta; “but he really -does wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put -it into his head to do it.” - -“Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her,” said Fred; “but it never -answers to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; -he always says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect.” - -“If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all -parties, I would not say so much about it,” said Henrietta, in a tone -rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of -domineering over her mother. - -To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good -sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide -for herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and -during her long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her -brother-in-law, Mr. Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, -and in lesser ones upon her children. Girls are generally older of their -age than boys, and Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother’s constant -companion, occupied a position in the family which amounted to something -more than prime minister. Some one person must always be leader, and -thus she had gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for -justice requires it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know -her mamma’s mind for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to -do so always was more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. -The habit of being called on to settle whether they should use the -britska or the pony carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or -that book should be ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very -unwilling to be thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially -in one on which were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the -wishes of all the family. - -Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best -calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick, -having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed -on their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the -same occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and -Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the -custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid -for those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement -there was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many -beautiful walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford -in the pony carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were -the order of the day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not -been for an occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out -sailing without his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were -spending their holidays in a very different manner, he would have been -perfectly happy. Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the -boys in the neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before -him. - -Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care -with which he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his -accomplishments, of his handsome features, and she would willingly have -been proud of his excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she -was proud of the spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it -by her full and entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints -must be diminished at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as -much as her own wish for the scenes round which imagination had thrown -such a brilliant halo. Of society they had hitherto seen little or -nothing; Mrs. Langford’s health and spirits had never been equal to -visiting, nor was there much to tempt her in the changing inhabitants of -a watering-place. Now and then, perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant -connexion of some part of the family came for a month or six weeks, and -a few calls were exchanged, and it was one of these visits that led to -the following conversation. - -“By the by, mamma,” said Fred, “I meant to ask you what that foolish -woman meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly -approved of Aunt Geoffrey’s marriage.” - -“About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy,” replied -Mrs. Langford, “considering that I was always accused of having made the -match.” - -“Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you -really?” - -“Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the -credit as I do.” - -“Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey’s?” - -“O yes, Fred,” said Henrietta, “to be sure you knew that. You have heard -how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy -and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?” - -“Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used -to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to -my friend--” - -“Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it.” - -“I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the -other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend -Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter -vacation. It was when the general was in command at ----, and Beatrice -was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the house, -entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call -brilliant.” - -“Were you there, mamma?” - -“Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very -droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; -she to find her brother’s guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford -who had gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, -very shy at first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making -giggle; and he to find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so -really simple in tastes and habits.” - -“Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?” asked Fred. - -“She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual -beauty but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really -handsome person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and -indeed has now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a -better word, I must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always -very striking.” - -“Yes,” said Henrietta, “I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, -and it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is -something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met -her in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. -And then and there they fell in love, did they?” - -“In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, -but in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked -either wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose -that anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, -and Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king’s daughter of -Hongarie.” - -“O yes, of course,” said Henrietta, “but that only makes it more -delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in -their history.” - -“That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth -or a truism often repeated, Henrietta,” said her mother with a soft -sigh, which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: “Poor Frank’s -illness and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a -very different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, -and was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they -were to him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his -youthful spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and -night, and looking ill and overworked.” - -“O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey,” cried Henrietta, in an -ecstasy; “you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could -not fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and -pining away all the time and saying nothing about it.” - -“Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, -after the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading -succeeded; he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were.” - -“And still he saw nothing of her,” said Fred. - -“Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the -Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters -a wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some -unlucky speculation which was to have doubled his daughter’s fortune, -managed to lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay.” - -“Capital!” cried Frederick, “that brings her down to him.” - -“So it did,” said his mother, smiling; “but the spectators did not -rejoice quite so heartily as you do. The general’s health was failing, -and it was hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. -Leger’s family, though very kind, were not more congenial than they are -now. As soon as all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the -general, who was very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait -until it was prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after -it was all settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey -was with him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great -comfort to know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she -went first to the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then -I would have her to be my bridesmaid, though”--and Mrs. Langford tried -to smile, while again she strangled a sobbing sigh--“she warned me that -her mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we -went abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight -Sutton. Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected -a fine lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her -gaiety and all her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was -delighted with her the first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey’s -coming home and thanking us for having managed so well as to make her -like one of the family, while the truth was that she had fitted herself -in, and found her place from the first moment. Now came a time of grave -private conferences. A long engagement which might have been very well -if the general had lived, was a dreary prospect now that Beatrice was -without a home; but then your uncle was but just called to the bar, -and had next to nothing of his own, present or to come. However, he -had begun his literary works, and found them answer so well, that he -believed he could maintain himself till briefs came in, and he had the -sort of talent which gives confidence. He thought, too, that even in -the event of his death she would be better off as one of us, than as -a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by talking to us, he nearly -persuaded himself to believe it would be a very prudent thing to marry. -It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but persuade him he did, -and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very summer.” - -“That’s right,” cried Fred, “excellent and glorious! A farthing for all -the St. Legers put together.” - -“Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion -that it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady -Amelia were present, so that no one had any reason to say that they -disapproved. Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, -I would also suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple -comme il-y-en a peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious.” - -“Why, they are very well off,” said Fred; “he is quite at the head of -his profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name -is, if I belong to Langford the barrister.” - -“Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily -bread, if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the -buoyant school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a -child to its play, his health could never have stood it.” - -“But then it has been success and triumph,” said Fred; “one could work -like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery.” - -“It was not all success at first,” said his mother; “there was hard -work, and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to -bear it, and to win through with it.” - -“And were they very poor?” asked Henrietta. - -“Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. -The house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and -cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt -Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan’s -visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was -to find ‘poor Beatrice’ looking so bright and like herself, and how -little she guessed at her morning’s work, the study of shirt-making, and -the copying out a review of her husband’s, full of Greek quotations.” - -“Well, the poverty is all over now,” said Henrietta; “but still they -live in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey’s connexions and the -fortune he has made.” - -“Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?” said Mrs. -Langford. - -Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a -cousin of her aunt Geoffrey’s of whom she had seen something in the last -year. - -“The truth is,” said Mrs. Langford, “that your aunt had display and -luxury enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not -desire it except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, -beyond what any one knows or suspects.” - -“Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school,” said -Fred. - -“Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta, “the -school, and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, -mamma, if you made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your -work.” - -“There’s nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always -maintain,” said Fred. - -His mother sighed, saying, “I don’t know what we should have done -without him!” and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her -countenance which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more -was said till it was discovered that it was bed time. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - -“Where is Madame?” asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the -breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in -her hand. - -“A headache,” answered Henrietta, “and a palpitation.” - -“A bad one?” - -“Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it -will not do, and we must give it up.” - -“How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with -it? Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?” - -“Just listen what an effect last evening’s conversation had upon her. -Last night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there -I saw her kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just -then it struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her -know I was awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am -sure she did not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her -most uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when -I looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come -down to-day.” - -“And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought -it on?” said Fred, with much concern; “yet it did not seem to have much -to do with my father.” - -“O but it must,” said Henrietta. “He must have been there all the time -mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always -together when they were children.” - -“Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding,” said -Fred. “Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt -Geoffrey and with her, after they had been young and happy together. -Yes, no doubt it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into -letting them marry!” - -“And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death,” said -Henrietta. “No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those -thoughts.” - -“And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, -I suppose we must give it up,” said Fred, with a sigh. “After all, we -can be very happy here!” - -“O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished -it,” said the sister. - -“And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it -would be pleasanter for you when I am away,” said Fred. - -“And so,” said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, “we agree to persuade -each other that we don’t care about it.” - -Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to -make her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her -of fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain -feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence. - -After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got -up, but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a -walk by her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and -on their return they found her lying on the sofa. - -“Mamma has been in mischief,” said Fred. “She did not think herself -knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly.” - -“Oh, mamma!” was Henrietta’s reproachful exclamation, as she looked at -her pale face and red swollen eyelids. - -“Never mind, my dears,” said she, trying to smile, “I shall be better -now this is done, and I have it off my mind.” They looked at her in -anxious interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. “You -will seal that letter with a good will, Henrietta,” she said. “It is to -ask Uncle Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance.” - -“Mamma!” and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: -then Henrietta exclaimed-- - -“No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it.” - -“Yes,” said Fred; “indeed we agreed this morning that it would be -better not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and -comfort. I am sure it suits you best.” - -“Thank you, thank you, my dear ones,” said she, drawing them towards -her, and fondly kissing them, “but it is all settled, and I am sure it -is better for you. It is but a dull life for you here.” - -“O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you,” cried -Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. “We are, indeed -we are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; -do not think we want a change.” - -Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile. - -“But we would not have you to do it on our account,” said Fred. “Pray -put it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a -passing fancy.” - -“You will not talk me out of it, my dears,” said Mrs. Langford. “I know -it is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that -was the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of -you, when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not -let that letter be too late for the post.” - -“I do not half like it,” said Fred, pausing at the door. - -“I have not many fears on that score,” said she, smiling. “No, do not -be uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be -happy there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear -old places again.” - -“O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering,” - said Henrietta. “You do not know how I wish you would give it up!” - -“Give it up! I would not for millions,” said Mrs. Langford. “Now go, my -dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again.” - -The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough -for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept -back the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if -she were doing wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and -remorseful, something like a tyrant between the condemnation and -execution of his victim. But by the time the first course was over, and -she and Frederick had begun to recollect their long-cherished wishes, -they made up their minds to be happy, and fell into their usual strain -of admiration of the unknown haven of their hopes, and of expectations -that it would in the end benefit their mother. - -The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs -proceeded in the usual manner; Frederick’s holidays came to an end, and -he returned to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and -sister, but with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might -be at Knight Sutton. - -“Here, Henrietta,” said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a -day or two after Frederick’s departure, turning over to her the letter -of which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some -others. It was Uncle Geoffrey’s writing, and Henrietta read eagerly: - - -“MY DEAR MARY,--I would not write till I could give you some positive -information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a -conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you -think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain -that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set -upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you -know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much -the gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe -that the effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among -your own people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in -what you say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going -to write, and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and -proceed to business.” - - -Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease, -repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; -she knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to -her wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather -alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to -make the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them -while they were bargaining for it. - -“O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear,” said she, “I -dare say it will not ruin us.” - -“Not exactly,” said Mrs. Langford, smiling, “but gentlemen consider it a -disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed -to have his own way.” - -“O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it.” - -“A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up -before you can look at them,” said Mrs. Langford; “I have no fears but -that it is to be had.” But Henrietta could not help fancying that her -mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go -off independently of any determination of hers. - -Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and -often talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate -letters of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a -little. She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, -that they had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly -it was desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for -a weakness for not having sooner resolved upon her present step. -Henrietta’s work was rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, -than to prevent her from changing her purpose, which never altered, -respecting a return to the neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though -whether to the house of the tempting name, was a question which remained -in agitation during the rest of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was -not built in a day, so surely cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, -especially when a clever and cautious lawyer acts for one party. - -Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays -was reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford -laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at -their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded -to accept Mr. Langford’s invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall, -and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance. -Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes -of Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the -descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place -had ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half -of her life was spent in London. - -It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no -other of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could -not bear that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter -lose the pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. -Langford be deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she -therefore arranged to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and -her father went as usual to Knight Sutton. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from -Devonshire, but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had -no merely personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, -declared herself perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions -but her daughter and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house -in London, there to be met in a day or two by the two school-boys, -Frederick and his cousin Alexander, and then proceed all together to -Knight Sutton. - -Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was -really come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would -find her under a different roof from that which she had never left. She -did not know till now that she had any attachments to the place she -had hitherto believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she -could not bid it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with -his rough kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the -rocky beach where she and her brother had often played on the verge of -the ocean, watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple -of the advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, -streams, and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey -had often told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to -find in Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, -which she grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her -regrets, lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great -anxiety. - -She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little -time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the -calm quietness with which she went through the few trying days that -immediately preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant -employment so great a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on -her own account, as well as her mother’s, when every possible order had -been given, every box packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit -opposite to each other, on each side of the fire, in the idleness which -precedes candle-light. Her mother leant back in silence, and she watched -her with an anxious gaze. She feared to say anything of sympathy -with what she supposed her feeling, lest she should make her weep. An -indifferent speech would be out of place even if Henrietta herself could -have made it, and yet to remain silent was to allow melancholy thoughts -to prey upon her. So thought the daughter, longing at the same time that -her persuasions were all unsaid. - -“Come here, my dear child,” said her mother presently, and Henrietta -almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the -tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a -low footstool, leaning against her. “You are very much afraid for me,” - continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of -her face, far different from her own, “but you need not fear, it is all -well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not -really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here.” - -All Henrietta’s consideration for her mother could not prevent her from -bursting into tears. “O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going -away from dear grandmamma.” - -“Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on -whether we are in our duty or not.” - -“Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not -know it till now!” - -“Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our -home, Henrietta, to your father’s home in life and death, and it must be -good for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. -Knight Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be.” - -Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she -who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most -ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial. -It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her -mother’s calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the -place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused -herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do -what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when -the wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she -blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much -attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and -after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, -they talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - -The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey’s house -at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a -visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin -Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in -the delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal -share. - -The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, -while Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by -Beatrice and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece’s great -amazement, professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she -did. A short December day, though not what they would have chosen, had -this advantage, that the victim could not be as completely fagged and -worn out as in a summer’s day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high -spirits when they drove home and found to their delight that the two -schoolboys had already arrived. - -Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but -Alexander, though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked -shyly at the new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished -them elsewhere. She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that -her brother regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore -surprised to see that his broad honest face expressed more good -humour than intellect, and his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably -well-featured, with light eyes and dark hair, and though half a year -older than his cousin, was much shorter, more perhaps in appearance than -reality, from the breadth and squareness of his shoulders, and from not -carrying himself well. - -Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son -of Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at -Sutton Leigh, a small house on his father’s estate, busied with farming, -sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make -a narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless -tribe of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in -India; and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, -who had been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed -his attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, -that he might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin -Frederick been always one step before him. - -Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so -that on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but -this was but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to -endure out of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training -or companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, -derided in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his -way among rude brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended -a protecting hand to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. -Soon overcoming his effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, -and was equal to Alex in all but main bodily strength; but the spirit -of rivalry once excited, had never died away, and with a real friendship -and esteem for each other, their names or rather their nicknames had -almost become party words among their schoolfellows. - -Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this -first occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself -open to that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account -at once of his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge -of accomplishments; but he did not guess at the feeling which made -Alexander on his side regard those very accomplishments with a feeling -which, if it were not jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it. - -Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very -little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called -her skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair -of very large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant -expression, and showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from -sublime to ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature -otherwise. And if instead of being “like the diamond bright,” they had -been “dull as lead,” it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice -had been, she was still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he -could believe a sister to be if he had one,--in short his own little -Queen Bee. He had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all -the civilization which he possessed, and it was with considerable -mortification that he thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison -with his old rival, as old a friend of hers, with the same claim to -cousinly affection; and instead of understanding only what she had -taught him, familiar with the tastes and pursuits on which she set -perhaps too great a value. - -Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice’s preference: it might be -that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister -of his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on -which he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely -to be secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school -studies and pastimes. - -For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice -books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, -and which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly -style of living which some people thought befitted them. She called to -her brother who was standing by the fire, “Fred, do come and look at -this beautiful Albert Durer of Sintram.” - -He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an -acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, “Yes, it was an -old promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be -pronounced insensible.” - -“A wonderful old fellow was that Albert,” said Fred, looking, and -forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. “Yes; -O how wondrously the expression on Death’s face changes as it does in -the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have -you seen it, mamma?” - -His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and -Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the -old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have -a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of -the prints with no practised hand. “Take care, Alex, take care,” cried -Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; “don’t you see what a pinch you -are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a -pattern for you,” pointing to Fred. - -She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the -table. Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed -any tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee’s black eyes -perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph. - -But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very -sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, -she stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain -parting cautions. - -“How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in -her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who -can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I--” - -“Had better let it alone,” rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. “You will do -more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that -Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place.” - -“Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration! -To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always -go home!” - -“We have lamented that often enough,” said her mother smiling. “It is -unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must -sometimes bend.” - -“You say that for me, mamma,” said Beatrice. “You think grandmamma and I -have too much will for each other.” - -“If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that -wilful will of yours.” - -“I hope I shall,” said Beatrice, “but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good -night, mamma.” - -And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she -well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the -many fervent resolutions she had made against it. - -The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and -set out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad -carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice -sat opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with -animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with -explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper -and talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford. - -The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the -early winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, -or they had reached the Allonfield station. - -“Here we are!” exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same -moment a loud voice called out, “All right! where are you, Alex?” upon -which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the -carriage-door, replying, “Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought -Dumpling?” And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, “How d’ye do, -Carey?” - -When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him -shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough -great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred -handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and -Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh -man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt -Mary, upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness, -presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied -to the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at -home. - -“Is the Hall carriage come?” asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff -affirmative, added, “then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while -Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage,” offered his arm with tolerable -courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. “There,” said he, “Carey -has driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with -him.” - -“Is the horse steady?” asked his aunt, anxiously. - -“Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?” said Alex, -patting his old friend. - -“And no lamps?” - -“O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen -times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat.” - -“And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time.” - -“Lots of ruts,” muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, “A -few ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places.” - -By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state -of things, said, “I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I -should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house, -and then Dumpling’s feelings won’t be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton -Leigh.” - -Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle -Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, -as the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw -Alexander’s own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting -the boys have their own way. She had been rather depressed in the -morning on leaving her mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits -mounted, and she was almost wild with glee. “Aunt Mary, do you know -where you are?” - -“On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks.” - -“Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d’ye do? You beginning of -home! I don’t know when it is best coming to you: on a summer’s evening, -all glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. -There is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the -gate.” - -“Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school,” said -her aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their -blithe young hearts, and added cheerfully, “Just the same as ever, I -see: how well I know the outline of the bank there!” - -“Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something -inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can’t you get up a little -enthusiasm?” - -“Oceans, without getting it up,” replied Fred. “I never was more -rejoiced in my whole life,” and he began to hum Domum. - -“Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton,” - cried Henrietta. - -And the voices began, “Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;” even Aunt Mary -herself caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming -to her own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her -situation, and threw herself into the delight of returning. - -“Now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “let us try those verses that you found a -tune for, that begin ‘What is home?’” - -This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a -gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. “This is the -beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta,” said Mrs. -Frederick Langford. - -“The wood with glades like cathedral aisles,” said Henrietta. “O, how -delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!” - -“Which I have never seen,” said Beatrice. “I tell papa he has made his -fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it.” - -“In which I fully agree with him,” said her aunt. “I should not like to -see him with nothing to do.” - -“O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do,” - said Henrietta. - -“No,” said her mother, “but people are always happier with work made for -them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey -has too much talent to be spared.” - -“Ay,” said Fred, “I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little -Busy Bee.” - -“It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so,” - said Beatrice. “I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did -retire without--” - -“Without what, Bee?” - -“Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose,” said Henrietta very seriously. “I am -sure I should.” - -“His being in Parliament will content me for the present,” said -Beatrice, “for I have been told too often that high principles don’t -rise in the world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as -if he was.” - -“You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee,” said -Henrietta; “but where are we now?” added she, as a gate swung back. - -“Coming into the paddock,” said Beatrice; “don’t you see the lights in -the house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that -large one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don’t you see that red -fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to -have.” - -Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in -the nervous pressure of her mother’s hand. The carriage stopped at the -door, whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to -darkness; but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but -have recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more -than one visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, -clear eye, and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than -handing his daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her -brow; then he hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while -she received the kiss of Mrs. Langford. - -They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he -gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more -embraced her, saying, “Bless you, my own dear Mary!” She clung to him -for a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself -in an instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying -to administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which -suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of -the black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair -was perfectly white. “Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You -had better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? -But where is Geoffrey?” - -“He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh,” said Beatrice. - -“Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?” said grandpapa, holding out -his arms to her. “And,” added he, “is not this your first introduction -to the twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would -wish to see on a summer’s day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell -you apart, when you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake -now though. Well, I am right glad to have you here.” - -“Won’t you take off some of your wraps, Mary?” proceeded Mrs. Langford, -and her daughter-in-law, with a soft “Thank you,” passively obeyed. “And -you too, my dear,” she added to Henrietta. - -“Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta,” proceeded grandpapa. “Let me -see whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, -Mary.” - -“Do not you think his forehead like--” and she looked to the end of -the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers -Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now -she could attend to nothing but her mamma. - -“Like poor dear Frederick?” said grandmamma. “Well, I can’t judge by -firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very -image.” - -“You can’t be the image of any one I should like better,” said Mr. -Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta’s hand. “I -wish nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and -out.” - -“Ah, there’s Geoffrey!” cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost -running to meet him. - -“Well, Geoffrey, how d’ye do?” added his father with an indescribable -tone and look of heartfelt delight. “Left all your cares behind you?” - -“Left my wife behind me,” said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face. - -“Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come,” said both the -old people, “but how is poor Lady Susan?” - -“As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand. -Well, Mary, you look tired.” - -Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other -accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, -and it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. -Henrietta thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the -trouble, but this would not have been at all according to the habits of -grandmamma or granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to -a large cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she -supposed Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their -maid, who was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the -already bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law -who was standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, -“There, Mary, I thought you would like to be here.” - -“Thank you, thank you, you are always kind.” - -“There now, Mary, don’t let yourself be overcome. You would not -bring him back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There--that is -right--and don’t think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had -better not, don’t you?” - -“Much better not, thank you, grandmamma,” said Henrietta, as she -assisted in settling her mother on the sofa. “She is tired and overcome -now, but she will be herself after a rest.” - -“And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of -coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won’t you have a cup of -coffee, Mary, my dear?” - -“Thank you, no thank you,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising -herself. “Indeed I am sorry--it is very foolish.” Here the choking sob -came again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming -a shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. “Poor -thing, poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? -I’ll fetch one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some -sal-volatile? Yes, Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?” - -And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively -distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck, -wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again, -saying, “I did not think I was so weak!” - -“Dearest mamma,” said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty. - -“If I have not distressed grandmamma!” said her mother anxiously. “No, -never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and--” - -Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the -unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days -when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new -thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there -again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? -But it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and -the sound of Mrs. Langford’s returning footsteps recalled her habit of -self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the -sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for -having given so much trouble. - -“Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you -better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first -time; but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better--Ah! well, I see -you can’t bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best -thing. Don’t let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear.” - -There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick -Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would -have waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear -at table, and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very -fortunately, as Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she -pronounced to be “the half-hour bell,” and she hastened away, telling -her granddaughter that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and -calling the maid outside the door to giver her full directions where to -procure anything that her mistress might want. - -“Dear grandmamma! just like herself!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “But -Henrietta, my dear,” she added with some alarm, “make haste and dress: -you must never be too late in this house!” - -Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too -anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair -was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her -mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. “You -don’t know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting,” said she. - -At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled, -evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the -door to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest -inquired, and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them -to eat her turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were -perhaps damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford’s absence and its cause, for -the dinner was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing -to Henrietta and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country -neighbourhood, in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest. - -As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to -her mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. “But, O mamma, is -this a good thing for you?” said Henrietta, looking at the red case -containing her father’s miniature, which had evidently been only just -closed on her entrance. - -“The very best thing for me, dearest,” was the answer, now given in her -own calm tones. “It does truly make me happier than anything else. No, -don’t look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me, -but I trust it is not.” - -“And does this really comfort you, mamma?” said Henrietta, as she -pressed the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. “O, I cannot -fancy that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might -have been, think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O -mamma, I feel quite rebellious!” - -“You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child,” said her -mother, sadly. “As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to -wish him here?” - -“And can you bear to say so, mamma?” - -She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had -gone too far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the -daughter timidly asked, “And was this your old room, mamma?” - -“Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish -books. Bring that one,” she added, as Henrietta took one out, and -opening it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written “F.H. Langford,” - with the giver’s name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the -page, “Mary Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred.” “I believe that you -may find that in almost all of them,” said she. “I am glad they have -been spared from the children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few -more to look over, before you go down again to grandmamma?” - -Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a -selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk, -in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance -of Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health, -strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a -good fire in Geoffrey’s room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be -ready. - -Henrietta’s ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. -Vivian, naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although -considerably younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in -speechless amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. “But, my dear -child,” she said, “I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you -staying up here all the evening.” - -Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she -was stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking -maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had -been nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time “Miss Mary” arrived from -India, and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been -called ladies’-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, -if anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known -to all who are happy enough to possess a “Judith.” - -“I beg your pardon, miss,” said she, as Henrietta opened the door just -before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called -out, “O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me.” - -She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the -thin white hand stretched out to her. “I hope you are better, ma’am. It -is something like old times to have you here again.” - -“Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith,” was the answer, “and very -glad to see you looking like your own dear self.” - -“Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma’am; I wish I could see you looking -better.” - -“I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been -introduced to Henrietta, there.” - -“But I have often heard of you, Judith,” said Henrietta, cordially -holding out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with -affectionate earnestness. “Sure enough, miss,” said she, “as Missus -says, you are the very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I -think I see a look of poor Master Frederick too.” - -“Have you seen my brother, Judith?” asked Henrietta, fearing a second -discussion on likenesses. - -“Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus’s room, when -Mr. Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said ‘Here’s a new -acquaintance for you, Judith,’ and there was Master Frederick. I should -have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine -young gentleman he is, to be sure.” - -“Why, we must be like your grandchildren!” said Henrietta; “but O! here -comes Fred.” - -And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to -his sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on -grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself. - -They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa’s chair, -with one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say -Henrietta was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her -by declaring he should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish -days. Then he called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their -home doings, showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed -and stood amazed. “Ah,” said grandpapa, “you forgot that I had a Queen -Bee to enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go -buzzing over the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven’t -we, Busy, Busy Bee?” - -Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit -round the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and -it was rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, -“Come, young ladies, I’ve been wearying for a tune these three months. I -hope you are not too tired to give us one.” - -“O no, no, grandpapa!” cried Beatrice, “but you must hear Henrietta. It -is a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my -London masters too.” - -And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice -came to her aunt’s room to wish her good-night, and to hear -Henrietta’s opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater -wonder--grandmamma so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a -grandpapa to be proud of! - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - -It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free -from headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to -breakfast. The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning -light that shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and -Henrietta, as usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the -elms and the last year’s rooks’ nests, to make the most of her time; -so that the bell for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma -would not leave her, and remained to help her. Just as they were going -down at last, they met Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for -poor Mary. She would have almost been better pleased with a slight -indisposition than with dawdling; but she kindly accepted Henrietta’s -apologies, and there was one exclamation of joy from all the assembled -party at Mrs. Frederick Langford’s unhoped-for entrance. - -“Geoffrey, my dear,” began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and -congratulations were over, “will you see what is the matter with the -lock of this tea-chest?--it has been out of order these three weeks, and -I thought you could set it to rights.” - -While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old -servant, put in his head. - -“If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. -Geoffrey about his son on the railway.” - -Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited -him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: “Geoffrey, -I put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them -when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust.” - -A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three -boys, shouting with one voice--“Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you must -come and see which of Vixen’s puppies are to be saved!” - -“Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!” was Uncle Geoffrey’s answer; “don’t you -know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such -wild men of the woods.” - -“All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey,” said grandmamma. “Ah, he -spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. -There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie,” she added, as -they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. - -Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of -Alexander. “How shall I ever know them apart?” said she to Beatrice. - -“Like grandmamma’s nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below -another,” said Beatrice. “However, I don’t require you to learn them all -at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have -you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?” - -Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter -make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen -Bee’s side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly -discomposed by Henrietta’s neighbourhood. - -John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and -in another minute they made their appearance. “Good morning sir; good -morning, ma’am,” were Uncle Roger’s greetings, as he came in. “Ah, Mary, -how d’ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.---Ah, -good morning, good morning,” as he quickly shook hands with the younger -ones. “Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into -the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping.” - -And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, -during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to -see him look so young--younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but -in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had -thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey’s hair, paled his cheek, and traced -lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light -that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often -played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure -that might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and -much more robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face -ruddy brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In -his plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he -looked the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable -family likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and -lip, which recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle -Geoffrey. - -The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the -signal for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up -stairs for her mother’s work, and came down again laughing. “I am sure, -Queenie,” said she, “that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may -well be called a great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at -breakfast, I have just come across a consultation on the stairs between -him and Judith about--what was it?--some money in a savings’ bank.” - -“Yes,” said Beatrice, “Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these -degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give -‘Master Geoffrey’ all the management of it. But if you are surprised -now, what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not -asked in at least fifty matters.” - -“I’ll count,” said Henrietta: “what have we had already?” and she took -out pencil and paper--“Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and -the turnpike trust--” - -“Vixen’s puppies and the drill,” suggested her mamma. - -“And Judith’s money,” added Henrietta. “Six already--” - -“To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear -of,” said Beatrice; “and look here, what I am going to seal for him, -one, two, three--eight letters.” - -“Why! when could he possibly have written them?” - -“Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma -will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up -with a candle after eleven o’clock. I really believe that there is not -another living creature in the world who could do it in this house. -There, you may add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is -going to the Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar.” - -“O, I wish we could walk there!” - -“I dare say we can. I’ll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like -Henrietta to go and see the Pleasance?” - -“Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee,” said Aunt -Mary; “but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day.” - -“Walk to Sutton Leigh!” echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the -moment; “not you, surely, Mary?” - -“O no, no, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, laughing; “she was only talking -of Henrietta’s doing it.” - -“Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this -morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you, -and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to -send over for poor Tom’s sore mouth.” - -Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked, -“Have they no currant jelly themselves?” - -“O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don’t mean that the -boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor -Elizabeth can never make any preserves.” - -“But,” objected Queen Bee, “if one of the children is ill, do you think -Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could -take the jelly.” - -“O nonsense, Bee,” said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; “you don’t -like to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can’t be as -good-natured to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the -village.” - -“Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that.” - -“O no, no, grandmamma,” joined in Henrietta, “we shall be very glad to -take it. Pray let us.” - -“Yes,” added Beatrice, “if it is really to be of any use, no one can be -more willing.” - -“Of any use?” repeated Mrs. Langford. “No! never mind. I’ll send -someone.” - -“No, pray do not, dear grandmamma,” eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; “I do -beg you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to -let me be useful.” - -Grandmamma was pacified. “When will you set out?” she asked; “you had -better not lose this bright morning.” - -“We will go directly,” said Queen Bee; “we will go by the west turning, -so that Henrietta may see the Pleasance.” - -“My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won’t have you getting -wet in your feet and catching cold.” - -“O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it -has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning.” - -“As if he knew, or cared anything about it!--and you will be late for -luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day -she feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will -always have your own way.” - -Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this -altercation; and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her -cousin, she would have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would -have interfered in another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey -gave a sudden turn to affairs. - -“Who likes to go to the Pleasance?” said he, as he entered. “All whose -curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots.” - -“Here are the girls dying to go,” said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as -if she had not been objecting the minute before. - -“Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens.” Then, -turning to his mother, “Didn’t I hear you say you had something to send -to Elizabeth, ma’am?” - -“Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if--” - -“O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don’t cheat me,” exclaimed -Henrietta. “If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better -with me than in Uncle Geoffrey’s pocket.” - -“Ay, that will be the proper division of labour,” said Uncle Geoffrey, -looking well pleased with his niece; “but I thought you were off to get -ready.” - -“Don’t keep your uncle waiting, my dear,” added her mamma; and Henrietta -departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, “If -there is a thing I can’t endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of -the children is poorly! It is always bad enough--” - -“Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!” cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of -any flaw in her paradise. - -“You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden -bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your -shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that -crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the -house. It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over -sum, es, est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers -in a small house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing -instead of getting ready.” - -“So are you.” - -“My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I’ll tell you -what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you -to ‘improve each shining hour;’ for nothing will get you into such dire -disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame -to waste papa’s time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I -will trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself.” - -In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still -measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted -her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at -the door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually -waited there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time -since, and the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together -first. Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance -that she might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil -her expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the -masonry was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of -freestone and of flints, the windows were not casements as she thought -they ought to have been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, -which contained the drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a -respectable, comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be -said in its praise, and Beatrice’s affection had so embellished it -in description, that it was no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly -disappointed. She had had some expectation, too, of seeing it in the -midst of a park, instead of which the carriage-drive along which they -were walking, only skirted a rather large grass field, full of elm -trees, and known by the less dignified name of the paddock. But she -would not confess the failure of her expectations even to herself, and -as Beatrice was evidently looking for some expressions of admiration, -she said the road must be very pretty in summer. - -“Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves,” said Queen Bee. -“Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have -this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I -carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to -me as the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and -rabbits. But here are the outfield and the drill.” - -And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they -entered a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and -gravelled, so as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, -as the gentlemen left them to march up and down there by themselves, -whilst they were discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine -which was travelling along the furrows. It was rather a trial of -patience, but Beatrice was used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to -be pleased with anything. - -At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his -granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with -Martin. - -“Well, young ladies,” said he, “this is fine drilling, in patience at -least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger’s -new-fangled machines.” - -“That is right, grandpapa,” said Queen Bee; “you hate them as much as I -do, don’t you now?” - -“She is afraid they will make honey by steam,” said grandpapa, “and -render bees a work of supererogation.” - -“They are doing what they can towards it,” said Beatrice. “Why, when Mr. -Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling -for my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy -destroyed. And they won’t even let them swarm their own way--a most -unwarrantable interference with the liberty of the subject.” - -“Well done, Queenie,” said Mr. Langford, laughing; “a capital champion. -And so you don’t look forward to the time when we are to have our hay -made by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by -a third--ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?” - -“Bird-starving!” repeated Henrietta. - -“Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother’s elegant -diminutive,” said Beatrice, “serving as live scarecrows.” - -“I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose,” - said Henrietta. - -“This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten -minutes,” said grandpapa; “but I told Uncle Roger we would have none -of them here unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at -every third explosion.” - -“Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?” said Henrietta. - -“He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home -with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave -him to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast.” - -“Don’t they succeed, then?” said Henrietta. - -“Why--ay--I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we -achieved a prize ox,--such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could -not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such -waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog.” - -Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or -earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little -liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed -manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful -grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger. - -“There is Sutton Leigh,” said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low -white house among farm buildings. “Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for -an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey -into the bargain?” - -“Jessie Carey!” exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay. - -“Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her -with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh.” - -“Is she one of Aunt Roger’s nieces?” asked Henrietta. - -“Yes,” said Beatrice. “And--O! grandpapa, don’t look at me in that way. -Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?” - -“I won’t have Henrietta prejudiced,” said Mr. Langford. “Don’t listen to -her, my dear: and I’ll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest, -good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never -thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness.” - -“Now for the but, grandpapa,” cried Beatrice. “I allow all that, only -grant me the but.” - -“But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down -on us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual -society.” - -“O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don’t really believe that. -O, say you don’t!” And Beatrice’s black eyes were full of tears. - -“If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee,” and he -added, half whispering, “take care some of us do not believe the other -half. But don’t look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your -waxen cells, and don’t lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to -you, I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining -companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as -yours.” - -They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little -altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden -in front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in -sight there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, -all darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms. - -“Let me loose, you varlets,” he cried, and disengaging one hand, in -another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, -which he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all -the urchins in pursuit. - -At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford -appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing -Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never -seen a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and -a drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in -fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery. - -Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie -Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty -girl of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and -a face which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton -Leigh. - -But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very -tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but -for its novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick -Langford, then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave -the history of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on -Uncle Geoffrey’s knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of -his watch. Henrietta’s list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle -Geoffrey advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie’s, and -assisted Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise. - -It was almost one o’clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates -was heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to -luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on -with him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own -affairs at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had -hardly ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she -was not only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and -uncalled-for fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking -on deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the -management of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor -was the matter mended by the attempts at correction made from time -to time by their father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better -than Beatrice, whose face ill concealed an expression of disgust and -weariness, and who maintained a silence very unlike her usual habits. - -At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their -walk, and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had -quitted the house, that the boys were too well occupied with their -pudding to wish to accompany them, but she did not venture on any -further remarks before her papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned -to point out all the interesting localities to Henrietta. There was -something to tell of every field, every tree, or every villager, with -whom he exchanged his hearty greeting. If it were only a name, it -recalled some story of mamma’s, some tradition handed on by Beatrice. -Never was walk more delightful; and the girls were almost sorry to find -themselves at the green gate of the Pleasance, leading to a gravel -road, great part of which had been usurped by the long shoots of the -evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be said to correspond in -appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted, unfurnished state; but -the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle Geoffrey was deep in -the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted about from garret -to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing possibilities, in -complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for ever; and rather -tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of the stairs, -and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next summer; then -talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last books they -had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey, being more -merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and summoned them -to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road, through the -village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet seen. It -was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in gardens, -and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the care of -the proprietor. - -“O, here is the church,” said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they -came to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground -occupied by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm -trees, amongst which could just be seen the small old church, with its -large deep porch and curious low tower. - -“The door is open,” said Beatrice; “I suppose they are bringing in the -holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?” - -“I do not know,” said she, looking at her uncle. “Mamma--” - -“I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and -herself too,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - -“I am sure I should wish it very much,” said Henrietta, and they entered -the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and -low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and -impressive to Henrietta’s present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her -on into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording -the names of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly -noticeable for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore -the name of Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and -his age, only twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had -the initials F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and -looked in deep silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and -her uncle’s thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. -Her father had been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so -entirely one in mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than -his elder brother, and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle -Geoffrey’s life. - -The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the -door, as the old clerk’s wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and -dragging a mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to -her courtesy, and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other -end of the church to assist in the Christmas decorations. - -Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. “This is coming very -near him!” said she in a low voice. “Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure -that he knows me.” - -“Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us,” - said Uncle Geoffrey. “Think rather of ‘I shall go to him, but he shall -not return to me.’” - -“But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me -and knows how--how I would have loved him, and how I do love him,” she -added, while the tears rose to her eyes. - -“It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most -comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world: -but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to -dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it -depends but on ourselves.” - -To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; -but he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta’s mind to merge the -reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical -feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had -never heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she -lost sight of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards -her mother. It was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, -and with how many daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, -that though even to himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. -Geoffrey Langford resolved that his niece’s first visit to her father’s -grave should not be spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, -alluring because involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in -thoughts which might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up -of self-will. - -Henrietta looked very thoughtful. “That time is so far away!” said she. - -“How do you know that?” said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought -the full perception that “it is nigh, even at the doors.” - -She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought -home to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father’s -summons. - -“It is awful,” she said. “I cannot bear to think of it.” - -“Henrietta,” said her uncle solemnly, “guard yourself from being so -satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, -most real future.” He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: “The -present, which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of -visions and thoughts, but of deeds.” - -Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, “But, uncle, that would -bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in -heart and mind ascend?” - -“Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of -earthly affection.” - -“Then would you not have me think of him at all?” said she, almost -reproachfully. - -“I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb -the love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same -time you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that -is what your father would desire?” - -“You mean,” she said sadly, “that while I do not think enough of God, -and while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the -thought I love best, the thought that he is near.” - -“Take it rather as a caution than as blame,” said Uncle Geoffrey. A long -silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea -opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of -her father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much -worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it -was by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother’s mind, -the truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive -it, but still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished -so as to be almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey’s manner was so kind -that she could not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she -had hoped for a narration of some part of her father’s history, and for -the indulgence of that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead -of this she was bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, -or to seek for a duty which she had rather not believe that she had -neglected, though--no, she did not like to look deeper. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature -it might be, he could not guess, and then said, “One thing more before -we leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment -in its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. -Will you try to exert it in the right way?” - -“You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age,” said -Henrietta. - -“Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better -than what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the -sake of obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter.” - -While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice’s operations with the holly -had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the -church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance -showed Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of -whom she had heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the -holly in her hand. “Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing.” - -“I was just helping old Martha,” said Beatrice; “we came in to show my -cousin the church, and--” - -By this time the others had advanced. - -“How well the church looks this dark afternoon,” said Uncle Geoffrey, -speaking in a low tone, “it is quite the moment to choose for seeing -it for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your -adornments.” - -“I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to -the arrangement myself,” said Mr. Franklin, “but I am afraid I know very -little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with -your taste.” - -Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled -with delight. “I should like it exceedingly,” said the former; “I was -just thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it -beautifully.” - -“Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can -be done?” - -“Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard,” - said Queen Bee. “And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the -places that are out of reach.” - -“Thank you, thank you,” said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; “I assure you the -matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is, -certainly has not the best taste in church dressing.” - -“And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there -ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look, -papa, do you not think so?” - -“You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel,” said -her papa, “and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at -the head of the tables of commandments.” - -“O, and don’t you see,” said Henrietta, “there in front of the altar -is a space, where I really think we might make the cross and ‘I H S’ in -holly?” - -“But could you, Henrietta?” asked Beatrice. - -“O yes, I know I can; I made ‘M.L.’ in roses on mamma’s last birthday, -and set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure -we could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!” - -“Ah!” said Mr. Franklin, “I have heard of such things, but I had always -considered them as quite above our powers.” - -“They would be, without Henrietta,” said Queen Bee, “but she was always -excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice -taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, -and we will do our work so as to amaze the parish.” - -“And now,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “we must be walking home, my young -ladies. It is getting quite dark.” - -It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading -on the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty -on the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the -way home with them, adding to Henrietta’s list by asking counsel about -a damp spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted -with a refractory farmer. - -By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the -sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet -them in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been -lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they -were dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two -girls up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their -things on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at -half-past five. - -“Is mamma gone up?” asked Henrietta. - -“Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is -gone to rest herself.” - -“And how long have you been at home, Fred?” said Queen Bee. “Why, you -have performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?” - -“I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone,” - said Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta’s ears, implied that he was not -quite pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to -her, “I wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and -Carey thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and -thereby they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to -change his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. -I declare it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made -of sugar candy.” - -With Uncle Geoffrey’s admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints -sounded painfully in Henrietta’s ears, and she would gladly have soothed -away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the -stairs for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally -appropriate, especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming -down from above and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred -therefore retreated into their mamma’s room, where they found her -sitting on a low stool by the fire, reading by its light one of the old -childish books, of which she seemed never to weary. Fred’s petulance, -to do him justice, never could endure the charm of her presence, and his -brow was as bright and open as his sister’s as he came forward, hoping -that she was not tired. - -“Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear,” said she, smiling; “I enjoyed -my walk exceedingly.” - -“A walk!” exclaimed Henrietta. - -“A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with -grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen -garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?” - -“I’ve been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen,” answered Henrietta, -gaily. “I have seen everything--Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and the -church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the church -for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only think -of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always thought -it something too great and too happy for me ever to do.” - -“I hope you will be able to succeed in it,” said her mamma. “What a -treat it will be to see your work on Sunday.” - -“And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach -the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures.” - -Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole -live stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the -plantations, and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on -the bark of the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. -He “was just going to see Dumpling and Vixen’s puppies at Sutton Leigh, -when--” - -“When I caught you, my poor boy,” said his mamma; “and very cruel it -was, I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again.” - -“I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks -of minding those things.” - -“You should have seen him, Henrietta,” said his mother; “his shoes -looked as if he had been walking through a river.” - -“Well, but so were all the others,” said Fred. - -“Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such -sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. -But you--if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you -know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up -with a bad cold.” - -“I never catch cold,” said Fred. - -“Boys always say so,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford; “it is a--what shall -I call it?--a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always defeat -when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I won’t -put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the fender -croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with stick-liquorice -and Ivanhoe.” - -“You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma,” - said Henrietta, “just to see how grandmamma will nurse it.” - -A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing -the arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford’s maid; who had come in -such good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed -a whole quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary -punctuality without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, -sitting round the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. -Langford; and Uncle Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a -leisure time; and there was so much merriment in talking over the walk, -and discussing the plans for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved -never again to miss such a pleasant reunion by her own tardiness. - -Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by -getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the -room to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and -by finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of -her own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was -going on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. -She kept her list of Uncle Geoffrey’s manifold applicants on the table -before her, and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business -unknown, who sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud -and eager appeal from Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a -question of taste on the shades of grandmamma’s carpet-work, and by her -own query how to translate a difficult German passage which had baffled -herself, mamma, and Fred. - -However, Queen Bee’s number, fifty, had not been attained, and her -majesty was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of -a day, for which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be -continued. - -Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain -her resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford -evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two -children’s own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her -sleep something about “delightful,” “bright leaves and red berries,” and -then, “and ‘tis for my own dear papa.” - -And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta -and Frederick as serenely happy as she was? - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - -Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, -but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome -her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to -a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. -She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called -a sparrow’s allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained -nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut -her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if -each piece was to serve as a model for future generations. - -The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her -spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year’s -party on Monday week, the second of January. “It would be pleasant for -the young people,” she thought, “if Mary did not think it would be too -much for her.” - -Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer -would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should -be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great -treat to Henrietta and Fred. - -“We will have the carpet up in the dining-room,” added Mrs. Langford, -“and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a -nice little set for a dance.” - -“O thank you, grandmamma,” cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford -looked at her. - -“Poor innocent, you little know!” murmured Queen Bee to herself. - -“That is right, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “I like to see young -people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in -moderation.” - -“Above dancing,” said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection -on his pet, Queen Bee, “that is what you call being on the high rope, -isn’t it?” - -Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. - -“Are you on the high rope, Queenie?” asked Fred, who sat next to her: -“do you despise the light fantastic--?” - -“I don’t know: I do not mind it much,” was all she could bring herself -to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious -before her father. “Not much in itself,” she added, in a lower tone, -as the conversation grew louder, “it is the people, Philip Carey, and -all,--but hush! listen.” - -He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at -each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her -Aunt Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and -the stream of conversation flowed away from the fête. - -The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered -Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at -the Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. -“Bring him safe,” said she, “for if you fail, and prove a corbie -messenger, I promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry -bee.” - -Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up -after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma’s writing-case down -for her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help -waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing -between her mother and uncle. - -“Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?” he asked. - -“Thank you,” she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, “I think not.” - -“Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you,” - said he in a voice of kind solicitude. - -“Thank you very much, Geoffrey,” she replied, in an earnest tone, “but -indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on -such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order.” - -“I understand,” said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the -writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment’s perception -of the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her. - -In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious -family of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the -bright sunshine near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy -flower-pots, instantly sprang forward with, “O grandmamma, let me help.” - -Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she -was gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried -the myrtle, the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant -deeply-indented leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, -and was deep in the story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been -planted by Uncle Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed -likely to grow beyond the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when -Beatrice came down and beheld her with consternation--“Henrietta! -Henrietta! what are you about?” cried she, breaking full into the story. -“Do make haste.” - -“I will come in a minute,” said Henrietta, who was assisting in -adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied. - -“Don’t stop for me, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford: “there, don’t let me -be in your way.” - -“O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much.” - -“But, Henrietta,” persisted the despotic Queen Bee, “we really ought to -be there.” - -“What is all this about?” said grandmamma, not particularly well -pleased. “There, go, go, my dear; I don’t want any more, thank you: what -are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?” - -“Yes, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, “did you not hear that Mr. Franklin -asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time -in these short days.” - -“Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I -never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very -different now!” - -Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed “Do make haste,” and -then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, “I do not see why -young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than -arraying themselves for balls and dances!” - -True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her -father or mother stand before her at that moment? - -“Ah, well! it is all very well,” said grandmamma, shaking her head, as -she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, “you girls think yourselves -so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better -let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were -born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won’t be fit to be -seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could -consent, Henrietta looks very delicate.” - -“O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed.” - -“I am sure she is hoarse this morning,” proceeded Mrs. Langford; “I -shall speak to her mamma.” - -“O don’t, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would -Mr. Franklin do?” - -“O very well, I promise you, as he has done before,” said Mrs. Langford, -hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted -upstairs to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could -arrive. It was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to -have many scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would -be to be obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of -reach; so she let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a -far less leisurely and discriminating manner than was usual with her. - -“It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose,” - said Beatrice, “to go down the back stairs.” - -“True,” said Henrietta, “we will even take the bull by the horns.” - -“And trust to our heels,” said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; -“the coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not -stop us if they can help it. One, two, three, and away!” - -Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green -walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, -and take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. -And after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have -gone openly and with clear consciences, had they but properly and -submissively waited the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, -who did not know how ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been -very sorry to interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother -to it, in his own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had -been entirely caused by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of -objecting when it had been first mentioned the evening before, and -had not Beatrice not first fidgeted and then argued, would only have -regarded it as a pleasant way of occupying their morning. - -“I could scold you, Miss Drone,” said Beatrice when the two girls had -set themselves to rights, and recovered breath; “it was all the fault of -your dawdling.” - -“Well, perhaps it was,” said Henrietta, “but you know I could not see -grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her.” - -“How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to -be helped?” - -“Then she was very kind to me,” replied Henrietta. - -“I see how it will be,” said Beatrice, smiling, “you will be -grandmamma’s pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get -her to let me help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent.” - -Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either -grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also -with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was -determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was -of course equally resolute. - -“She is an amazing person!” said Henrietta. “Is she eighty yet?” - -“Seventy-nine,” said Beatrice; “and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say -I think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and -grandmothers, if there was one like Uncle Roger’s fat cattle shows. You -know she thinks nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and -all over the village besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the -Sutton Leigh path. Let me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, -that’s right! Capital!” cried she in high glee; “here is Birnam wood -coming across the field.” And springing on one of the bars of the gate -near the top, she flourished her handkerchief, chanting or singing, - - -“Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, -With all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my--quick -descending:” - - -she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring -precipitately down to avoid a fall. “It made a capital conclusion, -however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen,” as -four or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush--“Well, -gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een.” - -“With sair fingers, you mean,” said Fred; “these bushes scratch like -half a dozen wild cats.” - -“It is in too good a cause for me to pity you,” said Beatrice. - -“Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred. - -His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would -or not,--“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let -me see, I have my penknife.” - -“Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. - -“But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta. - -“Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. - -“He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, -Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?” - -“O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex. - -“Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said -Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; -I tell her then she can’t be driven.” - -Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not -yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not -told the news yet.” - -“What news?” - -“The Euphrosyne is coming home,” cried the boys with one voice. “Had we -not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any -day!” - -“That is something like news,” said Queen Bee; “I thought it would -only be that the puppies could see, or that Tom’s tooth was through. -Grandpapa has not heard it?” - -“Papa is going up to tell him,” said John. “I was going too, only Alex -bagged me to carry his holly-bush.” - -“And so the great Rogero is coming home!” said Beatrice. “How you will -learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially -if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must -practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, -Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred’s great love of -dancing.” - -“I love dancing?” exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and -contempt. - -“Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was -proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for -the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!” - -“If it comes at all you must start me, Bee,” said Alex, “for I am sure I -can’t dance with any one but you.” - -“Let me request it now,” said Fred, “though why you should think I like -dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it -endurable.” - -“There are compliments to your Majesty,” cried Henrietta, laughing; “one -will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it -endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified.” - -“Time will show,” said Beatrice; “I shall ponder on their requests, -and decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against -hater of the dance.” - -“I don’t love it, I declare,” exclaimed Fred. - -“I don’t mind it, if you dance with me,” said Alex. - -And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself -the object of attention to both. - -Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to -think applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal -appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have -thought herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of -attention, her delight in playing off her two cousins against each -other? Beauty, or the consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. -Henrietta, if ever the matter occurred to her, could not help knowing -that she was uncommonly pretty, yet no one could be more free from any -tendency to this habit. Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, -but that did not make the least difference; if any, it was rather on the -side of vanity, in being able without a handsome face, so to attract and -engross her cousins. It was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel -her power to play them off, and irritate the little feelings of jealousy -which she had detected; and thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she -pursued her course. - -On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had -brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they -had to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha’s to fetch the key. -In a few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them -ready to fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a -huge heap of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use. - -The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on -the top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but -she thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field -upon which she had to work began to alarm her imagination. - -Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations -with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the -aisle, and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring -that they could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made -no objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly -observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and -Alex. - -“Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? -Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed, -we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us, -and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing.” - -Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, -rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies’ -work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his -assistance when she asked Fred’s, and she felt secure of them both. - -“There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see -if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to -make a festoon if we cannot fasten it.” - -“I can’t see anything.” - -“Here, give me your hand, and I’ll look.” Up tripped the little Bee, -just holding by his hand. “Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great -rough nail sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a -sailor’s knot round it. Help me down first though--thank you. Fred, will -you trim that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We -must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the -screen. How tough this ivy is! Thank you--that’s it. Well, Mr. Franklin, -I hope we shall get on in time.” - -Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and -himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that -the Misses Langford would not tire themselves. - -Angels’ work is Church decoration--work fit for angels, that is to say; -but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its greatness -makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory of -God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches -before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a -more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young -creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with -those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His -sanctuary? - -Angels’ work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we -upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful -reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was -that spirit of holy fear--that sole desire for His glory--the chief -thought with these young people? - -Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in -word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a -tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect -for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down -ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little -mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly -perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for -four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so -many hours. - -But still Beatrice’s great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the -two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful -power it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment -so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused without -irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a power of -which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen -the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a -hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath -which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other -three--certainly neglected--but she did not feel it so; she had rather -be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked -to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought -to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey’s conversation dwelt upon her too; she began -to realize his meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his -desire, by entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. -Opportunities for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight -Sutton, and she had been looking forward to having him all to herself -here, when he must wish to visit his father’s grave with her. She was -vexed for a moment that his first attention was not given to it; but she -knew that his first thought was there, and boys never showed what was -uppermost in their minds to anyone but their sisters. She should have -him by and by, and the present was full of tranquil enjoyment. - -If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, -or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been -little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her. - -“Is it possible!” exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of -the single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. “I -thought you would have given us at least eleven more.” - -“What a quantity remains to be done!” sighed Henrietta, laying down -the wreath which she had just completed. “Your work looks beautiful, -Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?” - -“A short winter’s day, too!” said Beatrice. “One thing is certain--that -we can’t go home to luncheon.” - -“What will grandmamma think of that?” said Henrietta doubtfully. “Will -she like it?” - -Beatrice could have answered, “Not at all;” but she said, “O never mind, -it can’t be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, -and besides we might be caught and stopped.” - -“Oh, that would be worse than anything,” said Henrietta, quite -convinced. - -“So you mean to starve,” said Alex. - -“See what slaves men are to creature comforts,” said Beatrice; “what do -you say, Henrietta?” - -“I had much rather stay here,” said Henrietta; “I want nothing.” - -“Much better fun to go without,” said Fred, who had not often enough -missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke. - -“I’ll tell you what will do best of all!” cried Queen Bee. “You go to -Dame Reid’s, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls -the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men’s bench in the -porch.” - -“Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts,” said Alex. “I -thought she would soon come down to other mortals.” - -“Only to gratify her famishing subjects,” said Beatrice, “you disloyal -vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is -sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. -Geoffrey is coming.” - -“For his private eating?” said Fred. - -“He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the -village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the -children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little -Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. -But come, Alex, why are you not off?” - -“Because I don’t happen to have a sixpence,” said Alex, with an honest -openness, overcoming his desire to add “in my pocket.” It cost him -an effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, -and comparisons perpetually made, Fred’s superior wealth and larger -allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either -knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently -awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty. - -“Every one is poor at the end of the half,” said Fred, tossing up his -purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. “Here -is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty’s service.” - -“And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to -loyalty?” said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. “We are not fallen quite -so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up -in my desk at home.” - -“And my purse is in my workbox,” said Henrietta. - -“So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present,” said Beatrice, -“if it won’t quite break you down.” - -“There are more where that came from,” said Fred, with a careless air. -“Come along, Alex.” - -Away they went. “That is unlucky,” soliloquised Queen Bee: “if I could -have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have -come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see -them no more.” - -“No, no, that would be rather too bad,” said Henrietta. “I am sure Fred -will behave better.” - -“Mark what I say,” said Beatrice. “I know how it will be; a dog or a gun -is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again -‘twill be a nine days’ wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to -look at your wreath.” - -She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much -time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and -in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the -faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was -heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper -parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and -a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame -Reid’s grandson. - -“Thank you,” said she. “Did Master Alexander give you this?” - -“Ay.” - -“Thank you, that’s right!” and away he went. - -“You see,” said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came -out to the porch. “Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!” and -she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary’s handwriting -to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, “Dear B., we beg pardon, -but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews’s about his terrier.--A. L.” - “Very cool, certainly!” said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little -pique. “What a life I will lead them!” - -“Well, you were a true prophet,” said Henrietta, “and after all it does -not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but -still I thought Fred would have behaved better.” - -“You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, -and Fred with his own congeners,” said Beatrice; “you don’t know half -the phases of boy nature.” - -Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she -expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that -was nothing--that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and -true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father’s grave. -He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear -that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her -one moment’s doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in -all to each other at Rocksand. - -It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it -had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, -and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by -the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the -churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well -pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. -They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her -squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest -and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of -this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper -of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day. - -It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was -kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, -timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-- - - -“Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on -earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.” - - -Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their -tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight -and thankfulness for the “good tidings of great joy.” Another and -another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier -voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably -beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till -Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just -within the door watching them. - -“Beautiful!” said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; “your -work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I -don’t think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?” - -“She did, of course, papa,” said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. “Who -else could?” - -“It is a very successful arrangement,” said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about -to find the spot for obtaining the best view. “It is an arrangement to -suggest so much.” - -Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time -perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the -altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves -and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in -the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and -around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, -the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their -peculiar stiff gracefulness. - -“I see it now!” said she, in a low voice full of awe. “Uncle, I did not -mean to make it so!” - -“How?” he asked. - -“It is like Good Friday!” said she, as the resemblance to the crown of -thorns struck her more and more strongly. - -“Well, why not, my dear?” said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in -a sort of alarm. “Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for -Good Friday?” - -“Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy.” - -“Where are those verses that say--let me see-- - - - ‘And still Thy Church’s faith Shall link, - In all her prayer and praise, - Thy glory with Thy death.’ - - -So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right.” - -Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, -“It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art--or, what shall I call -it?--is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the author -intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else.” - -“There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the -spirit in which a thing is done,” said her father: “But have you much -more to do? Those columns look very well.” - -“O, are you come to help us, papa?” - -“I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your -not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again -just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you.” - -Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, “Very well, -we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make -her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?” - -It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows -that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was -promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste -and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin -came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which -had grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of -evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the spiral -festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower of -holly over the font--all were more beautiful, both together and singly, -than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and thanks. - -The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied -survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the -pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As -they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal: -children’s voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, -were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with - - -“As shepherds watch’d their flocks by night.” - - -And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little -voices was brought on the still frosty wind-- - - -“Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.” - -Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,--how -really Christmas-like--how well it suited the soft half-light, the last -pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn stars -that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and -sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!--and how -the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta’s eyes! - -The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, -with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary’s beautiful -voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was -teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came -up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party -to listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk -with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the -many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom -Mrs. Langford’s plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey’s sixpences, were a very -enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - -The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with -many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must -be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the -whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer -hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the -party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage -by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with -recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It -was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his -arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, making her even more -lovely than when last she entered there--her face in all its early bloom -of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness. - -But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that “peace which passeth all -understanding;” and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her -eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and -she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go -through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged -their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather -than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome -channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her -more full of her father’s presence than of any other, so now, throughout -the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and -entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work -herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her -mamma’s own anxieties for Fred. - -Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all -left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to -talk her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured -by them that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from -it. But though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was -not much likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had -always been sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when -Fred saw that his mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of -agitation, he dismissed anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at -his sister’s alarms. - -Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he -was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations -which had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, -replying to the scolding with which she visited their desertion. - -Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, -which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning -sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the -compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. -The old women had “never seen nothing like it,”--the school children -whispered to each other, “How pretty!” Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin -admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted; -grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and -Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it “was like magic.” - -It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been -accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall -was so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in -time for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which -she had often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, -the Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the -farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked. - -Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own -apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement -of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow -path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking -sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen. - -Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept -him estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for -execution. Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their -grandfather was wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping -them to feed the cows with turnips, and guarding them from going behind -their heels. Henrietta was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was -doing the honours for her, and instructing her in the difference between -a Guernsey cow and a short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen -Bee all to himself in a remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old -spotted Nancy’s curly brow, catching at her polished black-tipped horn, -and listening to his hopes and fears for the next half year. Not so -Frederick, as he stood at the door with Jessie Carey, who, having no -love for the cow-house, especially when in her best silk, thought always -ready to take care of the children there, was very glad to secure a -companion outside, especially one so handsome, so much more polished -than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply to her small talk. -Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how he longed to be -listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking holly into the -cows’ halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the hay-loft with -Carey and William--anywhere, rather than be liable to the imputation of -being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house. - -This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still -an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman, -and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and -the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while -Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, “Well, Fred, I congratulate -you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!” - -“I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?” - -“Nay, you can’t deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me -for finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay -so bad a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise.” - -“How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I -was actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that -great print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy -roof, and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, -the haze of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns.” - -“Quite poetical,” said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. -“How charmed Jessie must have been!” - -“Why?” said Fred, rather provoked. - -“Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be -quite her phoenix; and how much ‘Thomson’s Seasons’ you will have to -hear! I dare say you have had it already-- - - - ‘Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!’” - - -“Well, very good advice, too,” said Fred. - -“I hate and detest Thomson,” said Beatrice; “above all, for travestying -Ruth into ‘the lovely young Lavinia;’ so whenever Jessie treated me to -any of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I -said, by great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an -imposition for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a -capital hit, for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much -of him, and since that time I have heard no more of ‘Jemmy Thomson! -Jemmy Thomson! O!’” - -The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, -reaching Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with -his mother, made him suspect that the young people were getting into -such spirits as were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked -them some trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, -and brought it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone. - -Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had -to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the -dining-room--an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin was -dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander. - -Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the -whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to -her, as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, -but for the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular -music, it might as well have been any other day of the week. - -Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had -a long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and -she helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions -about her mother’s health and habits, and heard a good deal that -interested her, but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. -At Rocksand she used to sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the -darkening summer twilight, or the bright red light of the winter fire, -repeating or singing hymns, and enjoying the most delightful talks that -the whole week had to offer, and now she greatly missed the conversation -that would have “set this strange week to rights in her head,” as she -said to herself. - -She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at -night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as -difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a -new day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by -Knight Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she -asked herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change -in her way of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last -Sunday that she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at -Rocksand. Enough had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was -fulfilled; the airy castle of former days had become a substance, and -she was inhabiting it: and was she really so very much happier? There -she went into a reverie--but musing is not meditating, nor vague -dreamings wholesome reflections; she went on sitting their, chiefly -for want of energy to move, till the fire burnt low, the clock struck -twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed in a sleepy voice, “My -dear, are you going to sleep there?” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - -Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the -Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in -Knight’s Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin -without loss of time. - -“You are coming, are you not, Bee?” said Alex, leaning over the back of -her chair. - -“O yes,” said she, nearly whispering “only take care. It is taboo -there,”--and she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, “and -don’t frighten Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey’s doing the -deed as fast as he can.” - -Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and -Fred was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, -hoping it might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take -care of himself since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the -alarmed expression had come over her face, as she asked Alexander -whether his father had looked at the ice. - -“No,” said Alex, “but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and -it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece.” - -“He is pretty well to be trusted,” said his grandfather, “more -especially as it would be difficult to get drowned there.” - -“I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there,” said -Alex. - -“The travelling man did,” exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. - -“Don’t they come in just like the Greek chorus?” said Beatrice, in a -whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend -to her. - -“I thought he was drowned in the river,” said Alex. - -“No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the -duckweed grows so rank in summer,” said Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey laughed. “I am sorry to interfere with your romantic -embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since -you are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours.” - -“I always thought it was there,” said the boy. - -“And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off.” - -“I always heard it was at Knight’s Pool,” repeated Carey. - -“I do not know what you may have heard,” said Uncle Geoffrey; “but as it -happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not -argue the point.” - -“Grandpapa,” persisted Carey, “was it not in Knight’s Pool?” - -“Certainly not,” was the answer drily given. - -“Well,” continued Carey, “I am sure you might drown yourself there.” - -“Rather than own yourself mistaken,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - -“Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction,” said grandmamma, rising and -rustling past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced -face. “Take your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and -stand like a gentleman. Do!” - -“All in vain!” said Beatrice. “To the end of his life he will maintain -that Knight’s Pool drowned the travelling man!” - -“Well, never mind,” said John, impatiently, “are we coming to skate this -morning or are we not?” - -“I really wish,” said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, “without -distrusting either old Knight’s Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that -you would ask some one to look at it.” - -“I should like just to run down and see the fun,” said Uncle Geoffrey, -thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran -joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, -Beatrice to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked -her son Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable -shutting of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done -it, he readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all -else give way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, “I -shall be ready by the time the young ladies come down.” - -So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice -appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the -boys looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight -Sutton, being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but -a messenger came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except -Sunday, and returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient -arrangement, as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might -probably say for twenty years more. - -As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., -and Fred’s face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written -business-like sheets. - -“Fred, my poor fellow,” said his uncle, looking up, “I am sorry for you, -but one or two must be answered by this day’s post. I will not be longer -than I can help.” - -“Then do let us come on,” exclaimed the chorus. - -“Come, Queenie,” added Alex. - -She delayed, however, saying, “Can I do any good, papa?” - -“Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save -time if you could just copy a letter.” - -“O thank you, pray let me,” said Beatrice, delighted. “Go on, Henrietta, -I shall soon come.” - -Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her -brother, which she did not like to lose. - -Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in -the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, “Freddy, I believe you think me -very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice -till one of your uncles has said it is safe.” - -“Uncle Roger trusts Alex,” said Fred. - -“Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of -you together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be -dangerous places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear,” added -she, as the others were preparing to start, “only I beg you will not -attempt to skate till your uncle comes.” - -“Very well,” said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he -showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not -to set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had -resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest -days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place -on his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been -voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in -vain with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should -bring the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself -for the entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of -disobedience. - -In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red -leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move, -apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like -the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in -fact the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat -opposite to him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely -happy, for to the credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that -no talk with Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, -no, not even a flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in -her estimation to the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though -it was copying a dry legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the -smooth hard ice, in the bright winter morning’s sunshine. - -The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty -or five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice -looked up, and without speaking, held up her sheet. - -“Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now -then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel -for him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:” and -muttering a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer’s -indefatigable pen; and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off -with her droll, tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so -well with her little alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black -velvet bonnet, a tight black velvet “jacket,” as she called it, and a -brown silk dress, with narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, -because it was the colour of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, -boa, or ribbon about her, but all close and compact, fit for the -diversion which she was eager to enjoy. The only girl among so many -boys, she had learnt to share in many of their sports, and one of the -prime favourites was skating, a diversion which owes as much of its -charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to the degree of -skill which it requires. - -She arrived at the stile leading to “Knight’s Portion,” as it was -called, and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if -it was all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner -of a down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied -all the attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of -precipice, where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old -chalk pit formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the -foot of a hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply -traced circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger -ones with those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which -the unskilful are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick -and Henrietta stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly -cheerful; but both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came -to meet her with eager inquiries for her papa. - -She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from -the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and -who hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been -entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour, -and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, -or to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for -was impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and -exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his -own hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had -occasioned the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps -in a sort of secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as -to form in his eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown -himself so unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction -she beheld her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height -above, and while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to -herself, “It will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!” - -So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once -to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement -for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as -skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection -might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be -rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which -he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon -against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of -anything so “boyish,” and had long ago entreated her to be more like a -young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her papa -and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, -fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the surface of -the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity with surprise -and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, -looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. At first she -had occupation enough in attending to her own security to bestow any -attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an hour, she -began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the pitch where -consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own phrase, laughing -at the disconsolate Fred. - -“How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never -mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other.” - -“It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an -hour!” - -“Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her -ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in -the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted-- - - -“Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that -any reason why I should be drowned?” - - -It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh, -nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the -house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. - -“What news of Uncle Geoffrey?” - -“I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle -Roger went to him there.” - -“No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred. - -“Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most -provoking face of wonder and curiosity. - -“Presently,” said Fred. - -“He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, -though it was only rude. - -“Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller -than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what -they pleased. - -“His mamma won’t let him,” was Dick’s polite answer. Fred could have -knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place -he was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in -the third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper -enough left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling -with him, so contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that -he had him as his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what -she thought of the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., -&c. - -Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar -frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue -much longer. - -“How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the -hedge!” said Henrietta; “and look, these pieces of chalk are almost -cased in glass.” - -“O I do love such a sight!” said Jessie. “Here is a beautiful bit of -stick crusted over.” - -“It is a perfect little Giant’s Causeway,” said Henrietta; “do look at -these lovely little columns, Fred.” - -“Ah!” said Jessie, “Myriads of little salts, or hook’d or shaped like -double wedges.--” - -She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she -came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, -looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered--“O -Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!” - -It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be -making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey’s side, was -more than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey -was not coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience -gave way, and he exclaimed, “Well, I shan’t wait any longer, it is not -of the least use.” - -“O, Fred, consider!” said his sister. - -“That’s right, Freddy,” shouted Carey, “he’ll not come now, I’ll answer -for it.” - -“You know he promised he would,” pleaded Henrietta. - -“Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the -sea,” said Fred, “the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not -wait any longer.” - -“Think of mamma.” - -“How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?” exclaimed Fred impatiently, -“do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them -must needs break with me?” - -“I do not suppose there is any danger,” said Henrietta, “but for the -sake of poor mamma’s entreaties!” - -“Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of -my life?” said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to -silence his sister and his conscience. “I have submitted to such absurd -nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in -the sight of everybody; so here goes!” - -And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of -the pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta -turned away her eyes full of tears. - -“Never mind, Henrietta,” shouted the good-natured Alexander, “I’ll -engage to fish him out if he goes in.” - -“It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex,” returned Fred, slightly -affronted. - -“Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case,” said the -naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the -consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible, -then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction, -“Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience -he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear.” - -Whether Alex smiled at the words “past fear,” or whether Fred only -thought he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, “I only -wish there was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, -Alex.” - -“Well, there is one,” said Alex, laughing, “where Carey drowns the -travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, -so you may try--” - -“Don’t, Fred--I beg you won’t!” cried Beatrice. - -“O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!” implored -Henrietta. - -“I shan’t look, I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Jessie, turning away. - -Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across -the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the -middle of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his -achievement, a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles -stood before them. The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a -short run, and slide right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle -Roger stood by laughing and saying, “Well done, Geoffrey, you are not -quite so heavy as I am.” - -Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by -the arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice -that had all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released -from school, “I hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is -franked! Where’s Fred?” - -Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen -Bee’s complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander -who had spirit to answer, “We thought you were not coming at all.” - -“Indeed!” said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, “Why, Alex, -Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises,” a truth to which every -one gave a mental assent. - -Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle -Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of -their merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all -the other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy -more than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her -brother’s conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her -uncle, wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind -to do so, for fear of her mamma’s asking about Fred; and whilst she was -still doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding -her of the saint’s day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton -to which she had so long looked forward. Yet here was another -disappointment. The uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. -Jessie said she must take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys -could do as they pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey’s hand was -going with him, but the rest continued their sport, and among them was -Fred. He had never disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not -have done so now, but as he saw none of his male companions setting off, -he fancied that to attend a week-day service in the holidays might be -reckoned a girlish proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as -soon as his back was turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey’s grave -looks that he might be taken to task when no longer protected by the -presence of the rest. - -He therefore replied with a gruff short “No” to his sister’s anxious -question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end -of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and -vexed at finding himself mistaken after all--at least so far as regarded -Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last moment, and -now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at full speed -after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they reached the -village. - -Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of -footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to -Church grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in -general look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present -case there were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to -plead to Uncle Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity -towards her poor Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how -much he had been teased. This, however, she could not tell him without -complaining of his daughter, and in fact it was an additional pain -that Queen Bee should have used all her powerful influence in the wrong -direction. - -It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in -such circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put -her arm into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that -could sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, “My -poor Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this -time, but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything -happening.” - -“O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded -him.” - -“I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for -persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, -and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you -would not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would -go into the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? -I could have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no -harm done.” - -“There is your papa displeased with him.” - -“O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and -beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred--I should like to make -a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever act a -charade, Henrietta?” - -“Never; I scarcely know what it is.” - -“O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told -you of fool-hardy, for now we can’t have that, but this evening, O, this -evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex! -Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant.” - -Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and -was presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently -persuading him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta -was not sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All -her thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before -all her mother’s fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had -recovered her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of -his Heavenly Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of -many a moral tale, was tormenting herself with the expectation of -retribution, and dwelling on a fancied figure of her brother lifted -senseless out of the water, with closed eyes and dripping hair. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - -With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little -thing, and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as -she returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, -“Papa, you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much -plagued, and he only had just begun when you came.” - -“The other boys had been teasing him?” - -“Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on -the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was -my fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only -worthy of Dick himself, but at poor Fred’s own disconsolate looks.” - -“Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?” - -“Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know -how easily I am run away with by high spirits.” - -“And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no -right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless.” - -“I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but -there are many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are -irresistible, or seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I -know I was to blame, only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really -did seem rather unreasonable to keep him there parading about with -Henrietta and Jessie, when the ice was quite safe for everybody else.” - -“I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way -to the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not -show any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position -for a boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these -restraints.” - -“And cannot you--” said Beatrice, stopping short. - -“Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks -right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very -reason I will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that -his amusement should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his -amusement.” - -“Yet surely this cannot go on for life,” said Beatrice, as if she was -half afraid to hazard the remark. - -“Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and -gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do -not set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can -plead the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; -you know the greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful -responsibility incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to -lead him astray for the sake of--of vanity--of amusement.” - -Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to -Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, -and she answered earnestly, “I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of -saying clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for -I could have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is -vanity, and I will try to subdue it.” - -Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and -would blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed -reproof by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was -self-deception, for it was not as if it was herself whom she was -analysing, but rather as if it was some character in a book; indeed, she -would have described herself almost exactly as she is here described, -except that her delineation would have been much more clever and more -exact. She would not have spared herself--for this reason, that her -own character was more a study to her than a reality, her faults rather -circumstances than sins; it was her mind, rather than her soul, that -reflected and made resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been -resolutions, if they had possessed any real earnestness, and not been -done, as it were, mechanically, because they became the occasion. - -The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and -she ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following -course: “I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and -wrong, and all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll -to see how provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and -after all, I don’t think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only -it flatters his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as -girls, not Alex though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for -me, and I have put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought -those charades are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on -superior ground, and there will be none of these foolish questions who -can be most manly mad. Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and -I thought papa could not find it in his heart to be angry with him. How -capitally he will act, and how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make -them take to the charades, it will be so very delightful, and keep Fred -quite out of mischief, which will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused -grandpapa will be! What shall it be to-night? What Alex can manage to -act tolerably. Ce n’est que le premier pas qui conte, and the premier -pas must be with our best foot foremost. I give myself credit for the -thought; it will make all smooth.” - -These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more -rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her -swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was -standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, -which with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. “Don’t look -dismal, Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. -Cheer up, you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this -evening.” - -Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to -receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought -him excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all -the wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all -fear of Uncle Geoffrey’s eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, -and he entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle -was vexed to see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her -entreaty had not been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for -she liked better to trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too -many boys, did not think concealment blameable where there was no actual -falsehood. - -All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of -wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, -and was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into -different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some -extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, -and with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him -the loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant’s uniform; then she darted into the -drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger’s voice, and conjured him not to -forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, “Willy -must wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger’s dirk, and above all, -beg, borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger’s fishing boots.” Her next descent -was upon Aunt Mary, in her own room: “Aunt, would you do me a great -favour, and ask no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the -three little marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday -evening. Only for this one evening, and I’ll take great care.” - -“I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like -myself in such finery,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as -Beatrice took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had -the discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft -of its plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in -the secret of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the -work-room, which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and -Judith, gratified by a visit from “Miss Bee,” dived for her sake into -boxes and drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to -rummage. - -All this might ultimately be for Henrietta’s entertainment, but at -present it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own -resources in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, -listened to a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the -new pig-sty, wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to -ask Uncle Geoffrey’s advice, tried to talk over things in general with -her mamma, but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming -in and out of the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt -deserted, gave up work, and had just found an entertaining book, when -grandmamma came in, and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She -readily accepted, but for want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her -grandmamma waiting longer than she liked, and had more of a scolding -than was agreeable. The chickens were all gone to roost by the time they -arrived, the cock just peering down at them with his coral-bordered eye, -and the ducks waddling stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, -the hen-wife gone, and Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late. - -Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but -she had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, -they met Mr. Langford, who called out, “So you have been walking with -grandmamma! Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with -grandpapa. I am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my ‘merry -Christmas’ will be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you -with me.” - -Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be -refused, and she was at her grandpapa’s side in an instant, thanking him -so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. “I wish we had -Fred here too,” said he, as they walked on, “the old man will be very -glad to see you.” - -“Was he one of mamma’s many admirers in the village?” - -“All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was -old Daniels’ chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for -carpentry, especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he -was at work at the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have -held up his head again when our great trouble came on us. He used to -touch his hat, and turn away without looking me in the face. And there -you may see stuck up over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new -chisel that your father gave him when he had broken his old one.” - -“Dear old man!” said Henrietta, warmly, “I am so very glad that we have -come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, -and not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were -come out of banishment.” - -“Well, it is all the better for you,” said Mr. Langford; “if we had -had you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few -granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is -that little Busy Bee--by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are -not you in her secret?” - -“O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came -out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would -not let me.” - -“She turns us all round her finger,” said grandpapa. “I never found the -person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you -do not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and -it is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading.” - -“O, grandpapa!” - -“That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it.” - -“Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa.” - -“Look here!” and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he -disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. -“Is this weak?” - -“No, it is strong in energy,” said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic -cane sprang back to its former shape. - -“Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that -should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let -your own determination be only to keep upright.” - -“But women are admired for influence.” - -“Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it -is unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, -take care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own -personal wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially -for young ladies towards their elders.” - -Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice, -grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how -applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the -moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. -It brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched -workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat -but for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages. - -This was Henrietta’s first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness -and interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as -fine-looking as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages -always are in books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It -was a very nice trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on -Mr. Langford’s knock, and the room was neatness itself, but the old -carpenter was not at all what she had imagined. He was a little stooping -old man, with a shaking head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and -did not seem to have anything to say beyond “Yes, sir,” and “Thank -you, sir,” when Mr. Langford shouted into his deaf ears some of -the “compliments of the season.” Looking at the young lady, whom he -evidently mistook for Beatrice, he hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were -quite well. His face lighted up a little for a moment when Mr. Langford -told him this was Mr. Frederick’s daughter, but it was only for an -instant, and in a somewhat querulous voice he asked if there was not a -young gentleman too. - -“O yes,” said Mr. Langford, “he shall come and see you some day.” - -“He would not care to see a poor old man,” said Daniels, turning a -little away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by -saying, “He is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting -tired going to church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he -has been so fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with -him.” - -Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then -asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in -the workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak -to him, leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary -waiting time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class -with whom she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself -agreeable, but completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk -to the old man, and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation -quite impossible except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with -her--she tried to recollect what storied young ladies did say to old -men, but nothing she could think of would do, or was what she could find -herself capable of saying. At last she remembered, in “Gertrude,” the -old nurse’s complaint that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, -and she hazarded her voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not -suffer from it. Clear as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for -she was really in a fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man’s -ear, and his daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in -a shrill sharp scream, that almost went through her ears; then while -the old man was answering something in a muttering maundering way, she -proceeded with a reply, and told a long story about his ways with the -doctor, in her Sussex dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The -conversation dropped, until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at -the Hall was quite well, and as she inquired after them one by one, -this took up a reasonable time; but then again followed a silence. Mrs. -Daniels was not a native of Knight Sutton, or she would have had more to -say about Henrietta’s mother; but she had never seen her before, and had -none of that interest in her that half the parish felt. Henrietta wished -there had been a baby to notice, but she saw no trace in the room of the -existence of children, and did not like to ask if there were any. She -looked at the open hearth, and said it was very comfortable, and was -told in return that it made a great draught, and smoked very much. Then -she bethought herself of admiring an elaborately worked frame sampler, -that hung against the wall; and the conversation this supplied lasted -her till, to her great joy, grandpapa made his appearance again, and -summoned her to return, as it was already growing very dark. - -She thought he might have made something of an apology for the -disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting -that she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that -cottage visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an -occupation, when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking -about her mother’s health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with -her, saying how very glad he was to have her there again, and how like -his own daughter she had always been. He went on to tell of his first -sight of his two daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would -be such, he went to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from -India under the care of General St. Leger. “There they were,” said he; -“I can almost see them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt -a brown little sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, -and your mamma such a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I -felt quite ashamed to take her among all my great scrambling boys.” - -“Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she -recollects the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a -carriage; but she cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey -or the coming here.” - -“I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed -that in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys -receiving her,--Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,--for Roger was at school. How -they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like -a little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too -rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass. -And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!” - -“That was when she was six,” said Henrietta, “and papa must have been -ten.” - -“Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! -and come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was -almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten.” - -“And were they?” - -“No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she -did not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they -knight and giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many’s the -time I have laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived -creature more without will of her own.” - -“Never,” responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford -might commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so -appropriate a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by -her own daughter. - -“Eh!” said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in -another tone, “Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more -on you than on any one else.” - -“I would do anything on earth for her!” said Henrietta, feeling it from -the bottom of her heart. - -“I am sure you would, my dear,” said Mr. Langford, “and she deserves it. -There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think -of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, -it won’t do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, -that I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, -as I am sure it was for us.” - -He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his -eldest son calling “Out late, sir,” and looking round, Henrietta saw -what looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt -Roger, and their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming -to the Hall for the regular Christmas dinner-party. - -Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries -whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent -manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had -been saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her -mother’s youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and -which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the -scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother -having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and -resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the -conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side. -She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her -grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old -carpenter’s averted head--she thought what must have been the agony of -the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on whom -the world was just opening so brightly,--and the young wife--the -infant children--how fearful it must have been! “It was almost a cruel -dispensation,” thought Henrietta. “O, how happy and bright we might have -been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his kiss, -to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her joyousness -and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it not so? -And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner he did -say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it! -To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma, -grandpapa--no, I never shall understand it. They were good before; why -did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying ‘Thy will be -done?’ Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!” - -“Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta,” said Bennet; -“it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been -telling me that I must get you ready faster.” - -Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink -again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, “I can’t, -Bennet, it breaks my neck.” Her will was not with her mother’s, in a -trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself -to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly -Parent, in what is above reason? - -The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed -in to dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having -already been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again -abandoned to Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, -partly because he was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for -the evening, and partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was -saying to Fred, in the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the -loud voice of Mr. Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other -sounds. Some inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great -lamentation for her mother’s absence, and from thence into a description -of what Lady Susan exacted from her friends. “Aunt Susan is a regular -fidget,” said she; “not such a fidget as some people,” with an -indication of Mrs. Langford. “Some people are determined to make others -comfortable in a way of their own, and that is a fidget to be regarded -with considerable respect; but Aunt Susan’s fidgeting takes the turn -of sacrificing the comfort of every one else to her own and her little -dog’s.” - -“But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey,” said Fred. - -“Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on -mamma’s coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her -sister and brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when -she may be taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous -state that Mr. Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence,” said -Beatrice, in an imitative tone, which made Fred laugh. - -“I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself,” said he. - -“So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by -her querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or -unselfishness either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was -kind to her when she came home from India, and she manages to keep her -quiet better than anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma’s -cheerful voice, which drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot -think how funny it is to see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the -cat the wrong way, and mamma to smooth her down the right.” - -A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. -Langford said, “What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?” - -“O you are telling it all--O don’t, Bee!” cried Willy. - -And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to -discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all--it -was the partridges--the conversation drifted away again from the younger -party. - -As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging -her grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at -present stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where -there was a door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent -rustlings were heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or -whispering, and a sound of moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. -Langford, that, starting up, she exclaimed that she must go and see what -they were doing. - -“We are taking great care, grandmamma,” called Alexander. “We won’t hurt -it.” - -This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far -from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage -of discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that -all was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed. - -She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her--the latter, in a -marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself, -and yet in great terror lest the others should tell. - -As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and -presently there was a call from behind the screen, “Are you ready, good -people?” - -“Go it,” answered Carey. - -“Are the elders ready?” said Beatrice’s voice. - -“Papa, don’t go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!” cried Willy. - -“Ay, ay, all attention,” said grandpapa. “Now for it!” - -The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, -ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a -tiara and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them -a nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, -adorned with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the -form of ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. -As Uncle Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it -proceeded in due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and -present them to the king and princess in the name of the Marquis -Carabbas. - -The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis -might be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king -cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, -until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, -“I’ve told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won’t believe me, I can’t -help it!” and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful -a manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to -have his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in -preparation for Scene II. - -Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so -as to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close -to the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart -measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his -head, and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, -reclined Alex, his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an -old, long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had -with some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little -figure in a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox’s -brush, and with Mrs. Frederick Langford’s three feathers, and a coat -bearing marvellous resemblance to Beatrice’s own black velvet spencer, -crossed over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew -full well. “Do thou stand for my father,” began this droll little shape, -“and examine me in the particulars of my life.” - -It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, -acted beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes -were often directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, -obtained not only a view of Prince Hal’s pink petticoat, but of a great -Shakespeare laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of -the heir apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was -strongly suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It -was with great spirit that the parting appeal was given, “Banish fat -Jack, and banish all the world!” And there was great applause when fat -Jack and Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; -though Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain -historical and antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was -likely to wear the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts -at Eastcheap. - -In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant’s uniform made a great -figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf, -and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his -arm, looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low -bow, which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish -bonnet, also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue -ribbon. Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine -stood confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled -off, or supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off -the view; and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, -while Prince Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced -round Mr. Langford, asking if he had guessed it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - -Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an -amusement likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of -her boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to -imitate it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the -way of scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were -to dine at the Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there -should be a grand charade, with all the splendour that due preparation -could bestow upon it. “It was such an amusement to grandpapa,” as -Beatrice told Henrietta, “and it occupied Fred so nicely,” as she -said to her father; both which observations being perfectly true, -Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing to promote the sport, and to -tranquillise his mother respecting the disarrangement of her furniture. - -But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their -own--some for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, -others for Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already -grouped her dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta’s picturesque -face and figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her -and Fred represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she -had always believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for -“another touch at Prince Hal,” and devised numerous ways of acting -Anonymous, for the sake of “Anon, anon, sir.” Henrietta wanted to -contrive something in which Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy -bee, and had very pretty visions of making her a beneficent spirit in a -little fanciful opera, for which she had written three or four verses, -when Fred put an end to it be pronouncing it “nonsense and humbug.” - -So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was -beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday -morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some -chance a wig of her papa’s was in the house, and a charade they must and -would have which would bring in the wig. “Come and see it,” said she, -drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being -the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. “There -now, is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is -certain!” - -Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister’s wig -before, were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in -turn. While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of -her own fair ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door -suddenly opened, and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, -“What! nothing safe from you, you impertinent kittens?” - -“O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!” cried Henrietta, blushing -crimson. - -“Don’t take it off till I have looked at you,” said Uncle Geoffrey. -“Why, you would make a capital Portia!” - -“Yes, yes!” cried Queen Bee, “that is it: Portia she shall be, and I’ll -be Nerissa.” - -“Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!” said Henrietta: “I am sure I -can’t.” - -“But I have set my heart on being the ‘little scrubby lawyer’s clerk,’” - said Busy Bee; “it is what I am just fit for; and let me see--Fred shall -be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and you -shall have Alex for your Bassanio.” - -“But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine -Seyton?” said Henrietta. - -“Let me see,” said Beatrice; “bond--bondage, jew--jeweller, juniper,--” - -“Lawsuit,” said Fred. “Ay, don’t you see, all the scenes would come out -of the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ There is ‘law’ when the old Jew is crying -out for his ducats, and--but halloo!” and Fred stood aghast at the sight -of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness. - -“Traitor!” said Beatrice; “but never mind, I believe we must have let -him into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock.” - -“O, Bee,” whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, “don’t tease him with our -nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock’s part, when he has all -that pile of papers on the table.” - - -“Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is -some ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night.” - - -Such was Uncle Geoffrey’s reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered -to the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, -and then clapped their hands in delighted admiration. - -“Do you really know it all?” asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful -awe. - -“It won’t cost me much trouble to get it up,” said Mr. Geoffrey -Langford; “Shylock’s growls stick in one’s memory better than finer -speeches.” - -“Then will you really be so very kind?” - -“Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table -this morning,” said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a -certain degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as -if it was entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he -did actually enjoy it. - -The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only -place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex -could not be taken to the maids’ workroom, and none of the downstairs -apartments could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their -preparations. Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing -Uncle Geoffrey, but his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon -at an end when she perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, -and laughing, no more than if they had been so many little sparrows -twittering on the eaves, but pursued the even tenor of his writing -uninterruptedly, even while she fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, -which her ingenious fingers had compounded of the lining of certain ugly -old curtains. - -His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs. -Langford’s periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she -would assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have -come to a collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole -scheme. - -It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta’s list of his avocations, -and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people -during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine -by the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were -the looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the -curing grandmamma’s old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing -of an emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle -supposed “to have no answer,” and the mending of some extraordinary -spring that was broken in Uncle Roger’s new drill. Beatrice was charmed -with the list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to -every one; and grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was -ashamed to find that his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to -which Uncle Geoffrey replied, that it was too true that “all work and no -play make Jack a very dull boy.” - -The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and -rain, was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away -all temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and -Antonio and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey -was heard to observe that it might just as well be half year. They had -besides their own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of -Arragon and Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa -as possible, had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, -all into the one scene belonging to “suit.” It was one of those -occasions on which she showed little consideration, for she thus gave -Portia an immense quantity to learn in only two days; persuading herself -all the time that it was no such hard task, since the beautiful -speech about mercy Henrietta already knew by heart, and she made -no difficulties about the rest. Indeed, Beatrice thought herself -excessively amiable in doing all she could to show off her cousin’s -beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part herself; forgetting -that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in taking willingly -that which is assigned us. - -Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well -as at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil -the pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good -earnest to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her -hand; she learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, -resisting many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before -daylight, was up and learning again. - -The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged: -grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger -that it would be over now and out of the children’s heads, for they -turned the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like -play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out -one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always -making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want -of his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt -Mary, and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very -pretty, and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to -crack; Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be -magnificos, found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened. - -It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to -Shylock’s excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed -chasing him across the stage, crying, “The law, his ducats, and his -daughter!” - -Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her -hair, almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed -expression in her glowing face was little accordant with the calm -dignified self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a -handkerchief folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet -lambswool worked into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with -bright ribbon, made a complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, -pert reply to her lady’s first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to -restore Portia to herself, and they got on well and with spirit through -the description of the suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. -Portia looked excessively dignified, and Nerissa’s by-play was capital. -Whether it was owing to Bassanio’s awkwardness or her own shyness, -she did not prosper quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; -Bassanio seemed more afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more -at Nerissa than at her, whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as -cold and measured a way, as if it had been the Prince of Morocco who had -unfortunately hit upon the right casket. - -In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be -wished. She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the -glowing carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath -which a few bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand -raised, and the other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the -Jew, as if she either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in -Antonio’s case, for they glistened with tears, and her voice had a -tremulous pleading tone, which fairly made her grandfather and mother -both cry heartily. - - -“Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!” - - -The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by -Bassanio from crying “No, he shan’t!” Nerissa was so absorbed as even to -have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to -the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick -were hanging with breathless attention on the “but,” when suddenly there -was a general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with -a voice and face full of delight, announced “Master Roger,” and there -entered a young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter. - -Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and -handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another, -the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger -Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford -fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his -arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, “What, -Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!” - -“Ah! Miss Jessie,” exclaimed Roger; “that is right: I have not seen such -a crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost -your pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?” - -“Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary,” said his mother; and instantly there -was a subduing of the young sailor’s boisterous mirth, as he turned -to answer her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the -appearance of the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio’s -short black cloak and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his -burnt cork eyebrows and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know -him; Uncle Geoffrey still in Shylock’s yellow cap, and Fred somewhat -grim with the Prince of Morocco’s complexion. - -“How d’ye do, Phil?” said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the -hand with interest. “What! are not you Philip Carey?” - -“O, Roger, Roger!” cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden -predominated. - -“What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d’ye do, aunt?” - -“Well done, Roger! That’s right! Go on!” cried his father, laughing -heartily. - -“Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as -like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I -thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not -this Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are -you Fred Langford, then?” - -“Right this time,” said Fred, “so now you must shake hands with me in my -own name.” - -“Very glad to do so, and see you here at last,” said Roger, cordially. -“And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were -crossing the Line?” - -“You shall hear what it is all about, and see too,” said Mr. Langford. -“We must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But -where is my little Portia? What is become of her?” - -“Fled, I suspect,” said her mother, “gone to turn into herself before -her introduction.” - -“O, Roger, it was so jolly,” Carey was now heard to say above the -confusion of voices. “Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a -pound of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a -lawyer’s wig, and had just found such a dodge!” - -“Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore -there, and--” - -“Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?” - -“Have you dined?” - -“Cold turkey--excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper--a cup of -tea--no, but we will have the beef in--” - -Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the -answers and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa -exclaimed, “Ah! here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new -cousin for you, Roger; here is the advocate for you when you have a -tough law-suit! Lucky for you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, -or your nose would soon be put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared -you make your mother and grandfather cry their hearts out?” - -“I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir,” said Mrs. Frederick -Langford. “I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you -know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying.” - -“Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But -to see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking -savage with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of -actors, all of you, and we must see the end of it.” - -This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with -Henrietta for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates -decreed otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to -carve it, and soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to -his eldest grandson about his travels. A sailor just returned from -four years on the South American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot -condors on the Andes, caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks -in the Atlantic, and heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could -not fail to be very entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas -of Peru, and could tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and -accordingly everyone was greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who -sat in a corner of the sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering -how long Roger would go on eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and -strangling the yawns induced by her inability to attract the notice of -either of her squires, whose eyes and ears were all for the newcomer. -She was not even missed; if she had been, it would have been some -consolation; but on they went, listening and laughing, as if the course -of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the adventures of her crew, -were the only subjects of interest in the world. He was only at home for -a week, but so much the worse, that would be till the end of Beatrice’s -own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but Euphrosyne the whole -time. - -There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask -about his cousins and all the neighbours. - -“And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any -practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be -doctored by Master Philip!” - -“Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip,” said -Jessie. “I assure you,” nodding to Fred, “I take it as a great -compliment, and so will Philip.” - -“And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?” - -“Oh! grown quite fat and coarse,” said Jessie; “but you may judge -for yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a -regular Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And -we are to dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the -county; the floor is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield -assembly-room.” - -“No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate,” said Roger. -“This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I -took the prettiest girl there in to supper--don’t be jealous, Jessie, -she had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the -next ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather -a thick sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she -found? A great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever -saw.” - -“O, you horrid creature!” cried Jessie, “I am sure it was your doing. -I am sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or -some dreadful creature! I won’t let you take me in to supper on Monday, -I declare.” - -“Perhaps I won’t have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my -partner, if she will have me.” - -“Thank you, Cousin Roger,” faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with -the doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie -might be vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, -looking at her more fully than he had done before, went on, “Much -honoured, cousin. Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the -prettiest girl in the room for my partner. But how slow of them all -not to have engaged her before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for -yourself?” - -“I hope for Queen Bee,” said Alex. - -“And Jessie must dance with me, because I don’t know how,” said Carey. - -“My dears, this will never do!” interposed grandmamma. “You can’t all -dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never -heard of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with -little Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson.” - -“No, no,” cried Roger, “I won’t give up my partner, ma’am; I am a -privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of -Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta, -stick fast to your engagement; you can’t break the first promise you -ever made me. Here,” proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, -“let us begin this minute; I’ll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian -ladies.” - -“Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz,” said Henrietta. - -“That’s a pity. Come, Jessie, then.” - -If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something -which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie -answered her cousin’s summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance -at his evident preference of Henrietta’s newer face. - -“If I can’t waltz, I can play for you,” said Henrietta, willing not to -seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and -Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving -shocks against the furniture and minding them not the least in the -world, till at last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon -the sofa. - -The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into -silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, -as was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he -apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured -him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment. - -Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no -waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no -possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as -much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring -that she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her -days were contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything -newer, they might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would -not hear of them. - -And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her -grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the -universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the -table. - -With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, -as she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining -within herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing -up and play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve. - -Beatrice came to her aunt’s room, when they went upstairs, and -petitioned for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind -pity for her present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even -allowed her to outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of -the charade, and the history of the preparations and contrivances gave -subject to a very animated conversation. - -Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all -to wish for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense -dislike to the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, -and there were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much -without restraint as to Aunt Mary. - -The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, -and here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had -only heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the -doings of the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly -shocked and amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and -pleading for it. - -“My dear!” said Beatrice, laughing, “I do not know what you would do -if you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the -days of her life.” - -“Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady.” - -“Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and -the society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that -make the difference, not the temper.” - -“Quite true, Busy Bee,” said her aunt, “temper may be the same in very -different circumstances.” - -“But it is very curious, mamma,” said Henrietta, “how people can be -particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your -pardon, only I know you don’t mind it, Jessie did not approve of your -skating.” - -“Yes,” said Beatrice, “every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at -those of other people.” - -“Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging,” - said Aunt Mary. - -“But then, mamma,” said Henrietta, “we must hold to the right scruples, -and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less--less -desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we -are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things.” - -“O, it is just according to what you are brought up to,” said Beatrice. -“A Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you -think it.” - -“No, that will not do,” said Henrietta. “Something must be actually -wrong. Mamma, do say what you think.” - -“I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an -instinct which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and -whatever at the first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her -own individual case. The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by -education, or wilful dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, -though alive and active on others.” - -“Yes,” said Henrietta, as if satisfied. - -“And above all,” said her mother, “it, like other gifts, grows -dangerous, it may become affectation.” - -“Pruding,” said Beatrice, “showing openly that you like it to be -observed how prudent and proper you are.” - -“Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious -of anything wrong,” said Henrietta. “Wrong I do not exactly mean, but -something on the borders of it.” - -“Yes,” said Aunt Mary, “and above all, do not let this delicacy show -itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion -of ourselves, and very soon turns into ‘judging our neighbour.’” - -“But there is false delicacy, aunt.” - -“Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion -tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - -The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in -her cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and -newly arrived after five years’ absence, he had considerable claims to -attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold -open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that -Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even -grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter. - -This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been -amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and -have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But -between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never -had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all -the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest, -thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either -Henrietta or Jessie. - -If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was -struck with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself -to engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, -it may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, -might have carried her out of her natural character in the style that -suited him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her -own affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked -him, but she showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to -appropriate him. She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the -attention due to any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness -than if it had been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last -of whom was a pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his -stories of adventures, or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and -a delighted ear; but all common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell -flat; she either did not catch them, or did not catch at them. She might -blush and look confused, but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified -embarrassment, and if she found an answer, it was one either to change -the subject, or honestly manifest that she was not pleased. - -She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought -at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to -admire her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, -was not in the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of -enjoyment, Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her -mamma was still more rejoiced to see her act so properly without -self-consciousness or the necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee -ought to have been duly grateful to the one faithful vassal who was -proof against all allurements from her side and service. - -She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is -usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and -been very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did -not feel in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been -much more proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on -which their attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; -for though the world may be of opinion that they had had quite a -sufficiency of amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their -success on Thursday, and the sudden termination in the very height of -their triumph. - -They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of -Shylock’s trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation, -and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast -in the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely -cleared of all their various goods and chattels, Portia’s wig in its -box, the three caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke’s throne -safe in its place in the hall, and even Shylock’s yellow cap picked to -pieces, and rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to -come of use in seven years’ time. Judith, who was putting the finishing -touches to the re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great -chair, and restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the -table, gave in answer to her exclamations the information that “Missus -had been up since seven o’clock, helping to put away the things herself, -for she said she could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey’s room not fit for -anybody to sit in.” This might certainly be considered as a tolerably -broad hint that they had better discontinue their representations, -but they were arrived at that state of eagerness which may be best -illustrated by the proverb referring to a blind horse. Every one, -inclined to that same impetuosity, and want of soberness, can remember -the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded checks will recur to the -mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of the self-justification -which truly answers that their object was not even comprehended. -Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of dissent -from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma’s dislike, and -Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a -fidgety fancy. - -Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and -greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make -a pair of asses’ ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the -weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, -and Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to -be her own “primest of viziers.” - -“And,” said Beatrice, “what an exquisite interlude it will make to -relieve the various plagues of Monday evening.” - -“Why you don’t mean to act then!” exclaimed Henrietta. - -“Why not? You don’t know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse -for getting away from all the stupidity.” - -“To be sure it will,” cried Fred. “A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall -have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort.” - -“But would grandmamma ever let us do it?” said Henrietta. - -“I will manage,” said Beatrice. “I will make grandpapa agree to it, and -then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it.” - -“Before so many people!” said Henrietta. “O, Queenie, it will never do! -It would be a regular exhibition.” - -“My dear, what nonsense!” said Beatrice. “Why, it is all among friends -and neighbours.” - -“Friends and neighbours to you,” said Henrietta. - -“And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or -inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer.” - -“A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account,” said Fred. -“But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such -nonsense and affectation.” - -“Affectation! O, Fred!” - -“Yes, to be sure it is,” said Fred: “to set up such scruples as these. -Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when -once you get into the spirit of the thing.” - -“And what is affectation,” said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, “but -thinking what other people will think?” - -There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some -degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation, -especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever -and determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in -preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering -of wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged -not to be Titania. - -“O, you must, you silly child,” said Beatrice. “I have such designs -for dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa -laugh by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef.” - -“But consider, Bee,” said Henrietta, “how much too tall I am for -a fairy. It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom -himself--spoil the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls -to be the other fairies, and take Titania yourself.” - -“Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made -part of the show,” said Beatrice. “Little Anna Carey has sense enough, -I think; ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep -you to come out in grand force in the last scene--Queen Eleanor sucking -the poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an -excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming -to see King Richard when he was ‘old-man-of-the-mountains.’” - -“No, no,” cried Fred, “stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no -more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I -could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair.” - -“And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, -in the gentleman’s own presence, too,” said Beatrice. “Monsieur is -apparemment the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the -French governess in Miss Edgworth’s book?” - -“Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the -mistake,” said Henrietta. - -“And I do not wonder at it,” said Beatrice, “the mistake, I mean. Fred’s -white hands there have just the look of a doctor’s; of course Roger -thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for -want of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look.” - -“You insulting creature!” said Fred. “Just as if I tried to look -genteel.” - -“You do, then, whether you try or not. You can’t help it, you know, and -I am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your -hand just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger -thought he had succeeded in attaining his object.” - -“But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object,” - said Henrietta. - -“He could not be a Carey and be otherwise,” said Busy Bee. “And besides, -what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith -and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to -Roger’s proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows -the extent of a Carey’s intellects; and what is left for the poor man to -do but to study the cut of his boots?” - -“If you say much more about it, Queenie,” said Henrietta, “you will make -Fred dance in Bottom’s hob-nailed shoes.” - -“Ah! it is a melancholy business,” said Beatrice; “but it cannot be -helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is -this?” exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such -violence as to shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, -heated and almost breathless. “Rats! rats!” was his cry; “Fred, that’s -right. But where is Uncle Geoffrey?” - -“Gone to Allonfield.” - -“More’s the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at -home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the -place regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for -you and Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly--like smoke--while I go -and tell grandpapa.” - -Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room -hurried Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. -Langford for shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa -laughed, thanked him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time -for the rat hunt, as he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary -thither and to the Pleasance that afternoon. - -Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the -girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at -Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased, -for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass -before they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their -arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates -of Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of -dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war -was at its height. - -“O! the glories of a rat hunt!” cried Beatrice. “Come, Henrietta, here -is a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not -to be lost.” - -Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into -the farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on -a multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors -which were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown -violently back and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of -ecstatic expectation, tail straight out, head bent forward, now -springing in rapture on the prey; the boys rushing about with their -huge sticks, and coming down now and then with thundering blows, the -labourers with their white shirt sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the -straw, Uncle Roger with a portentous-looking club in the thick of the -fight. On the ladder, cheering them on, stood grandpapa, holding little -Tom in his arms, and at the bottom, armed with small sticks, were -Charlie and Arthur, consoling themselves for being turned out of the -melée, by making quite as much noise as all those who were doing real -execution, thumping unmercifully at every unfortunate dead mouse or rat -that was thrown out, and charging fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese -that now and then came up to inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such -accidents will occur in the best regulated families, to devour a share -of the prey. - -Beatrice’s first exclamation was, “O! if papa was but here!” - -“Nothing can go on without him, I suppose,” said Henrietta. “And yet, is -this one of his great enjoyments?” - -“My dear, don’t you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born -Englishman to delight in hunting ‘rats and mice and such small beer,’ as -much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that -all the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat -hunt, and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts.” - -“There goes Fred!” cried Henrietta. - -“Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There--there! O what -a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid -sort of light on the mist of dust at the top.” - -“And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa’s head! I think that -grandpapa with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee.” - -“To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle -face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets -frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor -rats as keenly as anybody!” - -“Certainly,” said Henrietta, “there is something very odd in man’s -nature; they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being -cruel! Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind -and gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and -killing--” - -“That is what town-people never can understand,” said Beatrice, “that -hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried -down, and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those -people could have seen what I did last summer--grandpapa calling Carey, -and holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their -nest that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when -Dick did something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years -ago, and Alex and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they -were really punished for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those -bursts of generous indignation.” - -“It is a very curious thing,” said Henrietta, “the soldier spirit it -must be, I suppose--” - -“What are you philosophising about, young ladies?” asked Mr. Langford, -coming up as Henrietta said these last words. - -“Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, “what -the pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there.” - -“Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies,” said grandpapa. -“I have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or -more, and I can’t say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going -at it, for the first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old -veterans, and he has a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is -any satisfaction to you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that’s it--there -he goes!” - -“Now, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, “I want just -to speak to you. Don’t you think we might have a little charade-acting -on Monday to enliven the evening a little?” - -“Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think -they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of -Shylock?” - -“No,” said Beatrice, “we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a -new word and a beauty, and don’t you think it will do very well?” - -“I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private -theatricals.” - -“Well, it won’t be nearly such regular acting as the last,” said -Beatrice, “I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so -many spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a -very nice diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa.” - -“Well, I don’t see any harm in it,” said grandpapa, “so long as -grandmamma does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?” - -“O no,” said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would -make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred’s calling her -affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent -to anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise -power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some -subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she -was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles’ -wife might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son. - -After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, -recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she -said. The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, -where the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the -first occasion; for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views -respecting the appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick -Langford was harassed and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the -wishes of both, and vex neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look -over every corner, and discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair -at the fatigue her mother was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in -vain for a seat for her, and having at last discovered a broken-backed -kitchen chair in some of the regions below, kept diligently carrying -it after her in all her peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that -Uncle Geoffrey would come, but in vain; and between the long talking at -Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the house, and the many discussions, -her mamma was completely tired out, and obliged, when they came home, -to confess that she had a headache. Henrietta fairly wished her safe at -Rocksand. - -While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading -her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one -matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand -object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting -down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with “Now -listen to me, my dear child,” and proceeded with a long story of -certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain -knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice -set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable that either -she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; secondly, that the -former elopement was not chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that -these were not private theatricals at all. - -“And pray what are they, then--when you dress yourselves up, and speak -the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?” - -“You pay us a great compliment,” said Beatrice, who could sometimes -be pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her -explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called -theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was -the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it -was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it -done. - -“But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent.” This was a -powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at -the first moment the shot did not tell. - -“Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this,” said Mrs. -Langford, “and let who would consent, she would never have her -granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before -a whole room full of company.” - -“Well, then, grandmamma, I’ll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not -have one single scene out of Shakespeare--not one. Won’t that do?” - -“You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse,” said Mrs. -Langford. - -“No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it -shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come -in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so -nicely! and grandpapa has said we may.” - -Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. “Ah, well! you always will have your -own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things -in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when -their elders had once said, ‘No.’” - -“Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it -up if you did; but pray do not--we will manage very well.” - -“And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn -everything upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can’t have it done. I -shall want the study to put out the supper in.” - -“We can dress in our own rooms, then,” said Beatrice, “never mind that.” - -“Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your -fathers and mothers like to let you, I can’t help it--that’s all I have -to say,” said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred entered -from the other side a moment after. “Victory, victory, my dear Fred!” - cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. “I have prevailed: -you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! announced for -Monday night, before a select audience!” - -“Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee,” said Fred; “why Alex has just -been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma’s -dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone ‘coon, as they say in -America.” - -“I got grandpapa first,” said Beatrice, “and then I persuaded her; -she told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long -lecture which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last -that the chief points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the -confusion in the study; so by giving up those two I gained everything.” - -“You don’t mean that you gave up bully Bottom?” - -“Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses’ ears. You shall wear -them in the character of King Midas.” - -“I think,” said the ungrateful Fred, “that you might as well have given -it all up together as Bottom.” - -“No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will -decidedly make him King of California, and I’ll be the priestess of -Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most -excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, ‘King -Midas has the ears of an ass.’ I would have made more of a fight for -Bottom, if that had not come into my head.” - -“But you will have nothing to do.” - -“That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very -little, and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the -world in all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as -Queen Eleanor; she will look so regal.” - -Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister’s praises. “You are a -wondrous damsel, busy one,” said he, “to be content to play second -fiddle.” - -“Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you -would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall -we ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till -Monday evening to do everything in!” - -“Oh, you will do it,” said Fred. “I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot -do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in,” he exclaimed, as -he heard the front door open. - -“And I must go and dress,” said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste, -which did not speak well for the state of her conscience. - -Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters. -“So you are entered with the vermin, Fred,” called he, as the two came -out of the drawing-room. - -“O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?” - -“I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just -come in?” - -“No, we were having a consultation about the charades,” said Fred; “the -higher powers consent to our having them on Monday.” - -“Grandmamma approving?” asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -“O yes,” said Fred, in all honesty, “she only objected to our taking a -regular scene in a play, and ‘coming it as strong’ as we did the other -night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously.” - -Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs, -listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained -so plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to -dress in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would -have doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but -hearing of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, -was likely to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, -she knew he had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his -mother; and since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, -could Beatrice actually say so to her own secret soul? - -She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked -her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy -castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the -resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - -“Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly -and carnal lusts:” so speaks the collect with which we begin the new -year--such the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, -“Amen:” but what was its application to them? What did they do with the -wicked world in their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he -was in the world. It might be for him to pray for that spirit which -enabled him to pass unscathed through the perils of his profession, -neither tempted to grasp at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his -way, unhardened and unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness -on every side. This might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, -with her love of dress, and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely -pray that she might live less to the vanities of the world; there were -others, whose worn countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of -the world; but to those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught -how to prize vain pomp and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, -looking from a safe distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; -were not they truly kept from that world which they had renounced? - -Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that -if education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, -and more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. -A pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own -devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission; -these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but -if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how -could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and -stronger ones which would meet their riper years? - -Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall, -there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than -those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the -midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand, -she whisked through the passages, Frederick’s voice was heard demanding -whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was -made wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. -Zealous indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish -them anywhere else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and -newspaper, from one corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly -out into the hall, threatening them with what Missus would say to them. -At last grandmamma came down with a party of neat little notes in her -hand, to be immediately sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, -and Martin came to the door leading to the kitchen regions to receive -his directions. - -“O how lucky!” cried Queen Bee, springing up. “The cotton velvet for the -ears! I’ll write a note in a second!” Then she paused. “But I can’t do -it without Henrietta, I don’t know how much she wants. Half a yard -must do, I suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of -donkey-coloured velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!” - -“Have not you heard her bell?” said Fred. - -“No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time.” - -“You had better ask Bennet,” said Fred; “she sometimes gets up quietly, -and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives -her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning.” - -Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress’s -room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon -disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin -departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations. - -About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as -any one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had -been broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the -bell was, that she was not ready for Bennet. - -As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble -confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for -the morning’s laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears? - -The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta -was engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh -with Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than -done, and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with -success, for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were -hailed by the loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of -four brothers, marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some -three miles off. Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee’s summons, but -he could do nothing for her, for he had that morning been taken to -task for not having made a visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and -especially ordered off to call upon her, before meeting her at the party -that evening. - -“How abominably provoking!” cried Beatrice; “just as if it signified. If -I had but a fairy!” - -“Carey!” called Alex, “here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won’t -you take Dumple and go?” - -“Not I,” responded Carey; “I want to walk with Roger. But there’s -Dumple, let her go herself.” - -“What, ride him?” asked Beatrice, “thank you, Carey.” - -“Fred might drive you,” said Carey; “O no, poor fellow, I suppose he -does not know how.” - -Fred coloured with anger. “I do,” said he; “I have often driven our own -horses.” - -“Ay,” said Beatrice, “with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary -little guessing what you were doing.” - -“I assure you, Queen,” said Fred, very earnestly, “I do really know how -to drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with -me, I will bring you home quite safe.” - -“I know you can have the gig,” said Carey, “for papa offered it to Roger -and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of -doubting whether to drive old Dumple!” - -“I don’t question,” said Fred; “I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. -I won’t break your neck, I promise you.” - -Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt -Mary, but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the -reverse. - -“I don’t advise you, Bee,” said he. - -“O, as to that,” said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, “I -have great faith in Dumple’s experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, -as the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My -chief doubt is about Aunt Mary.” - -Fred’s successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly -made him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother’s -desires, and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, “O, -you know I only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so -intensely miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by -knowing nothing about it, I don’t think it need be considered.” - -Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next -moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this -case. - -Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much -annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not -wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and -say, “Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about -it at home.” - -“O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex,” - said Beatrice, laughing. “No, no, I know very well that nobody will care -when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love -my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. -Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I’ll dance with you -first to-night.” Alex turned away, muttering, “I don’t like it--I’d go -myself, but--Well, I shall speak to Fred.” - -Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had -excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance. - -“You are sure now,” said he, “that you can drive safely? Remember it -would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little -Bee.” - -This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come -from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of -his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, -that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only -wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand. - -“Well, I have no more to say,” said Alex, “only please to mind this, -Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him -to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice’s that -I spoke.” - -“Much obliged, Langford senior,” replied Fred, making himself as tall as -he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, “Now, -Carey, we won’t stop you any longer, if you’ll only just be so good as -to tell your man to get out the gig.” - -Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, -for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur -running after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in -his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, -Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from -him which might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she -explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors -stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive -to Allonfield. Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should -not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or -nothing of his sister-in-law’s fears, and would, perhaps, have taken -Fred’s side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, -declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy -into the house for the driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did -not fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a -nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed. - -Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he -might go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, -of which Roger’s return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. -His cousins were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly -consenting, he was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice’s -complacency was diminished as Uncle Roger called out, “Ha! Fred take -care! What are you doing?--you’ll be against the gate-post--don’t bring -his head so short round. If you don’t take more care, you’ll certainly -come to a smash before you get home.” - -If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick -would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their -bold design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their -own way to yield, and Fred’s pride would never have allowed him to -acknowledge that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly -undertaken. Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of -ignorance, and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys -to have many anxieties on their account, let them go on without further -question, and turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest -uneasiness respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way -of warning, at least twenty times before. - -Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some -points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise -enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the -way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him, -and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the -common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked -into the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded -in obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted -that donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent -their colour. As Fred’s finances were in a much more flourishing state -since New Year’s day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy -by a present of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes -had often before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in -some dismay on perceiving that it was nearly one o’clock. - -“We must go straight home,” said Beatrice, “or this velvet will be of no -use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence.” - -Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no -means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, -well aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately -determined that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest -road to his own stable. - -As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he -made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a -little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the -whip, but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a -demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set -off over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred -pulled hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. “Sit still,” - cried Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, “the gate will stop -him;” but ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement -of his own, or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was -thrown violently to the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him -no more. Instinct, rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to -the carriage with one hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, -to prevent him from being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to -side by the ruts and stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes -more, and their way was barred by a gate--that which she had spoken -of--the horse, used to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood -still, looking over it as if nothing had happened. - -Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy -beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her -steps swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it -seemed as if her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart -dragged her back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet -her, but it was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but -too plainly. He was stretched at full length on the ground, -senseless--motionless. She sank rather than knelt down beside him, and -called him; but not a token was there that he heard her. She lifted -his hand, it fell powerless, and clasping her own, she sat in an almost -unconscious state of horror, till roused by little Willy, who asked in a -terrified breathless whisper, - -“Bee, is he dead?” - -“No, no, no,” cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; -“he is only stunned. He is--he must be alive. He will come to him-self! -Help me to lift him up--here--that is it--his head on my lap--” - -“O, the blood!” said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it -streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face. - -“That is not the worst,” said Beatrice. “There--hold him toward the -wind.” She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him; -but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight -on her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for -help; but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except -Willy, who stood helplessly looking at her. - -“Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!” cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish -of mind. “Fred--dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh, only -speak to me! O what shall I do?” - -“Pray to God,” whispered Willy. - -“You--you--Willy; I can’t--it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!” A few moments -passed in silence, then she exclaimed, “What are we doing here? -Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through the -plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not -there, find grandpapa--any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don’t let her -hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand--any one but Aunt -Mary.” - -Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, -Willy required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade -fare to bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the -ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the -surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin’s head, all clear -and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which -made her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest -motion, the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She -wiped away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and -softly laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the -fair shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself -whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, -and again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes -were being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of -lip or nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, -and yet so wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle -Frederick, and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so -nearly in this same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking -which would almost make her believe in a fate on the family. And that -Fred should be cut off in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she -the cause! O thought beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for -herself, for her aunt, but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found -her mind pursuing Willy, following him through all the gates and gaps, -entering the garden, opening the study door, seeing her father’s sudden -start, hearing poor Henrietta’s cry, devising how it would be broken to -her aunt; and again, the misery of recollecting her overpowered her, -and she gave a groan, the very sound of which thrilled her with the hope -that Fred was reviving, and made her, if possible, watch with double -intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh. She wished it was she who -lay there, unconscious of such exceeding wretchedness, and, strange -to say, her imagination began to devise all that would be said were it -really so; what all her acquaintance would say of the little Queen Bee, -how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how long Henrietta would -cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently Alex would grieve. -“He would be a son to papa,” she thought; but then came a picture of her -home, her father and mother without their only one, and tears came into -her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the absurdity of -crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over this but too -positive and present distress. - -There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, -and not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was -perfectly still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle -of the sheep-bell, the woodsman’s axe in the plantations, and now and -then the rattle of Dumple’s harness, as she shook his head or shifted -his feet at the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled -above her head in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each -other from the high furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near -her with their broad wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note -like lamentation. - -At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse’s -tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it -might, some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive -solitude, which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, -would be relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer -might pass by, she gently laid her cousin’s head on the grass, and flew -rather than ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the -horseman had passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the -shoulders, and with a scream almost wild in its energy, called “Philip! -O, Philip Carey!” - -Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement -at finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer -by leading the way down the lane. - -In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored -him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived. - -A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking -questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the -plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending -her voice before her with the good news, “He is alive! Philip Carey says -he is alive!” and with these words she stood before her father and her -Aunt Mary. - -Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white -and still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped -for an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never -could forget. “Beatrice, my child!” he exclaimed, “you are hurt!” - -“No, no, papa,” she cried. “It is Fred’s blood--I am quite, quite safe!” - -He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, -with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could -never remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the -embrace,--all had revealed to her the fervour of her father’s affection, -beyond--far beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one -instant that he gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood -beside Frederick as soon as his sister-in-law. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - -The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle -incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail -wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers -from chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and -appealing to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though -never allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often -came to her help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe -displeasure of the absent queen, by laying aside Midas’s robes to assist -in the arrangements. “That picture is crooked, I am sure!” said Mrs. -Langford; and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned -Geoffrey from the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon -a chair to settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked -Uncle Roger. “Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma’am, you -are making yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?” - -“He has ridden over to see the South Farm,” said Mrs. Langford. - -“Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,--I understand.” - -“Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?” asked Mrs. Frederick -Langford. “They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton -Leigh, and I have not seen them since.” - -“O yes,” said Mr. Roger Langford, “I can tell you what has become of -them; they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, -and Will with them, after some of their acting affairs.” - -Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this -intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him -full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. -Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in -dismay. - -“You don’t mean that Fred was driving?” said her mother. - -“Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,--surely -he knows how!” - -“O, Roger, what have you done!” said she faintly, as if the exclamation -would break from her in spite of herself. - -“Indeed, mamma,” said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, “I assure -you Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was -sitting up by Dawson.” - -“Ay, ay, Mary,” said Uncle Roger, “never fear. Depend upon it, boys -do many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with -whole bones after all.” - -Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey’s face, in -hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn -nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible. - -“I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting,” said -Mrs. Langford; “and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot -think. So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as -well have sent by Martin!” And her head being pretty much engrossed with -her present occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, -without much perception of the consternation that prevailed in the -drawing-room. - -“Did you know they were going, Henrietta?” asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather -sternly. - -“No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there -is any danger?” exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of -fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling -to overcome. Her mother’s inquiring, imploring glance followed her -question. - -“Foolish children!” said Uncle Geoffrey, “I am very much vexed with the -Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is -hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to -young hands.” - -Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some -degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger -Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:--“Come, Mary, -you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you. -You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound -imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be -the mamma’s boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you -cannot keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time -or other.” - -“O yes, I know I am very foolish,” said she, trying to smile. - -“I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you,” said Uncle Roger. “She would -have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all -such occasions.” - -“Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland,” said -Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at -his ease, and divert his brother’s attention. “And by the by, Roger, you -never told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers.” - -“Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life,” said -his brother. “Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when -you yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?” - -Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting -Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings -at the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a -few stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood -up, seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,--then took -a long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran -after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was -not alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. “Thank you, my -dear,” said she. “I--no, really--you know how foolish I am, my dear, -and I think I had rather be alone. Don’t stay here and frighten yourself -too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left -alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know -when they come home.” - -With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and -descended to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears -were from Uncle Roger. “Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe -at home again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to -have let them go?” - -“I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of -little Bee,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - -“If I had guessed it,” said Uncle Roger; “but then, you know, any of -my boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,--even Dick I have -trusted,--and they came up--you should have seen them--as confidently as -if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life. Upon my word -your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew that he -could not drive.” - -“A tolerable spirit of self-will,” said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. -“But did you see them off, how did they manage?” - -“Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame,” said his brother. “They -did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might -have questioned a little closer. But never mind, ‘tis all straight road. -I would lay any wager they will come back safe,--boys always do.” - -Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that -he, too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his -tranquillity deserted her. - -Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o’er again of his battles -at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window, -where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a -start, “Here is Willy running across the paddock!” - -“All right!” said Uncle Roger, “they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!” - -“It is the opposite way!” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same -moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta’s heart throbbed fearfully as -she saw how wearied was the boy’s running, and yet how rapid. She could -hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the -same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as, -breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and -threw himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging -as if he could not stand. - -“Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?” said his father, -kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as -he almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. “What is the matter now?” - -There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of -the boy. Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle -Geoffrey stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of -wine and some water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his -forehead, laid her cold hand on it, and said, “Poor little fellow.” - -At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered -something unintelligible. - -“What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?” were questions -anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in -administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to -his aunt, - -“Don’t--tell--her.” - -It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying, -“Don’t be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it.” - -He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. -Henrietta’s violently throbbing heart took from her almost the -perception of what was happening. - -“Take breath, Willy,” said his father; “don’t keep us all anxious.” - -“Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey,” said the boy. - -“Is she safe?” asked Aunt Mary, earnestly. - -“Yes.” - -“Thanks to God,” said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, -with a look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible -mournfulness which went to his heart. - -“And Fred?” said Uncle Roger. - -“Do not ask, Roger,” said she, still as calmly as before; “I always knew -how it would be.” - -Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one -word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few -confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters -in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came -to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was -still. - -“Mamma!” said she. - -“Here, dear child,”--but it was Mrs. Langford’s voice. - -“Mamma!” again said she. “Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does -the room turn round?” - -“You have not been well, my dear,” said her grandmother; “but drink -this, and lie still, you will soon be better.” - -“Where is mamma?” repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but -Mrs. Langford and Bennet. “Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her -I am better.” - -“She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep.” - -“But weren’t there a great many people?” said Henrietta. “Were we not -in the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, -where are mamma and Fred?” - -“They will soon be here, I hope.” - -“But, grandmamma,” cried she vehemently, turning herself round as -clearer recollection returned, “something has happened--O! what has -happened to Fred?” - -“Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford. “It was -Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles -are gone to see about him.” - -“A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, -tell me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!” - -With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and -bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all -that she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance -on her, and had only heard the main fact of Willy’s story. Henrietta -clapped her hands wildly together in an agony of grief. “He is -killed--he is, I’m sure of it!” said she. “Why do you not tell me so?” - -“My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned.” - -“No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred, -Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O, -Fred!” - -She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of -sorrow. “And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O, -my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!” - -“Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “you do not know what you are saying; -you must bear the will of God, be it what it may.” - -“I can’t, I can not,” repeated Henrietta; “if I am to lose him, I can’t -live; I don’t care for anything without Fred!” - -“Your mother, Henrietta.” - -“Mamma! O, don’t speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, -without him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing.” - -Henrietta’s grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish; -there was little thought of her mother,--little, indeed, for anything -but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and -sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly -tried to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and -saying, “I can’t be patient--no, I can’t!” and then again repeating her -brother’s name with all the fondest terms of endearment. - -Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived--and she -became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required -her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel -disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, -fancying herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being -told really and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was -urgent to go out and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. -Langford would not permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful -sight, which might shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from -taking it so; her habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite -of her usual gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, -and she burst into a passionate fit of weeping. - -In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps, -scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it -as a subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of -a long previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; -gentle, caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and -deceitful. But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her -mother, prepared for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a -support to her; she would have remembered how terrible must be the -shock to her grandmother in her old age, and how painful must be the -remembrances thus excited of the former bereavement; and in the attempt -to console her, the sense of her own sorrow would have been in some -degree relieved; whereas she now seemed to forget that Frederick -was anything to any one but herself. She prayed, but it was one wild -repetition of “O, give him back to me!--save his life!--let him be safe -and well!” She had no room for any other entreaty; she did not call -for strength and resignation on the part of herself and her mother, for -whatever might be appointed; she did not pray that his life might be -granted only if it was for his good; she could ask nothing but that her -own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and she ended her prayer -as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she began it. - -The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and -Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and -greatly relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick’s life, -and of Philip Carey’s arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their -first entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their -narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and -when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again -turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look -at Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one -flesh from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one -word, one kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled -ringlets that floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead -rested, and meantime submitted with a kind of patient indifference to -her grandmother’s caress, drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, -and finally was sent upstairs to change her dress. Too restless, too -anxious, too wretched to stay there alone, longing for some interchange -of sympathy,--but her mind too turbid with agitation to seek it where it -would most surely have been found,--she hastened down again. Grandmamma -was busied in giving directions for the room which was being prepared -for Fred; Uncle Roger had walked out to meet those who were conveying -him home: and Henrietta was sitting in the window, her forehead resting -against the glass, watching intently for their arrival. - -“Are they coming?” asked Beatrice anxiously. - -“No!” was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as -if her cousin’s entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went -up and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand -that lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, “Henrietta, you -forgive me?” - -The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised -her face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, “Of course, -Bee, only I am so wretched. Don’t talk to me.” - -Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with -a more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; -it was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her -whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost -choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the -cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,--longed for her -almost as much for her papa’s, her Aunt Mary’s and her grandmother’s -sake, as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with -her have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to -her, but her hand was trembling--every pulse throbbing; she could not -even sit still enough to make the attempt. - -At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the -window beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by -Uncle Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one -side, and on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger’s -arm. - -Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that -moment for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and -deposited for a few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed -between her uncles, and made her way up to him, unconscious of the -presence of anyone else--even of her mother--while she clasped his hand, -and hanging over him looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless -features. The next moment she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, -and was forced to turn round and look into her face: the sweet mournful -meekness of which came for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the -dry burning desert of her grief. - -“My poor child,” said the gentle voice. - -“O, mamma, is--is--.” She could not speak; her face was violently -agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered. - -“They hope for the best, my dear,” was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey -Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the -intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only -took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended -to convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was -telling her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her -to take some rest. - -“Thank you, ma’am,--thank you very much indeed--you are very kind: I am -very sorry to give you so much trouble,” were her answers; and simple as -were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in them. - -Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at -that moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was -retreating, as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in -Henrietta’s. - -“I did not see you, before, Queenie,” she said, holding out her hand and -kissing her, “you have gone through more than any one.” - -A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee’s -eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful -name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and -contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was -no one to attend to her--the patient occupied the whole attention of -all. He was carried to his mother’s room, placed in bed, and again -examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence -that there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. -While this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, -her head on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As -evening twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went -down to make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the -drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, -and beg to be let in. - -Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the -bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first -stood by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down -on a footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother’s lap, gave -herself up to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the -very luxury of grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching -his sister-in-law even more anxiously than the patient, and thus a -considerable interval passed in complete silence, only broken by the -crackling of the fire, the ticking of the watches, or some slight change -of posture of one or other of the three nurses. At last the stillness -was interrupted by a little movement among the bedclothes, and with a -feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the hand, which had hitherto lain -so still and helpless, stretched somewhat out, and the head turned upon -the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed -her daughter’s hand with a sort of convulsive tremor. A faint voice -murmured “Mamma!” and while a flush of trembling joy illumined her pale -face, she bent over him, answering him eagerly and fondly, but he did -not seem to know her, and again repeating “Mamma,” opened his eyes with -a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express some complaint. - -In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness. -He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the -sake of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, -not even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, -while his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering -his half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with -assistance and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially -supporting his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance -so precious to a sinking heart. - -Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that -she might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick -Langford only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful -smile that it was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta -to go. The former complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would -create downstairs; but Henrietta declared that she could not bear the -thoughts of going down, and it was only by a positive order that he -succeeded in making her come with him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made -her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded her plate with all that was best -on the table, but she looked at it with disgust, and leaning back in her -chair, faintly begged not to be asked to eat. - -Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which -startled her by its unwonted severity, “This will not do, Henrietta; I -cannot allow you to add to your mamma’s troubles by making yourself ill. -I desire you will eat, as you certainly can.” - -Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have -interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling -of being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and -having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner, -by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed. - -Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, -and returned to Fred’s room as soon as he could, without giving that -appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm. -Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after -him, and neither of the two came down again to tea. - -Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course -very glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the -conversation kept up with him for civility’s sake. She had been -leading a forlorn dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping -grandmamma to write notes to be sent to the intended guests, and -afterwards, with a feeling of intense disgust, putting out of sight all -the preparations for their own self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and -yet when she found it, it was unendurable, and to talk to her father or -grandfather would be a great relief, yet the first beginning might well -be dreaded. Neither of them was forthcoming, and now in the evening to -hear the quiet grave discussion of Allonfield gossip was excessively -harassing and irritating. No one spoke for their own pleasure, the -thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only talked thus for the sake -of politeness; but she gave them no credit for this, and felt fretted -and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was better than when -they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of the accident, -requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it. She hurried -over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting. - -“But, my dear,” said Mrs. Roger Langford, “what could have made you so -anxious to go to Allonfield?” - -“O, Aunt Roger, it was very--” but here Beatrice, whose agitated spirits -made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized with -such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an expedition, -with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass’s ears, that she -was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt Roger, -after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up, and -came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more -uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and -when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed -the more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment -succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind -demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and -a certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all. -When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the -dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a -violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite -still, except for the trembling, which she could not control. - -Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could -not bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. -Langford’s offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that -she should go up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit -her when he came out of Fred’s room. Her grandmamma came up with her, -helped her to undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and -summoned Judith to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible -for Henrietta, who was to sleep with her that night. It was with -much difficulty that she could avoid making a promise to go to bed -immediately, and not to get up to breakfast. At last, with a very -affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her to brush her hair, an operation -which she resolved to lengthen out until her papa’s visit. - -It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the -passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before -him, her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual -from the contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white -nightcap and dressing-gown. - -“How is Fred?” asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her -to speak. - -“Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? -Your grandmamma said--” - -“Never mind, papa,” interrupted she, “only tell me this--is Fred in -danger?” - -“You have heard all we can tell, my dear--” - -Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped -her hands: “I know--I know; but what do you think?” - -“My own impression is,” said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost -reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, “that there -is no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain -the extent of the injury.” - -Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon -it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his -face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly, -“Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing.” - -His face did not express surprise or horror--nothing but kindness and -compassion, while he answered, “My poor girl, I was afraid how it might -have been.” Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so -as to let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her -time. He might be in haste, but it was no time to show it. - -She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, “Yes, yes, papa, it was the -very thing you warned me against--I mean--I mean--the being set in my -own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to tell -you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me,” and she touched -her throat. “I can’t get it out in words! O!” Poor Beatrice even groaned -aloud with oppression. - -“Do not try to express it,” said her father: “at least, it is not I who -can give you the best comfort. Here”--and he took up a Prayer Book. - -“Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa,” said -Beatrice; “but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up -in me. Not one prayer or confession would come;--but now, O! now you -know it, and--and--I feel as if He would not turn away His face. Do you -know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even ‘deliver me -from blood-guiltiness,’ it would only make me shudder! O, papa, it was -dreadful!” - -Her father’s answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and -read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer -for persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord’s Prayer. -Beatrice, when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not -speak, nor weep, but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her -anxiously and affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so -much time on her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again -spoke, it was in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, “Aunt Mary -will forgive me, I know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will -not be quite so bad! Now I can pray that he may be saved--O, -papa--disobedient, and I the cause; how could I ever bear the thought?” - -“You can only pray,” replied her father. - -“Now that I can once more,” said Beatrice; and again there was a -silence, while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual -habit, not speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her -repentant feelings by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. -So they remained for nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it -time to leave her, and made some movement as if to do so. Then she -spoke, “Only tell me one thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any -hope? There was something--something death-like in her face. Does she -hope?” - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. “Not yet,” said he. “I think it -may be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning -the hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it -will be as it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his -accident.” - -“But surely, surely,” said Beatrice eagerly, “this is a very different -case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he -is convinced that there is no fracture--” - -“It is a morbid feeling,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “and therefore -impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and -I shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over.” - -“Poor dear aunt!” sighed Beatrice. “I am glad, if it was to be, that you -were here, for nobody else would understand her.” - -“Understand her!” said he, with something of a smile. “No, Bee, -such sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be -understood.” - -Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort, -said, “I suppose mamma will soon be here?” - -“I think not,” said her father, “I shall tell her she had better wait -to see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is -needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, -and I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, -I am of more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if -he is a long time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her -coming fresh, and not half knocked up with previous attendance.” - -“But how she will wish to be here!” exclaimed Beatrice, “and how you -will want her!” - -“No doubt of that, Queenie,” said her father smiling, “but we must -reserve our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I -must go. Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?” - -“With me,” said Beatrice. - -“I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with -her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite -oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!” - -“I don’t know what to do about her!” said Beatrice with more dejection -than she had yet shown, “I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I -can’t--I shall never do good to anybody--only harm.” - -“Fear the harm, and the good will come,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. -“Good night, my dear.” - -Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on -her father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest, -unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew -not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of -such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never -known before. - -So she continued till she heard Henrietta’s approaching steps, when she -rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection -and consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on -her eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour -on half her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole -person, as if but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, -and took her candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. “No -better,” was all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed -answers to all her cousin’s questions. She would have done the same to -her grandmamma, or any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, -but this conduct gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done -to any one else, since it kept up the last miserable feeling of being -unforgiven. Beatrice let her sit still for some minutes, looking at -her all the time with an almost piteous glance of entreaty, of which -Henrietta was perfectly unconscious, and then began to beg her to -undress, seconding the proposal by beginning to unfasten her dress. - -Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed. - -“I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta,” said Beatrice; “if you would but -let me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still.” - -“No, I shan’t,” said Henrietta shortly, “never mind me.” - -“But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but--” - -“I can’t go to bed,” replied Henrietta, “thank you, Bee, never mind--” - -Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any -service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta’s grief than by -the unkind rejection of herself. “Papa thinks there is great hope,” said -she abruptly. - -“Mamma does not,” said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to -put an end to the subject. - -Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard -it was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door--it was -grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice -of the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours -ago; she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all -Henrietta’s feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, -grandmamma peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another -half-hour the cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta’s lethargy -had become a heavy sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every -sound, forming every possible speculation on the future, and to her own -overstretched fancy seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each -other through her throbbing head. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - -“Half-past one,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual -observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal -twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since. - -There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though -carefully avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick -bed, he knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he -again heard her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it -had a tremulous tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness. - -Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the -expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the -crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when -the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught -at the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only -answer had been, “As you think right.” She spoke so as to show the -greatest consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with -her usual confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to -be called in entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and -returned to her station by Frederick, who had already missed and -summoned her. - -Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice’s sarcasm, -was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had -owed much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded -with great reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience -and diffident of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance -in this, the first very serious case which had fallen under his own -management. The proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a -cause of great rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to -the measure. In her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged -fraternity in which she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice -from London would, she thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. -Roger Langford, and all the Carey connection, but seriously injure the -reputation of young Mr. Carey in his own neighbourhood. - -Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such -considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against -Frederick’s life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till -her son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted -her by letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and -persuading her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip’s practice -that his opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note. - -The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before -she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely -satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already -taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was -genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy’s sake. He gave them, too, -more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had -ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the -brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do -well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had -begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment -was agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to -enter on a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged -to go away the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty -that Fred would be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys -shared the belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired -them all with something like hope. - -The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick -Langford and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a -considerable degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his -mother’s voice did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew -restless and uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, “Is Uncle Geoffrey -here?” was many times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his -usual answer to her was “You speak so loud;” though in reality, her tone -was almost exactly the same as her mother’s; and above all others he -disliked the presence of Philip Carey. - -“Who is that?” inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious -of the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked -quickly, “Is he gone?” - -The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering -considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and -distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared, -glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle -could scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it -were, by the slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with -pain, incapable of thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his -faculties, as it seemed, restored only to be the means of suffering. -Mrs. Langford came to the door to announce that Philip Carey was come. -Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta -began to arrange the room a little for his reception. Fred, however, -soon stopped this. “I can’t bear the shaking,” said he. “Tell them to -leave off, mamma.” - -Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing -that she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs -in order, but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and -exclamation, and Mrs. Langford remarked, “Well, if he cannot bear it, it -cannot be helped; but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!” And out -she went, Fred frowning with pain at every step she took. - -“Why do you let people come?” asked he sharply of his mother. “Where is -Uncle Geoffrey gone?” - -“He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him -directly.” - -“I don’t want Philip Carey; don’t let him come.” - -“My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may -do something for this sad pain.” - -Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey -opened the door to ask if Fred was ready. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would -not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily -for his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face -a little more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window -shutters partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his -intention, as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of -pain, he turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes -over it. - -“My dear boy,” said his mother, pleadingly, “for one moment only!” - -“I told you I could not bear the light,” was all the reply. - -“If you would but oblige me for a few seconds,” said Philip. - -“Fred!” said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as -if to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face -again, saying, “I can’t;” and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the -shutter, unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had -opened it, and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient -scarcely vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted -the room, and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a “Don’t go, -mamma,” was immediately heard. - -“You must spare me for a very little while, my dear,” said she, gently -but steadily. - -“Don’t stay long, then,” replied he. - -Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light -as a woman’s, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, -and for a few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost -immediately he renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and -had it been any other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have -grumbled at his not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted -with a discontented murmur. “What an immense time you have stayed -away!”--presently after, “I wish you would not have that Carey!” and -then, “I wish we were at Rocksand,--I wish Mr. Clarke were here.” - -Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as -well as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it -comes as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly -in the young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the -old and querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To -a certain degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of -strength, and the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses -of the young, often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their -patience and forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who -have seen germs of far other dispositions. And when this is not the -case, who would have the heart to complain? Certainly not those who -are like the mother and uncle who had most to endure from the exacting -humours of Frederick Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain -degree of gentleness of character, and a home where, though he was not -over indulged, there was little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined -to make him appear one of the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever -existed; but there was no substance in this apparent good quality, it -was founded on no real principle of obedience or submission, and when to -an habitual spirit of determination to have his own way, was superadded -the irritability of nerves which was a part of his illness, when his -powers of reflection were too much weakened to endure or comprehend -argument; when, in fact, nothing was left to fall back upon but the -simple obedience which would have been required in a child, and when -that obedience was wanting, what could result but increased discomfort -to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as we should lay up a store of -prayers against that time when we shall be unable to pray for ourselves, -so surely should we lay up a store of habits against the time when we -may be unable to think or reason for ourselves! How often have -lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning instantaneous -obedience! - -Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and -future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet -too disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was -subjecting his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission -would have led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually -interrupting even the short repose which she would now and then be -persuaded to seek on the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, -harassing complaints, not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every -thing and every person who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the -only person against whom he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled -against measures to which he was obliged to submit in the end, after -he had distressed every one and exhausted himself by his fruitless -opposition. - -It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would -endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of -those spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are -nevertheless capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to -look worn and almost aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still -indefatigable, unconscious of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in -the thought of her son, and yet not so absorbed as not to be full of -consideration for all around. All looked forward with apprehension to -the time when the consequences of such continued exertion must be -felt, but in the meantime it was not in the power of any one except her -brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to her, and her relations could -only wait and watch with such patience as they could command, for the -period when their services might be effectual. - -Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her -very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the -upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever -she entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always -created a disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was -the aim of the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, -as may be supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa’s “You had better not, my -dear,” checked her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: -Uncle Geoffrey, who might have had the best chance, had not time to -spare for her; and no one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how -dangerous it was to attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed -the whole household for indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times -a day pronounced that he would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did -the best she could to tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash -did not accord particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much -depressed to queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in -the midst of the suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and -above all, poor child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of -confession and parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; -she was anxious and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be -all that her mother was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that -sat so heavy on her mind was not one for discussion with any one but a -mother, and this consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with -him, such as had never before existed between them. - -Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that -chiefly because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong -affection and esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now -manifested, and the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions -served but to make the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his -brothers, and spent every moment he could at the Hall, either reading in -the library, or walking up and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One -of the many conversations which they held will serve as a specimen of -the rest. - -“So they do not think he is much better to-day?” said Alex, walking into -the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters. - -Beatrice shook her head. “Every day that he is not worse is so much -gained,” said she. - -“It is very odd,” meditated Alex: “I suppose the more heads have in -them, the easier it is to knock them!” - -Beatrice smiled. “Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex.” - -“Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee,” and he examined his own -face in the glass over the chimney; “there, do you see a little bit of -a scar under my eyebrow?--there! Well, that was where I was knocked over -by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred -could have come against the ground,--but what harm did it do me? Why -everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black -eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise. -Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing -I saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I -got up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was -the worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would -give anything now.” - -“Well, but Alex, I don’t understand. You were very good friends at the -bottom, after all; you can’t have anything really to repent of towards -him.” - -“Oh, haven’t I though?” was the reply. “It was more the other fellows’ -doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing -all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of -you, had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be -such a friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was--a -fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl’s, and that did not even -know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could -begin it all over again.” - -“But do you mean that he was really a--a--what you call a Miss Molly?” - -“Who said so? No, not a bit of it!” said Alex. “No one thought so in -reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend -to think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times -more spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been -knocked about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. -The matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I -shan’t care if we do win.” - -“And the prize,” said Beatrice, “the scholarship!” - -“I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey -had not a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the -summer, why then--hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no -time, clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don’t you think -so?” - -Queen Bee shook her head. “They say he must not read or study for a very -long time,” said she. - -“Yes, but six months--a whole year is an immense time,” said Alex. “O -yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does -other people; and his verses, they never fail--never except when he is -careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time. -That is right. Why there!” exclaimed Alex joyfully, “I do believe -this is the very best thing for his success!” Beatrice could not help -laughing, and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed -him, that if Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason -to be thankful. - -“Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this,” proceeded -he. “There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters -either.” - -“The masters, perhaps,” said Beatrice; “but I thought you said there was -a party against him among the boys?” - -“Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they -had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all -his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough -to let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. -I shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon -as I go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have -not the slightest notion what a fellow he is. I’ll just tell you one -story of him.” - -Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to -illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again -and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed -between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more -conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted -fellow, that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to -Frederick’s; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him. - -These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, -if only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that -the only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters -which her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of -those of cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred’s room. She -thought she could have borne everything excepting Henrietta’s coldness, -which still continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness -to forgive, but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her -own troubles to realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her -uncle Geoffrey had succeeded in awakening her consideration for her -mother; but with her and Fred it began and ended, and when outside the -sick room, she seemed not to have a thought beyond a speedy return -to it. She seldom or never left it, except at meal-times, or when her -grandfather insisted on her taking a walk with him, as he did almost -daily. Then he walked between her and Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse -her to talk, and she, replying as shortly as possible when obliged to -speak, left her cousin to sustain the conversation. - -The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the -Epiphany, and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which -their own hands had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the -glistening leaves unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear -began to gather in Beatrice’s eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if -she could not bear the sight of those branches, so lately gathered by -her brother. As they were leaving the church, both looked towards the -altar at the wreath which Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a -deeper and more awful meaning than she had designed. Their eyes met, and -they saw that they had the same thought in their minds. - -When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee -stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but -with a gesture that was almost timid, saying, - -“Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of -this.” - -And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse-- - - -“Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And--mark it -well--e’en there He wears His Crown of Thorns. - -“Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set -around, of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping -foe.” - - -“They go very deep,” sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful -complaining glance. - -Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct -on Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the “thing -profane” that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she -had even appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning -to speak, but Henrietta cut her short by saying, “Yes, yes, but I can’t -stay,” and was flying along the passage the next moment. - -Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in -recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of -her recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured -out her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the -very germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: -and a calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, -began to dawn on her. - -It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave -her alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had -heard the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that -her presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the -gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even -stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be -comforted by talking to her. - -Her thought was only the repining one: “the thorns go deep!” Poor child, -had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful -surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden -source of the malady. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - -On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton -carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and -her father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when -alone together. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring -breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery -threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy -grass, the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver “pussycats” on the withy, and -the tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such -sights were a refreshment--a sort of holiday--after the many springs -spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long -attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking -deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if -it would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she -had not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! -Her father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, -and no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on -changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her -mother’s place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going -to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, -and they would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning -themselves the next morning to Westminster. - -They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs. -Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new -books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey’s for some medicines; -and then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train. - -Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,--the -dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions; -the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the -dress so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy -Beatrice was that first moment of feeling herself at her side! - -“My dear! my own dear child!” Then anxiously following her husband with -her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, “How thin he -looks, Queenie!” - -“O, he has been doing so much,” said Busy Bee. “It is only for this -last week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred’s -room. This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to -Church, and a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma.” - -He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. “Come, Beatrice,” said -he to his wife, “I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh -face of yours will do us all so much good.” - -“One thing is certain,” said she; “I shall send home orders that you -shall be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall -hide half the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, -Geoffrey, are you really well?” - -“Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn,” said her husband -laughing. - -“Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?” - -“He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to -lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch’s outlines to look at: so you may -guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the -books and prints?” - -“Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight.” - -“It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only -take care, they must not be at Henrietta’s discretion, or his own, or he -will be overwhelmed with them,--a very little oversets him, and might do -great mischief.” - -“You don’t think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?” - -“O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep -him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite -is returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him.” - -“I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of -poor Mary’s over gentleness.” - -“Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some -strange prejudice against Philip Carey.” - -Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while -her father proceeded. - -“I do not understand it at all: Philip’s manners in a sick room are -particularly good--much better than I should have expected, and he has -been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has -shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most -of it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the -London doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than -Philip has ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks -and exclaims the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of -wishing for old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for -never having proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great -faith in the old man, but I believe it was only her mother.” - -“Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really -are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am -very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing -but her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about -her.” - -“As if I did not know that,” said he, smiling. - -“And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I -should like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred’s part. Have you -ever asked him?” - -“No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the -prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and -again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence -in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp -enough to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the -great trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned -it, for fear of annoying my mother.” - -“Papa,” said Busy Bee, “I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It -was my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor -Fred about Roger’s having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of -things that I did not really mean.” - -“Hem!” said her father. “Well, I should think it might be so; it always -struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, -the memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained.” - -“And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am -to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon.” - -“Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might -do away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; -only do not let him think it has been under discussion.” - -Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. - -“Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?” said her mother. - -“Too wonderfully,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “in a way which I fear -will cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way -as she ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of -the old complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am -persuaded that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago.” - -“Ah!” said his wife, with great concern, “that is just what I have been -dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ----, how strongly he -forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let me come? -I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting off.” - -“It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice,” said he, smiling; -“a sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to -make themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I -did not see you.” - -“But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?” - -“Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother -and me; you could not have saved either of us an hour’s nursing then, -whereas now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she -will suffer it, and that she will do better from you than from any one -else.” - -They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee -was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as -it had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. -Even her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was -so much to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that -they had not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived -at the gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, -excessively delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey. - -In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs. -Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of -a curiously varying and always opposite description. When her -daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of -respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable -life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning, -lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these -prejudices in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own -sake, as well as because she was Geoffrey’s wife. On the contrary, the -younger Beatrice, while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,--the -Queen of Bees, the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has -already been shown how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or -had once done so, though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there -had been only one collision between them for the last ten days, and that -was caused by her strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred -was not yet fit for boiled chicken and calves’ foot jelly. - -Mrs. Langford’s greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her -mamma hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey. - -“My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!” - -“Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!” - -“Is he tired?” asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -“No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of -Queen Bee’s promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?” - -Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had -not seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know -how to begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, -while Henrietta went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, -Henrietta opened it, and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by -the fire, in his dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless -manner that betokens great feebleness. There were the purple marks of -leeches on his temples; his hair had been cropped close to his head; his -face was long and thin, without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked -large and bright; and he smiled and held out his hand: “Ah, Queenie, how -d’ye do?” - -“How d’ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better.” - -“You see I have the asses’ ears after all,” said he, pointing to his -own, which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition. - -Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort, -and succeeded, while she said, “I should have complimented you on the -increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head -was so like papa’s.” - -“Is Aunt Geoffrey come?” asked Fred. - -“Yes,” said his sister: “but mamma thinks you had better not see her -till to-morrow.” - -“I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going,” said Fred. “Nobody else has the -least notion of making one tolerably comfortable.” - -“O, your mamma, Fred!” said Queen Bee. - -“O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged.” - -“Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work -in London,” said Henrietta; “but I do not know what we should have done -without him.” - -“I do not know what we shall do now,” said Fred, in a languid and -doleful tone. - -The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost -alarmed eagerness, “O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will -enjoy having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and -Philip Carey manages you so well--” - -“Manages!” said Fred; “ay, and I’ll tell you how, Queenie; just as the -man managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he -thinks I am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he -knew himself what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire -through my hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a -merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing -else on earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the -strength of a midge!” - -“Well, but of course he knows,” said Busy Bee; “Papa says he has had an -excellent education, and he must know.” - -“To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how -to keep a patient when he has got one.” - -“How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign -you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it.” - -“I am talking no nonsense,” said Fred, sharply; “I am as serious as -possible.” - -“But you can’t really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such -an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor -too?” - -“What! when that man gets I don’t know how many guineas from mamma every -time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should -get well?” - -“My dear Fred,” interposed his sister, “you are exciting yourself, and -that is so very bad for you.” - -“I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to -be shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding -twice a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey’s pockets! Now, there was -old Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; -but this man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to -kick him out of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying -to be gen-tee-eel, and condoling; and those boots--O! Busy Bee! those -boots! whenever he makes a step I always hear them say, ‘O what a pretty -fellow I am!’” - -“You seem to be very merry here, my dears,” said Aunt Mary, coming in; -“but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even -before I opened the door.” - -Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not -absolutely to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, -sitting down, began to talk to the visitor, “Well, my little Queen, we -have seen very little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose -you. I suppose your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must -not expect any, but we shall want very much to know how you get on with -Aunt Susan and her little dog.” - -“O very well, I dare say,” said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was -looking at her aunt’s delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her -father had been saying. - -“And Queenie,” continued her aunt, earnestly, “you must take great -care of your papa--make him rest, and listen to your music, and read -story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening.” - -“To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can.” - -“But Bee,” said Fred, “you don’t mean that you are going to be shut up -with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don’t you stay here, and -let her take care of herself?” - -“Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is -really ill, Fred,” said Beatrice. - -“It is too bad, now I am just getting better--if they would let me, I -mean,” said Fred: “just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you -go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame.” - -“So it is, Fred,” said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once -she would have answered him, “a great shame in you not to have learned -to feel for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself.” - -“That is right, Bee,” said Aunt Mary, smiling; “tell him he ought to -be ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the -comfort of your household. I am sure I am,” added she, her eyes filling -with tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice’s hand. - -Queen Bee’s heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to -the expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only -pressed her aunt’s long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face -to the fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was -a little silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the -engravings at which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till -the dressing bell rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook -hands with Fred, saying cheerfully, “Well, good-bye, I hope you will be -better friends with the doctors next time I see you.” - -“Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!” repeated Fred, as she -left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma -in the space allowed for dressing. - -Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick’s own -place, there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet -to sit with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old -man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both -Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence. - -Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and -talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was -ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again, -Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with -Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either -writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly -like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, -she was no repiner. “I deserve it,” said she to herself, “and surely -I ought to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. -Besides, with even one little bit of papa’s company I am only too well -off.” - -So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no -one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed -upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were -much more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about -Fred, and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful -gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously -amiss with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to -rights. Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain -of remorse was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every -little gesture and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the -accident. - -Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so -much talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of -his uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, -but still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, -for when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as -he watched the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time -sedulously making for his comfort, “Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you -very much; I am afraid I have been a great plague to you.” - -Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle -Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully -expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, -coupled with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was -salutary. - -“Anything for your good, my dear sir,” said he, with a smile. “You are -welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma -is not quite so tough.” - -“Well, I do try to be considerate about her,” said Fred. “I mean to make -her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to -save her.” - -“You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her -discussions.” - -Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the -early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly -harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which -Henrietta had left on the sofa. “I like those very much,” said Fred, -“especially the Fight with the Dragon.” - -“You know Schiller’s poem on it?” said Uncle Geoffrey. - -“Yes, Henrietta has it in German.” - -“Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration.” - -“I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a -dragon-killing expedition,” said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh. - -“Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for-- - - - ‘The duty hardest to fulfil, - To learn to yield our own self-will.’” - - -“There is very little hasty pudding in the case,” said Fred, rather -disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of -resolution of this kind, “I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let -that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it, -unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit -to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up -to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head -and aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!” - -Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful -than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and -besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so -much so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have -half an hour’s talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at -last, however, and his first question was, “What do you think of the -little Bee?” - -“I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able -to do for some time past,” was the answer. - -“Poor child, she has felt it very deeply,” said he, “I have been grieved -to have so little time to bestow on her.” - -“I am disposed to think,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, -“that it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much -talk has always been the mischief with her, as with many another only -child, and it struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so -little. There was something very touching in the complete absence of -moralizing to-day.” - -“None of her sensible sayings,” said her father, with a gratified though -a grave smile. “It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self -in it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness -about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have -seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much -pleased with her, she was so simple: ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I hope I -shall be able to make her comfortable:’ no begging off, no heroism. And -really, Beatrice, don’t you think we could make some other arrangement? -It is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very -well, and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor -little Queen here with you.” - -“No, no, Geoffrey,” said his wife, “that would never do: I do not mean -on my aunt’s account, but on the Busy Bee’s; I am sure, wish it as we -may,” and the tears were in her eyes, “this is no time for even the -semblance of neglecting a duty for her sake.” - -“Not so much hers as yours,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “you have more -on your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a -valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it -is your turn to keep her now.” - -“No, no, no,” she repeated, though not without an effort, “it is best as -it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write -to me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred -times more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death -with no one to remonstrate.” - -So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost -both mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which -they kept close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one -fragment of each other’s company; but they had very few moments alone -together, and those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in -minute directions as to the little things that conduced to keep Lady -Susan in good humour, and above all, the arrangements for papa’s -comfort. There was thus not much time for Beatrice to spend with -Henrietta, nor indeed would much have resulted if there had been more. -As she grew more at ease about her brother, Henrietta had gradually -resumed her usual manner, and was now as affectionate to Beatrice as -ever, but she was quite unconscious of her previous unkindness, and -therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen Bee had ceased to think -of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the two girls, they neither -of them perceived it. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London -so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but -their hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, -who came in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey -about his school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a -merrier meeting next summer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety -for her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to -allow that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than -she had hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and -after a few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe -fit of the spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at -intervals, and was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, -relying with complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her -son. - -It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to -devote herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of -Frederick, who was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she -only gave him as much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and -to superintend the regulation of his room. He had all the society he -wanted in his sister, who was always with him, and in grandpapa and -grandmamma, whose short and frequent visits he began greatly to -enjoy. He had also been more amenable to authority of late, partly in -consequence of his uncle’s warning, partly because it was not quite so -easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and partly too because, excepting -always the starving system, he had nothing in particular of which to -complain. His mother’s illness might also have its effect in subduing -him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or Henrietta’s, as they -were too much accustomed to her ill health to be easily alarmed on her -account. - -It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in -the afternoon--Fred’s best time in the day--to take his leave. All the -morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good -deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he -had been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay -away from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and -finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be -thus laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and -leading member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable -that he would never return there again. - -He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be -missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees, -and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: -the “beech-crowned steep,” girdled in with the “hollow trench that the -Danish pirate made;” the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of -the chapel, the surpliced scholars,--even the very shops in the streets -had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he -sighed at the thought that there he would be known no more,--all would -go on as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of -compassion, he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race -of distinction; his school-boy career be at an end. - -His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford’s entrance with Aunt -Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, -to walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after -putting a book within Fred’s reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma -were quite willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother. - -Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his -health, and the present mode of treatment,--a subject on which they were -perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as -the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully -dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for -a long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room -without excessive giddiness--what was that but the effect of want of -nourishment? “If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the -thing was wholesome.” So she said, and her grandson assented with his -whole heart. - -In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most -tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly. - -“O, grandmamma!” said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively -lighted up at the sight. - -“Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very -good. It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must -do you good.” - -“Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice,” said Fred, gazing on -it with wistful eyes, “but really I do not think I ought.” - -“If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a -thing,” said Mrs. Langford. “But I have lived a good many more years in -the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all -this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the -neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the -fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the -system,--that was what he used to say.” - -“Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!” sighed Fred. “I know my system -would like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid -stuff; but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if -they knew it.” - -“Never mind,” said grandmamma; “‘tis all my doing, you know. Come, to -oblige me, taste it, my dear.” - -“One spoonful,” said Fred--“to oblige grandmamma,” added he to himself: -and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could -bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a -little,--“There is wine in it!” said he. - -“A very little--just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any -difference. Do you like it, my dear?” as the spoon scooped out another -transparent rock. “Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt -Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith.” - -“I am in for it now,” thought Fred. “Well, ‘tis excellent,” said he; -“capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers’ ends,” added he with a -smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles -remaining in the small end. - -“That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!” said grandmamma, -hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it -implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of -his own case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very -imprudently,--that is to say, his better sense was aware--but his spirit -of self-will made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and -was greatly confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. -Grandmamma returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed -her, and after shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the -alteration in Fred’s appearance. - -This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over -school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his -friends, discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, -the studies, the employments; Alex lamenting Fred’s absence, engaging -to write, undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his -speedy recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,--the prize. Never had -the two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was -no competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both -felt great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud -became their glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not -in perfect health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; -and finding Fred so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest -farewells and good wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie -quiet and rest, and sat down herself to see that he did so. - -Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and -eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went -on more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some -one who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but -he grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the -time for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and -sent Bennet to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a -quiescent state. He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of -the evening; but so wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began -to be alarmed, and fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was -in the right after all. Towards morning, however, a short sleep -visited him, and he awoke at length quite sufficiently refreshed to be -self-willed as ever; and, contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his -bed at his usual hour. - -Philip Carey came at about twelve o’clock, and was disappointed as well -as surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as -he could not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was -unsatisfactory; but Philip thought the excitement of the interview -with Alex well accounted for the sleepless night, as well as for the -exhaustion of the present day: and Fred persuaded himself to believe so -too. - -Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take -a ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone -by was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in -his granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be -too bustling a nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently -impatient to be left alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick -Langford, resolving, however, not to be long absent. - -In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, -in spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent -irritation of Philip’s last visit made him more willing to act in -opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of -swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in -which he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale -glass safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford’s -door was opened at the other end of the passage. - -Fred’s sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,--too -high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa, -too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly -though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought -she did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain -concluding shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him -in a passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came -in, and it seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the -horses’ feet upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because -his sister went first to her mamma’s room; and it was grandpapa who came -to him full of a story of Henrietta’s good management of her horse when -they suddenly met the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in -her habit, her hair hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and -eyes lighted up by the exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, -begging his pardon for having kept him waiting, but saying she thought -he did not want her directly, as he had grandpapa. - -Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of -spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong -scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then -insisted on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating -to him from the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she -sat down directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to -be thus satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her -translation, and desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read -first so fast that he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was -quite unbearable, and she must go on translating. With the greatest -patience and sweetest temper she obeyed; only when next he interrupted -her to find fault, she stopped and said gently, “Dear Fred, I am afraid -you are not feeling so well.” - -“Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I -suppose. Well, never mind, I will go on for myself,” said he, snatching -the book. - -Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to -vindicate herself. - -“Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would -not be so silly.” - -“If you would only let me go on, dear Fred,” said she, thinking that -occupying him would be better than arguing. “It is so dark where you -are, and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming.” - -Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time, -till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when -the failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light -from the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad -of her, when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that -horrible red flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, -which had been one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so -alarmed her that she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and -was heartily glad to see her enter the room. - -“Well, how are you going on?” she said, cheerfully. “Why, my dear, how -hot you must be in that habit!” - -“Rather,” said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her -perplexity, was almost crimson. “We have been reading ‘Nicolo,’ and I -am very much afraid it is as bad as Alex’s visit, and has excited Fred -again.” - -“I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!” said Fred, -impatiently. - -“Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt,” said Aunt Geoffrey. “But -yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity.” - -Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta -that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt. - -“Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?” said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as -well as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to -acquire sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and -still she held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in -the hope that it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened -them. - -“What! ‘tis faster?” asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when -she released him at last. - -“You are flushed, Fred,” she answered very quietly, though she felt -full of consternation. “Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had -better not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better -than last night.” - -“Very well,” said Fred. - -“Then I will ring for Stephens,” said she. - -The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and -there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms -that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without -exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to -recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as -she left her sister’s room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had -left with Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been -giving him any of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford could hardly believe that either party could have acted so -foolishly, yet when she remembered a few words that had passed about the -jelly that morning at breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly -reproached herself for not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of -her suspicion she however said nothing, but sealing her note, she went -down to the drawing-room, told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred -quite so well that evening, and asked him if he did not think it might -be better to let Philip Carey know. He agreed instantly, and rang the -bell to order a servant to ride to Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who -could not bear any one but Geoffrey to act without consulting her, -pitied man and horse for being out so late, and opined that Beatrice -forgot that she was not in London, where the medical man could be called -in so easily. - -It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger, -for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was -not easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. “Well, it is very kind -in you to attend to my London fancies,” said she; “I think if we can do -anything to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried.” - -“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Langford. “It is very disappointing -when he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something -imprudent.” - -It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her -daughter-in-law had long since come to a resolution never to convey to -her anything like reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken -kindness of heart, or her respectable prejudices; so, without -entering on what many in her place might have made a scene of polite -recrimination, she left the room, and on her way up, heard Frederick’s -door gently opened. Stephens came quickly and softly to the end of -the passage to meet her. “He is asking for you, ma’am,” said he; “I am -afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring, for fear of alarming -my mistress, but--” - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and -exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion -and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and -looked wildly about. “Oh, Aunt Geoffrey,” he exclaimed, “what shall I -do? It is as bad--worse than ever!” - -“You have been doing something imprudent, I fear,” said Aunt Geoffrey, -determined to come to the truth at once. - -“Only that glass of jelly--if I had guessed!” - -“Only one?” - -“One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma’s doing. Don’t let her -know that I told. I wish mamma was here!” - -Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could -not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed. - -“The inflammation is coming back!” he cried, in an agony of apprehension -that almost overcame the sense of pain. “I shall be in danger--I shall -lose my senses--I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?” - -“Lie still, my dear Fred,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand -on him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to -sit up. “Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. -You must control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will -do the best in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God.” - -“Then you think me very ill?” said Fred, trying to speak more -composedly. - -“I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will -keep yourself quiet, both mind and body. There--” she settled him as -comfortably as she could: “Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make -a resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall -soon come back.” - -This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as -a favour to spare her, and yet his aunt’s tone was so affectionate, as -well as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left -the room, and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant -against the wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite -overwhelmed, and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, -or even for one short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, -there was no time, and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning -up her energies, she walked on to the person whom she at that moment -most dreaded to see, her sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her -arm-chair, Henrietta with her, both looking very anxious, and she was -glad to find her prepared. - -“What is it?” was the first eager question. - -“He has been attempting rather too much of late,” was the answer, “and -has knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better -stay with him, and perhaps you might miss me.” - -“O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as -that you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much -trouble. Don’t stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if -he misses you--” - -“Don’t you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you.” - -This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother -said, “No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants -her.” - -“By no means,” said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; “he will be quieter -without her.” - -Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting -down to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus -checked, and she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her -brother as her aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on -which it is susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for -her brother, whereas it was impatience of being ordered. - -Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. “Aunt Geoffrey is a -capital nurse,” said she; “there is something so decided about her that -it always does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of -thinking for oneself.” - -“I had rather judge for myself,” said Henrietta. - -“That is all very well to talk of,” said her mother, smiling sadly, “but -it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it.” - -“Well, what do you like to hear?” said Henrietta, who found herself too -cross for conversation. “The old man’s home?” - -“Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. -You would want ‘lungs of brass’ to go on all day to both of us. You had -better not. I should like to talk.” - -Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it -gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting -a hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred -conversation. So she took up a book, and began, without any perception -of the sense of what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly -on her brother, and partly on her aunt’s provoking ways. She read on -through a whole chapter, then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, “I -must go and see what Aunt Geoffrey is doing with Fred.” - -“She is not such a very dangerous person,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, -almost laughing at the form of the expression. - -“Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?” - -“To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was -just going to sleep now.” - -“Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door.” - -“Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take -care, my dear.” - -“I must go, I can’t bear it any longer; I will only just listen,” said -Henrietta; “I will not be a moment.” - -“Let me have the book, my dear,” said her mother, who knew but too well -the length of Henrietta’s moments, and who had just, by means of a great -effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book. - -Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred’s room was -ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing -round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from -Frederick’s temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long -gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. “Leeches!” thought Henrietta, -as she started with consternation and displeasure. “This is pretty -strong! Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing -something with him indeed.” - -She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, -till at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some -bottle. - -“Let me do something,” said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she -thought likely to be the right one. - -Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, “You had better -stay with your mamma.” - -“But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has -he ordered it?” - -“He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much -obliged if you would go back to your mamma.” - -Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked -up and still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, -“Henrietta, you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses -him; your mamma must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?” - -“I was just going,” said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an -additional offence, and walking off in a dignified way. - -It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, -the neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to -lay upon her, and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much -displeased, and too distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any -precautions which her aunt might have tried to impress upon her. - -“Well!” asked her mother anxiously. - -“She would not let me stay,” answered Henrietta. “She has been putting -on leeches.” - -“Leeches!” exclaimed her mother. “He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is -Mr. Carey here?” - -“No, that is the odd thing.” - -“Has he not been sent for?” - -“I am sure I don’t know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her -own way.” - -“It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!” said -Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed. - -“And never to tell you!” said Henrietta. - -“O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should -be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?” - -“Very faint, I thought,” said Henrietta, “there seemed to be a great -deal of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near.” - -“She knows exactly what to do,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “How well -it was that she should be here.” - -Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother’s complete confidence in -her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue -it away. “Aunt Geoffrey is so quick--she does things without half the -consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything.” - -But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be -even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl. - -“My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you -were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied -that she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I -am satisfied, no one else has any right to object.” - -There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but -to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of -distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more -than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and -the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did -to fly to her son’s room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by -the fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The -tears, whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and -restored her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather -alarmed, too, when she saw her mamma’s pale looks, as she leant back -almost exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation. - -Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little -idea of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer -them both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then -they heard sounds announcing Philip Carey’s arrival, and presently after -in came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and -that his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, -saying, “Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you -so long, and I believe Henrietta,” looking at her with a smile, “thinks -I have used you very ill.” - -“I believe she did,” said her mother, “but I was sure you would do -right; you say he is better? Let me hear.” - -“Much better; only--. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should go -to bed.” - -“Let me hear about him first.” - -Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one -would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified -Henrietta’s opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own -responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and -Fred, already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had -felt considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip -Carey, who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. -Now, however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, -and, although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, -had pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the -patient’s life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had -now come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all -that had passed, and ask her pardon. - -“Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and -Geoffrey have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? -and is it not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always -will do so? You know that is the reason I never thank you.” - -Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and -ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, “You thought it very -hard to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for -it, but I had not much time to be polite.” - -“I am sorry I was in the way,” said she, an acknowledgment such as she -had seldom made. - -Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in -his progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the -worst fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered. - -But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations -of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety. - -It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, -that she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding, - -“As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame -better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. -I think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I -do not speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed -herself quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to -imagine that she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, -and I think it much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. -Lady Amelia comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman’s -penance may be over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no -doubt that it is a heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and -an hour’s freedom from that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk -sufficiently testify.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - -Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of -no slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been -so stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his -danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he -had suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses -perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to -the grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over -him, as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute -of clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And -how had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much -of that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had -been exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved -to be cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted. - -He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an -earnest thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made -in silence during the two or three days that passed, partly in such -thoughts as these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes -his aunt, sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his -bed-side unchidden for not being “mamma.” - -“Above all,” said he to himself, “he would for the future devote -himself, to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for -his sake. Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the -rest of his life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?” It -was very disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do -for her was to send her messages--and affection does not travel well by -message,--and at the same time to show submission to her known -wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown -submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to -be argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have -indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of -their futility. - -So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to -grumble, and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less -unpleasant even external things appeared, and how much his health -benefited by the tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing -to be pleased with all that was done with that intent; and as he grew -better, it certainly was a strange variety with which he had to be -amused throughout the day. Very good naturedly he received all such -civilities, especially when Willy brought him a bottle of the first live -sticklebacks of the season, accompanied by a message from Arthur that he -hoped soon to send him a basin of tame tadpoles,--and when John rushed -up with a basket of blind young black satin puppies, their mother -following in a state of agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford -and Judith. - -Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and -spent much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond -what could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party. - -When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable -correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still -unable to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between -the two rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or -droll descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of -the fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of -a bunch of violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the -headache, the fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting -their saws on the next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks -who were building their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford’s -window, and whom she watched so much that she was said to be in a fair -way of solving the problem of how many sticks go to a crow’s nest; -criticisms of the books read by each party, and very often a reference -to that celebrated billet, unfortunately delivered over night to Prince -Talleyrand, informing him that his devoted friend had scarcely closed -her eyes all night, and then only to dream of him! - -Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers -as in their younger days,--depending upon her, participating in all her -pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, -by their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the -beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most -valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom -looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories -of down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or -school; had a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration -for the spring flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of -budding woods, soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma -enjoyed comparing notes with her about those same woods and dells, and -would describe the adventures of her own youth! And now it might be -noticed that she did not avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta’s -father had been engaged; nay, she dwelt on them by preference, and -without the suppressed sigh which had formerly followed anything like -a reference to him. Sometimes she would smile to identify the bold open -down with the same where she had run races with him, and even laugh to -think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the shady woodland walk would -make her describe their nutting parties, or it would bring her thoughts -to some fit of childish mischief and concealment, and to the confession -to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at length led her. -Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken together when older -grown, when each had become prime counsellor and confidante of the -other; and the interests and troubles of home and of school were poured -out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged. How Fred and -Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love had grown -up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady coombs, and -green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened with -advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been -to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of -crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if -she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same -time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to -tell Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most -characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, -that she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his -death, as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of -his memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so -much as her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these -recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy. - -Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them -anxious about her mother’s health, but for her own part she did not -think her worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued -in nearly the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was -so cheerful, and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even -though there was no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint -there was, as she knew of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed -so long, that after the first shock of being told of it two years ago, -she had almost ceased to think about it. She satisfied herself to her -own mind that it could not, should not be progressing, and that this was -only a very slow recovery from the last attack. - -Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and -merry when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or -take less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet -he grew grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother -grew minute and anxious. - -“Henrietta,” said he, one day when they were alone together, “I was -trying to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma.” - -“O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more,” said -Henrietta. - -“You have told me that so many times,” said Fred. “I think I must try to -get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey -comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there.” - -“It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!” said Henrietta. - -“Yes,” said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, “But -how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it -not?” - -“Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here.” - -“It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey -went.” - -“The fourth,” said Henrietta. - -“And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first -spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!” - -“Well,” said Henrietta, “you know she was five weeks without stirring -out of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is -getting better.” - -“I don’t think it is getting better,” said Fred. “You always say so, but -I don’t think you have anything to show for it.” - -“You might say the same for yourself,” said Henrietta, laughing. “You -have been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not -boast.” - -“Well, at least I can show something for it,” said Fred; “they allow -me a lark’s diet instead of a wren’s, I can hold up my head like other -people now, and I actually made my own legs and the table’s carry me -to the window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not -think it is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or -eleven o’clock; now I don’t believe she ever is till one.” - -“It has been close, damp weather,” said Henrietta, surprised at the -accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. “She misses the cold -bracing wind.” - -“I don’t like it,” said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval -beginning again more earnestly, “Henrietta, neither you nor any one else -are keeping anything from me, I trust?” - -“O, no, no!” said Henrietta, eagerly. - -“You are quite sure?” - -“Quite,” responded she. “You know all I know, every bit; and I know all -Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr. -Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong -things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would -not do so.” - -“I don’t think they would,” said Fred; “but I am not satisfied. -Recollect and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only -recovering slowly--I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not -a thing to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as -well as usual?” - -“I do,” said Henrietta, “and you know I am more used to her illness than -any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how -bad the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we -could not expect her to get on faster.” - -“You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey.” - -“O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just -like Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure -you could not get any more information from her than from me, and -impressions--I am sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma.” - -Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never -lost one of his mother’s little notes, placing them as soon as read in -his pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta -to lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her -marriage. It represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the -long ringlets and plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the -arch suppressed smile on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep -blue eye. He looked at it for a little while, and then asked Henrietta -if she thought that she could find, among the things sent from Rocksand -which had not yet been unpacked, another portrait, taken in the earlier -months of her widowhood, when she had in some partial degree recovered -from her illness, but her life seemed still to hang on a thread. Mrs. -Vivian, at whose especial desire it had been taken, had been very fond -of it, and had always kept it in her room, and Fred was very anxious to -see it again. After a long search, with Bennet’s help, Henrietta found -it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and in the deep black garments, -there was much more general resemblance to her present appearance in -this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling bride. “And yet,” - said Fred, as he compared them, “do not you think, Henrietta, that there -is more of mamma in the first?” - -“I see what you mean,” said Henrietta. “You know it is by a much better -artist.” - -“Yes,” said he, “the other is like enough in feature,--more so certainly -to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet what is -it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their look, -and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind of -hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet -smile, that is quite her own!” - -“If you could but see her now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “I think you would -indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that -lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks -about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the -miniature, all but her thinness.” - -“I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father,” - murmured Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her -eyes; then a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she -began to speak of something else as fast as she could. - -Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a -minute’s visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his -sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister’s information -that “it was on business,” and only was in a slight degree reassured by -being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day. -Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially -anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she -would not leave him alone in Fred’s room, knowing full well that -no questions would be asked except in private--none at least of the -description which she dreaded. - -All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he -might visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it -was possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged -that on Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, -his uncle should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them -both. - -Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great -undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at -length the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to -take away all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited -a few moments; then said, with some hesitation, “Fred, you must be -prepared to see her a good deal altered.” - -“Yes,” said Fred, impatiently. - -“And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do -not ask it for your own sake.” - -“Yes,” said Fred, resolutely. - -“Then come.” - -And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his -uncle’s arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she -sat by the fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on -one knee before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on -his face, and a quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then -rising, he sank back into another great chair, which his sister had -arranged for him close to hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he -passively let Henrietta make him comfortable there; while holding his -mother’s hand, he kept his eyes fixed upon her, and she, anxious only -for him, patted his cushions, offered her own, and pushed her footstool -towards him. - -A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the -door. - -“I still think it a great risk,” said she. - -“But I should not feel justified in preventing it,” was his answer, -“only do not leave them long alone.” Then opening the door he called, -“Henrietta, there is the last bell.” And Henrietta, much against her -will, was obliged to go with him to Church. - -“Good-bye, my dear,” said her mother. “Think of us prisoners in the -right way at Church, and not in the wrong one.” - -Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the -window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of -the rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear -and blue, the buds were bursting into life. - -“How very lovely it is!” added she. - -Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His -eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of -what was to him a thousand times more lovely,--that frail wasted form, -namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had -described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the -rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness -under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as -sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her -face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the -chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen -about her,--more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was not -an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with -a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow -towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the -exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated -with pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in -shaking off the traces of illness. - -The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last -stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant -spray of the budding sweet-briar. - -“The bees are coming out with you, Freddy,” said she. “I have just been -round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses.” - -“How delicious!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered -the sweet-briar. “Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up -with his journey.” - -“O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you,” said Fred, sitting up -vigorously; “you do not know how strong I am growing.” And then turning -to the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook’s -nest, as she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more -cheerful questions and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. -Frederick Langford proposed that the reading of the service should -begin. - -Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took -the alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, -and as he now and then raised his eyes to his mother’s face, he saw -her lips follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a -glistening in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget. - -“He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal -their sickness.” - -“He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their -names.” - -He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking -of the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the -former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole -room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother’s face. It was a -sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his -memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, -with its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright -fire, and the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all -around, all conduced to that impression which never left him. - -The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the -“Christian Year,” and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as -it may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there -was some conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. -Silent as he was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more -than ten minutes, when sounds were heard of the rest of the family -returning from Church, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet -them. - -In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many -kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a -few cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister -responded with pleasure, said, “Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I -am coming back almost directly to carry you off.” - -“So soon!” exclaimed Henrietta. “Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure -of seeing you together?” - -No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed -behind his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then -bent forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, -“Mamma, say you forgive me.” - -She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head -against her. - -“My own dear boy,” said she, “I will not say I have nothing to forgive, -for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely -forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been -against my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!” she added, -pressing her hand upon his head. “His choicest blessings be with you -forever.” - -Uncle Geoffrey’s knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, -was folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, -suffered his uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to -his own. He stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, -and gave two or three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, -though his uncle could scarcely determine whether by grief or by -physical exhaustion. - -Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say -nothing: and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which -he remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down -to watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in -which she had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long -time tranquil, if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, -complained that his head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in -quiet. It might be that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt -a charm upon him which he could not bear to break. At any rate, he -scarcely looked up or spoke all the rest of the evening, excepting that, -when he went to bed, he sent a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey -would come to his room the next morning before setting off, as he was -obliged to do at a very early hour. - -He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he -had slept little, and allowing that his head still ached. - -“Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at -him earnestly, “would it be of no use to have further advice?” - -His uncle understood him, and answered, “I hope that Dr. ---- will come -this evening or to-morrow morning. But,” added he, slowly and kindly, -“you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from the -feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that -he can be of use.” - -“Then there is no hope?” said Fred, with a strange quietness. - -“Man can do nothing,” answered his uncle. “You know how the case stands; -the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of -its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may -yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer.” - -“If I could but think so!” said Fred. “But I cannot. Her face will not -let me hope.” - -“If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint,” said -Uncle Geoffrey,--but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away, -walked to the window. - -“And you must go?” said Fred, when he came back to his side again. - -“I must,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Nothing but the most absolute necessity -could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man -if I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, -at latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort -to Henrietta.” - -“Henrietta knows all this?” asked Fred. - -“As far as she will bear to believe it,” said his uncle. “We cannot -grudge her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for -her in the end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, -good-bye, and may God bless and strengthen you in your trial!” - -Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had -ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her -whom he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and -reverence,--the gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful -being he knew! Who would ever care for him as she did? To whom would -it matter now whether he was in danger or in safety? whether he -distinguished himself or not? And how thoughtlessly had he trifled with -her comfort, for the mere pleasure of a moment, and even fancied himself -justified in doing so! Even her present illness, had it not probably -been brought on by her anxiety and attendance on him? and it was his own -wilful disobedience to which all might be traced. It was no wonder that, -passing from one such miserable thought to another, his bodily weakness -was considerably increased, and he remained very languid and unwell; -so much so that had Philip Carey ever presumed to question anything -Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he would have pronounced -yesterday’s visit a most imprudent measure. In the afternoon, as Fred -was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs, and going along -the passage. - -“Who is that?” said he; “the new doctor already? It is a strange step.” - -“O! Fred, don’t be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were -at the worst,” said Henrietta. - -“But do you know who it is?” said Fred. - -“It is Mr. Franklin,” said Henrietta. “You know mamma has only been once -at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So -you must not fancy she is worse, Fred.” - -“I wish we were confirmed,” said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, -“My Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta.” - -“You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small -print,” said she; “I will read anything you want to you.” - -He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was -to say, “I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come -to me.” - -Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could -against it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask -Aunt Geoffrey’s consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss -the opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to -fetch Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no -reason to regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much -oppressed and weighted down when she again returned to him. - -The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick -Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his -opinion was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to -expect. It was impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: -another attack might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be -deferred for weeks or months, or even now it was possible that she might -rally, and return to her usual state of health. - -It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, -probability, that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as -if unsaid; she would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that -brought the least impression of the kind. The only occasion when she -would avow her fears even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and -then how wild and unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and -wretched she would feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute -she would drive off her fears as by force; call up a vision of a -brightly smiling future; think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes -would prevent the approach of the enemy she dreaded. - -Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa, -though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to -sadden her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for -the future, till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his -deep sigh was the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for -much argument, and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, -was easily silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the -patient. Her whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to -“Mary,” the friend, the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended -upon with something of the reverent devotedness with which an angel -might be watched and served, were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; -feeling it a privilege each day that she was still permitted to attend -her, and watching for each passing word and expression as a treasure to -be dwelt on in many a subsequent year. - -It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on -marking no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that -her mother was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her -always cheerful, ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and -still with the playfulness which never failed to light up all that -approached her. A flower,--what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her -smile would be! - -It was on the evening of the day after the physician’s visit, that -Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering -her mother’s spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford -had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the -flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, “Your papa planted a root -of those in my little garden the first summer I was here.” - -“Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma.” - -“My dear child,”--she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon -her, frightened at the manner--“you must not build upon our favourite -old plan; you must prepare--” - -“O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago; -and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright.” - -“Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!” said her mother, taking her -hand. “But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to -you. I want you to make up your mind--” - -Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. “Mamma! mamma! -you must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think -despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!” - -“Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!” - -The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them. - -“No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,--I can’t bear it!” she -cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, -which her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend -with. She rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully -followed with her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, -who continued to arrange the things on the table, and make desperate -attempts to regain her composure; but completely failing, caught up her -bonnet, and hurried out of the room. - -“Poor dear child,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, “I wish she was more -prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I -leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man; -but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more -like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear -me--but no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might -give her pain in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I -would say.” - -“If I could!” - -“You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now. -Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life: -how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and -his children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how -crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved -chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying. -And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you -remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?” - -“It was after we were gone home.” - -“Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so -utterly unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came -with those verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be -forgiven for not being able to follow them. Now I can own with all -my heart the mercy that would not grant my blind wish for death. My -treasure was indeed in heaven, but O! it was not the treasure that was -meant. I was forgetting my mother, and so selfish and untamed was -I, that I was almost forgetting my poor babies! Yes, tell her this, -Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and happiness sprang up all -around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought myself, so much the more -will they for her; and ‘at evening time there shall be light.’ Tell her -that I look to her for guiding and influencing Fred. She must never -let a week pass without writing to him, and she must have the honoured -office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and grandmother. I -think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are fond of her, -and she seems to suit them.” - -“Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have -especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I -have tried to teach Beatrice.” - -“Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should -not see her, give her her godmother’s love, and tell her that she and -Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I -trust that after thirty-five years’ friendship, they will still have as -much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. -I have written her name in one of these books,” she added after a short -interval, touching some which were always close to her. “And, Beatrice, -one thing more I had to say,” she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and -finding out a place in it. “Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous -man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his -turn, then show him this.” She pointed out the verse, “Be as a father to -the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou -be as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy -mother doth.” “Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary’s last -blessing.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - -On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night’s -rest. Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She -thought it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head -turned, the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her. - -Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for -some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. “How is -mamma? Does she want me? Why?” Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it -seemed beyond her power. - -“O, aunt, aunt!” cried she, “what is the matter? What has happened? -Speak to me!” - -“Henrietta,” said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, “she bade -you bear up for your brother’s sake.” - -“But--but--” said Henrietta, breathlessly; “and she--” - -“My dear child, she is at rest.” - -Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to -realise what she had heard. - -“Tell me,” she said, after a few moments. - -Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. -“It was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very -quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her -face looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt -oppressed, and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning -against my arm, there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we -must only think of her as in perfect peace!” - -Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a -sort of anger, “O, why did you not call me?” - -“There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of -disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late.” - -“O, why was I not there? I would--I would--she must have heard me. -I would not have let her go. O, mamma!” cried Henrietta, almost -unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of -ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent -exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but -all she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she -found herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in -some degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as -poor Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs -grew less loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey -thought she could be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, -“Now we must pray that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, -and try to help your brother.” - -“Fred, O poor Fred!” and she seemed on the point of another burst of -lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking--“I must go to him; he -has yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are -dressed.” - -“O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! -O no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!” A fresh fit of -weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in -great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this -condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go -to poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the -truth. - -“I must leave you, my dear,” said she, at last. “Think how your dear -mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who -alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I -hope you will be more composed.” - -The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good -preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness -made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and -hastened down from Henrietta’s room with a hurried step. - -She knocked at Fred’s door, and was answered by his voice. As she -entered he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, -said, “I know what you are come to tell me.” - -“Yes, Fred,” said she; “but how?” - -“I was sure of it,” said Fred. “I knew I should never see her again; and -there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?” - -“She has been crying very much,” said his aunt. - -“Ah! she would never believe it,” said Fred. “But after last Sunday--O, -no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any -longer!” - -“We could not wish it for her sake,” said his aunt, for the first time -feeling almost overcome. - -“Let me hear how it was,” said Frederick, after a pause. - -His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked -quickly, “What did you do? I did not hear you ring.” - -“No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I -met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and--and was very -kind--then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and went to -wait for Henrietta’s waking.” - -Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, “Poor Henrietta! Is she -very much overcome?” - -“So much, that I hardly know how to leave her.” - -“Don’t stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but -I don’t think anything is much good to me.” He hid his face as he spoke -thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection. - -“Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred,” said she, gently. “Then I will go to -your sister again.” - -“Thank you.” And she had reached the door when he asked, “When does -Uncle Geoffrey come?” - -“By the four o’clock train,” she answered, and moved on. - -Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of -agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister’s. -O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the -frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for -a moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; -but then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even -exist under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of -misery seemed chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of -another person he could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in -which he had already done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it -was, did not affect his health as the first anticipation of it had done. -With Henrietta things were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in -a sort of stupor, in which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance -of any person into her room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, -ever increasing in vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was -left to herself, but she could not, or would not, turn where alone -comfort could be found, and repelled, almost as if it was an insult to -her affection, any entreaty that she would even try to be comforted. -Above all, in the perverse-ness of her undisciplined affliction, she -persisted in refusing to see her brother. “She should do him harm,” she -said. “No, it was utterly impossible for her to control herself so as -not to do him harm.” And thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She -would not touch a morsel of food; she would not consent to leave her bed -when asked to do so, though ten minutes after, in the restlessness -of her misery, she was found walking up and down her room in her -dressing-gown. - -Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr. -Langford, who had loved “Mary” like his own child, did indeed bear -up under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian -submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little -assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share. -Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down -in her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for “poor Mary,” or -“dear Frederick,” all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then -rising vigorously, saying, “Well, it is His will; it is all for the -best!” and hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make -some arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey’s room ready for -him. And in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to -sympathise, or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she -did. In the course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from -Sutton Leigh, and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and -assisting Mrs. Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there -were the two young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only -resting now and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow -far too selfish and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of -Him Who sent it, or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was -gone; and as once the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care -for her mother, so now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration -for Frederick; so that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make -any exertion for his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize -her except Aunt Geoffrey’s reading to her; and then it was only that -she was lulled by the sound of the voice, not that the sense reached -her mind. But then, how go on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was -left in his lonely room, to bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? -For though Mr. and Mrs. Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him -many brief kind visits, they all of them had either too much on their -hands, or were unfitted by disposition to be the companions he wanted. -It was only Aunt Geoffrey who could come and sit by him, and tell him -all those precious sayings of his mother in her last days, which in her -subdued low voice renewed that idea of perfect peace and repose which -came with the image of his mother, and seemed to still the otherwise -overpowering thought that she was gone. But in the midst the door would -open, and grandmamma would come in, looking much distressed, with some -such request as this--“Beatrice, if Fred can spare you, would you just -go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was better, and that it was as -well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for one of her dresses, to -send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has set her off crying -to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing with her. I wish -Geoffrey was come!” - -Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one -wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only -person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in -hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield; -and at length Fred’s sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage -wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as -their own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden -bursts of lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, -wanted to talk to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only -his father who seemed even to recollect that his wife might want -him more than all. And so she did. Her feelings were very strong and -impetuous by nature, and the loss was one of the greatest she could have -sustained. Nothing save her husband and her child was so near to -her heart as her sister; and worn out as she was by long attendance, -sleepless nights, and this trying day, when all seemed to rest upon her, -she now completely gave way, and was no sooner alone with her husband -and daughter, than her long repressed feelings relieved themselves in -a flood of tears, which, though silent, were completely beyond her own -control. Now that he was come, she could, and indeed must, give way; and -the more she attempted to tell him of the peacefulness of her own dear -Mary, the more her tears would stream forth. He saw how it was, and -would not let her even reproach herself for her weakness, or attempt any -longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on her bed, and told her -that he and Queen Bee could manage very well. - -Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had -scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt’s death; and new as -affliction was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether -this was her own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother’s grief seemed -to her almost more like a dream. - -“Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been -named, “I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before.” - -“Very well,” said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she -thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta. - -“Go straight up to her,” continued her mother; “don’t wait to let her -think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do -the same.” - -“If I could but do her any good,” sighed Beatrice, as she opened the -door and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for -an answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry, -threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around -was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee’s heart when she -was thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to -know what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that -occurred to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and -call her by the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was -as yet fit to bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out -to her cousin all her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. -Beatrice was sometimes indeed startled by the want of all idea -of resignation, but she could not believe that any one could feel -otherwise,--least of all Henrietta, who had lost her only parent, and -that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she feel herself good enough to talk -seriously to Henrietta; she considered herself as only sent to sit with -her, so she did not make any attempt to preach the resignation which was -so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had all day been hearing of it, and -rebelling against it, was almost grateful to her. So Henrietta talked -and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the same dreary views of the -future coming over and over again; and Beatrice’s only answer was to -agree with all her heart to all that was said of her own dear Aunt Mary, -and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was still left for her -in so many hearts on earth. - -The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined -to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the -same discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to -her, and thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a -tolerable meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with -tears, put her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept -quietly down to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the -drawing-room good night, she reflected whether she had done what she -ought for her cousin. - -“I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her -head,” said she to herself; “for as to the reading, she did not attend -to that. But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself -before I try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be -allowed to be any comfort at all.” - -Thanks partly to Beatrice’s possessing no rightful authority over -Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to -make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But -nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could -not endure to pass “that door,” where ever before the fondest welcome -awaited her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred -yesterday, seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of -perverseness--for it really deserved no better name--was that it began -to vex Fred. “But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey,” - said he, “I should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything -so strange.” - -Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after -leaving Fred’s room he knocked at his niece’s door. She was sitting by -the fire with a book in her hand, but not reading. - -“Good morning, my dear,” said he, taking her languid hand. “I bring you -a message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him.” - -She turned away her head. “Poor dear Fred!” said she; “but it is quite -impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and -do him harm.” - -“And why cannot you bear it as he does?” said her uncle gravely. “You -do not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the -advantages of health and strength.” - -“Oh, no one can feel as I do!” cried Henrietta, with one of her -passionate outbreaks. “O how I loved her!” - -“Fred did not love her less,” proceeded her uncle. “And why will you -leave him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister’s love that -should be his chief stay?” - -“He does not doubt it,” sobbed Henrietta. “He knows me better.” - -“Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which -is not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments’ painful -emotion?” - -“Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out -of this room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the -house--to go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it.” - -“No, your affection for him is not strong enough.” - -Henrietta’s pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. “You do not -know me, Uncle Geoffrey,” said she proudly, and then she almost choked -with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness. - -“I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief -and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which -you will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making -yourself useless.” - -Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the -first weapon she could. “Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I -am,” said she. - -If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though -if he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would -have repressed even such demonstrations as he made. “Henrietta, this is -too bad! Has she been weakly yielding?--has she been shutting herself up -in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she -should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and -distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to -do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after -she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now, -when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she -has made for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her -resting, you fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your -mother would have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have -no more to say.” - -He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the -accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that -she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. “Uncle Geoffrey!” - she cried, “O, uncle--” but he was gone; and forgetting everything else, -she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything -else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, “O uncle, do not -think I meant that!” - -At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. “Henrietta!” - said he, “I am glad to see you downstairs.” - -Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then -laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle’s arm, said, “Only say you are -not angry with me.” - -“No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person,” said -he with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her -surprise at finding herself downstairs after all. - -“And you do not imagine me ungrateful?” - -“Not when you are in your right senses.” - -“Ungrateful!” exclaimed Mr. Langford. “What is he accusing you of, -Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?” - -“Nothing,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “but that Henrietta and I have both been -somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not, -Henrietta?” - -It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing -Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning -her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa’s -with very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened -and admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to -receive their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs. - -“You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?” said -grandpapa. - -“No, I was only going to Fred,” said she, growing as desirous of seeing -him as she had before been averse to it. - -“Suppose,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “that you were to take a turn or two -round the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, -and you will bring Fred in a fresher face.” - -“I will fetch your bonnet,” said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top -of the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at -seeing her cousin in the hall. - -And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a -shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had -opened the sashed door into the garden. - -It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the -sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft -masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening -with drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. -Henrietta’s burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, -she could not help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first -thing she began to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a -warm expression of gratitude towards her. - -Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two -turns in silence; but Henrietta’s heart began to fail her when she -thought of going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could -hardly resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, -gave her shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred’s door. - -“Is that you?” was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward -to meet her. “Poor Henrietta!” was all he said, as she put her arm round -his neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his -sofa, made her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for -her comfort. She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no -longer, but she reproached herself excessively for having left him to -himself so long, when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to -make some apology. - -“I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred.” - -“O, it is of no use to talk about it,” said Fred, playing with her long -curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in -times long gone by. “You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you -been out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in.” - -“Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And -how are you this morning, Freddy?” - -“O, pretty well I think,” said he, sighing, as if he cared little about -the matter. “I wanted to show you this, Henrietta.” And he took up a -book where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks -in some other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading -yesterday, and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, -as she could not help feeling herself. - -And here was the first great point gained, though there was still -much for Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been -conscious of her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her -proneness to make all give way to her own feeling of the moment. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - -There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta -shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it -before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there, -partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and -partly from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was -willing to do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day’s -neglect: and she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at -least Fred seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her. - -Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much -to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour -of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion, -she had figured to herself her father’s funeral, little thinking of the -reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, -than what any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her -perfectly impossible that she should ever have power to go through with -it. - -In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the -prospect gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, -she found the reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing -nothing, observing nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked -along, wrapped in one absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first -words that “broke the stillness of that hour,” healing as they were, -seemed but to add certainty to that one thought that “she was gone.” But -while the Psalms and the Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression -of grief seemed in some degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and -the words reached her mind; a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who -had wiped away the tears from her mother’s eyes, and by Whom the sting -of death had been taken away. Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, -in meek submission, until now her long widowhood was over; and what -better for her could those who most loved her desire, than that she -should safely sleep in the chancel of the Church of her childhood, close -to him whom she had so loved and so mourned, until the time when both -should once more awaken,--the corruptible should put on incorruption, -the mortal should put on immortality, and death be swallowed up in -victory. - -Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears -flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was -enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round -the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against -the expression that it was “in great mercy that the soul of this our -dear sister” was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound -of the earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever -the most loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for -ever,--might she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection -and the Life--might she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive -the blessing to be pronounced to all that love and fear Him. - -It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. -Langford moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before -doing so, she raised her eyes to her father’s name, to take leave of him -as it were, as she always did before going out of Church. She met her -Uncle Geoffrey’s eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as -she was out of the church, she said almost in a whisper, “Uncle, I don’t -wish for him now.” - -He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak, -for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might -safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which -was coming upon her. - -They came home--to the home that looked as if it would fain be once more -cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn -stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, -for she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape -veil. She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose -on hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. -Beatrice came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful -how to address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and -looking earnestly in her face, repeated-- - - -“Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To -run untir’d love’s blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, -Over the grave their Lord have met.” - - -“Yes, Queenie,” said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, “it is a very -different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, -you must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time -past, though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness.” She kissed her -affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice. - -“Me! me, of all people,” she said. “O, Henrietta!” - -“We must talk of it all another time,” said Henrietta, “but now it will -not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don’t think this like the days -when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee--that time when I -would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly.” - -While she spoke, there was something of the “new bracing” visible in -every movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, -which of late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, -that showed how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about -her whole frame. - -“O no, do not stay with me,” said Queen Bee, “I am going”--to mamma, she -would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking -to Henrietta. - -“Yes,” said Henrietta, understanding her. “And tell her, Bee--for I am -sure I shall never be able to say it to her,--all about our thanks, and -how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her comfort.” “If I -had only believed, instead of blinding myself so wilfully!” she almost -whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now ready, she ran -downstairs and entered her brother’s room. His countenance bore -traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he looked -anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her hand -into his, and said, “Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go.” - -“I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over,” said Fred. “I -have been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very -different thing.” - -“It will all come to you when you go to Church again,” said Henrietta. - -“How little I thought that New Year’s Day--!” said Fred. - -“Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer’s holidays!” - said Henrietta. “If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; -but it was my determination to come here that seems to have caused -everything, and that is the thought I cannot bear.” - -“I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night,” said -Fred, “and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with -consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the -horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame -himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not -think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened -now; that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the -results. Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, -to be sure, that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much -disobedience, and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing -came of it, except that I grew more wilful.” - -“Yes,” said Henrietta, “but I shall always feel as if everything had -been caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again.” - -“It was just as much my wish as yours,” said Fred. - -“Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you -pleased, and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of -course, to make her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was -always doing, and now I can never make up for it!” - -“O yes,” said Fred, “we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how -she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same -as ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to -remember, now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don’t you see, -Henrietta, my dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?--that if you did domineer -over her, it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you -must not accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. -He says he does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most -for her comfort, if--” - -“O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!” - -“If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well -again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta. -Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and -attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that -I might have gone on to much worse at school and college.” - -“Never, never!” said Henrietta. - -“Not now, I hope,” said Fred; “but that was not what I meant to say. No -one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on -either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing, -and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was -convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been -here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa -and grandmamma’s sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to -have been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful -that she had come to die in my father’s home, after seeing us well -settled here, instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place.” - -“How little we guessed it was for that,” said Henrietta. “O what were we -doing? But if it made her happy--” - -“Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand,” said -Fred. “I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave -of everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle -Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and -the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much -for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already.” - -“Home!” said Henrietta, “how determinedly we used to call it so! But O, -that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all -overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot -complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way.” - -“The devices and desires of our own hearts!” said Fred. - -“I don’t think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own -sake,” proceeded Henrietta. “Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to -me, as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again -for me; so that it was all twofold!” Here she hid her face, and her -tears streamed fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that -Fred also was much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute. - -“But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more -than I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still -obeying her. I think at last I may get something of the right sort of -feeling; for I am sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used -to mean when they talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to -read to you?” - -Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford. -Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother’s wish, their home; -and there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and -summer, of watching her brother’s recovery, which was very slow, but at -the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as -he required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as -quite a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than -she had ever been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to -return to Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the -vacation would bring them all back to Knight Sutton. - -The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great -disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred -would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able -indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume -many of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in -a condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application. -Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as -Alex had numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and -kindness, by silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, -and again and again silently giving up some favourite scheme of -amusement when Fred proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself -almost learned to trust Fred to Alex’s care, which was so much less -irritating than her own; and how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is -best shown, when it is related, that neither by word nor look did -she once interrupt the harmony between them, or attempt to obtain the -attention, of which, in fact, she always had as large a share as any -reasonable person could desire. - -How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the -best requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer--a very -adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it--to undertake -little Willy’s Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger’s knowledge, -had been under Alex’s care for the holidays. Willy was a very good -pupil on the whole--better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had -been--and very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such -a test as perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an -insensible manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over -to Henrietta, whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect -quite made up, in grandmamma’s eyes, for her very tolerable amount of -acquirements in Latin and Greek. - -By the time care for her brother’s health had ceased to be Henrietta’s -grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue -his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up -around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful -and valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted -with when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a -granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil -to the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful -to her, as well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and -Charlie, as for the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used -to exercise her taste when Henrietta’s wardrobe failed to afford her -sufficient occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, -and demonstrated it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners -gradually acquired the influence over them which Queen Bee had only -exerted over Alex and Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew -less awkward and bearish, without losing their honest downright -good humour and good nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in -attributing the change to her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was -also the friend of the poor women, the teacher and guide of the school -children, and in their eyes and imagination second to no one but Mr. -Franklin. And withal she did not cease to be all that she had ever been -to her brother, if not still more. His heart and soul were for her, and -scarce a joy and sorrow but was shared between them. She was his home, -his everything, and she well fulfilled her mother’s parting trust of -being his truest friend and best-loved counsellor. - -Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented -her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! -This was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through -life; and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, -there was linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and -domineering on her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that -spoke only of blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to -her whom she had lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the -steps of Him Who “came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that -sent Him.” - -THE END - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta’s Wish, by Charlotte M. 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Yonge - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Henrietta's Wish - -Author: Charlotte M. Yonge - -Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5124] -Posting Date: April 8, 2009 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA'S WISH *** - - - - -Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and the Victorian Women -Writers Project at Indiana University - - - - - - - - - -HENRIETTA'S WISH; - -OR, DOMINEERING - - -By Charlotte M. Yonge - - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - -On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was -waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as -the railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently -enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to -express their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek -shining skins, but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now -and then to whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of -his whip. - -Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about -sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and -flushed complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two -or three minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand -to examine the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, -and study the countenances of the bystanders to see whether they -expressed any anxiety respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, -however, seemed quite at their ease, and after a time the arrival of the -railway omnibus and two or three other carriages, convinced her that the -rest of the world only now began to consider it to be due. At last the -ringing of a bell quickened everybody into a sudden state of activity, -and assured her that the much-desired moment was come. The cloud of -smoke was seen, the panting of the engine was heard, the train displayed -its length before the station, men ran along tapping the doors of the -carriages, and shouting a word which bore some distant resemblance to -"Teignmouth," and at the same moment various travellers emerged from the -different vehicles. - -Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after -a hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to -the carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form, -complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then -withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the -hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the "Well, -Fred!" "Well, Henrietta!" which formed the greeting of the twin brother -and sister. - -"And was not mamma well enough to come?" asked Frederick, as the -carriage turned away from the station. - -"She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write -yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; -but she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your -school affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?" - -"I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie -between us next year." - -"Surely," said Henrietta, "you must be able to beat him then, if you are -before him now." - -"Don't make too sure, Henrietta," said Frederick, shaking his head, -"Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should -not have been before him now if it had not been for my verses." - -"I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander," said Henrietta, "she would -make a great deal of his success." - -"Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?" said Frederick with -some dissatisfaction. - -"O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she -patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. -And indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to -her that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think -him worth cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched -up together in an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the -Great. And how she always talks about Alex when she is here." - -"Is she at Knight Sutton?" - -"Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to -be far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only -think, Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close -to the village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept -on saying how well it would do for us." - -"O, if we could but get mamma there!" said Fred. "What does she say?" - -"She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one," said -Henrietta; "but that is not an inch--no, not the hundredth part of an -inch--towards going there!" - -"It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought -to believe so," said Frederick. "All her attachments are there--her own -home; my father's home." - -"There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here," said -Henrietta. "Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to -acquaintance, the people are always changing." - -"And there is nothing to do," added Fred; "nothing possible but boating -and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as -Uncle Geoffrey says. It is very, very--" - -"Aggravating," said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of -family slang words. - -"Yes, aggravating," said he with a smile, "to be placed under the -necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!" - -"Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through -when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were -on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a -timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I -am sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it -again and again that she is not easily frightened." - -"No: and I do not think she is afraid for you." - -"Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious -than girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I -think that is reasonable." - -"Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it," -said Fred: "he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden -shock--" - -"What? Our father's accident?" asked Henrietta. "I never knew rightly -about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old." - -"No one saw it happen," said Fred; "he went out riding, his horse came -home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road." - -"Did they bring him home?" asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling -tone in which her brother spoke. - -"Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said 'Mary,' once or -twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!" - -"Terrible!" said Henrietta, with a shudder. "O! how did mamma ever -recover it?--at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,--but I -meant live, or be even as well as she is." - -"She was fearfully ill for long after," said Fred, "and Uncle Geoffrey -thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says -they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be -wondered at." - -"O no, no," said Henrietta. "What a mystery it has always seemed to us -about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish -days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma -stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter -his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a -comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always -cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her." - -"But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his -death?" - -"O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we -had, and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from -talking to each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did -Uncle Geoffrey tell you this?" - -"Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to -speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept -back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of -being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how -it is." - -"But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which -one would have thought she would have dreaded most of all." - -"That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said -to him, 'Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to -ride, never mind my folly.' He says that he thinks it cost her as much -resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about -going to school." - -"Yes, yes; exactly," said Henrietta, "if she thinks it is right, bear it -she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee -says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as -she does." - -"I never saw anyone so like a queen," said Fred. "No, nor anyone so -beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her -in her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of -your own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live -to be a hundred." - -"You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own, -Master Fred," retorted his sister; "but one comfort is, that I shall -grow more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all -the little likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was -going to say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth -in what Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made -it worse. You know she had always been in India, and knew less about -boys than mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so -she might really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have -often seen her quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you--her -consolations just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making -mamma twice as bad." - -"Well," said Fred, sighing, "that is all over now, and she thought she -was doing it all for the best." - -"And," proceeded Henrietta, "I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this -perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. -She imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and -that it was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving--" - -"Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke," added Fred. - -"Till now, I really believe," said Henrietta, "that the possibility of -moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes -that she can do it than that the house can." - -"Yes," said Fred, "I do not think a journey occurs to her among events -possible, and yet without being very fond of this place." - -"Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike -about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she -once went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own -friends, instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma's time -it was not so bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. -Rocksand has all the loneliness of the country without its advantages." - -"There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all," said Fred. - -"No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be -well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless -one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no -clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it -would be at Knight Sutton!" - -"And perhaps she would be cured of her fears," added Fred; "she would -find no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins -there come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!" - -"Well, we will see what we can do," said Henrietta. "I do think we may -persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and -for yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done." - -And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep -straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were -within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed -Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer's lodging, but was -little fitted for a permanent abode. - -In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no -ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with -more affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung -from the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and -returning such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that -he had done nothing to forfeit home love and confidence. - -Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford -looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively, -"All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey? -Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now, -Freddy, tell us about your examination," added she, as fondly leaning on -his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together -on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously. - -Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in -truth one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the -admiration expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the -features were beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet -placid resignation which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. -The eyes were deep dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed -their brightness, their softness was increased; the smile was one of -peace, of love, of serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it -were, before her time, had lived on in meek patience and submission, -almost a child in her ways, as devoted to her mother, as little with -a will and way of her own, as free from the cares of this work-a-day -world. The long luxuriant dark brown hair, which once, as now with -Henrietta, had clustered in thick glossy ringlets over her comb and -round her face, was in thick braids beneath the delicate lace cap which -suited with her plain black silk dress. Her figure was slender, so tall -that neither her well-grown son nor daughter had yet reached her height, -and, as Frederick said, with something queenlike in its unconscious -grace and dignity. - -As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had -great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of -the moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to -her manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her -spirit would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in -earlier days. - -Frederick's account of his journey and of his school news was heard and -commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next -matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival -was to talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey's proceedings, and the Knight -Sutton affairs. - -"So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?" said Fred. - -"Yes, on a special retainer," said Mrs. Langford, "and very much he -seems to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral." - -"He wrote to me in court," said Fred, "to tell me what books I had -better get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled -all over one side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was -beautiful beyond all he ever imagined." - -"Had he never seen it before?" said Henrietta. "Lawyers seem made to -travel in their vacations." - -"Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared," said her mamma; "I do not know -what Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his -holidays than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed -to take his own pleasure." - -"Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta. - -"He goes home just as he used from school," said Mrs. Langford. "Indeed, -except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered -from those days; his work and play come in just the same way." - -"And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet," added -Henrietta, "only rivalled by Busy Bee herself." - -"No," said Fred, "according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one -sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa's pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma's. It -must be great fun to see them." - -"Happy people!" said Mrs. Langford. - -"Henrietta says," proceeded Fred, "that there is a house to be let at -Knight Sutton." - -"The Pleasance; yes, I know it well," said his mother: "it is not -actually in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty -place." - -"With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, "said Henrietta, "and -looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in -mamma's room." - -"What size is it?" added Fred. - -"The comparative degree," said Mrs. Langford, "but my acquaintance -with it does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking -drawing-room with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed -to run about when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old -Miss Drakes. I wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys -can scarcely, I should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are -all at home." - -"I wish some one else would take it," said Fred. - -"Some one," added Henrietta, "who would like it of all things, and be -quite at home there." - -"A person," proceeded the boy, "who likes Knight Sutton and its -inhabitants better than anything else." - -"Only think," joined in the young lady, "how delightful it would be. I -can just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a -summer's day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to -the nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle -and Aunt Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without -ringing at the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt -Geoffrey all the vacation!" - -"Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton," said Mrs. -Langford. "Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, -Henrietta, riding shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your -mamma did before you." - -"And being as happy as a queen," said Henrietta; "and the poor people, -you know them all, don't you, mamma?" - -"I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But -I should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used -to work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress -in her spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a -noun and a verb!" - -"Who has been so cruel?" asked Fred. "Busy Bee, I suppose." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "she teaches away with all her might; but she -says she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for -there is no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should -like to be Queen Bee's deputy." - -"But," said Fred, "how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure -such novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old -mistress herself." - -"Queen Bee's is not merely a nominal sovereignty," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Besides," said Henrietta, "the new Clergyman approves of all that sort -of thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - -From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles -in the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought -of the brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as -Henrietta truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk -of what she still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the -pang it must give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the -burial-place of her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been -augmented by the tender over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, -who had strenuously endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a -proposal into consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it -out of the question. - -A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of -Mrs. Vivian's life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her -daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was -a general impression throughout the family that now was the time for -her to come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but -beginning to dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles -and imagining scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being -realized, or that it only depended upon her, to find herself at home -there; and when Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of -talking, pressed it upon her, she would reply with some vague intention -of a return some time or other, but still thinking of it as something -far away, and rather to be dreaded than desired. - -It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind -that it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take -a lease of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present -abode; and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank -from entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason -to hope. - -"Yet, I think," said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they -were walking together on the sands; "I think if she once thought it was -right, if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really -tell her that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon -it." - -"But why did he not do so long ago?" said Fred. - -"O! because of grandmamma, I suppose," said Henrietta; "but he really -does wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put -it into his head to do it." - -"Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her," said Fred; "but it never -answers to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; -he always says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect." - -"If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all -parties, I would not say so much about it," said Henrietta, in a tone -rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of -domineering over her mother. - -To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good -sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide -for herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and -during her long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her -brother-in-law, Mr. Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, -and in lesser ones upon her children. Girls are generally older of their -age than boys, and Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother's constant -companion, occupied a position in the family which amounted to something -more than prime minister. Some one person must always be leader, and -thus she had gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for -justice requires it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know -her mamma's mind for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to -do so always was more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. -The habit of being called on to settle whether they should use the -britska or the pony carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or -that book should be ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very -unwilling to be thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially -in one on which were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the -wishes of all the family. - -Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best -calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick, -having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed -on their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the -same occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and -Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the -custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid -for those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement -there was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many -beautiful walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford -in the pony carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were -the order of the day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not -been for an occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out -sailing without his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were -spending their holidays in a very different manner, he would have been -perfectly happy. Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the -boys in the neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before -him. - -Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care -with which he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his -accomplishments, of his handsome features, and she would willingly have -been proud of his excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she -was proud of the spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it -by her full and entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints -must be diminished at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as -much as her own wish for the scenes round which imagination had thrown -such a brilliant halo. Of society they had hitherto seen little or -nothing; Mrs. Langford's health and spirits had never been equal to -visiting, nor was there much to tempt her in the changing inhabitants of -a watering-place. Now and then, perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant -connexion of some part of the family came for a month or six weeks, and -a few calls were exchanged, and it was one of these visits that led to -the following conversation. - -"By the by, mamma," said Fred, "I meant to ask you what that foolish -woman meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly -approved of Aunt Geoffrey's marriage." - -"About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy," replied -Mrs. Langford, "considering that I was always accused of having made the -match." - -"Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you -really?" - -"Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the -credit as I do." - -"Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey's?" - -"O yes, Fred," said Henrietta, "to be sure you knew that. You have heard -how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy -and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?" - -"Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used -to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to -my friend--" - -"Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it." - -"I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the -other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend -Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter -vacation. It was when the general was in command at ----, and Beatrice -was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the house, -entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call -brilliant." - -"Were you there, mamma?" - -"Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very -droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; -she to find her brother's guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford -who had gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, -very shy at first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making -giggle; and he to find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so -really simple in tastes and habits." - -"Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?" asked Fred. - -"She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual -beauty but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really -handsome person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and -indeed has now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a -better word, I must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always -very striking." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, -and it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is -something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met -her in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. -And then and there they fell in love, did they?" - -"In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, -but in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked -either wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose -that anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, -and Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king's daughter of -Hongarie." - -"O yes, of course," said Henrietta, "but that only makes it more -delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in -their history." - -"That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth -or a truism often repeated, Henrietta," said her mother with a soft -sigh, which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: "Poor Frank's -illness and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a -very different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, -and was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they -were to him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his -youthful spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and -night, and looking ill and overworked." - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey," cried Henrietta, in an -ecstasy; "you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could -not fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and -pining away all the time and saying nothing about it." - -"Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, -after the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading -succeeded; he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were." - -"And still he saw nothing of her," said Fred. - -"Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the -Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters -a wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some -unlucky speculation which was to have doubled his daughter's fortune, -managed to lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay." - -"Capital!" cried Frederick, "that brings her down to him." - -"So it did," said his mother, smiling; "but the spectators did not -rejoice quite so heartily as you do. The general's health was failing, -and it was hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. -Leger's family, though very kind, were not more congenial than they are -now. As soon as all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the -general, who was very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait -until it was prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after -it was all settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey -was with him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great -comfort to know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she -went first to the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then -I would have her to be my bridesmaid, though"--and Mrs. Langford tried -to smile, while again she strangled a sobbing sigh--"she warned me that -her mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we -went abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight -Sutton. Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected -a fine lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her -gaiety and all her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was -delighted with her the first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey's -coming home and thanking us for having managed so well as to make her -like one of the family, while the truth was that she had fitted herself -in, and found her place from the first moment. Now came a time of grave -private conferences. A long engagement which might have been very well -if the general had lived, was a dreary prospect now that Beatrice was -without a home; but then your uncle was but just called to the bar, -and had next to nothing of his own, present or to come. However, he -had begun his literary works, and found them answer so well, that he -believed he could maintain himself till briefs came in, and he had the -sort of talent which gives confidence. He thought, too, that even in -the event of his death she would be better off as one of us, than as -a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by talking to us, he nearly -persuaded himself to believe it would be a very prudent thing to marry. -It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but persuade him he did, -and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very summer." - -"That's right," cried Fred, "excellent and glorious! A farthing for all -the St. Legers put together." - -"Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion -that it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady -Amelia were present, so that no one had any reason to say that they -disapproved. Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, -I would also suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple -comme il-y-en a peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious." - -"Why, they are very well off," said Fred; "he is quite at the head of -his profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name -is, if I belong to Langford the barrister." - -"Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily -bread, if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the -buoyant school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a -child to its play, his health could never have stood it." - -"But then it has been success and triumph," said Fred; "one could work -like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery." - -"It was not all success at first," said his mother; "there was hard -work, and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to -bear it, and to win through with it." - -"And were they very poor?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. -The house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and -cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt -Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan's -visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was -to find 'poor Beatrice' looking so bright and like herself, and how -little she guessed at her morning's work, the study of shirt-making, and -the copying out a review of her husband's, full of Greek quotations." - -"Well, the poverty is all over now," said Henrietta; "but still they -live in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey's connexions and the -fortune he has made." - -"Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?" said Mrs. -Langford. - -Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a -cousin of her aunt Geoffrey's of whom she had seen something in the last -year. - -"The truth is," said Mrs. Langford, "that your aunt had display and -luxury enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not -desire it except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, -beyond what any one knows or suspects." - -"Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school," said -Fred. - -"Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta, "the -school, and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, -mamma, if you made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your -work." - -"There's nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always -maintain," said Fred. - -His mother sighed, saying, "I don't know what we should have done -without him!" and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her -countenance which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more -was said till it was discovered that it was bed time. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - -"Where is Madame?" asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the -breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in -her hand. - -"A headache," answered Henrietta, "and a palpitation." - -"A bad one?" - -"Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it -will not do, and we must give it up." - -"How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with -it? Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?" - -"Just listen what an effect last evening's conversation had upon her. -Last night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there -I saw her kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just -then it struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her -know I was awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am -sure she did not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her -most uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when -I looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come -down to-day." - -"And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought -it on?" said Fred, with much concern; "yet it did not seem to have much -to do with my father." - -"O but it must," said Henrietta. "He must have been there all the time -mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always -together when they were children." - -"Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding," said -Fred. "Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt -Geoffrey and with her, after they had been young and happy together. -Yes, no doubt it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into -letting them marry!" - -"And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death," said -Henrietta. "No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those -thoughts." - -"And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, -I suppose we must give it up," said Fred, with a sigh. "After all, we -can be very happy here!" - -"O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished -it," said the sister. - -"And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it -would be pleasanter for you when I am away," said Fred. - -"And so," said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, "we agree to persuade -each other that we don't care about it." - -Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to -make her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her -of fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain -feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence. - -After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got -up, but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a -walk by her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and -on their return they found her lying on the sofa. - -"Mamma has been in mischief," said Fred. "She did not think herself -knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly." - -"Oh, mamma!" was Henrietta's reproachful exclamation, as she looked at -her pale face and red swollen eyelids. - -"Never mind, my dears," said she, trying to smile, "I shall be better -now this is done, and I have it off my mind." They looked at her in -anxious interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. "You -will seal that letter with a good will, Henrietta," she said. "It is to -ask Uncle Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance." - -"Mamma!" and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: -then Henrietta exclaimed-- - -"No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it." - -"Yes," said Fred; "indeed we agreed this morning that it would be -better not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and -comfort. I am sure it suits you best." - -"Thank you, thank you, my dear ones," said she, drawing them towards -her, and fondly kissing them, "but it is all settled, and I am sure it -is better for you. It is but a dull life for you here." - -"O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you," cried -Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. "We are, indeed -we are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; -do not think we want a change." - -Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile. - -"But we would not have you to do it on our account," said Fred. "Pray -put it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a -passing fancy." - -"You will not talk me out of it, my dears," said Mrs. Langford. "I know -it is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that -was the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of -you, when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not -let that letter be too late for the post." - -"I do not half like it," said Fred, pausing at the door. - -"I have not many fears on that score," said she, smiling. "No, do not -be uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be -happy there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear -old places again." - -"O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering," -said Henrietta. "You do not know how I wish you would give it up!" - -"Give it up! I would not for millions," said Mrs. Langford. "Now go, my -dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again." - -The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough -for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept -back the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if -she were doing wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and -remorseful, something like a tyrant between the condemnation and -execution of his victim. But by the time the first course was over, and -she and Frederick had begun to recollect their long-cherished wishes, -they made up their minds to be happy, and fell into their usual strain -of admiration of the unknown haven of their hopes, and of expectations -that it would in the end benefit their mother. - -The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs -proceeded in the usual manner; Frederick's holidays came to an end, and -he returned to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and -sister, but with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might -be at Knight Sutton. - -"Here, Henrietta," said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a -day or two after Frederick's departure, turning over to her the letter -of which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some -others. It was Uncle Geoffrey's writing, and Henrietta read eagerly: - - -"MY DEAR MARY,--I would not write till I could give you some positive -information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a -conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you -think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain -that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set -upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you -know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much -the gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe -that the effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among -your own people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in -what you say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going -to write, and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and -proceed to business." - - -Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease, -repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; -she knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to -her wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather -alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to -make the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them -while they were bargaining for it. - -"O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear," said she, "I -dare say it will not ruin us." - -"Not exactly," said Mrs. Langford, smiling, "but gentlemen consider it a -disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed -to have his own way." - -"O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it." - -"A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up -before you can look at them," said Mrs. Langford; "I have no fears but -that it is to be had." But Henrietta could not help fancying that her -mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go -off independently of any determination of hers. - -Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and -often talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate -letters of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a -little. She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, -that they had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly -it was desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for -a weakness for not having sooner resolved upon her present step. -Henrietta's work was rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, -than to prevent her from changing her purpose, which never altered, -respecting a return to the neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though -whether to the house of the tempting name, was a question which remained -in agitation during the rest of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was -not built in a day, so surely cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, -especially when a clever and cautious lawyer acts for one party. - -Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays -was reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford -laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at -their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded -to accept Mr. Langford's invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall, -and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance. -Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes -of Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the -descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place -had ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half -of her life was spent in London. - -It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no -other of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could -not bear that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter -lose the pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. -Langford be deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she -therefore arranged to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and -her father went as usual to Knight Sutton. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from -Devonshire, but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had -no merely personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, -declared herself perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions -but her daughter and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house -in London, there to be met in a day or two by the two school-boys, -Frederick and his cousin Alexander, and then proceed all together to -Knight Sutton. - -Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was -really come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would -find her under a different roof from that which she had never left. She -did not know till now that she had any attachments to the place she -had hitherto believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she -could not bid it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with -his rough kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the -rocky beach where she and her brother had often played on the verge of -the ocean, watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple -of the advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, -streams, and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey -had often told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to -find in Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, -which she grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her -regrets, lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great -anxiety. - -She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little -time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the -calm quietness with which she went through the few trying days that -immediately preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant -employment so great a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on -her own account, as well as her mother's, when every possible order had -been given, every box packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit -opposite to each other, on each side of the fire, in the idleness which -precedes candle-light. Her mother leant back in silence, and she watched -her with an anxious gaze. She feared to say anything of sympathy -with what she supposed her feeling, lest she should make her weep. An -indifferent speech would be out of place even if Henrietta herself could -have made it, and yet to remain silent was to allow melancholy thoughts -to prey upon her. So thought the daughter, longing at the same time that -her persuasions were all unsaid. - -"Come here, my dear child," said her mother presently, and Henrietta -almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the -tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a -low footstool, leaning against her. "You are very much afraid for me," -continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of -her face, far different from her own, "but you need not fear, it is all -well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not -really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here." - -All Henrietta's consideration for her mother could not prevent her from -bursting into tears. "O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going -away from dear grandmamma." - -"Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on -whether we are in our duty or not." - -"Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not -know it till now!" - -"Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our -home, Henrietta, to your father's home in life and death, and it must be -good for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. -Knight Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be." - -Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she -who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most -ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial. -It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her -mother's calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the -place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused -herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do -what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when -the wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she -blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much -attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and -after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, -they talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - -The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey's house -at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a -visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin -Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in -the delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal -share. - -The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, -while Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by -Beatrice and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece's great -amazement, professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she -did. A short December day, though not what they would have chosen, had -this advantage, that the victim could not be as completely fagged and -worn out as in a summer's day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high -spirits when they drove home and found to their delight that the two -schoolboys had already arrived. - -Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but -Alexander, though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked -shyly at the new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished -them elsewhere. She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that -her brother regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore -surprised to see that his broad honest face expressed more good -humour than intellect, and his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably -well-featured, with light eyes and dark hair, and though half a year -older than his cousin, was much shorter, more perhaps in appearance than -reality, from the breadth and squareness of his shoulders, and from not -carrying himself well. - -Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son -of Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at -Sutton Leigh, a small house on his father's estate, busied with farming, -sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make -a narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless -tribe of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in -India; and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, -who had been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed -his attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, -that he might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin -Frederick been always one step before him. - -Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so -that on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but -this was but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to -endure out of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training -or companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, -derided in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his -way among rude brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended -a protecting hand to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. -Soon overcoming his effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, -and was equal to Alex in all but main bodily strength; but the spirit -of rivalry once excited, had never died away, and with a real friendship -and esteem for each other, their names or rather their nicknames had -almost become party words among their schoolfellows. - -Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this -first occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself -open to that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account -at once of his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge -of accomplishments; but he did not guess at the feeling which made -Alexander on his side regard those very accomplishments with a feeling -which, if it were not jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it. - -Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very -little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called -her skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair -of very large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant -expression, and showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from -sublime to ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature -otherwise. And if instead of being "like the diamond bright," they had -been "dull as lead," it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice -had been, she was still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he -could believe a sister to be if he had one,--in short his own little -Queen Bee. He had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all -the civilization which he possessed, and it was with considerable -mortification that he thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison -with his old rival, as old a friend of hers, with the same claim to -cousinly affection; and instead of understanding only what she had -taught him, familiar with the tastes and pursuits on which she set -perhaps too great a value. - -Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice's preference: it might be -that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister -of his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on -which he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely -to be secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school -studies and pastimes. - -For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice -books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, -and which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly -style of living which some people thought befitted them. She called to -her brother who was standing by the fire, "Fred, do come and look at -this beautiful Albert Durer of Sintram." - -He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an -acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, "Yes, it was an -old promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be -pronounced insensible." - -"A wonderful old fellow was that Albert," said Fred, looking, and -forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. "Yes; -O how wondrously the expression on Death's face changes as it does in -the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have -you seen it, mamma?" - -His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and -Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the -old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have -a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of -the prints with no practised hand. "Take care, Alex, take care," cried -Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; "don't you see what a pinch you -are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a -pattern for you," pointing to Fred. - -She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the -table. Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed -any tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee's black eyes -perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph. - -But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very -sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, -she stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain -parting cautions. - -"How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in -her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who -can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I--" - -"Had better let it alone," rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. "You will do -more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that -Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place." - -"Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration! -To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always -go home!" - -"We have lamented that often enough," said her mother smiling. "It is -unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must -sometimes bend." - -"You say that for me, mamma," said Beatrice. "You think grandmamma and I -have too much will for each other." - -"If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that -wilful will of yours." - -"I hope I shall," said Beatrice, "but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good -night, mamma." - -And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she -well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the -many fervent resolutions she had made against it. - -The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and -set out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad -carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice -sat opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with -animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with -explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper -and talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford. - -The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the -early winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, -or they had reached the Allonfield station. - -"Here we are!" exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same -moment a loud voice called out, "All right! where are you, Alex?" upon -which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the -carriage-door, replying, "Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought -Dumpling?" And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, "How d'ye do, -Carey?" - -When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him -shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough -great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred -handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and -Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh -man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt -Mary, upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness, -presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied -to the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at -home. - -"Is the Hall carriage come?" asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff -affirmative, added, "then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while -Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage," offered his arm with tolerable -courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. "There," said he, "Carey -has driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with -him." - -"Is the horse steady?" asked his aunt, anxiously. - -"Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?" said Alex, -patting his old friend. - -"And no lamps?" - -"O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen -times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat." - -"And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time." - -"Lots of ruts," muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, "A -few ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places." - -By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state -of things, said, "I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I -should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house, -and then Dumpling's feelings won't be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton -Leigh." - -Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle -Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, -as the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw -Alexander's own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting -the boys have their own way. She had been rather depressed in the -morning on leaving her mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits -mounted, and she was almost wild with glee. "Aunt Mary, do you know -where you are?" - -"On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks." - -"Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d'ye do? You beginning of -home! I don't know when it is best coming to you: on a summer's evening, -all glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. -There is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the -gate." - -"Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school," said -her aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their -blithe young hearts, and added cheerfully, "Just the same as ever, I -see: how well I know the outline of the bank there!" - -"Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something -inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can't you get up a little -enthusiasm?" - -"Oceans, without getting it up," replied Fred. "I never was more -rejoiced in my whole life," and he began to hum Domum. - -"Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton," -cried Henrietta. - -And the voices began, "Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;" even Aunt Mary -herself caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming -to her own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her -situation, and threw herself into the delight of returning. - -"Now, Fred," said Henrietta, "let us try those verses that you found a -tune for, that begin 'What is home?'" - -This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a -gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. "This is the -beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta," said Mrs. -Frederick Langford. - -"The wood with glades like cathedral aisles," said Henrietta. "O, how -delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!" - -"Which I have never seen," said Beatrice. "I tell papa he has made his -fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it." - -"In which I fully agree with him," said her aunt. "I should not like to -see him with nothing to do." - -"O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do," -said Henrietta. - -"No," said her mother, "but people are always happier with work made for -them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey -has too much talent to be spared." - -"Ay," said Fred, "I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little -Busy Bee." - -"It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so," -said Beatrice. "I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did -retire without--" - -"Without what, Bee?" - -"Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose," said Henrietta very seriously. "I am -sure I should." - -"His being in Parliament will content me for the present," said -Beatrice, "for I have been told too often that high principles don't -rise in the world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as -if he was." - -"You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee," said -Henrietta; "but where are we now?" added she, as a gate swung back. - -"Coming into the paddock," said Beatrice; "don't you see the lights in -the house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that -large one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don't you see that red -fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to -have." - -Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in -the nervous pressure of her mother's hand. The carriage stopped at the -door, whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to -darkness; but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but -have recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more -than one visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, -clear eye, and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than -handing his daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her -brow; then he hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while -she received the kiss of Mrs. Langford. - -They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he -gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more -embraced her, saying, "Bless you, my own dear Mary!" She clung to him -for a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself -in an instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying -to administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which -suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of -the black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair -was perfectly white. "Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You -had better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? -But where is Geoffrey?" - -"He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh," said Beatrice. - -"Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?" said grandpapa, holding out -his arms to her. "And," added he, "is not this your first introduction -to the twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would -wish to see on a summer's day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell -you apart, when you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake -now though. Well, I am right glad to have you here." - -"Won't you take off some of your wraps, Mary?" proceeded Mrs. Langford, -and her daughter-in-law, with a soft "Thank you," passively obeyed. "And -you too, my dear," she added to Henrietta. - -"Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta," proceeded grandpapa. "Let me -see whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, -Mary." - -"Do not you think his forehead like--" and she looked to the end of -the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers -Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now -she could attend to nothing but her mamma. - -"Like poor dear Frederick?" said grandmamma. "Well, I can't judge by -firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very -image." - -"You can't be the image of any one I should like better," said Mr. -Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta's hand. "I -wish nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and -out." - -"Ah, there's Geoffrey!" cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost -running to meet him. - -"Well, Geoffrey, how d'ye do?" added his father with an indescribable -tone and look of heartfelt delight. "Left all your cares behind you?" - -"Left my wife behind me," said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face. - -"Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come," said both the -old people, "but how is poor Lady Susan?" - -"As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand. -Well, Mary, you look tired." - -Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other -accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, -and it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. -Henrietta thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the -trouble, but this would not have been at all according to the habits of -grandmamma or granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to -a large cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she -supposed Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their -maid, who was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the -already bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law -who was standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, -"There, Mary, I thought you would like to be here." - -"Thank you, thank you, you are always kind." - -"There now, Mary, don't let yourself be overcome. You would not -bring him back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There--that is -right--and don't think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had -better not, don't you?" - -"Much better not, thank you, grandmamma," said Henrietta, as she -assisted in settling her mother on the sofa. "She is tired and overcome -now, but she will be herself after a rest." - -"And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of -coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won't you have a cup of -coffee, Mary, my dear?" - -"Thank you, no thank you," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising -herself. "Indeed I am sorry--it is very foolish." Here the choking sob -came again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming -a shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. "Poor -thing, poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? -I'll fetch one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some -sal-volatile? Yes, Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?" - -And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively -distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck, -wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again, -saying, "I did not think I was so weak!" - -"Dearest mamma," said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty. - -"If I have not distressed grandmamma!" said her mother anxiously. "No, -never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and--" - -Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the -unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days -when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new -thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there -again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? -But it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and -the sound of Mrs. Langford's returning footsteps recalled her habit of -self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the -sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for -having given so much trouble. - -"Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you -better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first -time; but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better--Ah! well, I see -you can't bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best -thing. Don't let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear." - -There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick -Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would -have waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear -at table, and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very -fortunately, as Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she -pronounced to be "the half-hour bell," and she hastened away, telling -her granddaughter that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and -calling the maid outside the door to giver her full directions where to -procure anything that her mistress might want. - -"Dear grandmamma! just like herself!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford. "But -Henrietta, my dear," she added with some alarm, "make haste and dress: -you must never be too late in this house!" - -Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too -anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair -was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her -mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. "You -don't know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting," said she. - -At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled, -evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the -door to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest -inquired, and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them -to eat her turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were -perhaps damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford's absence and its cause, for -the dinner was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing -to Henrietta and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country -neighbourhood, in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest. - -As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to -her mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. "But, O mamma, is -this a good thing for you?" said Henrietta, looking at the red case -containing her father's miniature, which had evidently been only just -closed on her entrance. - -"The very best thing for me, dearest," was the answer, now given in her -own calm tones. "It does truly make me happier than anything else. No, -don't look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me, -but I trust it is not." - -"And does this really comfort you, mamma?" said Henrietta, as she -pressed the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. "O, I cannot -fancy that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might -have been, think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O -mamma, I feel quite rebellious!" - -"You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child," said her -mother, sadly. "As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to -wish him here?" - -"And can you bear to say so, mamma?" - -She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had -gone too far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the -daughter timidly asked, "And was this your old room, mamma?" - -"Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish -books. Bring that one," she added, as Henrietta took one out, and -opening it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written "F.H. Langford," -with the giver's name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the -page, "Mary Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred." "I believe that you -may find that in almost all of them," said she. "I am glad they have -been spared from the children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few -more to look over, before you go down again to grandmamma?" - -Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a -selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk, -in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance -of Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health, -strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a -good fire in Geoffrey's room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be -ready. - -Henrietta's ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. -Vivian, naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although -considerably younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in -speechless amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. "But, my dear -child," she said, "I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you -staying up here all the evening." - -Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she -was stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking -maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had -been nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time "Miss Mary" arrived from -India, and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been -called ladies'-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, -if anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known -to all who are happy enough to possess a "Judith." - -"I beg your pardon, miss," said she, as Henrietta opened the door just -before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called -out, "O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me." - -She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the -thin white hand stretched out to her. "I hope you are better, ma'am. It -is something like old times to have you here again." - -"Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith," was the answer, "and very -glad to see you looking like your own dear self." - -"Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma'am; I wish I could see you looking -better." - -"I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been -introduced to Henrietta, there." - -"But I have often heard of you, Judith," said Henrietta, cordially -holding out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with -affectionate earnestness. "Sure enough, miss," said she, "as Missus -says, you are the very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I -think I see a look of poor Master Frederick too." - -"Have you seen my brother, Judith?" asked Henrietta, fearing a second -discussion on likenesses. - -"Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus's room, when -Mr. Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said 'Here's a new -acquaintance for you, Judith,' and there was Master Frederick. I should -have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine -young gentleman he is, to be sure." - -"Why, we must be like your grandchildren!" said Henrietta; "but O! here -comes Fred." - -And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to -his sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on -grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself. - -They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa's chair, -with one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say -Henrietta was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her -by declaring he should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish -days. Then he called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their -home doings, showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed -and stood amazed. "Ah," said grandpapa, "you forgot that I had a Queen -Bee to enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go -buzzing over the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven't -we, Busy, Busy Bee?" - -Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit -round the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and -it was rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, -"Come, young ladies, I've been wearying for a tune these three months. I -hope you are not too tired to give us one." - -"O no, no, grandpapa!" cried Beatrice, "but you must hear Henrietta. It -is a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my -London masters too." - -And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice -came to her aunt's room to wish her good-night, and to hear -Henrietta's opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater -wonder--grandmamma so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a -grandpapa to be proud of! - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - -It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free -from headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to -breakfast. The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning -light that shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and -Henrietta, as usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the -elms and the last year's rooks' nests, to make the most of her time; -so that the bell for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma -would not leave her, and remained to help her. Just as they were going -down at last, they met Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for -poor Mary. She would have almost been better pleased with a slight -indisposition than with dawdling; but she kindly accepted Henrietta's -apologies, and there was one exclamation of joy from all the assembled -party at Mrs. Frederick Langford's unhoped-for entrance. - -"Geoffrey, my dear," began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and -congratulations were over, "will you see what is the matter with the -lock of this tea-chest?--it has been out of order these three weeks, and -I thought you could set it to rights." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old -servant, put in his head. - -"If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. -Geoffrey about his son on the railway." - -Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited -him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: "Geoffrey, -I put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them -when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust." - -A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three -boys, shouting with one voice--"Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you must -come and see which of Vixen's puppies are to be saved!" - -"Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!" was Uncle Geoffrey's answer; "don't you -know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such -wild men of the woods." - -"All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey," said grandmamma. "Ah, he -spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. -There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie," she added, as -they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. - -Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of -Alexander. "How shall I ever know them apart?" said she to Beatrice. - -"Like grandmamma's nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below -another," said Beatrice. "However, I don't require you to learn them all -at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have -you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?" - -Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter -make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen -Bee's side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly -discomposed by Henrietta's neighbourhood. - -John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and -in another minute they made their appearance. "Good morning sir; good -morning, ma'am," were Uncle Roger's greetings, as he came in. "Ah, Mary, -how d'ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.---Ah, -good morning, good morning," as he quickly shook hands with the younger -ones. "Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into -the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping." - -And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, -during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to -see him look so young--younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but -in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had -thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey's hair, paled his cheek, and traced -lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light -that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often -played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure -that might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and -much more robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face -ruddy brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In -his plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he -looked the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable -family likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and -lip, which recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle -Geoffrey. - -The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the -signal for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up -stairs for her mother's work, and came down again laughing. "I am sure, -Queenie," said she, "that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may -well be called a great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at -breakfast, I have just come across a consultation on the stairs between -him and Judith about--what was it?--some money in a savings' bank." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these -degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give -'Master Geoffrey' all the management of it. But if you are surprised -now, what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not -asked in at least fifty matters." - -"I'll count," said Henrietta: "what have we had already?" and she took -out pencil and paper--"Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and -the turnpike trust--" - -"Vixen's puppies and the drill," suggested her mamma. - -"And Judith's money," added Henrietta. "Six already--" - -"To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear -of," said Beatrice; "and look here, what I am going to seal for him, -one, two, three--eight letters." - -"Why! when could he possibly have written them?" - -"Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma -will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up -with a candle after eleven o'clock. I really believe that there is not -another living creature in the world who could do it in this house. -There, you may add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is -going to the Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar." - -"O, I wish we could walk there!" - -"I dare say we can. I'll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like -Henrietta to go and see the Pleasance?" - -"Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee," said Aunt -Mary; "but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day." - -"Walk to Sutton Leigh!" echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the -moment; "not you, surely, Mary?" - -"O no, no, grandmamma," said Beatrice, laughing; "she was only talking -of Henrietta's doing it." - -"Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this -morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you, -and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to -send over for poor Tom's sore mouth." - -Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked, -"Have they no currant jelly themselves?" - -"O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don't mean that the -boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor -Elizabeth can never make any preserves." - -"But," objected Queen Bee, "if one of the children is ill, do you think -Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could -take the jelly." - -"O nonsense, Bee," said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; "you don't -like to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can't be as -good-natured to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the -village." - -"Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that." - -"O no, no, grandmamma," joined in Henrietta, "we shall be very glad to -take it. Pray let us." - -"Yes," added Beatrice, "if it is really to be of any use, no one can be -more willing." - -"Of any use?" repeated Mrs. Langford. "No! never mind. I'll send -someone." - -"No, pray do not, dear grandmamma," eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; "I do -beg you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to -let me be useful." - -Grandmamma was pacified. "When will you set out?" she asked; "you had -better not lose this bright morning." - -"We will go directly," said Queen Bee; "we will go by the west turning, -so that Henrietta may see the Pleasance." - -"My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won't have you getting -wet in your feet and catching cold." - -"O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it -has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning." - -"As if he knew, or cared anything about it!--and you will be late for -luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day -she feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will -always have your own way." - -Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this -altercation; and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her -cousin, she would have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would -have interfered in another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey -gave a sudden turn to affairs. - -"Who likes to go to the Pleasance?" said he, as he entered. "All whose -curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots." - -"Here are the girls dying to go," said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as -if she had not been objecting the minute before. - -"Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens." Then, -turning to his mother, "Didn't I hear you say you had something to send -to Elizabeth, ma'am?" - -"Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if--" - -"O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don't cheat me," exclaimed -Henrietta. "If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better -with me than in Uncle Geoffrey's pocket." - -"Ay, that will be the proper division of labour," said Uncle Geoffrey, -looking well pleased with his niece; "but I thought you were off to get -ready." - -"Don't keep your uncle waiting, my dear," added her mamma; and Henrietta -departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, "If -there is a thing I can't endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of -the children is poorly! It is always bad enough--" - -"Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!" cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of -any flaw in her paradise. - -"You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden -bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your -shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that -crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the -house. It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over -sum, es, est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers -in a small house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing -instead of getting ready." - -"So are you." - -"My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I'll tell you -what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you -to 'improve each shining hour;' for nothing will get you into such dire -disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame -to waste papa's time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I -will trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself." - -In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still -measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted -her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at -the door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually -waited there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time -since, and the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together -first. Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance -that she might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil -her expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the -masonry was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of -freestone and of flints, the windows were not casements as she thought -they ought to have been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, -which contained the drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a -respectable, comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be -said in its praise, and Beatrice's affection had so embellished it -in description, that it was no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly -disappointed. She had had some expectation, too, of seeing it in the -midst of a park, instead of which the carriage-drive along which they -were walking, only skirted a rather large grass field, full of elm -trees, and known by the less dignified name of the paddock. But she -would not confess the failure of her expectations even to herself, and -as Beatrice was evidently looking for some expressions of admiration, -she said the road must be very pretty in summer. - -"Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves," said Queen Bee. -"Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have -this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I -carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to -me as the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and -rabbits. But here are the outfield and the drill." - -And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they -entered a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and -gravelled, so as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, -as the gentlemen left them to march up and down there by themselves, -whilst they were discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine -which was travelling along the furrows. It was rather a trial of -patience, but Beatrice was used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to -be pleased with anything. - -At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his -granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with -Martin. - -"Well, young ladies," said he, "this is fine drilling, in patience at -least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger's -new-fangled machines." - -"That is right, grandpapa," said Queen Bee; "you hate them as much as I -do, don't you now?" - -"She is afraid they will make honey by steam," said grandpapa, "and -render bees a work of supererogation." - -"They are doing what they can towards it," said Beatrice. "Why, when Mr. -Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling -for my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy -destroyed. And they won't even let them swarm their own way--a most -unwarrantable interference with the liberty of the subject." - -"Well done, Queenie," said Mr. Langford, laughing; "a capital champion. -And so you don't look forward to the time when we are to have our hay -made by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by -a third--ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?" - -"Bird-starving!" repeated Henrietta. - -"Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother's elegant -diminutive," said Beatrice, "serving as live scarecrows." - -"I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose," -said Henrietta. - -"This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten -minutes," said grandpapa; "but I told Uncle Roger we would have none -of them here unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at -every third explosion." - -"Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?" said Henrietta. - -"He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home -with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave -him to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast." - -"Don't they succeed, then?" said Henrietta. - -"Why--ay--I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we -achieved a prize ox,--such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could -not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such -waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog." - -Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or -earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little -liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed -manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful -grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger. - -"There is Sutton Leigh," said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low -white house among farm buildings. "Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for -an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey -into the bargain?" - -"Jessie Carey!" exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay. - -"Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her -with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh." - -"Is she one of Aunt Roger's nieces?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Beatrice. "And--O! grandpapa, don't look at me in that way. -Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?" - -"I won't have Henrietta prejudiced," said Mr. Langford. "Don't listen to -her, my dear: and I'll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest, -good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never -thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness." - -"Now for the but, grandpapa," cried Beatrice. "I allow all that, only -grant me the but." - -"But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down -on us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual -society." - -"O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don't really believe that. -O, say you don't!" And Beatrice's black eyes were full of tears. - -"If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee," and he -added, half whispering, "take care some of us do not believe the other -half. But don't look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your -waxen cells, and don't lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to -you, I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining -companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as -yours." - -They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little -altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden -in front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in -sight there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, -all darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms. - -"Let me loose, you varlets," he cried, and disengaging one hand, in -another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, -which he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all -the urchins in pursuit. - -At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford -appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing -Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never -seen a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and -a drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in -fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery. - -Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie -Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty -girl of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and -a face which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton -Leigh. - -But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very -tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but -for its novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick -Langford, then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave -the history of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on -Uncle Geoffrey's knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of -his watch. Henrietta's list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle -Geoffrey advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie's, and -assisted Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise. - -It was almost one o'clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates -was heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to -luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on -with him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own -affairs at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had -hardly ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she -was not only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and -uncalled-for fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking -on deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the -management of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor -was the matter mended by the attempts at correction made from time -to time by their father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better -than Beatrice, whose face ill concealed an expression of disgust and -weariness, and who maintained a silence very unlike her usual habits. - -At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their -walk, and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had -quitted the house, that the boys were too well occupied with their -pudding to wish to accompany them, but she did not venture on any -further remarks before her papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned -to point out all the interesting localities to Henrietta. There was -something to tell of every field, every tree, or every villager, with -whom he exchanged his hearty greeting. If it were only a name, it -recalled some story of mamma's, some tradition handed on by Beatrice. -Never was walk more delightful; and the girls were almost sorry to find -themselves at the green gate of the Pleasance, leading to a gravel -road, great part of which had been usurped by the long shoots of the -evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be said to correspond in -appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted, unfurnished state; but -the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle Geoffrey was deep in -the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted about from garret -to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing possibilities, in -complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for ever; and rather -tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of the stairs, -and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next summer; then -talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last books they -had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey, being more -merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and summoned them -to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road, through the -village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet seen. It -was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in gardens, -and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the care of -the proprietor. - -"O, here is the church," said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they -came to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground -occupied by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm -trees, amongst which could just be seen the small old church, with its -large deep porch and curious low tower. - -"The door is open," said Beatrice; "I suppose they are bringing in the -holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?" - -"I do not know," said she, looking at her uncle. "Mamma--" - -"I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and -herself too," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"I am sure I should wish it very much," said Henrietta, and they entered -the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and -low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and -impressive to Henrietta's present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her -on into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording -the names of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly -noticeable for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore -the name of Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and -his age, only twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had -the initials F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and -looked in deep silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and -her uncle's thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. -Her father had been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so -entirely one in mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than -his elder brother, and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle -Geoffrey's life. - -The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the -door, as the old clerk's wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and -dragging a mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to -her courtesy, and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other -end of the church to assist in the Christmas decorations. - -Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. "This is coming very -near him!" said she in a low voice. "Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure -that he knows me." - -"Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us," -said Uncle Geoffrey. "Think rather of 'I shall go to him, but he shall -not return to me.'" - -"But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me -and knows how--how I would have loved him, and how I do love him," she -added, while the tears rose to her eyes. - -"It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most -comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world: -but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to -dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it -depends but on ourselves." - -To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; -but he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta's mind to merge the -reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical -feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had -never heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she -lost sight of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards -her mother. It was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, -and with how many daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, -that though even to himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. -Geoffrey Langford resolved that his niece's first visit to her father's -grave should not be spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, -alluring because involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in -thoughts which might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up -of self-will. - -Henrietta looked very thoughtful. "That time is so far away!" said she. - -"How do you know that?" said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought -the full perception that "it is nigh, even at the doors." - -She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought -home to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father's -summons. - -"It is awful," she said. "I cannot bear to think of it." - -"Henrietta," said her uncle solemnly, "guard yourself from being so -satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, -most real future." He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: "The -present, which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of -visions and thoughts, but of deeds." - -Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, "But, uncle, that would -bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in -heart and mind ascend?" - -"Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of -earthly affection." - -"Then would you not have me think of him at all?" said she, almost -reproachfully. - -"I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb -the love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same -time you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that -is what your father would desire?" - -"You mean," she said sadly, "that while I do not think enough of God, -and while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the -thought I love best, the thought that he is near." - -"Take it rather as a caution than as blame," said Uncle Geoffrey. A long -silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea -opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of -her father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much -worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it -was by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother's mind, -the truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive -it, but still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished -so as to be almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey's manner was so kind -that she could not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she -had hoped for a narration of some part of her father's history, and for -the indulgence of that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead -of this she was bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, -or to seek for a duty which she had rather not believe that she had -neglected, though--no, she did not like to look deeper. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature -it might be, he could not guess, and then said, "One thing more before -we leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment -in its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. -Will you try to exert it in the right way?" - -"You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age," said -Henrietta. - -"Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better -than what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the -sake of obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice's operations with the holly -had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the -church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance -showed Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of -whom she had heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the -holly in her hand. "Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing." - -"I was just helping old Martha," said Beatrice; "we came in to show my -cousin the church, and--" - -By this time the others had advanced. - -"How well the church looks this dark afternoon," said Uncle Geoffrey, -speaking in a low tone, "it is quite the moment to choose for seeing -it for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your -adornments." - -"I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to -the arrangement myself," said Mr. Franklin, "but I am afraid I know very -little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with -your taste." - -Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled -with delight. "I should like it exceedingly," said the former; "I was -just thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it -beautifully." - -"Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can -be done?" - -"Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard," -said Queen Bee. "And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the -places that are out of reach." - -"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; "I assure you the -matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is, -certainly has not the best taste in church dressing." - -"And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there -ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look, -papa, do you not think so?" - -"You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel," said -her papa, "and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at -the head of the tables of commandments." - -"O, and don't you see," said Henrietta, "there in front of the altar -is a space, where I really think we might make the cross and 'I H S' in -holly?" - -"But could you, Henrietta?" asked Beatrice. - -"O yes, I know I can; I made 'M.L.' in roses on mamma's last birthday, -and set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure -we could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!" - -"Ah!" said Mr. Franklin, "I have heard of such things, but I had always -considered them as quite above our powers." - -"They would be, without Henrietta," said Queen Bee, "but she was always -excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice -taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, -and we will do our work so as to amaze the parish." - -"And now," said Uncle Geoffrey, "we must be walking home, my young -ladies. It is getting quite dark." - -It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading -on the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty -on the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the -way home with them, adding to Henrietta's list by asking counsel about -a damp spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted -with a refractory farmer. - -By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the -sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet -them in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been -lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they -were dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two -girls up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their -things on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at -half-past five. - -"Is mamma gone up?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is -gone to rest herself." - -"And how long have you been at home, Fred?" said Queen Bee. "Why, you -have performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?" - -"I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone," -said Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta's ears, implied that he was not -quite pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to -her, "I wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and -Carey thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and -thereby they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to -change his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. -I declare it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made -of sugar candy." - -With Uncle Geoffrey's admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints -sounded painfully in Henrietta's ears, and she would gladly have soothed -away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the -stairs for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally -appropriate, especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming -down from above and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred -therefore retreated into their mamma's room, where they found her -sitting on a low stool by the fire, reading by its light one of the old -childish books, of which she seemed never to weary. Fred's petulance, -to do him justice, never could endure the charm of her presence, and his -brow was as bright and open as his sister's as he came forward, hoping -that she was not tired. - -"Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear," said she, smiling; "I enjoyed -my walk exceedingly." - -"A walk!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with -grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen -garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?" - -"I've been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen," answered Henrietta, -gaily. "I have seen everything--Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and the -church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the church -for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only think -of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always thought -it something too great and too happy for me ever to do." - -"I hope you will be able to succeed in it," said her mamma. "What a -treat it will be to see your work on Sunday." - -"And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach -the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures." - -Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole -live stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the -plantations, and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on -the bark of the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. -He "was just going to see Dumpling and Vixen's puppies at Sutton Leigh, -when--" - -"When I caught you, my poor boy," said his mamma; "and very cruel it -was, I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again." - -"I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks -of minding those things." - -"You should have seen him, Henrietta," said his mother; "his shoes -looked as if he had been walking through a river." - -"Well, but so were all the others," said Fred. - -"Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such -sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. -But you--if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you -know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up -with a bad cold." - -"I never catch cold," said Fred. - -"Boys always say so," said Mrs. Frederick Langford; "it is a--what shall -I call it?--a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always defeat -when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I won't -put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the fender -croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with stick-liquorice -and Ivanhoe." - -"You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma," -said Henrietta, "just to see how grandmamma will nurse it." - -A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing -the arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford's maid; who had come in -such good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed -a whole quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary -punctuality without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, -sitting round the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. -Langford; and Uncle Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a -leisure time; and there was so much merriment in talking over the walk, -and discussing the plans for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved -never again to miss such a pleasant reunion by her own tardiness. - -Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by -getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the -room to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and -by finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of -her own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was -going on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. -She kept her list of Uncle Geoffrey's manifold applicants on the table -before her, and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business -unknown, who sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud -and eager appeal from Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a -question of taste on the shades of grandmamma's carpet-work, and by her -own query how to translate a difficult German passage which had baffled -herself, mamma, and Fred. - -However, Queen Bee's number, fifty, had not been attained, and her -majesty was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of -a day, for which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be -continued. - -Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain -her resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford -evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two -children's own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her -sleep something about "delightful," "bright leaves and red berries," and -then, "and 'tis for my own dear papa." - -And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta -and Frederick as serenely happy as she was? - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - -Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, -but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome -her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to -a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. -She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called -a sparrow's allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained -nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut -her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if -each piece was to serve as a model for future generations. - -The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her -spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year's -party on Monday week, the second of January. "It would be pleasant for -the young people," she thought, "if Mary did not think it would be too -much for her." - -Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer -would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should -be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great -treat to Henrietta and Fred. - -"We will have the carpet up in the dining-room," added Mrs. Langford, -"and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a -nice little set for a dance." - -"O thank you, grandmamma," cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford -looked at her. - -"Poor innocent, you little know!" murmured Queen Bee to herself. - -"That is right, Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "I like to see young -people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in -moderation." - -"Above dancing," said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection -on his pet, Queen Bee, "that is what you call being on the high rope, -isn't it?" - -Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. - -"Are you on the high rope, Queenie?" asked Fred, who sat next to her: -"do you despise the light fantastic--?" - -"I don't know: I do not mind it much," was all she could bring herself -to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious -before her father. "Not much in itself," she added, in a lower tone, -as the conversation grew louder, "it is the people, Philip Carey, and -all,--but hush! listen." - -He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at -each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her -Aunt Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and -the stream of conversation flowed away from the fête. - -The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered -Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at -the Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. -"Bring him safe," said she, "for if you fail, and prove a corbie -messenger, I promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry -bee." - -Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up -after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma's writing-case down -for her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help -waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing -between her mother and uncle. - -"Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?" he asked. - -"Thank you," she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, "I think not." - -"Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you," -said he in a voice of kind solicitude. - -"Thank you very much, Geoffrey," she replied, in an earnest tone, "but -indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on -such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order." - -"I understand," said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the -writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment's perception -of the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her. - -In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious -family of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the -bright sunshine near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy -flower-pots, instantly sprang forward with, "O grandmamma, let me help." - -Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she -was gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried -the myrtle, the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant -deeply-indented leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, -and was deep in the story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been -planted by Uncle Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed -likely to grow beyond the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when -Beatrice came down and beheld her with consternation--"Henrietta! -Henrietta! what are you about?" cried she, breaking full into the story. -"Do make haste." - -"I will come in a minute," said Henrietta, who was assisting in -adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied. - -"Don't stop for me, my dear," said Mrs. Langford: "there, don't let me -be in your way." - -"O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much." - -"But, Henrietta," persisted the despotic Queen Bee, "we really ought to -be there." - -"What is all this about?" said grandmamma, not particularly well -pleased. "There, go, go, my dear; I don't want any more, thank you: what -are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?" - -"Yes, grandmamma," said Beatrice, "did you not hear that Mr. Franklin -asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time -in these short days." - -"Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I -never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very -different now!" - -Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed "Do make haste," and -then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, "I do not see why -young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than -arraying themselves for balls and dances!" - -True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her -father or mother stand before her at that moment? - -"Ah, well! it is all very well," said grandmamma, shaking her head, as -she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, "you girls think yourselves -so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better -let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were -born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won't be fit to be -seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could -consent, Henrietta looks very delicate." - -"O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed." - -"I am sure she is hoarse this morning," proceeded Mrs. Langford; "I -shall speak to her mamma." - -"O don't, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would -Mr. Franklin do?" - -"O very well, I promise you, as he has done before," said Mrs. Langford, -hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted -upstairs to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could -arrive. It was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to -have many scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would -be to be obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of -reach; so she let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a -far less leisurely and discriminating manner than was usual with her. - -"It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose," -said Beatrice, "to go down the back stairs." - -"True," said Henrietta, "we will even take the bull by the horns." - -"And trust to our heels," said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; -"the coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not -stop us if they can help it. One, two, three, and away!" - -Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green -walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, -and take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. -And after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have -gone openly and with clear consciences, had they but properly and -submissively waited the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, -who did not know how ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been -very sorry to interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother -to it, in his own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had -been entirely caused by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of -objecting when it had been first mentioned the evening before, and -had not Beatrice not first fidgeted and then argued, would only have -regarded it as a pleasant way of occupying their morning. - -"I could scold you, Miss Drone," said Beatrice when the two girls had -set themselves to rights, and recovered breath; "it was all the fault of -your dawdling." - -"Well, perhaps it was," said Henrietta, "but you know I could not see -grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her." - -"How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to -be helped?" - -"Then she was very kind to me," replied Henrietta. - -"I see how it will be," said Beatrice, smiling, "you will be -grandmamma's pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get -her to let me help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent." - -Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either -grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also -with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was -determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was -of course equally resolute. - -"She is an amazing person!" said Henrietta. "Is she eighty yet?" - -"Seventy-nine," said Beatrice; "and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say -I think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and -grandmothers, if there was one like Uncle Roger's fat cattle shows. You -know she thinks nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and -all over the village besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the -Sutton Leigh path. Let me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, -that's right! Capital!" cried she in high glee; "here is Birnam wood -coming across the field." And springing on one of the bars of the gate -near the top, she flourished her handkerchief, chanting or singing, - - -"Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, -With all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my--quick -descending:" - - -she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring -precipitately down to avoid a fall. "It made a capital conclusion, -however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen," as -four or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush--"Well, -gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een." - -"With sair fingers, you mean," said Fred; "these bushes scratch like -half a dozen wild cats." - -"It is in too good a cause for me to pity you," said Beatrice. - -"Nor would I accept it if you would," said Fred. - -His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would -or not,--"How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let -me see, I have my penknife." - -"Stuff!" was Fred's gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. - -"But why did you not put on your gloves?" proceeded Henrietta. - -"Gloves, nonsense!" said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. - -"He will take up the gauntlet presently," said Beatrice. "By the by, -Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?" - -"O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield," said Alex. - -"Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them," said -Carey, "but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl's things; -I tell her then she can't be driven." - -Fred could not bear to hear of Carey's driving, a thing which he had not -yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, "You have not -told the news yet." - -"What news?" - -"The Euphrosyne is coming home," cried the boys with one voice. "Had we -not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any -day!" - -"That is something like news," said Queen Bee; "I thought it would -only be that the puppies could see, or that Tom's tooth was through. -Grandpapa has not heard it?" - -"Papa is going up to tell him," said John. "I was going too, only Alex -bagged me to carry his holly-bush." - -"And so the great Rogero is coming home!" said Beatrice. "How you will -learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially -if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must -practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, -Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred's great love of -dancing." - -"I love dancing?" exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and -contempt. - -"Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was -proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for -the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!" - -"If it comes at all you must start me, Bee," said Alex, "for I am sure I -can't dance with any one but you." - -"Let me request it now," said Fred, "though why you should think I like -dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it -endurable." - -"There are compliments to your Majesty," cried Henrietta, laughing; "one -will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it -endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified." - -"Time will show," said Beatrice; "I shall ponder on their requests, -and decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against -hater of the dance." - -"I don't love it, I declare," exclaimed Fred. - -"I don't mind it, if you dance with me," said Alex. - -And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself -the object of attention to both. - -Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to -think applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal -appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have -thought herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of -attention, her delight in playing off her two cousins against each -other? Beauty, or the consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. -Henrietta, if ever the matter occurred to her, could not help knowing -that she was uncommonly pretty, yet no one could be more free from any -tendency to this habit. Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, -but that did not make the least difference; if any, it was rather on the -side of vanity, in being able without a handsome face, so to attract and -engross her cousins. It was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel -her power to play them off, and irritate the little feelings of jealousy -which she had detected; and thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she -pursued her course. - -On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had -brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they -had to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha's to fetch the key. -In a few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them -ready to fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a -huge heap of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use. - -The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on -the top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but -she thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field -upon which she had to work began to alarm her imagination. - -Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations -with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the -aisle, and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring -that they could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made -no objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly -observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and -Alex. - -"Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? -Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed, -we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us, -and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing." - -Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, -rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies' -work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his -assistance when she asked Fred's, and she felt secure of them both. - -"There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see -if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to -make a festoon if we cannot fasten it." - -"I can't see anything." - -"Here, give me your hand, and I'll look." Up tripped the little Bee, -just holding by his hand. "Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great -rough nail sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a -sailor's knot round it. Help me down first though--thank you. Fred, will -you trim that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We -must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the -screen. How tough this ivy is! Thank you--that's it. Well, Mr. Franklin, -I hope we shall get on in time." - -Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and -himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that -the Misses Langford would not tire themselves. - -Angels' work is Church decoration--work fit for angels, that is to say; -but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its greatness -makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory of -God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches -before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a -more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young -creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with -those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His -sanctuary? - -Angels' work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we -upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful -reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was -that spirit of holy fear--that sole desire for His glory--the chief -thought with these young people? - -Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in -word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a -tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect -for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down -ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little -mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly -perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for -four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so -many hours. - -But still Beatrice's great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the -two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful -power it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment -so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused without -irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a power of -which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen -the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a -hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath -which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other -three--certainly neglected--but she did not feel it so; she had rather -be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked -to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought -to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey's conversation dwelt upon her too; she began -to realize his meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his -desire, by entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. -Opportunities for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight -Sutton, and she had been looking forward to having him all to herself -here, when he must wish to visit his father's grave with her. She was -vexed for a moment that his first attention was not given to it; but she -knew that his first thought was there, and boys never showed what was -uppermost in their minds to anyone but their sisters. She should have -him by and by, and the present was full of tranquil enjoyment. - -If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, -or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been -little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her. - -"Is it possible!" exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of -the single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. "I -thought you would have given us at least eleven more." - -"What a quantity remains to be done!" sighed Henrietta, laying down -the wreath which she had just completed. "Your work looks beautiful, -Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?" - -"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain--that -we can't go home to luncheon." - -"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will -she like it?" - -Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never mind, -it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, -and besides we might be caught and stopped." - -"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite -convinced. - -"So you mean to starve," said Alex. - -"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do -you say, Henrietta?" - -"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing." - -"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough -missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke. - -"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to -Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls -the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the -porch." - -"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I -thought she would soon come down to other mortals." - -"Only to gratify her famishing subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal -vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is -sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. -Geoffrey is coming." - -"For his private eating?" said Fred. - -"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the -village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the -children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little -Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. -But come, Alex, why are you not off?" - -"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest -openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him -an effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, -and comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger -allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either -knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently -awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty. - -"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his -purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here -is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty's service." - -"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to -loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen quite -so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up -in my desk at home." - -"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta. - -"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, -"if it won't quite break you down." - -"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air. -"Come along, Alex." - -Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could -have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have -come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see -them no more." - -"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure Fred -will behave better." - -"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a gun -is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again -'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to -look at your wreath." - -She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much -time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and -in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the -faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was -heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper -parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and -a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame -Reid's grandson. - -"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?" - -"Ay." - -"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went. - -"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came -out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and -she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting -to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg pardon, -but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews's about his terrier.--A. L." -"Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little -pique. "What a life I will lead them!" - -"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does -not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but -still I thought Fred would have behaved better." - -"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, -and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half -the phases of boy nature." - -Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she -expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that -was nothing--that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and -true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father's grave. -He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear -that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her -one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in -all to each other at Rocksand. - -It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it -had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, -and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by -the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the -churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well -pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. -They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her -squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest -and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of -this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper -of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day. - -It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was -kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, -timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-- - - -"Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on -earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." - - -Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their -tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight -and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another and -another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier -voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably -beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till -Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just -within the door watching them. - -"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your -work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I -don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?" - -"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. "Who -else could?" - -"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about -to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an arrangement to -suggest so much." - -Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time -perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the -altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves -and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in -the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and -around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, -the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their -peculiar stiff gracefulness. - -"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did not -mean to make it so!" - -"How?" he asked. - -"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of -thorns struck her more and more strongly. - -"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in -a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for -Good Friday?" - -"Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy." - -"Where are those verses that say--let me see-- - - - 'And still Thy Church's faith Shall link, - In all her prayer and praise, - Thy glory with Thy death.' - - -So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right." - -Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, -"It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art--or, what shall I call -it?--is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the author -intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else." - -"There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the -spirit in which a thing is done," said her father: "But have you much -more to do? Those columns look very well." - -"O, are you come to help us, papa?" - -"I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your -not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again -just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you." - -Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, "Very well, -we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make -her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?" - -It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows -that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was -promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste -and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin -came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which -had grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of -evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the spiral -festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower of -holly over the font--all were more beautiful, both together and singly, -than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and thanks. - -The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied -survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the -pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As -they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal: -children's voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, -were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with - - -"As shepherds watch'd their flocks by night." - - -And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little -voices was brought on the still frosty wind-- - - -"Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind." - -Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,--how -really Christmas-like--how well it suited the soft half-light, the last -pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn stars -that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and -sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!--and how -the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta's eyes! - -The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, -with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary's beautiful -voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was -teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came -up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party -to listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk -with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the -many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom -Mrs. Langford's plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey's sixpences, were a very -enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - -The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with -many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must -be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the -whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer -hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the -party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage -by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with -recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It -was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his -arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, making her even more -lovely than when last she entered there--her face in all its early bloom -of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness. - -But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that "peace which passeth all -understanding;" and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her -eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and -she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go -through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged -their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather -than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome -channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her -more full of her father's presence than of any other, so now, throughout -the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and -entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work -herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her -mamma's own anxieties for Fred. - -Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all -left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to -talk her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured -by them that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from -it. But though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was -not much likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had -always been sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when -Fred saw that his mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of -agitation, he dismissed anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at -his sister's alarms. - -Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he -was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations -which had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, -replying to the scolding with which she visited their desertion. - -Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, -which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning -sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the -compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. -The old women had "never seen nothing like it,"--the school children -whispered to each other, "How pretty!" Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin -admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted; -grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and -Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it "was like magic." - -It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been -accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall -was so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in -time for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which -she had often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, -the Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the -farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked. - -Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own -apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement -of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow -path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking -sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen. - -Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept -him estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for -execution. Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their -grandfather was wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping -them to feed the cows with turnips, and guarding them from going behind -their heels. Henrietta was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was -doing the honours for her, and instructing her in the difference between -a Guernsey cow and a short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen -Bee all to himself in a remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old -spotted Nancy's curly brow, catching at her polished black-tipped horn, -and listening to his hopes and fears for the next half year. Not so -Frederick, as he stood at the door with Jessie Carey, who, having no -love for the cow-house, especially when in her best silk, thought always -ready to take care of the children there, was very glad to secure a -companion outside, especially one so handsome, so much more polished -than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply to her small talk. -Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how he longed to be -listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking holly into the -cows' halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the hay-loft with -Carey and William--anywhere, rather than be liable to the imputation of -being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house. - -This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still -an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman, -and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and -the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while -Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, "Well, Fred, I congratulate -you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!" - -"I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?" - -"Nay, you can't deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me -for finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay -so bad a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise." - -"How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I -was actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that -great print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy -roof, and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, -the haze of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns." - -"Quite poetical," said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. -"How charmed Jessie must have been!" - -"Why?" said Fred, rather provoked. - -"Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be -quite her phoenix; and how much 'Thomson's Seasons' you will have to -hear! I dare say you have had it already-- - - - 'Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!'" - - -"Well, very good advice, too," said Fred. - -"I hate and detest Thomson," said Beatrice; "above all, for travestying -Ruth into 'the lovely young Lavinia;' so whenever Jessie treated me to -any of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I -said, by great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an -imposition for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a -capital hit, for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much -of him, and since that time I have heard no more of 'Jemmy Thomson! -Jemmy Thomson! O!'" - -The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, -reaching Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with -his mother, made him suspect that the young people were getting into -such spirits as were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked -them some trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, -and brought it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone. - -Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had -to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the -dining-room--an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin was -dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander. - -Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the -whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to -her, as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, -but for the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular -music, it might as well have been any other day of the week. - -Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had -a long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and -she helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions -about her mother's health and habits, and heard a good deal that -interested her, but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. -At Rocksand she used to sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the -darkening summer twilight, or the bright red light of the winter fire, -repeating or singing hymns, and enjoying the most delightful talks that -the whole week had to offer, and now she greatly missed the conversation -that would have "set this strange week to rights in her head," as she -said to herself. - -She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at -night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as -difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a -new day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by -Knight Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she -asked herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change -in her way of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last -Sunday that she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at -Rocksand. Enough had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was -fulfilled; the airy castle of former days had become a substance, and -she was inhabiting it: and was she really so very much happier? There -she went into a reverie--but musing is not meditating, nor vague -dreamings wholesome reflections; she went on sitting their, chiefly -for want of energy to move, till the fire burnt low, the clock struck -twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed in a sleepy voice, "My -dear, are you going to sleep there?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - -Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the -Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in -Knight's Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin -without loss of time. - -"You are coming, are you not, Bee?" said Alex, leaning over the back of -her chair. - -"O yes," said she, nearly whispering "only take care. It is taboo -there,"--and she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, "and -don't frighten Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey's doing the -deed as fast as he can." - -Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and -Fred was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, -hoping it might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take -care of himself since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the -alarmed expression had come over her face, as she asked Alexander -whether his father had looked at the ice. - -"No," said Alex, "but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and -it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece." - -"He is pretty well to be trusted," said his grandfather, "more -especially as it would be difficult to get drowned there." - -"I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there," said -Alex. - -"The travelling man did," exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. - -"Don't they come in just like the Greek chorus?" said Beatrice, in a -whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend -to her. - -"I thought he was drowned in the river," said Alex. - -"No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the -duckweed grows so rank in summer," said Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey laughed. "I am sorry to interfere with your romantic -embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since -you are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours." - -"I always thought it was there," said the boy. - -"And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off." - -"I always heard it was at Knight's Pool," repeated Carey. - -"I do not know what you may have heard," said Uncle Geoffrey; "but as it -happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not -argue the point." - -"Grandpapa," persisted Carey, "was it not in Knight's Pool?" - -"Certainly not," was the answer drily given. - -"Well," continued Carey, "I am sure you might drown yourself there." - -"Rather than own yourself mistaken," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction," said grandmamma, rising and -rustling past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced -face. "Take your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and -stand like a gentleman. Do!" - -"All in vain!" said Beatrice. "To the end of his life he will maintain -that Knight's Pool drowned the travelling man!" - -"Well, never mind," said John, impatiently, "are we coming to skate this -morning or are we not?" - -"I really wish," said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, "without -distrusting either old Knight's Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that -you would ask some one to look at it." - -"I should like just to run down and see the fun," said Uncle Geoffrey, -thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran -joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, -Beatrice to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked -her son Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable -shutting of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done -it, he readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all -else give way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, "I -shall be ready by the time the young ladies come down." - -So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice -appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the -boys looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight -Sutton, being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but -a messenger came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except -Sunday, and returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient -arrangement, as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might -probably say for twenty years more. - -As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., -and Fred's face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written -business-like sheets. - -"Fred, my poor fellow," said his uncle, looking up, "I am sorry for you, -but one or two must be answered by this day's post. I will not be longer -than I can help." - -"Then do let us come on," exclaimed the chorus. - -"Come, Queenie," added Alex. - -She delayed, however, saying, "Can I do any good, papa?" - -"Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save -time if you could just copy a letter." - -"O thank you, pray let me," said Beatrice, delighted. "Go on, Henrietta, -I shall soon come." - -Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her -brother, which she did not like to lose. - -Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in -the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, "Freddy, I believe you think me -very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice -till one of your uncles has said it is safe." - -"Uncle Roger trusts Alex," said Fred. - -"Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of -you together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be -dangerous places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear," added -she, as the others were preparing to start, "only I beg you will not -attempt to skate till your uncle comes." - -"Very well," said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he -showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not -to set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had -resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest -days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place -on his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been -voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in -vain with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should -bring the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself -for the entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of -disobedience. - -In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red -leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move, -apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like -the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in -fact the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat -opposite to him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely -happy, for to the credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that -no talk with Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, -no, not even a flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in -her estimation to the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though -it was copying a dry legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the -smooth hard ice, in the bright winter morning's sunshine. - -The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty -or five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice -looked up, and without speaking, held up her sheet. - -"Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now -then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel -for him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:" and -muttering a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer's -indefatigable pen; and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off -with her droll, tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so -well with her little alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black -velvet bonnet, a tight black velvet "jacket," as she called it, and a -brown silk dress, with narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, -because it was the colour of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, -boa, or ribbon about her, but all close and compact, fit for the -diversion which she was eager to enjoy. The only girl among so many -boys, she had learnt to share in many of their sports, and one of the -prime favourites was skating, a diversion which owes as much of its -charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to the degree of -skill which it requires. - -She arrived at the stile leading to "Knight's Portion," as it was -called, and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if -it was all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner -of a down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied -all the attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of -precipice, where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old -chalk pit formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the -foot of a hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply -traced circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger -ones with those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which -the unskilful are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick -and Henrietta stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly -cheerful; but both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came -to meet her with eager inquiries for her papa. - -She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from -the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and -who hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been -entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour, -and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, -or to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for -was impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and -exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his -own hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had -occasioned the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps -in a sort of secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as -to form in his eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown -himself so unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction -she beheld her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height -above, and while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to -herself, "It will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!" - -So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once -to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement -for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as -skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment's reflection -might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be -rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which -he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon -against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of -anything so "boyish," and had long ago entreated her to be more like a -young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her papa -and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander's summons, -fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the surface of -the Knight's Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity with surprise -and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, -looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. At first she -had occupation enough in attending to her own security to bestow any -attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an hour, she -began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the pitch where -consideration is lost, she "could not help," in her own phrase, laughing -at the disconsolate Fred. - -"How woebegone he looks!" said she, as she whisked past, "but never -mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other." - -"It must be gone," said Fred. "I am sure we have been here above an -hour!" - -"Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her -ducklings to the water!" observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in -the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted-- - - -"Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that -any reason why I should be drowned?" - - -It was a great aggravation of Fred's calamities to be obliged to laugh, -nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the -house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. - -"What news of Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"I did not see him," said Jessie: "I think he was in the study, Uncle -Roger went to him there." - -"No hope then!" muttered the unfortunate Fred. - -"Can't you skate, Fred?" asked little Arthur with a certain most -provoking face of wonder and curiosity. - -"Presently," said Fred. - -"He must not," cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, -though it was only rude. - -"Must not?" and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller -than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what -they pleased. - -"His mamma won't let him," was Dick's polite answer. Fred could have -knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place -he was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in -the third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper -enough left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling -with him, so contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that -he had him as his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what -she thought of the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., -&c. - -Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar -frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue -much longer. - -"How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the -hedge!" said Henrietta; "and look, these pieces of chalk are almost -cased in glass." - -"O I do love such a sight!" said Jessie. "Here is a beautiful bit of -stick crusted over." - -"It is a perfect little Giant's Causeway," said Henrietta; "do look at -these lovely little columns, Fred." - -"Ah!" said Jessie, "Myriads of little salts, or hook'd or shaped like -double wedges.--" - -She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she -came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, -looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered--"O -Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!" - -It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be -making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey's side, was -more than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey -was not coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience -gave way, and he exclaimed, "Well, I shan't wait any longer, it is not -of the least use." - -"O, Fred, consider!" said his sister. - -"That's right, Freddy," shouted Carey, "he'll not come now, I'll answer -for it." - -"You know he promised he would," pleaded Henrietta. - -"Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the -sea," said Fred, "the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not -wait any longer." - -"Think of mamma." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?" exclaimed Fred impatiently, -"do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them -must needs break with me?" - -"I do not suppose there is any danger," said Henrietta, "but for the -sake of poor mamma's entreaties!" - -"Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of -my life?" said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to -silence his sister and his conscience. "I have submitted to such absurd -nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in -the sight of everybody; so here goes!" - -And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of -the pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta -turned away her eyes full of tears. - -"Never mind, Henrietta," shouted the good-natured Alexander, "I'll -engage to fish him out if he goes in." - -"It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex," returned Fred, slightly -affronted. - -"Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case," said the -naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the -consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible, -then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction, -"Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience -he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear." - -Whether Alex smiled at the words "past fear," or whether Fred only -thought he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, "I only -wish there was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, -Alex." - -"Well, there is one," said Alex, laughing, "where Carey drowns the -travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, -so you may try--" - -"Don't, Fred--I beg you won't!" cried Beatrice. - -"O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!" implored -Henrietta. - -"I shan't look, I can't bear it!" exclaimed Jessie, turning away. - -Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across -the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the -middle of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his -achievement, a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles -stood before them. The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a -short run, and slide right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle -Roger stood by laughing and saying, "Well done, Geoffrey, you are not -quite so heavy as I am." - -Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by -the arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice -that had all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released -from school, "I hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is -franked! Where's Fred?" - -Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen -Bee's complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander -who had spirit to answer, "We thought you were not coming at all." - -"Indeed!" said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, "Why, Alex, -Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises," a truth to which every -one gave a mental assent. - -Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle -Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of -their merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all -the other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy -more than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her -brother's conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her -uncle, wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind -to do so, for fear of her mamma's asking about Fred; and whilst she was -still doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding -her of the saint's day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton -to which she had so long looked forward. Yet here was another -disappointment. The uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. -Jessie said she must take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys -could do as they pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey's hand was -going with him, but the rest continued their sport, and among them was -Fred. He had never disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not -have done so now, but as he saw none of his male companions setting off, -he fancied that to attend a week-day service in the holidays might be -reckoned a girlish proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as -soon as his back was turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey's grave -looks that he might be taken to task when no longer protected by the -presence of the rest. - -He therefore replied with a gruff short "No" to his sister's anxious -question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end -of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and -vexed at finding himself mistaken after all--at least so far as regarded -Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last moment, and -now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at full speed -after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they reached the -village. - -Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of -footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to -Church grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in -general look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present -case there were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to -plead to Uncle Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity -towards her poor Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how -much he had been teased. This, however, she could not tell him without -complaining of his daughter, and in fact it was an additional pain -that Queen Bee should have used all her powerful influence in the wrong -direction. - -It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in -such circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put -her arm into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that -could sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, "My -poor Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this -time, but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything -happening." - -"O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded -him." - -"I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for -persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, -and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you -would not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would -go into the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? -I could have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no -harm done." - -"There is your papa displeased with him." - -"O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and -beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred--I should like to make -a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever act a -charade, Henrietta?" - -"Never; I scarcely know what it is." - -"O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told -you of fool-hardy, for now we can't have that, but this evening, O, this -evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex! -Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant." - -Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and -was presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently -persuading him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta -was not sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All -her thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before -all her mother's fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had -recovered her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of -his Heavenly Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of -many a moral tale, was tormenting herself with the expectation of -retribution, and dwelling on a fancied figure of her brother lifted -senseless out of the water, with closed eyes and dripping hair. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - -With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little -thing, and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as -she returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, -"Papa, you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much -plagued, and he only had just begun when you came." - -"The other boys had been teasing him?" - -"Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on -the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was -my fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only -worthy of Dick himself, but at poor Fred's own disconsolate looks." - -"Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?" - -"Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know -how easily I am run away with by high spirits." - -"And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no -right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless." - -"I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but -there are many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are -irresistible, or seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I -know I was to blame, only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really -did seem rather unreasonable to keep him there parading about with -Henrietta and Jessie, when the ice was quite safe for everybody else." - -"I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way -to the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not -show any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position -for a boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these -restraints." - -"And cannot you--" said Beatrice, stopping short. - -"Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks -right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very -reason I will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that -his amusement should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his -amusement." - -"Yet surely this cannot go on for life," said Beatrice, as if she was -half afraid to hazard the remark. - -"Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and -gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do -not set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can -plead the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; -you know the greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful -responsibility incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to -lead him astray for the sake of--of vanity--of amusement." - -Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to -Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, -and she answered earnestly, "I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of -saying clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for -I could have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is -vanity, and I will try to subdue it." - -Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and -would blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed -reproof by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was -self-deception, for it was not as if it was herself whom she was -analysing, but rather as if it was some character in a book; indeed, she -would have described herself almost exactly as she is here described, -except that her delineation would have been much more clever and more -exact. She would not have spared herself--for this reason, that her -own character was more a study to her than a reality, her faults rather -circumstances than sins; it was her mind, rather than her soul, that -reflected and made resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been -resolutions, if they had possessed any real earnestness, and not been -done, as it were, mechanically, because they became the occasion. - -The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and -she ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following -course: "I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and -wrong, and all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll -to see how provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and -after all, I don't think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only -it flatters his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as -girls, not Alex though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for -me, and I have put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought -those charades are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on -superior ground, and there will be none of these foolish questions who -can be most manly mad. Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and -I thought papa could not find it in his heart to be angry with him. How -capitally he will act, and how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make -them take to the charades, it will be so very delightful, and keep Fred -quite out of mischief, which will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused -grandpapa will be! What shall it be to-night? What Alex can manage to -act tolerably. Ce n'est que le premier pas qui conte, and the premier -pas must be with our best foot foremost. I give myself credit for the -thought; it will make all smooth." - -These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more -rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her -swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was -standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, -which with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. "Don't look -dismal, Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. -Cheer up, you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this -evening." - -Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to -receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought -him excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all -the wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all -fear of Uncle Geoffrey's eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, -and he entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle -was vexed to see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her -entreaty had not been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for -she liked better to trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too -many boys, did not think concealment blameable where there was no actual -falsehood. - -All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of -wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, -and was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into -different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some -extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, -and with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him -the loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant's uniform; then she darted into the -drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger's voice, and conjured him not to -forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, "Willy -must wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger's dirk, and above all, -beg, borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger's fishing boots." Her next descent -was upon Aunt Mary, in her own room: "Aunt, would you do me a great -favour, and ask no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the -three little marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday -evening. Only for this one evening, and I'll take great care." - -"I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like -myself in such finery," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as -Beatrice took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had -the discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft -of its plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in -the secret of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the -work-room, which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and -Judith, gratified by a visit from "Miss Bee," dived for her sake into -boxes and drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to -rummage. - -All this might ultimately be for Henrietta's entertainment, but at -present it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own -resources in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, -listened to a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the -new pig-sty, wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to -ask Uncle Geoffrey's advice, tried to talk over things in general with -her mamma, but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming -in and out of the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt -deserted, gave up work, and had just found an entertaining book, when -grandmamma came in, and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She -readily accepted, but for want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her -grandmamma waiting longer than she liked, and had more of a scolding -than was agreeable. The chickens were all gone to roost by the time they -arrived, the cock just peering down at them with his coral-bordered eye, -and the ducks waddling stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, -the hen-wife gone, and Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late. - -Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but -she had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, -they met Mr. Langford, who called out, "So you have been walking with -grandmamma! Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with -grandpapa. I am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my 'merry -Christmas' will be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you -with me." - -Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be -refused, and she was at her grandpapa's side in an instant, thanking him -so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. "I wish we had -Fred here too," said he, as they walked on, "the old man will be very -glad to see you." - -"Was he one of mamma's many admirers in the village?" - -"All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was -old Daniels' chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for -carpentry, especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he -was at work at the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have -held up his head again when our great trouble came on us. He used to -touch his hat, and turn away without looking me in the face. And there -you may see stuck up over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new -chisel that your father gave him when he had broken his old one." - -"Dear old man!" said Henrietta, warmly, "I am so very glad that we have -come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, -and not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were -come out of banishment." - -"Well, it is all the better for you," said Mr. Langford; "if we had -had you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few -granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is -that little Busy Bee--by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are -not you in her secret?" - -"O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came -out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would -not let me." - -"She turns us all round her finger," said grandpapa. "I never found the -person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you -do not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and -it is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading." - -"O, grandpapa!" - -"That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it." - -"Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa." - -"Look here!" and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he -disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. -"Is this weak?" - -"No, it is strong in energy," said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic -cane sprang back to its former shape. - -"Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that -should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let -your own determination be only to keep upright." - -"But women are admired for influence." - -"Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it -is unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, -take care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own -personal wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially -for young ladies towards their elders." - -Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice, -grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how -applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the -moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. -It brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched -workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat -but for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages. - -This was Henrietta's first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness -and interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as -fine-looking as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages -always are in books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It -was a very nice trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on -Mr. Langford's knock, and the room was neatness itself, but the old -carpenter was not at all what she had imagined. He was a little stooping -old man, with a shaking head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and -did not seem to have anything to say beyond "Yes, sir," and "Thank -you, sir," when Mr. Langford shouted into his deaf ears some of -the "compliments of the season." Looking at the young lady, whom he -evidently mistook for Beatrice, he hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were -quite well. His face lighted up a little for a moment when Mr. Langford -told him this was Mr. Frederick's daughter, but it was only for an -instant, and in a somewhat querulous voice he asked if there was not a -young gentleman too. - -"O yes," said Mr. Langford, "he shall come and see you some day." - -"He would not care to see a poor old man," said Daniels, turning a -little away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by -saying, "He is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting -tired going to church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he -has been so fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with -him." - -Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then -asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in -the workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak -to him, leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary -waiting time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class -with whom she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself -agreeable, but completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk -to the old man, and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation -quite impossible except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with -her--she tried to recollect what storied young ladies did say to old -men, but nothing she could think of would do, or was what she could find -herself capable of saying. At last she remembered, in "Gertrude," the -old nurse's complaint that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, -and she hazarded her voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not -suffer from it. Clear as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for -she was really in a fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man's -ear, and his daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in -a shrill sharp scream, that almost went through her ears; then while -the old man was answering something in a muttering maundering way, she -proceeded with a reply, and told a long story about his ways with the -doctor, in her Sussex dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The -conversation dropped, until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at -the Hall was quite well, and as she inquired after them one by one, -this took up a reasonable time; but then again followed a silence. Mrs. -Daniels was not a native of Knight Sutton, or she would have had more to -say about Henrietta's mother; but she had never seen her before, and had -none of that interest in her that half the parish felt. Henrietta wished -there had been a baby to notice, but she saw no trace in the room of the -existence of children, and did not like to ask if there were any. She -looked at the open hearth, and said it was very comfortable, and was -told in return that it made a great draught, and smoked very much. Then -she bethought herself of admiring an elaborately worked frame sampler, -that hung against the wall; and the conversation this supplied lasted -her till, to her great joy, grandpapa made his appearance again, and -summoned her to return, as it was already growing very dark. - -She thought he might have made something of an apology for the -disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting -that she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that -cottage visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an -occupation, when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking -about her mother's health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with -her, saying how very glad he was to have her there again, and how like -his own daughter she had always been. He went on to tell of his first -sight of his two daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would -be such, he went to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from -India under the care of General St. Leger. "There they were," said he; -"I can almost see them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt -a brown little sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, -and your mamma such a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I -felt quite ashamed to take her among all my great scrambling boys." - -"Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she -recollects the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a -carriage; but she cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey -or the coming here." - -"I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed -that in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys -receiving her,--Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,--for Roger was at school. How -they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like -a little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too -rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass. -And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!" - -"That was when she was six," said Henrietta, "and papa must have been -ten." - -"Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! -and come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was -almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten." - -"And were they?" - -"No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she -did not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they -knight and giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many's the -time I have laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived -creature more without will of her own." - -"Never," responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford -might commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so -appropriate a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by -her own daughter. - -"Eh!" said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in -another tone, "Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more -on you than on any one else." - -"I would do anything on earth for her!" said Henrietta, feeling it from -the bottom of her heart. - -"I am sure you would, my dear," said Mr. Langford, "and she deserves it. -There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think -of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, -it won't do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, -that I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, -as I am sure it was for us." - -He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his -eldest son calling "Out late, sir," and looking round, Henrietta saw -what looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt -Roger, and their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming -to the Hall for the regular Christmas dinner-party. - -Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries -whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent -manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had -been saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her -mother's youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and -which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the -scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother -having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and -resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the -conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side. -She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her -grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old -carpenter's averted head--she thought what must have been the agony of -the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on whom -the world was just opening so brightly,--and the young wife--the -infant children--how fearful it must have been! "It was almost a cruel -dispensation," thought Henrietta. "O, how happy and bright we might have -been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his kiss, -to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her joyousness -and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it not so? -And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner he did -say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it! -To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma, -grandpapa--no, I never shall understand it. They were good before; why -did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying 'Thy will be -done?' Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!" - -"Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta," said Bennet; -"it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been -telling me that I must get you ready faster." - -Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink -again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, "I can't, -Bennet, it breaks my neck." Her will was not with her mother's, in a -trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself -to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly -Parent, in what is above reason? - -The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed -in to dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having -already been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again -abandoned to Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, -partly because he was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for -the evening, and partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was -saying to Fred, in the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the -loud voice of Mr. Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other -sounds. Some inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great -lamentation for her mother's absence, and from thence into a description -of what Lady Susan exacted from her friends. "Aunt Susan is a regular -fidget," said she; "not such a fidget as some people," with an -indication of Mrs. Langford. "Some people are determined to make others -comfortable in a way of their own, and that is a fidget to be regarded -with considerable respect; but Aunt Susan's fidgeting takes the turn -of sacrificing the comfort of every one else to her own and her little -dog's." - -"But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey," said Fred. - -"Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on -mamma's coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her -sister and brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when -she may be taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous -state that Mr. Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence," said -Beatrice, in an imitative tone, which made Fred laugh. - -"I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself," said he. - -"So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by -her querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or -unselfishness either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was -kind to her when she came home from India, and she manages to keep her -quiet better than anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma's -cheerful voice, which drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot -think how funny it is to see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the -cat the wrong way, and mamma to smooth her down the right." - -A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. -Langford said, "What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?" - -"O you are telling it all--O don't, Bee!" cried Willy. - -And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to -discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all--it -was the partridges--the conversation drifted away again from the younger -party. - -As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging -her grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at -present stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where -there was a door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent -rustlings were heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or -whispering, and a sound of moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. -Langford, that, starting up, she exclaimed that she must go and see what -they were doing. - -"We are taking great care, grandmamma," called Alexander. "We won't hurt -it." - -This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far -from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage -of discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that -all was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed. - -She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her--the latter, in a -marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself, -and yet in great terror lest the others should tell. - -As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and -presently there was a call from behind the screen, "Are you ready, good -people?" - -"Go it," answered Carey. - -"Are the elders ready?" said Beatrice's voice. - -"Papa, don't go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!" cried Willy. - -"Ay, ay, all attention," said grandpapa. "Now for it!" - -The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, -ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a -tiara and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them -a nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, -adorned with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the -form of ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. -As Uncle Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it -proceeded in due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and -present them to the king and princess in the name of the Marquis -Carabbas. - -The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis -might be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king -cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, -until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, -"I've told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won't believe me, I can't -help it!" and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful -a manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to -have his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in -preparation for Scene II. - -Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so -as to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close -to the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart -measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his -head, and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, -reclined Alex, his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an -old, long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had -with some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little -figure in a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox's -brush, and with Mrs. Frederick Langford's three feathers, and a coat -bearing marvellous resemblance to Beatrice's own black velvet spencer, -crossed over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew -full well. "Do thou stand for my father," began this droll little shape, -"and examine me in the particulars of my life." - -It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, -acted beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes -were often directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, -obtained not only a view of Prince Hal's pink petticoat, but of a great -Shakespeare laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of -the heir apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was -strongly suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It -was with great spirit that the parting appeal was given, "Banish fat -Jack, and banish all the world!" And there was great applause when fat -Jack and Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; -though Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain -historical and antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was -likely to wear the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts -at Eastcheap. - -In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant's uniform made a great -figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf, -and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his -arm, looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low -bow, which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish -bonnet, also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue -ribbon. Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine -stood confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled -off, or supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off -the view; and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, -while Prince Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced -round Mr. Langford, asking if he had guessed it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - -Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an -amusement likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of -her boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to -imitate it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the -way of scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were -to dine at the Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there -should be a grand charade, with all the splendour that due preparation -could bestow upon it. "It was such an amusement to grandpapa," as -Beatrice told Henrietta, "and it occupied Fred so nicely," as she -said to her father; both which observations being perfectly true, -Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing to promote the sport, and to -tranquillise his mother respecting the disarrangement of her furniture. - -But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their -own--some for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, -others for Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already -grouped her dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta's picturesque -face and figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her -and Fred represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she -had always believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for -"another touch at Prince Hal," and devised numerous ways of acting -Anonymous, for the sake of "Anon, anon, sir." Henrietta wanted to -contrive something in which Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy -bee, and had very pretty visions of making her a beneficent spirit in a -little fanciful opera, for which she had written three or four verses, -when Fred put an end to it be pronouncing it "nonsense and humbug." - -So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was -beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday -morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some -chance a wig of her papa's was in the house, and a charade they must and -would have which would bring in the wig. "Come and see it," said she, -drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being -the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. "There -now, is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is -certain!" - -Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister's wig -before, were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in -turn. While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of -her own fair ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door -suddenly opened, and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, -"What! nothing safe from you, you impertinent kittens?" - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!" cried Henrietta, blushing -crimson. - -"Don't take it off till I have looked at you," said Uncle Geoffrey. -"Why, you would make a capital Portia!" - -"Yes, yes!" cried Queen Bee, "that is it: Portia she shall be, and I'll -be Nerissa." - -"Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!" said Henrietta: "I am sure I -can't." - -"But I have set my heart on being the 'little scrubby lawyer's clerk,'" -said Busy Bee; "it is what I am just fit for; and let me see--Fred shall -be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and you -shall have Alex for your Bassanio." - -"But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine -Seyton?" said Henrietta. - -"Let me see," said Beatrice; "bond--bondage, jew--jeweller, juniper,--" - -"Lawsuit," said Fred. "Ay, don't you see, all the scenes would come out -of the 'Merchant of Venice.' There is 'law' when the old Jew is crying -out for his ducats, and--but halloo!" and Fred stood aghast at the sight -of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness. - -"Traitor!" said Beatrice; "but never mind, I believe we must have let -him into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock." - -"O, Bee," whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, "don't tease him with our -nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock's part, when he has all -that pile of papers on the table." - - -"Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is -some ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night." - - -Such was Uncle Geoffrey's reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered -to the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, -and then clapped their hands in delighted admiration. - -"Do you really know it all?" asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful -awe. - -"It won't cost me much trouble to get it up," said Mr. Geoffrey -Langford; "Shylock's growls stick in one's memory better than finer -speeches." - -"Then will you really be so very kind?" - -"Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table -this morning," said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a -certain degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as -if it was entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he -did actually enjoy it. - -The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only -place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex -could not be taken to the maids' workroom, and none of the downstairs -apartments could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their -preparations. Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing -Uncle Geoffrey, but his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon -at an end when she perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, -and laughing, no more than if they had been so many little sparrows -twittering on the eaves, but pursued the even tenor of his writing -uninterruptedly, even while she fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, -which her ingenious fingers had compounded of the lining of certain ugly -old curtains. - -His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs. -Langford's periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she -would assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have -come to a collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole -scheme. - -It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta's list of his avocations, -and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people -during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine -by the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were -the looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the -curing grandmamma's old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing -of an emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle -supposed "to have no answer," and the mending of some extraordinary -spring that was broken in Uncle Roger's new drill. Beatrice was charmed -with the list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to -every one; and grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was -ashamed to find that his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to -which Uncle Geoffrey replied, that it was too true that "all work and no -play make Jack a very dull boy." - -The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and -rain, was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away -all temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and -Antonio and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey -was heard to observe that it might just as well be half year. They had -besides their own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of -Arragon and Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa -as possible, had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, -all into the one scene belonging to "suit." It was one of those -occasions on which she showed little consideration, for she thus gave -Portia an immense quantity to learn in only two days; persuading herself -all the time that it was no such hard task, since the beautiful -speech about mercy Henrietta already knew by heart, and she made -no difficulties about the rest. Indeed, Beatrice thought herself -excessively amiable in doing all she could to show off her cousin's -beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part herself; forgetting -that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in taking willingly -that which is assigned us. - -Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well -as at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil -the pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good -earnest to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her -hand; she learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, -resisting many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before -daylight, was up and learning again. - -The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged: -grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger -that it would be over now and out of the children's heads, for they -turned the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like -play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out -one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always -making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want -of his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt -Mary, and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very -pretty, and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to -crack; Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be -magnificos, found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened. - -It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to -Shylock's excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed -chasing him across the stage, crying, "The law, his ducats, and his -daughter!" - -Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her -hair, almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed -expression in her glowing face was little accordant with the calm -dignified self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a -handkerchief folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet -lambswool worked into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with -bright ribbon, made a complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, -pert reply to her lady's first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to -restore Portia to herself, and they got on well and with spirit through -the description of the suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. -Portia looked excessively dignified, and Nerissa's by-play was capital. -Whether it was owing to Bassanio's awkwardness or her own shyness, -she did not prosper quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; -Bassanio seemed more afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more -at Nerissa than at her, whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as -cold and measured a way, as if it had been the Prince of Morocco who had -unfortunately hit upon the right casket. - -In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be -wished. She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the -glowing carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath -which a few bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand -raised, and the other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the -Jew, as if she either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in -Antonio's case, for they glistened with tears, and her voice had a -tremulous pleading tone, which fairly made her grandfather and mother -both cry heartily. - - -"Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!" - - -The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by -Bassanio from crying "No, he shan't!" Nerissa was so absorbed as even to -have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to -the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick -were hanging with breathless attention on the "but," when suddenly there -was a general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with -a voice and face full of delight, announced "Master Roger," and there -entered a young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter. - -Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and -handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another, -the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger -Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford -fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his -arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, "What, -Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!" - -"Ah! Miss Jessie," exclaimed Roger; "that is right: I have not seen such -a crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost -your pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?" - -"Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary," said his mother; and instantly there -was a subduing of the young sailor's boisterous mirth, as he turned -to answer her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the -appearance of the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio's -short black cloak and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his -burnt cork eyebrows and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know -him; Uncle Geoffrey still in Shylock's yellow cap, and Fred somewhat -grim with the Prince of Morocco's complexion. - -"How d'ye do, Phil?" said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the -hand with interest. "What! are not you Philip Carey?" - -"O, Roger, Roger!" cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden -predominated. - -"What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d'ye do, aunt?" - -"Well done, Roger! That's right! Go on!" cried his father, laughing -heartily. - -"Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as -like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I -thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not -this Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are -you Fred Langford, then?" - -"Right this time," said Fred, "so now you must shake hands with me in my -own name." - -"Very glad to do so, and see you here at last," said Roger, cordially. -"And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were -crossing the Line?" - -"You shall hear what it is all about, and see too," said Mr. Langford. -"We must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But -where is my little Portia? What is become of her?" - -"Fled, I suspect," said her mother, "gone to turn into herself before -her introduction." - -"O, Roger, it was so jolly," Carey was now heard to say above the -confusion of voices. "Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a -pound of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a -lawyer's wig, and had just found such a dodge!" - -"Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore -there, and--" - -"Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?" - -"Have you dined?" - -"Cold turkey--excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper--a cup of -tea--no, but we will have the beef in--" - -Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the -answers and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa -exclaimed, "Ah! here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new -cousin for you, Roger; here is the advocate for you when you have a -tough law-suit! Lucky for you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, -or your nose would soon be put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared -you make your mother and grandfather cry their hearts out?" - -"I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir," said Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you -know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying." - -"Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But -to see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking -savage with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of -actors, all of you, and we must see the end of it." - -This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with -Henrietta for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates -decreed otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to -carve it, and soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to -his eldest grandson about his travels. A sailor just returned from -four years on the South American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot -condors on the Andes, caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks -in the Atlantic, and heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could -not fail to be very entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas -of Peru, and could tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and -accordingly everyone was greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who -sat in a corner of the sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering -how long Roger would go on eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and -strangling the yawns induced by her inability to attract the notice of -either of her squires, whose eyes and ears were all for the newcomer. -She was not even missed; if she had been, it would have been some -consolation; but on they went, listening and laughing, as if the course -of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the adventures of her crew, -were the only subjects of interest in the world. He was only at home for -a week, but so much the worse, that would be till the end of Beatrice's -own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but Euphrosyne the whole -time. - -There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask -about his cousins and all the neighbours. - -"And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any -practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be -doctored by Master Philip!" - -"Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip," said -Jessie. "I assure you," nodding to Fred, "I take it as a great -compliment, and so will Philip." - -"And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?" - -"Oh! grown quite fat and coarse," said Jessie; "but you may judge -for yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a -regular Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And -we are to dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the -county; the floor is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield -assembly-room." - -"No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate," said Roger. -"This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I -took the prettiest girl there in to supper--don't be jealous, Jessie, -she had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the -next ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather -a thick sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she -found? A great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever -saw." - -"O, you horrid creature!" cried Jessie, "I am sure it was your doing. -I am sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or -some dreadful creature! I won't let you take me in to supper on Monday, -I declare." - -"Perhaps I won't have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my -partner, if she will have me." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger," faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with -the doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie -might be vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, -looking at her more fully than he had done before, went on, "Much -honoured, cousin. Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the -prettiest girl in the room for my partner. But how slow of them all -not to have engaged her before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for -yourself?" - -"I hope for Queen Bee," said Alex. - -"And Jessie must dance with me, because I don't know how," said Carey. - -"My dears, this will never do!" interposed grandmamma. "You can't all -dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never -heard of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with -little Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson." - -"No, no," cried Roger, "I won't give up my partner, ma'am; I am a -privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of -Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta, -stick fast to your engagement; you can't break the first promise you -ever made me. Here," proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, -"let us begin this minute; I'll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian -ladies." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz," said Henrietta. - -"That's a pity. Come, Jessie, then." - -If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something -which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie -answered her cousin's summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance -at his evident preference of Henrietta's newer face. - -"If I can't waltz, I can play for you," said Henrietta, willing not to -seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and -Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving -shocks against the furniture and minding them not the least in the -world, till at last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon -the sofa. - -The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into -silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, -as was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he -apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured -him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment. - -Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no -waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no -possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as -much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring -that she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her -days were contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything -newer, they might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would -not hear of them. - -And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her -grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the -universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the -table. - -With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, -as she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining -within herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing -up and play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve. - -Beatrice came to her aunt's room, when they went upstairs, and -petitioned for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind -pity for her present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even -allowed her to outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of -the charade, and the history of the preparations and contrivances gave -subject to a very animated conversation. - -Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all -to wish for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense -dislike to the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, -and there were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much -without restraint as to Aunt Mary. - -The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, -and here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had -only heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the -doings of the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly -shocked and amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and -pleading for it. - -"My dear!" said Beatrice, laughing, "I do not know what you would do -if you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the -days of her life." - -"Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady." - -"Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and -the society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that -make the difference, not the temper." - -"Quite true, Busy Bee," said her aunt, "temper may be the same in very -different circumstances." - -"But it is very curious, mamma," said Henrietta, "how people can be -particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your -pardon, only I know you don't mind it, Jessie did not approve of your -skating." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at -those of other people." - -"Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging," -said Aunt Mary. - -"But then, mamma," said Henrietta, "we must hold to the right scruples, -and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less--less -desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we -are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things." - -"O, it is just according to what you are brought up to," said Beatrice. -"A Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you -think it." - -"No, that will not do," said Henrietta. "Something must be actually -wrong. Mamma, do say what you think." - -"I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an -instinct which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and -whatever at the first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her -own individual case. The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by -education, or wilful dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, -though alive and active on others." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, as if satisfied. - -"And above all," said her mother, "it, like other gifts, grows -dangerous, it may become affectation." - -"Pruding," said Beatrice, "showing openly that you like it to be -observed how prudent and proper you are." - -"Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious -of anything wrong," said Henrietta. "Wrong I do not exactly mean, but -something on the borders of it." - -"Yes," said Aunt Mary, "and above all, do not let this delicacy show -itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion -of ourselves, and very soon turns into 'judging our neighbour.'" - -"But there is false delicacy, aunt." - -"Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion -tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - -The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in -her cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and -newly arrived after five years' absence, he had considerable claims to -attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold -open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that -Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even -grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter. - -This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been -amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and -have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But -between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never -had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all -the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest, -thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either -Henrietta or Jessie. - -If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was -struck with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself -to engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, -it may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, -might have carried her out of her natural character in the style that -suited him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her -own affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked -him, but she showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to -appropriate him. She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the -attention due to any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness -than if it had been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last -of whom was a pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his -stories of adventures, or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and -a delighted ear; but all common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell -flat; she either did not catch them, or did not catch at them. She might -blush and look confused, but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified -embarrassment, and if she found an answer, it was one either to change -the subject, or honestly manifest that she was not pleased. - -She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought -at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to -admire her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, -was not in the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of -enjoyment, Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her -mamma was still more rejoiced to see her act so properly without -self-consciousness or the necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee -ought to have been duly grateful to the one faithful vassal who was -proof against all allurements from her side and service. - -She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is -usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and -been very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did -not feel in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been -much more proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on -which their attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; -for though the world may be of opinion that they had had quite a -sufficiency of amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their -success on Thursday, and the sudden termination in the very height of -their triumph. - -They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of -Shylock's trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation, -and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast -in the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely -cleared of all their various goods and chattels, Portia's wig in its -box, the three caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke's throne -safe in its place in the hall, and even Shylock's yellow cap picked to -pieces, and rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to -come of use in seven years' time. Judith, who was putting the finishing -touches to the re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great -chair, and restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the -table, gave in answer to her exclamations the information that "Missus -had been up since seven o'clock, helping to put away the things herself, -for she said she could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey's room not fit for -anybody to sit in." This might certainly be considered as a tolerably -broad hint that they had better discontinue their representations, -but they were arrived at that state of eagerness which may be best -illustrated by the proverb referring to a blind horse. Every one, -inclined to that same impetuosity, and want of soberness, can remember -the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded checks will recur to the -mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of the self-justification -which truly answers that their object was not even comprehended. -Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of dissent -from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma's dislike, and -Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a -fidgety fancy. - -Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and -greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make -a pair of asses' ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the -weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, -and Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to -be her own "primest of viziers." - -"And," said Beatrice, "what an exquisite interlude it will make to -relieve the various plagues of Monday evening." - -"Why you don't mean to act then!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"Why not? You don't know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse -for getting away from all the stupidity." - -"To be sure it will," cried Fred. "A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall -have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort." - -"But would grandmamma ever let us do it?" said Henrietta. - -"I will manage," said Beatrice. "I will make grandpapa agree to it, and -then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it." - -"Before so many people!" said Henrietta. "O, Queenie, it will never do! -It would be a regular exhibition." - -"My dear, what nonsense!" said Beatrice. "Why, it is all among friends -and neighbours." - -"Friends and neighbours to you," said Henrietta. - -"And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or -inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer." - -"A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account," said Fred. -"But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such -nonsense and affectation." - -"Affectation! O, Fred!" - -"Yes, to be sure it is," said Fred: "to set up such scruples as these. -Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when -once you get into the spirit of the thing." - -"And what is affectation," said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, "but -thinking what other people will think?" - -There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some -degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation, -especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever -and determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in -preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering -of wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged -not to be Titania. - -"O, you must, you silly child," said Beatrice. "I have such designs -for dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa -laugh by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef." - -"But consider, Bee," said Henrietta, "how much too tall I am for -a fairy. It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom -himself--spoil the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls -to be the other fairies, and take Titania yourself." - -"Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made -part of the show," said Beatrice. "Little Anna Carey has sense enough, -I think; ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep -you to come out in grand force in the last scene--Queen Eleanor sucking -the poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an -excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming -to see King Richard when he was 'old-man-of-the-mountains.'" - -"No, no," cried Fred, "stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no -more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I -could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair." - -"And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, -in the gentleman's own presence, too," said Beatrice. "Monsieur is -apparemment the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the -French governess in Miss Edgworth's book?" - -"Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the -mistake," said Henrietta. - -"And I do not wonder at it," said Beatrice, "the mistake, I mean. Fred's -white hands there have just the look of a doctor's; of course Roger -thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for -want of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look." - -"You insulting creature!" said Fred. "Just as if I tried to look -genteel." - -"You do, then, whether you try or not. You can't help it, you know, and -I am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your -hand just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger -thought he had succeeded in attaining his object." - -"But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object," -said Henrietta. - -"He could not be a Carey and be otherwise," said Busy Bee. "And besides, -what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith -and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to -Roger's proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows -the extent of a Carey's intellects; and what is left for the poor man to -do but to study the cut of his boots?" - -"If you say much more about it, Queenie," said Henrietta, "you will make -Fred dance in Bottom's hob-nailed shoes." - -"Ah! it is a melancholy business," said Beatrice; "but it cannot be -helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is -this?" exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such -violence as to shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, -heated and almost breathless. "Rats! rats!" was his cry; "Fred, that's -right. But where is Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"Gone to Allonfield." - -"More's the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at -home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the -place regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for -you and Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly--like smoke--while I go -and tell grandpapa." - -Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room -hurried Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. -Langford for shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa -laughed, thanked him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time -for the rat hunt, as he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary -thither and to the Pleasance that afternoon. - -Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the -girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at -Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased, -for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass -before they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their -arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates -of Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of -dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war -was at its height. - -"O! the glories of a rat hunt!" cried Beatrice. "Come, Henrietta, here -is a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not -to be lost." - -Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into -the farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on -a multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors -which were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown -violently back and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of -ecstatic expectation, tail straight out, head bent forward, now -springing in rapture on the prey; the boys rushing about with their -huge sticks, and coming down now and then with thundering blows, the -labourers with their white shirt sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the -straw, Uncle Roger with a portentous-looking club in the thick of the -fight. On the ladder, cheering them on, stood grandpapa, holding little -Tom in his arms, and at the bottom, armed with small sticks, were -Charlie and Arthur, consoling themselves for being turned out of the -melée, by making quite as much noise as all those who were doing real -execution, thumping unmercifully at every unfortunate dead mouse or rat -that was thrown out, and charging fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese -that now and then came up to inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such -accidents will occur in the best regulated families, to devour a share -of the prey. - -Beatrice's first exclamation was, "O! if papa was but here!" - -"Nothing can go on without him, I suppose," said Henrietta. "And yet, is -this one of his great enjoyments?" - -"My dear, don't you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born -Englishman to delight in hunting 'rats and mice and such small beer,' as -much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that -all the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat -hunt, and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts." - -"There goes Fred!" cried Henrietta. - -"Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There--there! O what -a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid -sort of light on the mist of dust at the top." - -"And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa's head! I think that -grandpapa with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee." - -"To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle -face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets -frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor -rats as keenly as anybody!" - -"Certainly," said Henrietta, "there is something very odd in man's -nature; they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being -cruel! Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind -and gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and -killing--" - -"That is what town-people never can understand," said Beatrice, "that -hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried -down, and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those -people could have seen what I did last summer--grandpapa calling Carey, -and holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their -nest that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when -Dick did something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years -ago, and Alex and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they -were really punished for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those -bursts of generous indignation." - -"It is a very curious thing," said Henrietta, "the soldier spirit it -must be, I suppose--" - -"What are you philosophising about, young ladies?" asked Mr. Langford, -coming up as Henrietta said these last words. - -"Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa," said Beatrice, "what -the pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there." - -"Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies," said grandpapa. -"I have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or -more, and I can't say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going -at it, for the first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old -veterans, and he has a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is -any satisfaction to you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that's it--there -he goes!" - -"Now, grandpapa," said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, "I want just -to speak to you. Don't you think we might have a little charade-acting -on Monday to enliven the evening a little?" - -"Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think -they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of -Shylock?" - -"No," said Beatrice, "we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a -new word and a beauty, and don't you think it will do very well?" - -"I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private -theatricals." - -"Well, it won't be nearly such regular acting as the last," said -Beatrice, "I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so -many spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a -very nice diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa." - -"Well, I don't see any harm in it," said grandpapa, "so long as -grandmamma does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?" - -"O no," said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would -make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred's calling her -affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent -to anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise -power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some -subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she -was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles' -wife might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son. - -After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, -recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she -said. The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, -where the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the -first occasion; for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views -respecting the appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick -Langford was harassed and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the -wishes of both, and vex neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look -over every corner, and discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair -at the fatigue her mother was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in -vain for a seat for her, and having at last discovered a broken-backed -kitchen chair in some of the regions below, kept diligently carrying -it after her in all her peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that -Uncle Geoffrey would come, but in vain; and between the long talking at -Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the house, and the many discussions, -her mamma was completely tired out, and obliged, when they came home, -to confess that she had a headache. Henrietta fairly wished her safe at -Rocksand. - -While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading -her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one -matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand -object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting -down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with "Now -listen to me, my dear child," and proceeded with a long story of -certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain -knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice -set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable that either -she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; secondly, that the -former elopement was not chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that -these were not private theatricals at all. - -"And pray what are they, then--when you dress yourselves up, and speak -the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?" - -"You pay us a great compliment," said Beatrice, who could sometimes -be pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her -explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called -theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was -the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it -was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it -done. - -"But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent." This was a -powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at -the first moment the shot did not tell. - -"Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this," said Mrs. -Langford, "and let who would consent, she would never have her -granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before -a whole room full of company." - -"Well, then, grandmamma, I'll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not -have one single scene out of Shakespeare--not one. Won't that do?" - -"You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse," said Mrs. -Langford. - -"No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it -shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come -in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so -nicely! and grandpapa has said we may." - -Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. "Ah, well! you always will have your -own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things -in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when -their elders had once said, 'No.'" - -"Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it -up if you did; but pray do not--we will manage very well." - -"And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn -everything upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can't have it done. I -shall want the study to put out the supper in." - -"We can dress in our own rooms, then," said Beatrice, "never mind that." - -"Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your -fathers and mothers like to let you, I can't help it--that's all I have -to say," said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred entered -from the other side a moment after. "Victory, victory, my dear Fred!" -cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. "I have prevailed: -you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! announced for -Monday night, before a select audience!" - -"Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee," said Fred; "why Alex has just -been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma's -dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone 'coon, as they say in -America." - -"I got grandpapa first," said Beatrice, "and then I persuaded her; -she told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long -lecture which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last -that the chief points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the -confusion in the study; so by giving up those two I gained everything." - -"You don't mean that you gave up bully Bottom?" - -"Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses' ears. You shall wear -them in the character of King Midas." - -"I think," said the ungrateful Fred, "that you might as well have given -it all up together as Bottom." - -"No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will -decidedly make him King of California, and I'll be the priestess of -Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most -excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, 'King -Midas has the ears of an ass.' I would have made more of a fight for -Bottom, if that had not come into my head." - -"But you will have nothing to do." - -"That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very -little, and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the -world in all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as -Queen Eleanor; she will look so regal." - -Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister's praises. "You are a -wondrous damsel, busy one," said he, "to be content to play second -fiddle." - -"Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you -would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall -we ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till -Monday evening to do everything in!" - -"Oh, you will do it," said Fred. "I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot -do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in," he exclaimed, as -he heard the front door open. - -"And I must go and dress," said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste, -which did not speak well for the state of her conscience. - -Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters. -"So you are entered with the vermin, Fred," called he, as the two came -out of the drawing-room. - -"O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?" - -"I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just -come in?" - -"No, we were having a consultation about the charades," said Fred; "the -higher powers consent to our having them on Monday." - -"Grandmamma approving?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"O yes," said Fred, in all honesty, "she only objected to our taking a -regular scene in a play, and 'coming it as strong' as we did the other -night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously." - -Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs, -listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained -so plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to -dress in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would -have doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but -hearing of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, -was likely to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, -she knew he had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his -mother; and since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, -could Beatrice actually say so to her own secret soul? - -She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked -her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy -castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the -resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - -"Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly -and carnal lusts:" so speaks the collect with which we begin the new -year--such the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, -"Amen:" but what was its application to them? What did they do with the -wicked world in their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he -was in the world. It might be for him to pray for that spirit which -enabled him to pass unscathed through the perils of his profession, -neither tempted to grasp at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his -way, unhardened and unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness -on every side. This might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, -with her love of dress, and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely -pray that she might live less to the vanities of the world; there were -others, whose worn countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of -the world; but to those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught -how to prize vain pomp and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, -looking from a safe distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; -were not they truly kept from that world which they had renounced? - -Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that -if education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, -and more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. -A pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own -devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission; -these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but -if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how -could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and -stronger ones which would meet their riper years? - -Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall, -there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than -those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the -midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand, -she whisked through the passages, Frederick's voice was heard demanding -whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was -made wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. -Zealous indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish -them anywhere else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and -newspaper, from one corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly -out into the hall, threatening them with what Missus would say to them. -At last grandmamma came down with a party of neat little notes in her -hand, to be immediately sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, -and Martin came to the door leading to the kitchen regions to receive -his directions. - -"O how lucky!" cried Queen Bee, springing up. "The cotton velvet for the -ears! I'll write a note in a second!" Then she paused. "But I can't do -it without Henrietta, I don't know how much she wants. Half a yard -must do, I suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of -donkey-coloured velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!" - -"Have not you heard her bell?" said Fred. - -"No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time." - -"You had better ask Bennet," said Fred; "she sometimes gets up quietly, -and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives -her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning." - -Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress's -room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon -disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin -departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations. - -About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as -any one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had -been broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the -bell was, that she was not ready for Bennet. - -As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble -confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for -the morning's laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears? - -The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta -was engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh -with Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than -done, and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with -success, for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were -hailed by the loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of -four brothers, marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some -three miles off. Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee's summons, but -he could do nothing for her, for he had that morning been taken to -task for not having made a visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and -especially ordered off to call upon her, before meeting her at the party -that evening. - -"How abominably provoking!" cried Beatrice; "just as if it signified. If -I had but a fairy!" - -"Carey!" called Alex, "here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won't -you take Dumple and go?" - -"Not I," responded Carey; "I want to walk with Roger. But there's -Dumple, let her go herself." - -"What, ride him?" asked Beatrice, "thank you, Carey." - -"Fred might drive you," said Carey; "O no, poor fellow, I suppose he -does not know how." - -Fred coloured with anger. "I do," said he; "I have often driven our own -horses." - -"Ay," said Beatrice, "with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary -little guessing what you were doing." - -"I assure you, Queen," said Fred, very earnestly, "I do really know how -to drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with -me, I will bring you home quite safe." - -"I know you can have the gig," said Carey, "for papa offered it to Roger -and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of -doubting whether to drive old Dumple!" - -"I don't question," said Fred; "I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. -I won't break your neck, I promise you." - -Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt -Mary, but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the -reverse. - -"I don't advise you, Bee," said he. - -"O, as to that," said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, "I -have great faith in Dumple's experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, -as the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My -chief doubt is about Aunt Mary." - -Fred's successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly -made him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother's -desires, and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, "O, -you know I only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so -intensely miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by -knowing nothing about it, I don't think it need be considered." - -Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next -moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this -case. - -Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much -annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not -wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and -say, "Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about -it at home." - -"O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex," -said Beatrice, laughing. "No, no, I know very well that nobody will care -when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love -my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. -Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I'll dance with you -first to-night." Alex turned away, muttering, "I don't like it--I'd go -myself, but--Well, I shall speak to Fred." - -Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had -excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance. - -"You are sure now," said he, "that you can drive safely? Remember it -would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little -Bee." - -This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come -from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of -his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, -that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only -wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand. - -"Well, I have no more to say," said Alex, "only please to mind this, -Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him -to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice's that -I spoke." - -"Much obliged, Langford senior," replied Fred, making himself as tall as -he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, "Now, -Carey, we won't stop you any longer, if you'll only just be so good as -to tell your man to get out the gig." - -Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, -for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur -running after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in -his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, -Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from -him which might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she -explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors -stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive -to Allonfield. Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should -not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or -nothing of his sister-in-law's fears, and would, perhaps, have taken -Fred's side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, -declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy -into the house for the driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did -not fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a -nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed. - -Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he -might go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, -of which Roger's return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. -His cousins were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly -consenting, he was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice's -complacency was diminished as Uncle Roger called out, "Ha! Fred take -care! What are you doing?--you'll be against the gate-post--don't bring -his head so short round. If you don't take more care, you'll certainly -come to a smash before you get home." - -If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick -would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their -bold design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their -own way to yield, and Fred's pride would never have allowed him to -acknowledge that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly -undertaken. Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of -ignorance, and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys -to have many anxieties on their account, let them go on without further -question, and turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest -uneasiness respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way -of warning, at least twenty times before. - -Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some -points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise -enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the -way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him, -and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the -common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked -into the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded -in obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted -that donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent -their colour. As Fred's finances were in a much more flourishing state -since New Year's day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy -by a present of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes -had often before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in -some dismay on perceiving that it was nearly one o'clock. - -"We must go straight home," said Beatrice, "or this velvet will be of no -use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence." - -Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no -means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, -well aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately -determined that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest -road to his own stable. - -As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he -made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a -little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the -whip, but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a -demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set -off over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred -pulled hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. "Sit still," -cried Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, "the gate will stop -him;" but ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement -of his own, or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was -thrown violently to the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him -no more. Instinct, rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to -the carriage with one hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, -to prevent him from being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to -side by the ruts and stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes -more, and their way was barred by a gate--that which she had spoken -of--the horse, used to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood -still, looking over it as if nothing had happened. - -Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy -beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her -steps swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it -seemed as if her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart -dragged her back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet -her, but it was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but -too plainly. He was stretched at full length on the ground, -senseless--motionless. She sank rather than knelt down beside him, and -called him; but not a token was there that he heard her. She lifted -his hand, it fell powerless, and clasping her own, she sat in an almost -unconscious state of horror, till roused by little Willy, who asked in a -terrified breathless whisper, - -"Bee, is he dead?" - -"No, no, no," cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; -"he is only stunned. He is--he must be alive. He will come to him-self! -Help me to lift him up--here--that is it--his head on my lap--" - -"O, the blood!" said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it -streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face. - -"That is not the worst," said Beatrice. "There--hold him toward the -wind." She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him; -but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight -on her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for -help; but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except -Willy, who stood helplessly looking at her. - -"Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!" cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish -of mind. "Fred--dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh, only -speak to me! O what shall I do?" - -"Pray to God," whispered Willy. - -"You--you--Willy; I can't--it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!" A few moments -passed in silence, then she exclaimed, "What are we doing here? -Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through the -plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not -there, find grandpapa--any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don't let her -hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand--any one but Aunt -Mary." - -Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, -Willy required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade -fare to bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the -ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the -surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin's head, all clear -and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which -made her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest -motion, the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She -wiped away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and -softly laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the -fair shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself -whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, -and again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes -were being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of -lip or nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, -and yet so wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle -Frederick, and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so -nearly in this same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking -which would almost make her believe in a fate on the family. And that -Fred should be cut off in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she -the cause! O thought beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for -herself, for her aunt, but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found -her mind pursuing Willy, following him through all the gates and gaps, -entering the garden, opening the study door, seeing her father's sudden -start, hearing poor Henrietta's cry, devising how it would be broken to -her aunt; and again, the misery of recollecting her overpowered her, -and she gave a groan, the very sound of which thrilled her with the hope -that Fred was reviving, and made her, if possible, watch with double -intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh. She wished it was she who -lay there, unconscious of such exceeding wretchedness, and, strange -to say, her imagination began to devise all that would be said were it -really so; what all her acquaintance would say of the little Queen Bee, -how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how long Henrietta would -cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently Alex would grieve. -"He would be a son to papa," she thought; but then came a picture of her -home, her father and mother without their only one, and tears came into -her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the absurdity of -crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over this but too -positive and present distress. - -There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, -and not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was -perfectly still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle -of the sheep-bell, the woodsman's axe in the plantations, and now and -then the rattle of Dumple's harness, as she shook his head or shifted -his feet at the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled -above her head in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each -other from the high furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near -her with their broad wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note -like lamentation. - -At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse's -tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it -might, some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive -solitude, which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, -would be relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer -might pass by, she gently laid her cousin's head on the grass, and flew -rather than ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the -horseman had passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the -shoulders, and with a scream almost wild in its energy, called "Philip! -O, Philip Carey!" - -Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement -at finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer -by leading the way down the lane. - -In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored -him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived. - -A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking -questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the -plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending -her voice before her with the good news, "He is alive! Philip Carey says -he is alive!" and with these words she stood before her father and her -Aunt Mary. - -Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white -and still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped -for an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never -could forget. "Beatrice, my child!" he exclaimed, "you are hurt!" - -"No, no, papa," she cried. "It is Fred's blood--I am quite, quite safe!" - -He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, -with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could -never remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the -embrace,--all had revealed to her the fervour of her father's affection, -beyond--far beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one -instant that he gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood -beside Frederick as soon as his sister-in-law. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - -The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle -incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail -wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers -from chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and -appealing to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though -never allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often -came to her help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe -displeasure of the absent queen, by laying aside Midas's robes to assist -in the arrangements. "That picture is crooked, I am sure!" said Mrs. -Langford; and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned -Geoffrey from the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon -a chair to settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked -Uncle Roger. "Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma'am, you -are making yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?" - -"He has ridden over to see the South Farm," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,--I understand." - -"Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?" asked Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton -Leigh, and I have not seen them since." - -"O yes," said Mr. Roger Langford, "I can tell you what has become of -them; they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, -and Will with them, after some of their acting affairs." - -Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this -intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him -full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. -Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in -dismay. - -"You don't mean that Fred was driving?" said her mother. - -"Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,--surely -he knows how!" - -"O, Roger, what have you done!" said she faintly, as if the exclamation -would break from her in spite of herself. - -"Indeed, mamma," said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, "I assure -you Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was -sitting up by Dawson." - -"Ay, ay, Mary," said Uncle Roger, "never fear. Depend upon it, boys -do many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with -whole bones after all." - -Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey's face, in -hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn -nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible. - -"I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting," said -Mrs. Langford; "and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot -think. So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as -well have sent by Martin!" And her head being pretty much engrossed with -her present occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, -without much perception of the consternation that prevailed in the -drawing-room. - -"Did you know they were going, Henrietta?" asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather -sternly. - -"No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there -is any danger?" exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of -fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling -to overcome. Her mother's inquiring, imploring glance followed her -question. - -"Foolish children!" said Uncle Geoffrey, "I am very much vexed with the -Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is -hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to -young hands." - -Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some -degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger -Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:--"Come, Mary, -you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you. -You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound -imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be -the mamma's boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you -cannot keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time -or other." - -"O yes, I know I am very foolish," said she, trying to smile. - -"I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you," said Uncle Roger. "She would -have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all -such occasions." - -"Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland," said -Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at -his ease, and divert his brother's attention. "And by the by, Roger, you -never told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers." - -"Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life," said -his brother. "Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when -you yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?" - -Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting -Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings -at the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a -few stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood -up, seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,--then took -a long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran -after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was -not alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. "Thank you, my -dear," said she. "I--no, really--you know how foolish I am, my dear, -and I think I had rather be alone. Don't stay here and frighten yourself -too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left -alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know -when they come home." - -With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and -descended to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears -were from Uncle Roger. "Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe -at home again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to -have let them go?" - -"I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of -little Bee," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"If I had guessed it," said Uncle Roger; "but then, you know, any of -my boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,--even Dick I have -trusted,--and they came up--you should have seen them--as confidently as -if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life. Upon my word -your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew that he -could not drive." - -"A tolerable spirit of self-will," said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. -"But did you see them off, how did they manage?" - -"Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame," said his brother. "They -did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might -have questioned a little closer. But never mind, 'tis all straight road. -I would lay any wager they will come back safe,--boys always do." - -Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that -he, too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his -tranquillity deserted her. - -Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o'er again of his battles -at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window, -where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a -start, "Here is Willy running across the paddock!" - -"All right!" said Uncle Roger, "they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!" - -"It is the opposite way!" said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same -moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta's heart throbbed fearfully as -she saw how wearied was the boy's running, and yet how rapid. She could -hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the -same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as, -breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and -threw himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging -as if he could not stand. - -"Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?" said his father, -kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as -he almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. "What is the matter now?" - -There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of -the boy. Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle -Geoffrey stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of -wine and some water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his -forehead, laid her cold hand on it, and said, "Poor little fellow." - -At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered -something unintelligible. - -"What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?" were questions -anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in -administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to -his aunt, - -"Don't--tell--her." - -It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying, -"Don't be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it." - -He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. -Henrietta's violently throbbing heart took from her almost the -perception of what was happening. - -"Take breath, Willy," said his father; "don't keep us all anxious." - -"Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey," said the boy. - -"Is she safe?" asked Aunt Mary, earnestly. - -"Yes." - -"Thanks to God," said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, -with a look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible -mournfulness which went to his heart. - -"And Fred?" said Uncle Roger. - -"Do not ask, Roger," said she, still as calmly as before; "I always knew -how it would be." - -Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one -word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few -confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters -in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came -to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was -still. - -"Mamma!" said she. - -"Here, dear child,"--but it was Mrs. Langford's voice. - -"Mamma!" again said she. "Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does -the room turn round?" - -"You have not been well, my dear," said her grandmother; "but drink -this, and lie still, you will soon be better." - -"Where is mamma?" repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but -Mrs. Langford and Bennet. "Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her -I am better." - -"She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep." - -"But weren't there a great many people?" said Henrietta. "Were we not -in the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, -where are mamma and Fred?" - -"They will soon be here, I hope." - -"But, grandmamma," cried she vehemently, turning herself round as -clearer recollection returned, "something has happened--O! what has -happened to Fred?" - -"Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear," said Mrs. Langford. "It was -Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles -are gone to see about him." - -"A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, -tell me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!" - -With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and -bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all -that she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance -on her, and had only heard the main fact of Willy's story. Henrietta -clapped her hands wildly together in an agony of grief. "He is -killed--he is, I'm sure of it!" said she. "Why do you not tell me so?" - -"My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned." - -"No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred, -Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O, -Fred!" - -She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of -sorrow. "And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O, -my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!" - -"Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "you do not know what you are saying; -you must bear the will of God, be it what it may." - -"I can't, I can not," repeated Henrietta; "if I am to lose him, I can't -live; I don't care for anything without Fred!" - -"Your mother, Henrietta." - -"Mamma! O, don't speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, -without him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing." - -Henrietta's grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish; -there was little thought of her mother,--little, indeed, for anything -but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and -sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly -tried to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and -saying, "I can't be patient--no, I can't!" and then again repeating her -brother's name with all the fondest terms of endearment. - -Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived--and she -became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required -her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel -disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, -fancying herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being -told really and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was -urgent to go out and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. -Langford would not permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful -sight, which might shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from -taking it so; her habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite -of her usual gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, -and she burst into a passionate fit of weeping. - -In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps, -scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it -as a subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of -a long previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; -gentle, caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and -deceitful. But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her -mother, prepared for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a -support to her; she would have remembered how terrible must be the -shock to her grandmother in her old age, and how painful must be the -remembrances thus excited of the former bereavement; and in the attempt -to console her, the sense of her own sorrow would have been in some -degree relieved; whereas she now seemed to forget that Frederick -was anything to any one but herself. She prayed, but it was one wild -repetition of "O, give him back to me!--save his life!--let him be safe -and well!" She had no room for any other entreaty; she did not call -for strength and resignation on the part of herself and her mother, for -whatever might be appointed; she did not pray that his life might be -granted only if it was for his good; she could ask nothing but that her -own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and she ended her prayer -as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she began it. - -The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and -Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and -greatly relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick's life, -and of Philip Carey's arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their -first entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their -narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and -when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again -turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look -at Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one -flesh from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one -word, one kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled -ringlets that floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead -rested, and meantime submitted with a kind of patient indifference to -her grandmother's caress, drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, -and finally was sent upstairs to change her dress. Too restless, too -anxious, too wretched to stay there alone, longing for some interchange -of sympathy,--but her mind too turbid with agitation to seek it where it -would most surely have been found,--she hastened down again. Grandmamma -was busied in giving directions for the room which was being prepared -for Fred; Uncle Roger had walked out to meet those who were conveying -him home: and Henrietta was sitting in the window, her forehead resting -against the glass, watching intently for their arrival. - -"Are they coming?" asked Beatrice anxiously. - -"No!" was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as -if her cousin's entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went -up and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand -that lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, "Henrietta, you -forgive me?" - -The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised -her face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, "Of course, -Bee, only I am so wretched. Don't talk to me." - -Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with -a more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; -it was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her -whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost -choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the -cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,--longed for her -almost as much for her papa's, her Aunt Mary's and her grandmother's -sake, as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with -her have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to -her, but her hand was trembling--every pulse throbbing; she could not -even sit still enough to make the attempt. - -At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the -window beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by -Uncle Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one -side, and on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger's -arm. - -Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that -moment for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and -deposited for a few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed -between her uncles, and made her way up to him, unconscious of the -presence of anyone else--even of her mother--while she clasped his hand, -and hanging over him looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless -features. The next moment she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, -and was forced to turn round and look into her face: the sweet mournful -meekness of which came for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the -dry burning desert of her grief. - -"My poor child," said the gentle voice. - -"O, mamma, is--is--." She could not speak; her face was violently -agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered. - -"They hope for the best, my dear," was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey -Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the -intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only -took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended -to convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was -telling her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her -to take some rest. - -"Thank you, ma'am,--thank you very much indeed--you are very kind: I am -very sorry to give you so much trouble," were her answers; and simple as -were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in them. - -Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at -that moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was -retreating, as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in -Henrietta's. - -"I did not see you, before, Queenie," she said, holding out her hand and -kissing her, "you have gone through more than any one." - -A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee's -eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful -name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and -contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was -no one to attend to her--the patient occupied the whole attention of -all. He was carried to his mother's room, placed in bed, and again -examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence -that there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. -While this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, -her head on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As -evening twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went -down to make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the -drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, -and beg to be let in. - -Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the -bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first -stood by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down -on a footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother's lap, gave -herself up to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the -very luxury of grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching -his sister-in-law even more anxiously than the patient, and thus a -considerable interval passed in complete silence, only broken by the -crackling of the fire, the ticking of the watches, or some slight change -of posture of one or other of the three nurses. At last the stillness -was interrupted by a little movement among the bedclothes, and with a -feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the hand, which had hitherto lain -so still and helpless, stretched somewhat out, and the head turned upon -the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed -her daughter's hand with a sort of convulsive tremor. A faint voice -murmured "Mamma!" and while a flush of trembling joy illumined her pale -face, she bent over him, answering him eagerly and fondly, but he did -not seem to know her, and again repeating "Mamma," opened his eyes with -a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express some complaint. - -In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness. -He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the -sake of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, -not even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, -while his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering -his half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with -assistance and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially -supporting his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance -so precious to a sinking heart. - -Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that -she might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick -Langford only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful -smile that it was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta -to go. The former complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would -create downstairs; but Henrietta declared that she could not bear the -thoughts of going down, and it was only by a positive order that he -succeeded in making her come with him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made -her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded her plate with all that was best -on the table, but she looked at it with disgust, and leaning back in her -chair, faintly begged not to be asked to eat. - -Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which -startled her by its unwonted severity, "This will not do, Henrietta; I -cannot allow you to add to your mamma's troubles by making yourself ill. -I desire you will eat, as you certainly can." - -Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have -interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling -of being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and -having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner, -by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed. - -Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, -and returned to Fred's room as soon as he could, without giving that -appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm. -Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after -him, and neither of the two came down again to tea. - -Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course -very glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the -conversation kept up with him for civility's sake. She had been -leading a forlorn dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping -grandmamma to write notes to be sent to the intended guests, and -afterwards, with a feeling of intense disgust, putting out of sight all -the preparations for their own self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and -yet when she found it, it was unendurable, and to talk to her father or -grandfather would be a great relief, yet the first beginning might well -be dreaded. Neither of them was forthcoming, and now in the evening to -hear the quiet grave discussion of Allonfield gossip was excessively -harassing and irritating. No one spoke for their own pleasure, the -thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only talked thus for the sake -of politeness; but she gave them no credit for this, and felt fretted -and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was better than when -they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of the accident, -requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it. She hurried -over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting. - -"But, my dear," said Mrs. Roger Langford, "what could have made you so -anxious to go to Allonfield?" - -"O, Aunt Roger, it was very--" but here Beatrice, whose agitated spirits -made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized with -such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an expedition, -with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass's ears, that she -was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt Roger, -after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up, and -came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more -uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and -when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed -the more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment -succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind -demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and -a certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all. -When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the -dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a -violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite -still, except for the trembling, which she could not control. - -Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could -not bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. -Langford's offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that -she should go up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit -her when he came out of Fred's room. Her grandmamma came up with her, -helped her to undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and -summoned Judith to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible -for Henrietta, who was to sleep with her that night. It was with -much difficulty that she could avoid making a promise to go to bed -immediately, and not to get up to breakfast. At last, with a very -affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her to brush her hair, an operation -which she resolved to lengthen out until her papa's visit. - -It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the -passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before -him, her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual -from the contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white -nightcap and dressing-gown. - -"How is Fred?" asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her -to speak. - -"Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? -Your grandmamma said--" - -"Never mind, papa," interrupted she, "only tell me this--is Fred in -danger?" - -"You have heard all we can tell, my dear--" - -Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped -her hands: "I know--I know; but what do you think?" - -"My own impression is," said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost -reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, "that there -is no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain -the extent of the injury." - -Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon -it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his -face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly, -"Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing." - -His face did not express surprise or horror--nothing but kindness and -compassion, while he answered, "My poor girl, I was afraid how it might -have been." Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so -as to let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her -time. He might be in haste, but it was no time to show it. - -She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, "Yes, yes, papa, it was the -very thing you warned me against--I mean--I mean--the being set in my -own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to tell -you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me," and she touched -her throat. "I can't get it out in words! O!" Poor Beatrice even groaned -aloud with oppression. - -"Do not try to express it," said her father: "at least, it is not I who -can give you the best comfort. Here"--and he took up a Prayer Book. - -"Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa," said -Beatrice; "but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up -in me. Not one prayer or confession would come;--but now, O! now you -know it, and--and--I feel as if He would not turn away His face. Do you -know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even 'deliver me -from blood-guiltiness,' it would only make me shudder! O, papa, it was -dreadful!" - -Her father's answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and -read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer -for persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord's Prayer. -Beatrice, when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not -speak, nor weep, but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her -anxiously and affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so -much time on her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again -spoke, it was in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, "Aunt Mary -will forgive me, I know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will -not be quite so bad! Now I can pray that he may be saved--O, -papa--disobedient, and I the cause; how could I ever bear the thought?" - -"You can only pray," replied her father. - -"Now that I can once more," said Beatrice; and again there was a -silence, while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual -habit, not speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her -repentant feelings by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. -So they remained for nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it -time to leave her, and made some movement as if to do so. Then she -spoke, "Only tell me one thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any -hope? There was something--something death-like in her face. Does she -hope?" - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. "Not yet," said he. "I think it -may be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning -the hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it -will be as it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his -accident." - -"But surely, surely," said Beatrice eagerly, "this is a very different -case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he -is convinced that there is no fracture--" - -"It is a morbid feeling," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "and therefore -impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and -I shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over." - -"Poor dear aunt!" sighed Beatrice. "I am glad, if it was to be, that you -were here, for nobody else would understand her." - -"Understand her!" said he, with something of a smile. "No, Bee, -such sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be -understood." - -Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort, -said, "I suppose mamma will soon be here?" - -"I think not," said her father, "I shall tell her she had better wait -to see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is -needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, -and I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, -I am of more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if -he is a long time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her -coming fresh, and not half knocked up with previous attendance." - -"But how she will wish to be here!" exclaimed Beatrice, "and how you -will want her!" - -"No doubt of that, Queenie," said her father smiling, "but we must -reserve our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I -must go. Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?" - -"With me," said Beatrice. - -"I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with -her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite -oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!" - -"I don't know what to do about her!" said Beatrice with more dejection -than she had yet shown, "I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I -can't--I shall never do good to anybody--only harm." - -"Fear the harm, and the good will come," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. -"Good night, my dear." - -Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on -her father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest, -unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew -not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of -such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never -known before. - -So she continued till she heard Henrietta's approaching steps, when she -rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection -and consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on -her eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour -on half her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole -person, as if but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, -and took her candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. "No -better," was all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed -answers to all her cousin's questions. She would have done the same to -her grandmamma, or any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, -but this conduct gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done -to any one else, since it kept up the last miserable feeling of being -unforgiven. Beatrice let her sit still for some minutes, looking at -her all the time with an almost piteous glance of entreaty, of which -Henrietta was perfectly unconscious, and then began to beg her to -undress, seconding the proposal by beginning to unfasten her dress. - -Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed. - -"I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta," said Beatrice; "if you would but -let me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still." - -"No, I shan't," said Henrietta shortly, "never mind me." - -"But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but--" - -"I can't go to bed," replied Henrietta, "thank you, Bee, never mind--" - -Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any -service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta's grief than by -the unkind rejection of herself. "Papa thinks there is great hope," said -she abruptly. - -"Mamma does not," said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to -put an end to the subject. - -Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard -it was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door--it was -grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice -of the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours -ago; she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all -Henrietta's feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, -grandmamma peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another -half-hour the cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta's lethargy -had become a heavy sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every -sound, forming every possible speculation on the future, and to her own -overstretched fancy seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each -other through her throbbing head. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - -"Half-past one," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual -observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal -twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since. - -There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though -carefully avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick -bed, he knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he -again heard her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it -had a tremulous tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness. - -Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the -expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the -crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when -the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught -at the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only -answer had been, "As you think right." She spoke so as to show the -greatest consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with -her usual confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to -be called in entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and -returned to her station by Frederick, who had already missed and -summoned her. - -Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice's sarcasm, -was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had -owed much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded -with great reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience -and diffident of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance -in this, the first very serious case which had fallen under his own -management. The proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a -cause of great rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to -the measure. In her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged -fraternity in which she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice -from London would, she thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. -Roger Langford, and all the Carey connection, but seriously injure the -reputation of young Mr. Carey in his own neighbourhood. - -Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such -considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against -Frederick's life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till -her son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted -her by letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and -persuading her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip's practice -that his opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note. - -The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before -she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely -satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already -taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was -genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy's sake. He gave them, too, -more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had -ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the -brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do -well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had -begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment -was agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to -enter on a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged -to go away the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty -that Fred would be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys -shared the belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired -them all with something like hope. - -The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick -Langford and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a -considerable degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his -mother's voice did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew -restless and uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, "Is Uncle Geoffrey -here?" was many times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his -usual answer to her was "You speak so loud;" though in reality, her tone -was almost exactly the same as her mother's; and above all others he -disliked the presence of Philip Carey. - -"Who is that?" inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious -of the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked -quickly, "Is he gone?" - -The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering -considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and -distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared, -glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle -could scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it -were, by the slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with -pain, incapable of thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his -faculties, as it seemed, restored only to be the means of suffering. -Mrs. Langford came to the door to announce that Philip Carey was come. -Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta -began to arrange the room a little for his reception. Fred, however, -soon stopped this. "I can't bear the shaking," said he. "Tell them to -leave off, mamma." - -Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing -that she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs -in order, but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and -exclamation, and Mrs. Langford remarked, "Well, if he cannot bear it, it -cannot be helped; but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!" And out -she went, Fred frowning with pain at every step she took. - -"Why do you let people come?" asked he sharply of his mother. "Where is -Uncle Geoffrey gone?" - -"He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him -directly." - -"I don't want Philip Carey; don't let him come." - -"My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may -do something for this sad pain." - -Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey -opened the door to ask if Fred was ready. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would -not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily -for his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face -a little more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window -shutters partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his -intention, as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of -pain, he turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes -over it. - -"My dear boy," said his mother, pleadingly, "for one moment only!" - -"I told you I could not bear the light," was all the reply. - -"If you would but oblige me for a few seconds," said Philip. - -"Fred!" said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as -if to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face -again, saying, "I can't;" and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the -shutter, unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had -opened it, and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient -scarcely vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted -the room, and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a "Don't go, -mamma," was immediately heard. - -"You must spare me for a very little while, my dear," said she, gently -but steadily. - -"Don't stay long, then," replied he. - -Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light -as a woman's, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, -and for a few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost -immediately he renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and -had it been any other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have -grumbled at his not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted -with a discontented murmur. "What an immense time you have stayed -away!"--presently after, "I wish you would not have that Carey!" and -then, "I wish we were at Rocksand,--I wish Mr. Clarke were here." - -Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as -well as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it -comes as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly -in the young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the -old and querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To -a certain degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of -strength, and the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses -of the young, often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their -patience and forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who -have seen germs of far other dispositions. And when this is not the -case, who would have the heart to complain? Certainly not those who -are like the mother and uncle who had most to endure from the exacting -humours of Frederick Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain -degree of gentleness of character, and a home where, though he was not -over indulged, there was little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined -to make him appear one of the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever -existed; but there was no substance in this apparent good quality, it -was founded on no real principle of obedience or submission, and when to -an habitual spirit of determination to have his own way, was superadded -the irritability of nerves which was a part of his illness, when his -powers of reflection were too much weakened to endure or comprehend -argument; when, in fact, nothing was left to fall back upon but the -simple obedience which would have been required in a child, and when -that obedience was wanting, what could result but increased discomfort -to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as we should lay up a store of -prayers against that time when we shall be unable to pray for ourselves, -so surely should we lay up a store of habits against the time when we -may be unable to think or reason for ourselves! How often have -lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning instantaneous -obedience! - -Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and -future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet -too disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was -subjecting his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission -would have led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually -interrupting even the short repose which she would now and then be -persuaded to seek on the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, -harassing complaints, not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every -thing and every person who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the -only person against whom he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled -against measures to which he was obliged to submit in the end, after -he had distressed every one and exhausted himself by his fruitless -opposition. - -It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would -endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of -those spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are -nevertheless capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to -look worn and almost aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still -indefatigable, unconscious of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in -the thought of her son, and yet not so absorbed as not to be full of -consideration for all around. All looked forward with apprehension to -the time when the consequences of such continued exertion must be -felt, but in the meantime it was not in the power of any one except her -brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to her, and her relations could -only wait and watch with such patience as they could command, for the -period when their services might be effectual. - -Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her -very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the -upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever -she entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always -created a disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was -the aim of the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, -as may be supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa's "You had better not, my -dear," checked her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: -Uncle Geoffrey, who might have had the best chance, had not time to -spare for her; and no one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how -dangerous it was to attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed -the whole household for indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times -a day pronounced that he would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did -the best she could to tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash -did not accord particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much -depressed to queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in -the midst of the suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and -above all, poor child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of -confession and parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; -she was anxious and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be -all that her mother was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that -sat so heavy on her mind was not one for discussion with any one but a -mother, and this consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with -him, such as had never before existed between them. - -Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that -chiefly because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong -affection and esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now -manifested, and the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions -served but to make the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his -brothers, and spent every moment he could at the Hall, either reading in -the library, or walking up and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One -of the many conversations which they held will serve as a specimen of -the rest. - -"So they do not think he is much better to-day?" said Alex, walking into -the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters. - -Beatrice shook her head. "Every day that he is not worse is so much -gained," said she. - -"It is very odd," meditated Alex: "I suppose the more heads have in -them, the easier it is to knock them!" - -Beatrice smiled. "Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex." - -"Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee," and he examined his own -face in the glass over the chimney; "there, do you see a little bit of -a scar under my eyebrow?--there! Well, that was where I was knocked over -by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred -could have come against the ground,--but what harm did it do me? Why -everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black -eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise. -Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing -I saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I -got up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was -the worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would -give anything now." - -"Well, but Alex, I don't understand. You were very good friends at the -bottom, after all; you can't have anything really to repent of towards -him." - -"Oh, haven't I though?" was the reply. "It was more the other fellows' -doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing -all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of -you, had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be -such a friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was--a -fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl's, and that did not even -know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could -begin it all over again." - -"But do you mean that he was really a--a--what you call a Miss Molly?" - -"Who said so? No, not a bit of it!" said Alex. "No one thought so in -reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend -to think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times -more spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been -knocked about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. -The matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I -shan't care if we do win." - -"And the prize," said Beatrice, "the scholarship!" - -"I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey -had not a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the -summer, why then--hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no -time, clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don't you think -so?" - -Queen Bee shook her head. "They say he must not read or study for a very -long time," said she. - -"Yes, but six months--a whole year is an immense time," said Alex. "O -yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does -other people; and his verses, they never fail--never except when he is -careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time. -That is right. Why there!" exclaimed Alex joyfully, "I do believe -this is the very best thing for his success!" Beatrice could not help -laughing, and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed -him, that if Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason -to be thankful. - -"Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this," proceeded -he. "There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters -either." - -"The masters, perhaps," said Beatrice; "but I thought you said there was -a party against him among the boys?" - -"Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they -had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all -his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough -to let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. -I shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon -as I go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have -not the slightest notion what a fellow he is. I'll just tell you one -story of him." - -Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to -illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again -and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed -between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more -conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted -fellow, that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to -Frederick's; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him. - -These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, -if only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that -the only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters -which her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of -those of cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred's room. She -thought she could have borne everything excepting Henrietta's coldness, -which still continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness -to forgive, but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her -own troubles to realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her -uncle Geoffrey had succeeded in awakening her consideration for her -mother; but with her and Fred it began and ended, and when outside the -sick room, she seemed not to have a thought beyond a speedy return -to it. She seldom or never left it, except at meal-times, or when her -grandfather insisted on her taking a walk with him, as he did almost -daily. Then he walked between her and Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse -her to talk, and she, replying as shortly as possible when obliged to -speak, left her cousin to sustain the conversation. - -The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the -Epiphany, and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which -their own hands had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the -glistening leaves unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear -began to gather in Beatrice's eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if -she could not bear the sight of those branches, so lately gathered by -her brother. As they were leaving the church, both looked towards the -altar at the wreath which Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a -deeper and more awful meaning than she had designed. Their eyes met, and -they saw that they had the same thought in their minds. - -When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee -stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but -with a gesture that was almost timid, saying, - -"Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of -this." - -And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse-- - - -"Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And--mark it -well--e'en there He wears His Crown of Thorns. - -"Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set -around, of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping -foe." - - -"They go very deep," sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful -complaining glance. - -Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct -on Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the "thing -profane" that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she -had even appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning -to speak, but Henrietta cut her short by saying, "Yes, yes, but I can't -stay," and was flying along the passage the next moment. - -Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in -recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of -her recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured -out her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the -very germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: -and a calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, -began to dawn on her. - -It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave -her alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had -heard the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that -her presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the -gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even -stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be -comforted by talking to her. - -Her thought was only the repining one: "the thorns go deep!" Poor child, -had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful -surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden -source of the malady. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - -On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton -carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and -her father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when -alone together. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring -breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery -threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy -grass, the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver "pussycats" on the withy, and -the tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such -sights were a refreshment--a sort of holiday--after the many springs -spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long -attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking -deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if -it would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she -had not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! -Her father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, -and no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on -changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her -mother's place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going -to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, -and they would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning -themselves the next morning to Westminster. - -They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs. -Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new -books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey's for some medicines; -and then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train. - -Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,--the -dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions; -the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the -dress so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy -Beatrice was that first moment of feeling herself at her side! - -"My dear! my own dear child!" Then anxiously following her husband with -her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, "How thin he -looks, Queenie!" - -"O, he has been doing so much," said Busy Bee. "It is only for this -last week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred's -room. This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to -Church, and a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma." - -He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. "Come, Beatrice," said -he to his wife, "I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh -face of yours will do us all so much good." - -"One thing is certain," said she; "I shall send home orders that you -shall be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall -hide half the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, -Geoffrey, are you really well?" - -"Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn," said her husband -laughing. - -"Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?" - -"He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to -lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch's outlines to look at: so you may -guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the -books and prints?" - -"Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight." - -"It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only -take care, they must not be at Henrietta's discretion, or his own, or he -will be overwhelmed with them,--a very little oversets him, and might do -great mischief." - -"You don't think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?" - -"O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep -him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite -is returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him." - -"I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of -poor Mary's over gentleness." - -"Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some -strange prejudice against Philip Carey." - -Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while -her father proceeded. - -"I do not understand it at all: Philip's manners in a sick room are -particularly good--much better than I should have expected, and he has -been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has -shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most -of it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the -London doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than -Philip has ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks -and exclaims the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of -wishing for old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for -never having proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great -faith in the old man, but I believe it was only her mother." - -"Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really -are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am -very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing -but her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about -her." - -"As if I did not know that," said he, smiling. - -"And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I -should like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred's part. Have you -ever asked him?" - -"No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the -prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and -again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence -in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp -enough to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the -great trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned -it, for fear of annoying my mother." - -"Papa," said Busy Bee, "I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It -was my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor -Fred about Roger's having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of -things that I did not really mean." - -"Hem!" said her father. "Well, I should think it might be so; it always -struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, -the memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained." - -"And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am -to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon." - -"Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might -do away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; -only do not let him think it has been under discussion." - -Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. - -"Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?" said her mother. - -"Too wonderfully," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "in a way which I fear -will cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way -as she ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of -the old complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am -persuaded that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago." - -"Ah!" said his wife, with great concern, "that is just what I have been -dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ----, how strongly he -forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let me come? -I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting off." - -"It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice," said he, smiling; -"a sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to -make themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I -did not see you." - -"But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?" - -"Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother -and me; you could not have saved either of us an hour's nursing then, -whereas now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she -will suffer it, and that she will do better from you than from any one -else." - -They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee -was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as -it had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. -Even her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was -so much to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that -they had not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived -at the gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, -excessively delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey. - -In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs. -Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of -a curiously varying and always opposite description. When her -daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of -respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable -life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning, -lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these -prejudices in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own -sake, as well as because she was Geoffrey's wife. On the contrary, the -younger Beatrice, while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,--the -Queen of Bees, the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has -already been shown how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or -had once done so, though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there -had been only one collision between them for the last ten days, and that -was caused by her strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred -was not yet fit for boiled chicken and calves' foot jelly. - -Mrs. Langford's greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her -mamma hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey. - -"My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!" - -"Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!" - -"Is he tired?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of -Queen Bee's promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?" - -Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had -not seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know -how to begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, -while Henrietta went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, -Henrietta opened it, and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by -the fire, in his dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless -manner that betokens great feebleness. There were the purple marks of -leeches on his temples; his hair had been cropped close to his head; his -face was long and thin, without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked -large and bright; and he smiled and held out his hand: "Ah, Queenie, how -d'ye do?" - -"How d'ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better." - -"You see I have the asses' ears after all," said he, pointing to his -own, which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition. - -Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort, -and succeeded, while she said, "I should have complimented you on the -increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head -was so like papa's." - -"Is Aunt Geoffrey come?" asked Fred. - -"Yes," said his sister: "but mamma thinks you had better not see her -till to-morrow." - -"I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going," said Fred. "Nobody else has the -least notion of making one tolerably comfortable." - -"O, your mamma, Fred!" said Queen Bee. - -"O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged." - -"Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work -in London," said Henrietta; "but I do not know what we should have done -without him." - -"I do not know what we shall do now," said Fred, in a languid and -doleful tone. - -The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost -alarmed eagerness, "O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will -enjoy having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and -Philip Carey manages you so well--" - -"Manages!" said Fred; "ay, and I'll tell you how, Queenie; just as the -man managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he -thinks I am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he -knew himself what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire -through my hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a -merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing -else on earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the -strength of a midge!" - -"Well, but of course he knows," said Busy Bee; "Papa says he has had an -excellent education, and he must know." - -"To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how -to keep a patient when he has got one." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign -you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it." - -"I am talking no nonsense," said Fred, sharply; "I am as serious as -possible." - -"But you can't really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such -an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor -too?" - -"What! when that man gets I don't know how many guineas from mamma every -time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should -get well?" - -"My dear Fred," interposed his sister, "you are exciting yourself, and -that is so very bad for you." - -"I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to -be shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding -twice a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey's pockets! Now, there was -old Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; -but this man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to -kick him out of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying -to be gen-tee-eel, and condoling; and those boots--O! Busy Bee! those -boots! whenever he makes a step I always hear them say, 'O what a pretty -fellow I am!'" - -"You seem to be very merry here, my dears," said Aunt Mary, coming in; -"but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even -before I opened the door." - -Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not -absolutely to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, -sitting down, began to talk to the visitor, "Well, my little Queen, we -have seen very little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose -you. I suppose your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must -not expect any, but we shall want very much to know how you get on with -Aunt Susan and her little dog." - -"O very well, I dare say," said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was -looking at her aunt's delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her -father had been saying. - -"And Queenie," continued her aunt, earnestly, "you must take great -care of your papa--make him rest, and listen to your music, and read -story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening." - -"To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can." - -"But Bee," said Fred, "you don't mean that you are going to be shut up -with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don't you stay here, and -let her take care of herself?" - -"Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is -really ill, Fred," said Beatrice. - -"It is too bad, now I am just getting better--if they would let me, I -mean," said Fred: "just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you -go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame." - -"So it is, Fred," said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once -she would have answered him, "a great shame in you not to have learned -to feel for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself." - -"That is right, Bee," said Aunt Mary, smiling; "tell him he ought to -be ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the -comfort of your household. I am sure I am," added she, her eyes filling -with tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice's hand. - -Queen Bee's heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to -the expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only -pressed her aunt's long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face -to the fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was -a little silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the -engravings at which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till -the dressing bell rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook -hands with Fred, saying cheerfully, "Well, good-bye, I hope you will be -better friends with the doctors next time I see you." - -"Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!" repeated Fred, as she -left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma -in the space allowed for dressing. - -Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick's own -place, there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet -to sit with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old -man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both -Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence. - -Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and -talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was -ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again, -Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with -Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either -writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly -like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, -she was no repiner. "I deserve it," said she to herself, "and surely -I ought to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. -Besides, with even one little bit of papa's company I am only too well -off." - -So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no -one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed -upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were -much more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about -Fred, and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful -gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously -amiss with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to -rights. Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain -of remorse was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every -little gesture and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the -accident. - -Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so -much talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of -his uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, -but still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, -for when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as -he watched the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time -sedulously making for his comfort, "Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you -very much; I am afraid I have been a great plague to you." - -Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle -Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully -expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, -coupled with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was -salutary. - -"Anything for your good, my dear sir," said he, with a smile. "You are -welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma -is not quite so tough." - -"Well, I do try to be considerate about her," said Fred. "I mean to make -her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to -save her." - -"You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her -discussions." - -Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the -early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly -harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which -Henrietta had left on the sofa. "I like those very much," said Fred, -"especially the Fight with the Dragon." - -"You know Schiller's poem on it?" said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Yes, Henrietta has it in German." - -"Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration." - -"I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a -dragon-killing expedition," said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh. - -"Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for-- - - - 'The duty hardest to fulfil, - To learn to yield our own self-will.'" - - -"There is very little hasty pudding in the case," said Fred, rather -disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of -resolution of this kind, "I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let -that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it, -unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit -to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up -to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head -and aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!" - -Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful -than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and -besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so -much so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have -half an hour's talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at -last, however, and his first question was, "What do you think of the -little Bee?" - -"I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able -to do for some time past," was the answer. - -"Poor child, she has felt it very deeply," said he, "I have been grieved -to have so little time to bestow on her." - -"I am disposed to think," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, -"that it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much -talk has always been the mischief with her, as with many another only -child, and it struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so -little. There was something very touching in the complete absence of -moralizing to-day." - -"None of her sensible sayings," said her father, with a gratified though -a grave smile. "It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self -in it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness -about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have -seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much -pleased with her, she was so simple: 'Very well,' she said, 'I hope I -shall be able to make her comfortable:' no begging off, no heroism. And -really, Beatrice, don't you think we could make some other arrangement? -It is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very -well, and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor -little Queen here with you." - -"No, no, Geoffrey," said his wife, "that would never do: I do not mean -on my aunt's account, but on the Busy Bee's; I am sure, wish it as we -may," and the tears were in her eyes, "this is no time for even the -semblance of neglecting a duty for her sake." - -"Not so much hers as yours," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "you have more -on your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a -valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it -is your turn to keep her now." - -"No, no, no," she repeated, though not without an effort, "it is best as -it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write -to me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred -times more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death -with no one to remonstrate." - -So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost -both mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which -they kept close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one -fragment of each other's company; but they had very few moments alone -together, and those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in -minute directions as to the little things that conduced to keep Lady -Susan in good humour, and above all, the arrangements for papa's -comfort. There was thus not much time for Beatrice to spend with -Henrietta, nor indeed would much have resulted if there had been more. -As she grew more at ease about her brother, Henrietta had gradually -resumed her usual manner, and was now as affectionate to Beatrice as -ever, but she was quite unconscious of her previous unkindness, and -therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen Bee had ceased to think -of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the two girls, they neither -of them perceived it. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London -so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but -their hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, -who came in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey -about his school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a -merrier meeting next summer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety -for her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to -allow that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than -she had hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and -after a few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe -fit of the spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at -intervals, and was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, -relying with complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her -son. - -It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to -devote herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of -Frederick, who was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she -only gave him as much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and -to superintend the regulation of his room. He had all the society he -wanted in his sister, who was always with him, and in grandpapa and -grandmamma, whose short and frequent visits he began greatly to -enjoy. He had also been more amenable to authority of late, partly in -consequence of his uncle's warning, partly because it was not quite so -easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and partly too because, excepting -always the starving system, he had nothing in particular of which to -complain. His mother's illness might also have its effect in subduing -him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or Henrietta's, as they -were too much accustomed to her ill health to be easily alarmed on her -account. - -It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in -the afternoon--Fred's best time in the day--to take his leave. All the -morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good -deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he -had been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay -away from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and -finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be -thus laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and -leading member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable -that he would never return there again. - -He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be -missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees, -and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: -the "beech-crowned steep," girdled in with the "hollow trench that the -Danish pirate made;" the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of -the chapel, the surpliced scholars,--even the very shops in the streets -had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he -sighed at the thought that there he would be known no more,--all would -go on as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of -compassion, he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race -of distinction; his school-boy career be at an end. - -His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford's entrance with Aunt -Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, -to walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after -putting a book within Fred's reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma -were quite willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother. - -Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his -health, and the present mode of treatment,--a subject on which they were -perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as -the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully -dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for -a long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room -without excessive giddiness--what was that but the effect of want of -nourishment? "If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the -thing was wholesome." So she said, and her grandson assented with his -whole heart. - -In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most -tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly. - -"O, grandmamma!" said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively -lighted up at the sight. - -"Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very -good. It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must -do you good." - -"Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice," said Fred, gazing on -it with wistful eyes, "but really I do not think I ought." - -"If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a -thing," said Mrs. Langford. "But I have lived a good many more years in -the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all -this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the -neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the -fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the -system,--that was what he used to say." - -"Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!" sighed Fred. "I know my system -would like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid -stuff; but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if -they knew it." - -"Never mind," said grandmamma; "'tis all my doing, you know. Come, to -oblige me, taste it, my dear." - -"One spoonful," said Fred--"to oblige grandmamma," added he to himself: -and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could -bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a -little,--"There is wine in it!" said he. - -"A very little--just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any -difference. Do you like it, my dear?" as the spoon scooped out another -transparent rock. "Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt -Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith." - -"I am in for it now," thought Fred. "Well, 'tis excellent," said he; -"capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers' ends," added he with a -smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles -remaining in the small end. - -"That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!" said grandmamma, -hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it -implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of -his own case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very -imprudently,--that is to say, his better sense was aware--but his spirit -of self-will made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and -was greatly confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. -Grandmamma returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed -her, and after shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the -alteration in Fred's appearance. - -This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over -school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his -friends, discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, -the studies, the employments; Alex lamenting Fred's absence, engaging -to write, undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his -speedy recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,--the prize. Never had -the two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was -no competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both -felt great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud -became their glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not -in perfect health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; -and finding Fred so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest -farewells and good wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie -quiet and rest, and sat down herself to see that he did so. - -Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and -eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went -on more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some -one who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but -he grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the -time for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and -sent Bennet to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a -quiescent state. He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of -the evening; but so wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began -to be alarmed, and fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was -in the right after all. Towards morning, however, a short sleep -visited him, and he awoke at length quite sufficiently refreshed to be -self-willed as ever; and, contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his -bed at his usual hour. - -Philip Carey came at about twelve o'clock, and was disappointed as well -as surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as -he could not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was -unsatisfactory; but Philip thought the excitement of the interview -with Alex well accounted for the sleepless night, as well as for the -exhaustion of the present day: and Fred persuaded himself to believe so -too. - -Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take -a ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone -by was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in -his granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be -too bustling a nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently -impatient to be left alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick -Langford, resolving, however, not to be long absent. - -In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, -in spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent -irritation of Philip's last visit made him more willing to act in -opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of -swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in -which he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale -glass safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford's -door was opened at the other end of the passage. - -Fred's sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,--too -high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa, -too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly -though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought -she did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain -concluding shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him -in a passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came -in, and it seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the -horses' feet upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because -his sister went first to her mamma's room; and it was grandpapa who came -to him full of a story of Henrietta's good management of her horse when -they suddenly met the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in -her habit, her hair hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and -eyes lighted up by the exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, -begging his pardon for having kept him waiting, but saying she thought -he did not want her directly, as he had grandpapa. - -Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of -spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong -scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then -insisted on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating -to him from the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she -sat down directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to -be thus satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her -translation, and desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read -first so fast that he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was -quite unbearable, and she must go on translating. With the greatest -patience and sweetest temper she obeyed; only when next he interrupted -her to find fault, she stopped and said gently, "Dear Fred, I am afraid -you are not feeling so well." - -"Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I -suppose. Well, never mind, I will go on for myself," said he, snatching -the book. - -Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to -vindicate herself. - -"Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would -not be so silly." - -"If you would only let me go on, dear Fred," said she, thinking that -occupying him would be better than arguing. "It is so dark where you -are, and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming." - -Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time, -till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when -the failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light -from the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad -of her, when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that -horrible red flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, -which had been one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so -alarmed her that she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and -was heartily glad to see her enter the room. - -"Well, how are you going on?" she said, cheerfully. "Why, my dear, how -hot you must be in that habit!" - -"Rather," said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her -perplexity, was almost crimson. "We have been reading 'Nicolo,' and I -am very much afraid it is as bad as Alex's visit, and has excited Fred -again." - -"I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!" said Fred, -impatiently. - -"Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt," said Aunt Geoffrey. "But -yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity." - -Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta -that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt. - -"Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?" said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as -well as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to -acquire sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and -still she held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in -the hope that it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened -them. - -"What! 'tis faster?" asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when -she released him at last. - -"You are flushed, Fred," she answered very quietly, though she felt -full of consternation. "Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had -better not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better -than last night." - -"Very well," said Fred. - -"Then I will ring for Stephens," said she. - -The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and -there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms -that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without -exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to -recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as -she left her sister's room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had -left with Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been -giving him any of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford could hardly believe that either party could have acted so -foolishly, yet when she remembered a few words that had passed about the -jelly that morning at breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly -reproached herself for not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of -her suspicion she however said nothing, but sealing her note, she went -down to the drawing-room, told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred -quite so well that evening, and asked him if he did not think it might -be better to let Philip Carey know. He agreed instantly, and rang the -bell to order a servant to ride to Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who -could not bear any one but Geoffrey to act without consulting her, -pitied man and horse for being out so late, and opined that Beatrice -forgot that she was not in London, where the medical man could be called -in so easily. - -It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger, -for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was -not easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. "Well, it is very kind -in you to attend to my London fancies," said she; "I think if we can do -anything to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Langford. "It is very disappointing -when he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something -imprudent." - -It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her -daughter-in-law had long since come to a resolution never to convey to -her anything like reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken -kindness of heart, or her respectable prejudices; so, without -entering on what many in her place might have made a scene of polite -recrimination, she left the room, and on her way up, heard Frederick's -door gently opened. Stephens came quickly and softly to the end of -the passage to meet her. "He is asking for you, ma'am," said he; "I am -afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring, for fear of alarming -my mistress, but--" - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and -exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion -and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and -looked wildly about. "Oh, Aunt Geoffrey," he exclaimed, "what shall I -do? It is as bad--worse than ever!" - -"You have been doing something imprudent, I fear," said Aunt Geoffrey, -determined to come to the truth at once. - -"Only that glass of jelly--if I had guessed!" - -"Only one?" - -"One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma's doing. Don't let her -know that I told. I wish mamma was here!" - -Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could -not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed. - -"The inflammation is coming back!" he cried, in an agony of apprehension -that almost overcame the sense of pain. "I shall be in danger--I shall -lose my senses--I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?" - -"Lie still, my dear Fred," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand -on him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to -sit up. "Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. -You must control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will -do the best in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God." - -"Then you think me very ill?" said Fred, trying to speak more -composedly. - -"I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will -keep yourself quiet, both mind and body. There--" she settled him as -comfortably as she could: "Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make -a resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall -soon come back." - -This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as -a favour to spare her, and yet his aunt's tone was so affectionate, as -well as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left -the room, and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant -against the wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite -overwhelmed, and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, -or even for one short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, -there was no time, and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning -up her energies, she walked on to the person whom she at that moment -most dreaded to see, her sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her -arm-chair, Henrietta with her, both looking very anxious, and she was -glad to find her prepared. - -"What is it?" was the first eager question. - -"He has been attempting rather too much of late," was the answer, "and -has knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better -stay with him, and perhaps you might miss me." - -"O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as -that you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much -trouble. Don't stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if -he misses you--" - -"Don't you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you." - -This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother -said, "No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants -her." - -"By no means," said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; "he will be quieter -without her." - -Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting -down to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus -checked, and she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her -brother as her aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on -which it is susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for -her brother, whereas it was impatience of being ordered. - -Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. "Aunt Geoffrey is a -capital nurse," said she; "there is something so decided about her that -it always does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of -thinking for oneself." - -"I had rather judge for myself," said Henrietta. - -"That is all very well to talk of," said her mother, smiling sadly, "but -it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it." - -"Well, what do you like to hear?" said Henrietta, who found herself too -cross for conversation. "The old man's home?" - -"Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. -You would want 'lungs of brass' to go on all day to both of us. You had -better not. I should like to talk." - -Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it -gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting -a hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred -conversation. So she took up a book, and began, without any perception -of the sense of what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly -on her brother, and partly on her aunt's provoking ways. She read on -through a whole chapter, then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, "I -must go and see what Aunt Geoffrey is doing with Fred." - -"She is not such a very dangerous person," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, -almost laughing at the form of the expression. - -"Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?" - -"To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was -just going to sleep now." - -"Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door." - -"Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take -care, my dear." - -"I must go, I can't bear it any longer; I will only just listen," said -Henrietta; "I will not be a moment." - -"Let me have the book, my dear," said her mother, who knew but too well -the length of Henrietta's moments, and who had just, by means of a great -effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book. - -Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred's room was -ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing -round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from -Frederick's temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long -gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. "Leeches!" thought Henrietta, -as she started with consternation and displeasure. "This is pretty -strong! Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing -something with him indeed." - -She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, -till at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some -bottle. - -"Let me do something," said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she -thought likely to be the right one. - -Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, "You had better -stay with your mamma." - -"But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has -he ordered it?" - -"He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much -obliged if you would go back to your mamma." - -Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked -up and still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, -"Henrietta, you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses -him; your mamma must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?" - -"I was just going," said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an -additional offence, and walking off in a dignified way. - -It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, -the neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to -lay upon her, and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much -displeased, and too distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any -precautions which her aunt might have tried to impress upon her. - -"Well!" asked her mother anxiously. - -"She would not let me stay," answered Henrietta. "She has been putting -on leeches." - -"Leeches!" exclaimed her mother. "He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is -Mr. Carey here?" - -"No, that is the odd thing." - -"Has he not been sent for?" - -"I am sure I don't know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her -own way." - -"It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!" said -Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed. - -"And never to tell you!" said Henrietta. - -"O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should -be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?" - -"Very faint, I thought," said Henrietta, "there seemed to be a great -deal of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near." - -"She knows exactly what to do," said Mrs. Frederick Langford. "How well -it was that she should be here." - -Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother's complete confidence in -her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue -it away. "Aunt Geoffrey is so quick--she does things without half the -consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything." - -But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be -even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl. - -"My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you -were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied -that she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I -am satisfied, no one else has any right to object." - -There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but -to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of -distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more -than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and -the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did -to fly to her son's room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by -the fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The -tears, whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and -restored her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather -alarmed, too, when she saw her mamma's pale looks, as she leant back -almost exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation. - -Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little -idea of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer -them both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then -they heard sounds announcing Philip Carey's arrival, and presently after -in came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and -that his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, -saying, "Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you -so long, and I believe Henrietta," looking at her with a smile, "thinks -I have used you very ill." - -"I believe she did," said her mother, "but I was sure you would do -right; you say he is better? Let me hear." - -"Much better; only--. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should go -to bed." - -"Let me hear about him first." - -Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one -would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified -Henrietta's opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own -responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and -Fred, already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had -felt considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip -Carey, who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. -Now, however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, -and, although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, -had pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the -patient's life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had -now come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all -that had passed, and ask her pardon. - -"Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and -Geoffrey have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? -and is it not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always -will do so? You know that is the reason I never thank you." - -Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and -ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, "You thought it very -hard to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for -it, but I had not much time to be polite." - -"I am sorry I was in the way," said she, an acknowledgment such as she -had seldom made. - -Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in -his progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the -worst fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered. - -But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations -of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety. - -It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, -that she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding, - -"As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame -better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. -I think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I -do not speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed -herself quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to -imagine that she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, -and I think it much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. -Lady Amelia comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman's -penance may be over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no -doubt that it is a heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and -an hour's freedom from that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk -sufficiently testify." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - -Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of -no slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been -so stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his -danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he -had suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses -perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to -the grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over -him, as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute -of clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And -how had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much -of that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had -been exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved -to be cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted. - -He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an -earnest thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made -in silence during the two or three days that passed, partly in such -thoughts as these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes -his aunt, sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his -bed-side unchidden for not being "mamma." - -"Above all," said he to himself, "he would for the future devote -himself, to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for -his sake. Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the -rest of his life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?" It -was very disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do -for her was to send her messages--and affection does not travel well by -message,--and at the same time to show submission to her known -wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown -submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to -be argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have -indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of -their futility. - -So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to -grumble, and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less -unpleasant even external things appeared, and how much his health -benefited by the tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing -to be pleased with all that was done with that intent; and as he grew -better, it certainly was a strange variety with which he had to be -amused throughout the day. Very good naturedly he received all such -civilities, especially when Willy brought him a bottle of the first live -sticklebacks of the season, accompanied by a message from Arthur that he -hoped soon to send him a basin of tame tadpoles,--and when John rushed -up with a basket of blind young black satin puppies, their mother -following in a state of agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford -and Judith. - -Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and -spent much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond -what could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party. - -When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable -correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still -unable to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between -the two rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or -droll descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of -the fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of -a bunch of violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the -headache, the fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting -their saws on the next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks -who were building their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford's -window, and whom she watched so much that she was said to be in a fair -way of solving the problem of how many sticks go to a crow's nest; -criticisms of the books read by each party, and very often a reference -to that celebrated billet, unfortunately delivered over night to Prince -Talleyrand, informing him that his devoted friend had scarcely closed -her eyes all night, and then only to dream of him! - -Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers -as in their younger days,--depending upon her, participating in all her -pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, -by their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the -beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most -valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom -looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories -of down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or -school; had a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration -for the spring flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of -budding woods, soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma -enjoyed comparing notes with her about those same woods and dells, and -would describe the adventures of her own youth! And now it might be -noticed that she did not avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta's -father had been engaged; nay, she dwelt on them by preference, and -without the suppressed sigh which had formerly followed anything like -a reference to him. Sometimes she would smile to identify the bold open -down with the same where she had run races with him, and even laugh to -think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the shady woodland walk would -make her describe their nutting parties, or it would bring her thoughts -to some fit of childish mischief and concealment, and to the confession -to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at length led her. -Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken together when older -grown, when each had become prime counsellor and confidante of the -other; and the interests and troubles of home and of school were poured -out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged. How Fred and -Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love had grown -up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady coombs, and -green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened with -advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been -to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of -crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if -she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same -time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to -tell Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most -characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, -that she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his -death, as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of -his memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so -much as her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these -recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy. - -Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them -anxious about her mother's health, but for her own part she did not -think her worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued -in nearly the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was -so cheerful, and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even -though there was no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint -there was, as she knew of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed -so long, that after the first shock of being told of it two years ago, -she had almost ceased to think about it. She satisfied herself to her -own mind that it could not, should not be progressing, and that this was -only a very slow recovery from the last attack. - -Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and -merry when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or -take less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet -he grew grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother -grew minute and anxious. - -"Henrietta," said he, one day when they were alone together, "I was -trying to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma." - -"O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more," said -Henrietta. - -"You have told me that so many times," said Fred. "I think I must try to -get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey -comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there." - -"It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!" said Henrietta. - -"Yes," said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, "But -how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it -not?" - -"Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here." - -"It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey -went." - -"The fourth," said Henrietta. - -"And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first -spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!" - -"Well," said Henrietta, "you know she was five weeks without stirring -out of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is -getting better." - -"I don't think it is getting better," said Fred. "You always say so, but -I don't think you have anything to show for it." - -"You might say the same for yourself," said Henrietta, laughing. "You -have been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not -boast." - -"Well, at least I can show something for it," said Fred; "they allow -me a lark's diet instead of a wren's, I can hold up my head like other -people now, and I actually made my own legs and the table's carry me -to the window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not -think it is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or -eleven o'clock; now I don't believe she ever is till one." - -"It has been close, damp weather," said Henrietta, surprised at the -accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. "She misses the cold -bracing wind." - -"I don't like it," said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval -beginning again more earnestly, "Henrietta, neither you nor any one else -are keeping anything from me, I trust?" - -"O, no, no!" said Henrietta, eagerly. - -"You are quite sure?" - -"Quite," responded she. "You know all I know, every bit; and I know all -Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr. -Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong -things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would -not do so." - -"I don't think they would," said Fred; "but I am not satisfied. -Recollect and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only -recovering slowly--I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not -a thing to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as -well as usual?" - -"I do," said Henrietta, "and you know I am more used to her illness than -any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how -bad the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we -could not expect her to get on faster." - -"You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey." - -"O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just -like Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure -you could not get any more information from her than from me, and -impressions--I am sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma." - -Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never -lost one of his mother's little notes, placing them as soon as read in -his pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta -to lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her -marriage. It represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the -long ringlets and plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the -arch suppressed smile on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep -blue eye. He looked at it for a little while, and then asked Henrietta -if she thought that she could find, among the things sent from Rocksand -which had not yet been unpacked, another portrait, taken in the earlier -months of her widowhood, when she had in some partial degree recovered -from her illness, but her life seemed still to hang on a thread. Mrs. -Vivian, at whose especial desire it had been taken, had been very fond -of it, and had always kept it in her room, and Fred was very anxious to -see it again. After a long search, with Bennet's help, Henrietta found -it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and in the deep black garments, -there was much more general resemblance to her present appearance in -this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling bride. "And yet," -said Fred, as he compared them, "do not you think, Henrietta, that there -is more of mamma in the first?" - -"I see what you mean," said Henrietta. "You know it is by a much better -artist." - -"Yes," said he, "the other is like enough in feature,--more so certainly -to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet what is -it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their look, -and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind of -hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet -smile, that is quite her own!" - -"If you could but see her now, Fred," said Henrietta, "I think you would -indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that -lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks -about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the -miniature, all but her thinness." - -"I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father," -murmured Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her -eyes; then a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she -began to speak of something else as fast as she could. - -Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a -minute's visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his -sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister's information -that "it was on business," and only was in a slight degree reassured by -being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day. -Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially -anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she -would not leave him alone in Fred's room, knowing full well that -no questions would be asked except in private--none at least of the -description which she dreaded. - -All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he -might visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it -was possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged -that on Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, -his uncle should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them -both. - -Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great -undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at -length the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to -take away all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited -a few moments; then said, with some hesitation, "Fred, you must be -prepared to see her a good deal altered." - -"Yes," said Fred, impatiently. - -"And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do -not ask it for your own sake." - -"Yes," said Fred, resolutely. - -"Then come." - -And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his -uncle's arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she -sat by the fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on -one knee before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on -his face, and a quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then -rising, he sank back into another great chair, which his sister had -arranged for him close to hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he -passively let Henrietta make him comfortable there; while holding his -mother's hand, he kept his eyes fixed upon her, and she, anxious only -for him, patted his cushions, offered her own, and pushed her footstool -towards him. - -A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the -door. - -"I still think it a great risk," said she. - -"But I should not feel justified in preventing it," was his answer, -"only do not leave them long alone." Then opening the door he called, -"Henrietta, there is the last bell." And Henrietta, much against her -will, was obliged to go with him to Church. - -"Good-bye, my dear," said her mother. "Think of us prisoners in the -right way at Church, and not in the wrong one." - -Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the -window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of -the rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear -and blue, the buds were bursting into life. - -"How very lovely it is!" added she. - -Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His -eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of -what was to him a thousand times more lovely,--that frail wasted form, -namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had -described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the -rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness -under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as -sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her -face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the -chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen -about her,--more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was not -an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with -a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow -towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the -exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated -with pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in -shaking off the traces of illness. - -The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last -stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant -spray of the budding sweet-briar. - -"The bees are coming out with you, Freddy," said she. "I have just been -round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses." - -"How delicious!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered -the sweet-briar. "Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up -with his journey." - -"O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you," said Fred, sitting up -vigorously; "you do not know how strong I am growing." And then turning -to the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook's -nest, as she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more -cheerful questions and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. -Frederick Langford proposed that the reading of the service should -begin. - -Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took -the alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, -and as he now and then raised his eyes to his mother's face, he saw -her lips follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a -glistening in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget. - -"He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal -their sickness." - -"He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their -names." - -He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking -of the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the -former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole -room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother's face. It was a -sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his -memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, -with its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright -fire, and the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all -around, all conduced to that impression which never left him. - -The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the -"Christian Year," and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as -it may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there -was some conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. -Silent as he was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more -than ten minutes, when sounds were heard of the rest of the family -returning from Church, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet -them. - -In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many -kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a -few cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister -responded with pleasure, said, "Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I -am coming back almost directly to carry you off." - -"So soon!" exclaimed Henrietta. "Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure -of seeing you together?" - -No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed -behind his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then -bent forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, -"Mamma, say you forgive me." - -She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head -against her. - -"My own dear boy," said she, "I will not say I have nothing to forgive, -for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely -forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been -against my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!" she added, -pressing her hand upon his head. "His choicest blessings be with you -forever." - -Uncle Geoffrey's knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, -was folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, -suffered his uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to -his own. He stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, -and gave two or three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, -though his uncle could scarcely determine whether by grief or by -physical exhaustion. - -Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say -nothing: and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which -he remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down -to watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in -which she had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long -time tranquil, if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, -complained that his head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in -quiet. It might be that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt -a charm upon him which he could not bear to break. At any rate, he -scarcely looked up or spoke all the rest of the evening, excepting that, -when he went to bed, he sent a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey -would come to his room the next morning before setting off, as he was -obliged to do at a very early hour. - -He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he -had slept little, and allowing that his head still ached. - -"Uncle Geoffrey," said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at -him earnestly, "would it be of no use to have further advice?" - -His uncle understood him, and answered, "I hope that Dr. ---- will come -this evening or to-morrow morning. But," added he, slowly and kindly, -"you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from the -feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that -he can be of use." - -"Then there is no hope?" said Fred, with a strange quietness. - -"Man can do nothing," answered his uncle. "You know how the case stands; -the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of -its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may -yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer." - -"If I could but think so!" said Fred. "But I cannot. Her face will not -let me hope." - -"If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint," said -Uncle Geoffrey,--but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away, -walked to the window. - -"And you must go?" said Fred, when he came back to his side again. - -"I must," said Uncle Geoffrey. "Nothing but the most absolute necessity -could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man -if I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, -at latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort -to Henrietta." - -"Henrietta knows all this?" asked Fred. - -"As far as she will bear to believe it," said his uncle. "We cannot -grudge her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for -her in the end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, -good-bye, and may God bless and strengthen you in your trial!" - -Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had -ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her -whom he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and -reverence,--the gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful -being he knew! Who would ever care for him as she did? To whom would -it matter now whether he was in danger or in safety? whether he -distinguished himself or not? And how thoughtlessly had he trifled with -her comfort, for the mere pleasure of a moment, and even fancied himself -justified in doing so! Even her present illness, had it not probably -been brought on by her anxiety and attendance on him? and it was his own -wilful disobedience to which all might be traced. It was no wonder that, -passing from one such miserable thought to another, his bodily weakness -was considerably increased, and he remained very languid and unwell; -so much so that had Philip Carey ever presumed to question anything -Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he would have pronounced -yesterday's visit a most imprudent measure. In the afternoon, as Fred -was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs, and going along -the passage. - -"Who is that?" said he; "the new doctor already? It is a strange step." - -"O! Fred, don't be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were -at the worst," said Henrietta. - -"But do you know who it is?" said Fred. - -"It is Mr. Franklin," said Henrietta. "You know mamma has only been once -at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So -you must not fancy she is worse, Fred." - -"I wish we were confirmed," said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, -"My Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta." - -"You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small -print," said she; "I will read anything you want to you." - -He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was -to say, "I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come -to me." - -Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could -against it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask -Aunt Geoffrey's consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss -the opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to -fetch Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no -reason to regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much -oppressed and weighted down when she again returned to him. - -The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick -Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his -opinion was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to -expect. It was impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: -another attack might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be -deferred for weeks or months, or even now it was possible that she might -rally, and return to her usual state of health. - -It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, -probability, that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as -if unsaid; she would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that -brought the least impression of the kind. The only occasion when she -would avow her fears even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and -then how wild and unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and -wretched she would feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute -she would drive off her fears as by force; call up a vision of a -brightly smiling future; think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes -would prevent the approach of the enemy she dreaded. - -Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa, -though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to -sadden her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for -the future, till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his -deep sigh was the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for -much argument, and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, -was easily silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the -patient. Her whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to -"Mary," the friend, the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended -upon with something of the reverent devotedness with which an angel -might be watched and served, were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; -feeling it a privilege each day that she was still permitted to attend -her, and watching for each passing word and expression as a treasure to -be dwelt on in many a subsequent year. - -It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on -marking no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that -her mother was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her -always cheerful, ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and -still with the playfulness which never failed to light up all that -approached her. A flower,--what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her -smile would be! - -It was on the evening of the day after the physician's visit, that -Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering -her mother's spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford -had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the -flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, "Your papa planted a root -of those in my little garden the first summer I was here." - -"Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma." - -"My dear child,"--she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon -her, frightened at the manner--"you must not build upon our favourite -old plan; you must prepare--" - -"O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago; -and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright." - -"Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!" said her mother, taking her -hand. "But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to -you. I want you to make up your mind--" - -Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. "Mamma! mamma! -you must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think -despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!" - -"Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!" - -The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them. - -"No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,--I can't bear it!" she -cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, -which her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend -with. She rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully -followed with her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, -who continued to arrange the things on the table, and make desperate -attempts to regain her composure; but completely failing, caught up her -bonnet, and hurried out of the room. - -"Poor dear child," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, "I wish she was more -prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I -leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man; -but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more -like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear -me--but no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might -give her pain in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I -would say." - -"If I could!" - -"You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now. -Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life: -how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and -his children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how -crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved -chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying. -And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you -remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?" - -"It was after we were gone home." - -"Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so -utterly unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came -with those verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be -forgiven for not being able to follow them. Now I can own with all -my heart the mercy that would not grant my blind wish for death. My -treasure was indeed in heaven, but O! it was not the treasure that was -meant. I was forgetting my mother, and so selfish and untamed was -I, that I was almost forgetting my poor babies! Yes, tell her this, -Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and happiness sprang up all -around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought myself, so much the more -will they for her; and 'at evening time there shall be light.' Tell her -that I look to her for guiding and influencing Fred. She must never -let a week pass without writing to him, and she must have the honoured -office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and grandmother. I -think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are fond of her, -and she seems to suit them." - -"Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have -especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I -have tried to teach Beatrice." - -"Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should -not see her, give her her godmother's love, and tell her that she and -Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I -trust that after thirty-five years' friendship, they will still have as -much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. -I have written her name in one of these books," she added after a short -interval, touching some which were always close to her. "And, Beatrice, -one thing more I had to say," she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and -finding out a place in it. "Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous -man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his -turn, then show him this." She pointed out the verse, "Be as a father to -the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou -be as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy -mother doth." "Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary's last -blessing." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - -On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night's -rest. Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She -thought it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head -turned, the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her. - -Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for -some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. "How is -mamma? Does she want me? Why?" Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it -seemed beyond her power. - -"O, aunt, aunt!" cried she, "what is the matter? What has happened? -Speak to me!" - -"Henrietta," said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, "she bade -you bear up for your brother's sake." - -"But--but--" said Henrietta, breathlessly; "and she--" - -"My dear child, she is at rest." - -Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to -realise what she had heard. - -"Tell me," she said, after a few moments. - -Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. -"It was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very -quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her -face looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt -oppressed, and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning -against my arm, there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we -must only think of her as in perfect peace!" - -Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a -sort of anger, "O, why did you not call me?" - -"There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of -disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late." - -"O, why was I not there? I would--I would--she must have heard me. -I would not have let her go. O, mamma!" cried Henrietta, almost -unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of -ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent -exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but -all she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she -found herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in -some degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as -poor Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs -grew less loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey -thought she could be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, -"Now we must pray that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, -and try to help your brother." - -"Fred, O poor Fred!" and she seemed on the point of another burst of -lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking--"I must go to him; he -has yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are -dressed." - -"O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! -O no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!" A fresh fit of -weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in -great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this -condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go -to poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the -truth. - -"I must leave you, my dear," said she, at last. "Think how your dear -mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who -alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I -hope you will be more composed." - -The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good -preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness -made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and -hastened down from Henrietta's room with a hurried step. - -She knocked at Fred's door, and was answered by his voice. As she -entered he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, -said, "I know what you are come to tell me." - -"Yes, Fred," said she; "but how?" - -"I was sure of it," said Fred. "I knew I should never see her again; and -there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?" - -"She has been crying very much," said his aunt. - -"Ah! she would never believe it," said Fred. "But after last Sunday--O, -no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any -longer!" - -"We could not wish it for her sake," said his aunt, for the first time -feeling almost overcome. - -"Let me hear how it was," said Frederick, after a pause. - -His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked -quickly, "What did you do? I did not hear you ring." - -"No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I -met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and--and was very -kind--then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and went to -wait for Henrietta's waking." - -Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Henrietta! Is she -very much overcome?" - -"So much, that I hardly know how to leave her." - -"Don't stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but -I don't think anything is much good to me." He hid his face as he spoke -thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection. - -"Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred," said she, gently. "Then I will go to -your sister again." - -"Thank you." And she had reached the door when he asked, "When does -Uncle Geoffrey come?" - -"By the four o'clock train," she answered, and moved on. - -Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of -agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister's. -O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the -frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for -a moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; -but then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even -exist under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of -misery seemed chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of -another person he could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in -which he had already done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it -was, did not affect his health as the first anticipation of it had done. -With Henrietta things were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in -a sort of stupor, in which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance -of any person into her room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, -ever increasing in vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was -left to herself, but she could not, or would not, turn where alone -comfort could be found, and repelled, almost as if it was an insult to -her affection, any entreaty that she would even try to be comforted. -Above all, in the perverse-ness of her undisciplined affliction, she -persisted in refusing to see her brother. "She should do him harm," she -said. "No, it was utterly impossible for her to control herself so as -not to do him harm." And thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She -would not touch a morsel of food; she would not consent to leave her bed -when asked to do so, though ten minutes after, in the restlessness -of her misery, she was found walking up and down her room in her -dressing-gown. - -Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr. -Langford, who had loved "Mary" like his own child, did indeed bear -up under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian -submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little -assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share. -Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down -in her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for "poor Mary," or -"dear Frederick," all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then -rising vigorously, saying, "Well, it is His will; it is all for the -best!" and hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make -some arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey's room ready for -him. And in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to -sympathise, or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she -did. In the course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from -Sutton Leigh, and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and -assisting Mrs. Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there -were the two young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only -resting now and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow -far too selfish and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of -Him Who sent it, or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was -gone; and as once the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care -for her mother, so now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration -for Frederick; so that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make -any exertion for his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize -her except Aunt Geoffrey's reading to her; and then it was only that -she was lulled by the sound of the voice, not that the sense reached -her mind. But then, how go on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was -left in his lonely room, to bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? -For though Mr. and Mrs. Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him -many brief kind visits, they all of them had either too much on their -hands, or were unfitted by disposition to be the companions he wanted. -It was only Aunt Geoffrey who could come and sit by him, and tell him -all those precious sayings of his mother in her last days, which in her -subdued low voice renewed that idea of perfect peace and repose which -came with the image of his mother, and seemed to still the otherwise -overpowering thought that she was gone. But in the midst the door would -open, and grandmamma would come in, looking much distressed, with some -such request as this--"Beatrice, if Fred can spare you, would you just -go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was better, and that it was as -well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for one of her dresses, to -send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has set her off crying -to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing with her. I wish -Geoffrey was come!" - -Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one -wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only -person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in -hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield; -and at length Fred's sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage -wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as -their own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden -bursts of lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, -wanted to talk to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only -his father who seemed even to recollect that his wife might want -him more than all. And so she did. Her feelings were very strong and -impetuous by nature, and the loss was one of the greatest she could have -sustained. Nothing save her husband and her child was so near to -her heart as her sister; and worn out as she was by long attendance, -sleepless nights, and this trying day, when all seemed to rest upon her, -she now completely gave way, and was no sooner alone with her husband -and daughter, than her long repressed feelings relieved themselves in -a flood of tears, which, though silent, were completely beyond her own -control. Now that he was come, she could, and indeed must, give way; and -the more she attempted to tell him of the peacefulness of her own dear -Mary, the more her tears would stream forth. He saw how it was, and -would not let her even reproach herself for her weakness, or attempt any -longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on her bed, and told her -that he and Queen Bee could manage very well. - -Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had -scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt's death; and new as -affliction was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether -this was her own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother's grief seemed -to her almost more like a dream. - -"Ah, yes," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been -named, "I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before." - -"Very well," said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she -thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta. - -"Go straight up to her," continued her mother; "don't wait to let her -think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do -the same." - -"If I could but do her any good," sighed Beatrice, as she opened the -door and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for -an answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry, -threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around -was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee's heart when she -was thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to -know what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that -occurred to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and -call her by the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was -as yet fit to bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out -to her cousin all her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. -Beatrice was sometimes indeed startled by the want of all idea -of resignation, but she could not believe that any one could feel -otherwise,--least of all Henrietta, who had lost her only parent, and -that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she feel herself good enough to talk -seriously to Henrietta; she considered herself as only sent to sit with -her, so she did not make any attempt to preach the resignation which was -so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had all day been hearing of it, and -rebelling against it, was almost grateful to her. So Henrietta talked -and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the same dreary views of the -future coming over and over again; and Beatrice's only answer was to -agree with all her heart to all that was said of her own dear Aunt Mary, -and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was still left for her -in so many hearts on earth. - -The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined -to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the -same discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to -her, and thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a -tolerable meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with -tears, put her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept -quietly down to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the -drawing-room good night, she reflected whether she had done what she -ought for her cousin. - -"I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her -head," said she to herself; "for as to the reading, she did not attend -to that. But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself -before I try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be -allowed to be any comfort at all." - -Thanks partly to Beatrice's possessing no rightful authority over -Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to -make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But -nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could -not endure to pass "that door," where ever before the fondest welcome -awaited her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred -yesterday, seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of -perverseness--for it really deserved no better name--was that it began -to vex Fred. "But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey," -said he, "I should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything -so strange." - -Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after -leaving Fred's room he knocked at his niece's door. She was sitting by -the fire with a book in her hand, but not reading. - -"Good morning, my dear," said he, taking her languid hand. "I bring you -a message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him." - -She turned away her head. "Poor dear Fred!" said she; "but it is quite -impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and -do him harm." - -"And why cannot you bear it as he does?" said her uncle gravely. "You -do not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the -advantages of health and strength." - -"Oh, no one can feel as I do!" cried Henrietta, with one of her -passionate outbreaks. "O how I loved her!" - -"Fred did not love her less," proceeded her uncle. "And why will you -leave him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister's love that -should be his chief stay?" - -"He does not doubt it," sobbed Henrietta. "He knows me better." - -"Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which -is not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments' painful -emotion?" - -"Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out -of this room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the -house--to go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it." - -"No, your affection for him is not strong enough." - -Henrietta's pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. "You do not -know me, Uncle Geoffrey," said she proudly, and then she almost choked -with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness. - -"I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief -and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which -you will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making -yourself useless." - -Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the -first weapon she could. "Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I -am," said she. - -If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though -if he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would -have repressed even such demonstrations as he made. "Henrietta, this is -too bad! Has she been weakly yielding?--has she been shutting herself up -in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she -should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and -distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to -do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after -she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now, -when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she -has made for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her -resting, you fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your -mother would have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have -no more to say." - -He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the -accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that -she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. "Uncle Geoffrey!" -she cried, "O, uncle--" but he was gone; and forgetting everything else, -she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything -else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, "O uncle, do not -think I meant that!" - -At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. "Henrietta!" -said he, "I am glad to see you downstairs." - -Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then -laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle's arm, said, "Only say you are -not angry with me." - -"No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person," said -he with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her -surprise at finding herself downstairs after all. - -"And you do not imagine me ungrateful?" - -"Not when you are in your right senses." - -"Ungrateful!" exclaimed Mr. Langford. "What is he accusing you of, -Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?" - -"Nothing," said Uncle Geoffrey, "but that Henrietta and I have both been -somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not, -Henrietta?" - -It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing -Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning -her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa's -with very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened -and admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to -receive their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs. - -"You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?" said -grandpapa. - -"No, I was only going to Fred," said she, growing as desirous of seeing -him as she had before been averse to it. - -"Suppose," said Uncle Geoffrey, "that you were to take a turn or two -round the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, -and you will bring Fred in a fresher face." - -"I will fetch your bonnet," said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top -of the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at -seeing her cousin in the hall. - -And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a -shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had -opened the sashed door into the garden. - -It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the -sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft -masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening -with drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. -Henrietta's burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, -she could not help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first -thing she began to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a -warm expression of gratitude towards her. - -Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two -turns in silence; but Henrietta's heart began to fail her when she -thought of going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could -hardly resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, -gave her shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred's door. - -"Is that you?" was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward -to meet her. "Poor Henrietta!" was all he said, as she put her arm round -his neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his -sofa, made her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for -her comfort. She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no -longer, but she reproached herself excessively for having left him to -himself so long, when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to -make some apology. - -"I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred." - -"O, it is of no use to talk about it," said Fred, playing with her long -curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in -times long gone by. "You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you -been out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in." - -"Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And -how are you this morning, Freddy?" - -"O, pretty well I think," said he, sighing, as if he cared little about -the matter. "I wanted to show you this, Henrietta." And he took up a -book where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks -in some other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading -yesterday, and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, -as she could not help feeling herself. - -And here was the first great point gained, though there was still -much for Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been -conscious of her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her -proneness to make all give way to her own feeling of the moment. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - -There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta -shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it -before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there, -partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and -partly from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was -willing to do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day's -neglect: and she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at -least Fred seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her. - -Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much -to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour -of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion, -she had figured to herself her father's funeral, little thinking of the -reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, -than what any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her -perfectly impossible that she should ever have power to go through with -it. - -In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the -prospect gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, -she found the reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing -nothing, observing nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked -along, wrapped in one absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first -words that "broke the stillness of that hour," healing as they were, -seemed but to add certainty to that one thought that "she was gone." But -while the Psalms and the Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression -of grief seemed in some degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and -the words reached her mind; a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who -had wiped away the tears from her mother's eyes, and by Whom the sting -of death had been taken away. Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, -in meek submission, until now her long widowhood was over; and what -better for her could those who most loved her desire, than that she -should safely sleep in the chancel of the Church of her childhood, close -to him whom she had so loved and so mourned, until the time when both -should once more awaken,--the corruptible should put on incorruption, -the mortal should put on immortality, and death be swallowed up in -victory. - -Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears -flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was -enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round -the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against -the expression that it was "in great mercy that the soul of this our -dear sister" was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound -of the earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever -the most loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for -ever,--might she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection -and the Life--might she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive -the blessing to be pronounced to all that love and fear Him. - -It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. -Langford moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before -doing so, she raised her eyes to her father's name, to take leave of him -as it were, as she always did before going out of Church. She met her -Uncle Geoffrey's eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as -she was out of the church, she said almost in a whisper, "Uncle, I don't -wish for him now." - -He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak, -for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might -safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which -was coming upon her. - -They came home--to the home that looked as if it would fain be once more -cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn -stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, -for she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape -veil. She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose -on hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. -Beatrice came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful -how to address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and -looking earnestly in her face, repeated-- - - -"Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To -run untir'd love's blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, -Over the grave their Lord have met." - - -"Yes, Queenie," said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, "it is a very -different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, -you must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time -past, though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness." She kissed her -affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice. - -"Me! me, of all people," she said. "O, Henrietta!" - -"We must talk of it all another time," said Henrietta, "but now it will -not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don't think this like the days -when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee--that time when I -would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly." - -While she spoke, there was something of the "new bracing" visible in -every movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, -which of late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, -that showed how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about -her whole frame. - -"O no, do not stay with me," said Queen Bee, "I am going"--to mamma, she -would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking -to Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Henrietta, understanding her. "And tell her, Bee--for I am -sure I shall never be able to say it to her,--all about our thanks, and -how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her comfort." "If I -had only believed, instead of blinding myself so wilfully!" she almost -whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now ready, she ran -downstairs and entered her brother's room. His countenance bore -traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he looked -anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her hand -into his, and said, "Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go." - -"I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over," said Fred. "I -have been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very -different thing." - -"It will all come to you when you go to Church again," said Henrietta. - -"How little I thought that New Year's Day--!" said Fred. - -"Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer's holidays!" -said Henrietta. "If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; -but it was my determination to come here that seems to have caused -everything, and that is the thought I cannot bear." - -"I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night," said -Fred, "and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with -consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the -horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame -himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not -think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened -now; that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the -results. Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, -to be sure, that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much -disobedience, and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing -came of it, except that I grew more wilful." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "but I shall always feel as if everything had -been caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again." - -"It was just as much my wish as yours," said Fred. - -"Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you -pleased, and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of -course, to make her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was -always doing, and now I can never make up for it!" - -"O yes," said Fred, "we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how -she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same -as ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to -remember, now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don't you see, -Henrietta, my dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?--that if you did domineer -over her, it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you -must not accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. -He says he does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most -for her comfort, if--" - -"O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!" - -"If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well -again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta. -Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and -attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that -I might have gone on to much worse at school and college." - -"Never, never!" said Henrietta. - -"Not now, I hope," said Fred; "but that was not what I meant to say. No -one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on -either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing, -and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was -convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been -here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa -and grandmamma's sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to -have been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful -that she had come to die in my father's home, after seeing us well -settled here, instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place." - -"How little we guessed it was for that," said Henrietta. "O what were we -doing? But if it made her happy--" - -"Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand," said -Fred. "I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave -of everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle -Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and -the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much -for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already." - -"Home!" said Henrietta, "how determinedly we used to call it so! But O, -that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all -overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot -complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way." - -"The devices and desires of our own hearts!" said Fred. - -"I don't think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own -sake," proceeded Henrietta. "Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to -me, as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again -for me; so that it was all twofold!" Here she hid her face, and her -tears streamed fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that -Fred also was much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute. - -"But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more -than I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still -obeying her. I think at last I may get something of the right sort of -feeling; for I am sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used -to mean when they talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to -read to you?" - -Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford. -Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother's wish, their home; -and there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and -summer, of watching her brother's recovery, which was very slow, but at -the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as -he required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as -quite a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than -she had ever been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to -return to Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the -vacation would bring them all back to Knight Sutton. - -The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great -disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred -would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able -indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume -many of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in -a condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application. -Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as -Alex had numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and -kindness, by silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, -and again and again silently giving up some favourite scheme of -amusement when Fred proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself -almost learned to trust Fred to Alex's care, which was so much less -irritating than her own; and how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is -best shown, when it is related, that neither by word nor look did -she once interrupt the harmony between them, or attempt to obtain the -attention, of which, in fact, she always had as large a share as any -reasonable person could desire. - -How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the -best requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer--a very -adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it--to undertake -little Willy's Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger's knowledge, -had been under Alex's care for the holidays. Willy was a very good -pupil on the whole--better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had -been--and very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such -a test as perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an -insensible manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over -to Henrietta, whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect -quite made up, in grandmamma's eyes, for her very tolerable amount of -acquirements in Latin and Greek. - -By the time care for her brother's health had ceased to be Henrietta's -grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue -his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up -around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful -and valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted -with when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a -granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil -to the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful -to her, as well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and -Charlie, as for the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used -to exercise her taste when Henrietta's wardrobe failed to afford her -sufficient occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, -and demonstrated it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners -gradually acquired the influence over them which Queen Bee had only -exerted over Alex and Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew -less awkward and bearish, without losing their honest downright -good humour and good nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in -attributing the change to her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was -also the friend of the poor women, the teacher and guide of the school -children, and in their eyes and imagination second to no one but Mr. -Franklin. And withal she did not cease to be all that she had ever been -to her brother, if not still more. His heart and soul were for her, and -scarce a joy and sorrow but was shared between them. She was his home, -his everything, and she well fulfilled her mother's parting trust of -being his truest friend and best-loved counsellor. - -Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented -her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! -This was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through -life; and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, -there was linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and -domineering on her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that -spoke only of blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to -her whom she had lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the -steps of Him Who "came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that -sent Him." - -THE END - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. 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Yonge - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Henrietta's Wish - -Author: Charlotte M. Yonge - -Release Date: April 8, 2009 [EBook #5124] -Last Updated: October 12, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA'S WISH *** - - - - -Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, the Victorian Women -Writers Project at Indiana University, and David Widger - - - - - - - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h1> - HENRIETTA’S WISH; - </h1> - <h2> - OR, DOMINEERING - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h2> - By Charlotte M. Yonge - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. - </h2> - <p> - On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was - waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as the - railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently - enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to express - their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek shining skins, - but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now and then to - whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of his whip. - </p> - <p> - Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about - sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and flushed - complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two or three - minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand to examine - the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, and study the - countenances of the bystanders to see whether they expressed any anxiety - respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, however, seemed quite at - their ease, and after a time the arrival of the railway omnibus and two or - three other carriages, convinced her that the rest of the world only now - began to consider it to be due. At last the ringing of a bell quickened - everybody into a sudden state of activity, and assured her that the - much-desired moment was come. The cloud of smoke was seen, the panting of - the engine was heard, the train displayed its length before the station, - men ran along tapping the doors of the carriages, and shouting a word - which bore some distant resemblance to “Teignmouth,” and at the same - moment various travellers emerged from the different vehicles. - </p> - <p> - Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after a - hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to the - carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form, - complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then - withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the - hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the “Well, - Fred!” “Well, Henrietta!” which formed the greeting of the twin brother - and sister. - </p> - <p> - “And was not mamma well enough to come?” asked Frederick, as the carriage - turned away from the station. - </p> - <p> - “She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write - yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; but - she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your school - affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?” - </p> - <p> - “I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie - between us next year.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely,” said Henrietta, “you must be able to beat him then, if you are - before him now.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t make too sure, Henrietta,” said Frederick, shaking his head, - “Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should not - have been before him now if it had not been for my verses.” - </p> - <p> - “I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander,” said Henrietta, “she would - make a great deal of his success.” - </p> - <p> - “Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?” said Frederick with - some dissatisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she - patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. And - indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to her - that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think him worth - cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched up together in - an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the Great. And how - she always talks about Alex when she is here.” - </p> - <p> - “Is she at Knight Sutton?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to be - far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only think, - Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close to the - village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept on saying - how well it would do for us.” - </p> - <p> - “O, if we could but get mamma there!” said Fred. “What does she say?” - </p> - <p> - “She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one,” said Henrietta; - “but that is not an inch—no, not the hundredth part of an inch—towards - going there!” - </p> - <p> - “It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought to - believe so,” said Frederick. “All her attachments are there—her own - home; my father’s home.” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here,” said Henrietta. - “Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to acquaintance, - the people are always changing.” - </p> - <p> - “And there is nothing to do,” added Fred; “nothing possible but boating - and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as Uncle - Geoffrey says. It is very, very—” - </p> - <p> - “Aggravating,” said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of - family slang words. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, aggravating,” said he with a smile, “to be placed under the - necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!” - </p> - <p> - “Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through - when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were - on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a - timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I am - sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it again - and again that she is not easily frightened.” - </p> - <p> - “No: and I do not think she is afraid for you.” - </p> - <p> - “Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious than - girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I think - that is reasonable.” - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it,” said - Fred: “he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden shock—” - </p> - <p> - “What? Our father’s accident?” asked Henrietta. “I never knew rightly - about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old.” - </p> - <p> - “No one saw it happen,” said Fred; “he went out riding, his horse came - home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road.” - </p> - <p> - “Did they bring him home?” asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling tone - in which her brother spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said ‘Mary,’ once or - twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!” - </p> - <p> - “Terrible!” said Henrietta, with a shudder. “O! how did mamma ever recover - it?—at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,—but I - meant live, or be even as well as she is.” - </p> - <p> - “She was fearfully ill for long after,” said Fred, “and Uncle Geoffrey - thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says - they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be - wondered at.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no,” said Henrietta. “What a mystery it has always seemed to us - about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish - days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma - stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter - his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a - comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always - cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her.” - </p> - <p> - “But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his - death?” - </p> - <p> - “O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we had, - and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from talking to - each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did Uncle Geoffrey - tell you this?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to - speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept - back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of - being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how - it is.” - </p> - <p> - “But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which one - would have thought she would have dreaded most of all.” - </p> - <p> - “That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said to - him, ‘Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to ride, - never mind my folly.’ He says that he thinks it cost her as much - resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about - going to school.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes; exactly,” said Henrietta, “if she thinks it is right, bear it - she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee - says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as she - does.” - </p> - <p> - “I never saw anyone so like a queen,” said Fred. “No, nor anyone so - beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her in - her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of your - own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live to be a - hundred.” - </p> - <p> - “You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own, - Master Fred,” retorted his sister; “but one comfort is, that I shall grow - more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all the little - likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was going to - say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth in what - Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made it worse. - You know she had always been in India, and knew less about boys than - mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so she might - really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have often seen her - quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you—her consolations - just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making mamma twice as - bad.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Fred, sighing, “that is all over now, and she thought she was - doing it all for the best.” - </p> - <p> - “And,” proceeded Henrietta, “I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this - perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. She - imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and that it - was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving—” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke,” added Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Till now, I really believe,” said Henrietta, “that the possibility of - moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes that - she can do it than that the house can.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Fred, “I do not think a journey occurs to her among events - possible, and yet without being very fond of this place.” - </p> - <p> - “Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike - about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she once - went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own friends, - instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma’s time it was not so - bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. Rocksand has all - the loneliness of the country without its advantages.” - </p> - <p> - “There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be - well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless - one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no - clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it - would be at Knight Sutton!” - </p> - <p> - “And perhaps she would be cured of her fears,” added Fred; “she would find - no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins there - come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we will see what we can do,” said Henrietta. “I do think we may - persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and for - yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done.” - </p> - <p> - And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep - straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were - within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed - Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer’s lodging, but was - little fitted for a permanent abode. - </p> - <p> - In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no - ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with more - affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung from - the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and returning - such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that he had done - nothing to forfeit home love and confidence. - </p> - <p> - Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford - looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively, - “All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey? - Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now, - Freddy, tell us about your examination,” added she, as fondly leaning on - his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together - on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in truth - one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the admiration - expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the features were - beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet placid resignation - which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. The eyes were deep - dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed their brightness, - their softness was increased; the smile was one of peace, of love, of - serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it were, before her time, - had lived on in meek patience and submission, almost a child in her ways, - as devoted to her mother, as little with a will and way of her own, as - free from the cares of this work-a-day world. The long luxuriant dark - brown hair, which once, as now with Henrietta, had clustered in thick - glossy ringlets over her comb and round her face, was in thick braids - beneath the delicate lace cap which suited with her plain black silk - dress. Her figure was slender, so tall that neither her well-grown son nor - daughter had yet reached her height, and, as Frederick said, with - something queenlike in its unconscious grace and dignity. - </p> - <p> - As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had - great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of the - moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to her - manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her spirit - would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in earlier - days. - </p> - <p> - Frederick’s account of his journey and of his school news was heard and - commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next - matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival was to - talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey’s proceedings, and the Knight Sutton - affairs. - </p> - <p> - “So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, on a special retainer,” said Mrs. Langford, “and very much he seems - to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral.” - </p> - <p> - “He wrote to me in court,” said Fred, “to tell me what books I had better - get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled all over one - side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was beautiful - beyond all he ever imagined.” - </p> - <p> - “Had he never seen it before?” said Henrietta. “Lawyers seem made to - travel in their vacations.” - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared,” said her mamma; “I do not know what - Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his holidays - than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed to take his - own pleasure.” - </p> - <p> - “Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “He goes home just as he used from school,” said Mrs. Langford. “Indeed, - except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered - from those days; his work and play come in just the same way.” - </p> - <p> - “And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet,” added - Henrietta, “only rivalled by Busy Bee herself.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Fred, “according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one - sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa’s pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma’s. It must - be great fun to see them.” - </p> - <p> - “Happy people!” said Mrs. Langford. - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta says,” proceeded Fred, “that there is a house to be let at - Knight Sutton.” - </p> - <p> - “The Pleasance; yes, I know it well,” said his mother: “it is not actually - in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty place.” - </p> - <p> - “With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, “said Henrietta, “and - looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in - mamma’s room.” - </p> - <p> - “What size is it?” added Fred. - </p> - <p> - “The comparative degree,” said Mrs. Langford, “but my acquaintance with it - does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking drawing-room - with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed to run about - when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old Miss Drakes. I - wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys can scarcely, I - should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are all at home.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish some one else would take it,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Some one,” added Henrietta, “who would like it of all things, and be - quite at home there.” - </p> - <p> - “A person,” proceeded the boy, “who likes Knight Sutton and its - inhabitants better than anything else.” - </p> - <p> - “Only think,” joined in the young lady, “how delightful it would be. I can - just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a summer’s - day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to the - nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle and Aunt - Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without ringing at - the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey all - the vacation!” - </p> - <p> - “Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton,” said Mrs. Langford. - “Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, Henrietta, riding - shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your mamma did before you.” - </p> - <p> - “And being as happy as a queen,” said Henrietta; “and the poor people, you - know them all, don’t you, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But I - should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used to - work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress in her - spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a noun and - a verb!” - </p> - <p> - “Who has been so cruel?” asked Fred. “Busy Bee, I suppose.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Henrietta, “she teaches away with all her might; but she says - she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for there is - no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should like to be - Queen Bee’s deputy.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” said Fred, “how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure such - novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old - mistress herself.” - </p> - <p> - “Queen Bee’s is not merely a nominal sovereignty,” said Mrs. Langford. - </p> - <p> - “Besides,” said Henrietta, “the new Clergyman approves of all that sort of - thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. - </h2> - <p> - From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles in - the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought of the - brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as Henrietta - truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk of what she - still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the pang it must - give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the burial-place of - her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been augmented by the tender - over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, who had strenuously - endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a proposal into - consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it out of the - question. - </p> - <p> - A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of - Mrs. Vivian’s life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her - daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was a - general impression throughout the family that now was the time for her to - come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but beginning to - dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles and imagining - scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being realized, or that - it only depended upon her, to find herself at home there; and when - Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of talking, pressed it - upon her, she would reply with some vague intention of a return some time - or other, but still thinking of it as something far away, and rather to be - dreaded than desired. - </p> - <p> - It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind that - it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take a lease - of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present abode; - and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank from - entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason to hope. - </p> - <p> - “Yet, I think,” said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they were - walking together on the sands; “I think if she once thought it was right, - if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really tell her - that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon it.” - </p> - <p> - “But why did he not do so long ago?” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “O! because of grandmamma, I suppose,” said Henrietta; “but he really does - wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put it into - his head to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her,” said Fred; “but it never answers - to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; he always - says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect.” - </p> - <p> - “If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all - parties, I would not say so much about it,” said Henrietta, in a tone - rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of - domineering over her mother. - </p> - <p> - To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good - sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide for - herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and during her - long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her brother-in-law, Mr. - Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, and in lesser ones upon - her children. Girls are generally older of their age than boys, and - Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother’s constant companion, occupied a - position in the family which amounted to something more than prime - minister. Some one person must always be leader, and thus she had - gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for justice requires - it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know her mamma’s mind - for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to do so always was - more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. The habit of being - called on to settle whether they should use the britska or the pony - carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or that book should be - ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very unwilling to be - thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially in one on which - were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the wishes of all the - family. - </p> - <p> - Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best - calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick, - having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed on - their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the same - occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and - Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the - custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid for - those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement there - was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many beautiful - walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford in the pony - carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were the order of the - day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not been for an - occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out sailing without - his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were spending their - holidays in a very different manner, he would have been perfectly happy. - Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the boys in the - neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before him. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care with which - he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his accomplishments, of - his handsome features, and she would willingly have been proud of his - excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she was proud of the - spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it by her full and - entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints must be diminished - at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as much as her own wish - for the scenes round which imagination had thrown such a brilliant halo. - Of society they had hitherto seen little or nothing; Mrs. Langford’s - health and spirits had never been equal to visiting, nor was there much to - tempt her in the changing inhabitants of a watering-place. Now and then, - perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant connexion of some part of the - family came for a month or six weeks, and a few calls were exchanged, and - it was one of these visits that led to the following conversation. - </p> - <p> - “By the by, mamma,” said Fred, “I meant to ask you what that foolish woman - meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly approved of - Aunt Geoffrey’s marriage.” - </p> - <p> - “About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy,” replied - Mrs. Langford, “considering that I was always accused of having made the - match.” - </p> - <p> - “Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you really?” - </p> - <p> - “Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the credit - as I do.” - </p> - <p> - “Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey’s?” - </p> - <p> - “O yes, Fred,” said Henrietta, “to be sure you knew that. You have heard - how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy - and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?” - </p> - <p> - “Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used - to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to - my friend—” - </p> - <p> - “Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it.” - </p> - <p> - “I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the - other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend - Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter - vacation. It was when the general was in command at ——, and - Beatrice was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the - house, entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call - brilliant.” - </p> - <p> - “Were you there, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very - droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; she - to find her brother’s guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford who had - gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, very shy at - first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making giggle; and he to - find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so really simple in tastes - and habits.” - </p> - <p> - “Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?” asked Fred. - </p> - <p> - “She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual beauty - but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really handsome - person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and indeed has - now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a better word, I - must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always very striking.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Henrietta, “I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, and - it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is - something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met her - in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. And - then and there they fell in love, did they?” - </p> - <p> - “In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, but - in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked either - wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose that - anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, and - Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king’s daughter of - Hongarie.” - </p> - <p> - “O yes, of course,” said Henrietta, “but that only makes it more - delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in - their history.” - </p> - <p> - “That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth or - a truism often repeated, Henrietta,” said her mother with a soft sigh, - which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: “Poor Frank’s illness - and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a very - different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, and - was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they were to - him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his youthful - spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and night, and - looking ill and overworked.” - </p> - <p> - “O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey,” cried Henrietta, in an - ecstasy; “you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could not - fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and pining - away all the time and saying nothing about it.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, after - the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading succeeded; - he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were.” - </p> - <p> - “And still he saw nothing of her,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the - Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters a - wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some unlucky - speculation which was to have doubled his daughter’s fortune, managed to - lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay.” - </p> - <p> - “Capital!” cried Frederick, “that brings her down to him.” - </p> - <p> - “So it did,” said his mother, smiling; “but the spectators did not rejoice - quite so heartily as you do. The general’s health was failing, and it was - hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. Leger’s family, - though very kind, were not more congenial than they are now. As soon as - all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the general, who was - very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait until it was - prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after it was all - settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey was with - him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great comfort to - know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she went first to - the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then I would have - her to be my bridesmaid, though”—and Mrs. Langford tried to smile, - while again she strangled a sobbing sigh—“she warned me that her - mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we went - abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight Sutton. - Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected a fine - lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her gaiety and all - her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was delighted with her the - first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey’s coming home and thanking us - for having managed so well as to make her like one of the family, while - the truth was that she had fitted herself in, and found her place from the - first moment. Now came a time of grave private conferences. A long - engagement which might have been very well if the general had lived, was a - dreary prospect now that Beatrice was without a home; but then your uncle - was but just called to the bar, and had next to nothing of his own, - present or to come. However, he had begun his literary works, and found - them answer so well, that he believed he could maintain himself till - briefs came in, and he had the sort of talent which gives confidence. He - thought, too, that even in the event of his death she would be better off - as one of us, than as a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by - talking to us, he nearly persuaded himself to believe it would be a very - prudent thing to marry. It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but - persuade him he did, and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very - summer.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s right,” cried Fred, “excellent and glorious! A farthing for all - the St. Legers put together.” - </p> - <p> - “Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion that - it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady Amelia were - present, so that no one had any reason to say that they disapproved. - Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, I would also - suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple comme il-y-en a - peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, they are very well off,” said Fred; “he is quite at the head of his - profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name is, if - I belong to Langford the barrister.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily bread, - if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the buoyant - school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a child to - its play, his health could never have stood it.” - </p> - <p> - “But then it has been success and triumph,” said Fred; “one could work - like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery.” - </p> - <p> - “It was not all success at first,” said his mother; “there was hard work, - and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to bear it, - and to win through with it.” - </p> - <p> - “And were they very poor?” asked Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. The - house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and - cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt - Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan’s - visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was to - find ‘poor Beatrice’ looking so bright and like herself, and how little - she guessed at her morning’s work, the study of shirt-making, and the - copying out a review of her husband’s, full of Greek quotations.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, the poverty is all over now,” said Henrietta; “but still they live - in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey’s connexions and the - fortune he has made.” - </p> - <p> - “Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?” said Mrs. - Langford. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a cousin - of her aunt Geoffrey’s of whom she had seen something in the last year. - </p> - <p> - “The truth is,” said Mrs. Langford, “that your aunt had display and luxury - enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not desire it - except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, beyond what - any one knows or suspects.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school,” said - Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta, “the school, - and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, mamma, if you - made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your work.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always - maintain,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - His mother sighed, saying, “I don’t know what we should have done without - him!” and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her countenance - which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more was said till it - was discovered that it was bed time. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. - </h2> - <p> - “Where is Madame?” asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the - breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in her - hand. - </p> - <p> - “A headache,” answered Henrietta, “and a palpitation.” - </p> - <p> - “A bad one?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it - will not do, and we must give it up.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with it? - Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?” - </p> - <p> - “Just listen what an effect last evening’s conversation had upon her. Last - night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there I saw her - kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just then it - struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her know I was - awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am sure she did - not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her most - uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when I - looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come down - to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought - it on?” said Fred, with much concern; “yet it did not seem to have much to - do with my father.” - </p> - <p> - “O but it must,” said Henrietta. “He must have been there all the time - mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always - together when they were children.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding,” said Fred. - “Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt Geoffrey - and with her, after they had been young and happy together. Yes, no doubt - it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into letting them - marry!” - </p> - <p> - “And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death,” said - Henrietta. “No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those - thoughts.” - </p> - <p> - “And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, I - suppose we must give it up,” said Fred, with a sigh. “After all, we can be - very happy here!” - </p> - <p> - “O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished - it,” said the sister. - </p> - <p> - “And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it - would be pleasanter for you when I am away,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “And so,” said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, “we agree to persuade each - other that we don’t care about it.” - </p> - <p> - Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to make - her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her of - fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain - feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence. - </p> - <p> - After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got up, - but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a walk by - her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and on their - return they found her lying on the sofa. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma has been in mischief,” said Fred. “She did not think herself - knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mamma!” was Henrietta’s reproachful exclamation, as she looked at her - pale face and red swollen eyelids. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind, my dears,” said she, trying to smile, “I shall be better now - this is done, and I have it off my mind.” They looked at her in anxious - interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. “You will seal - that letter with a good will, Henrietta,” she said. “It is to ask Uncle - Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance.” - </p> - <p> - “Mamma!” and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: then - Henrietta exclaimed— - </p> - <p> - “No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Fred; “indeed we agreed this morning that it would be better - not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and comfort. - I am sure it suits you best.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, thank you, my dear ones,” said she, drawing them towards her, - and fondly kissing them, “but it is all settled, and I am sure it is - better for you. It is but a dull life for you here.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you,” cried - Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. “We are, indeed we - are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; do not - think we want a change.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile. - </p> - <p> - “But we would not have you to do it on our account,” said Fred. “Pray put - it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a passing - fancy.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not talk me out of it, my dears,” said Mrs. Langford. “I know it - is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that was - the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of you, - when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not let that - letter be too late for the post.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not half like it,” said Fred, pausing at the door. - </p> - <p> - “I have not many fears on that score,” said she, smiling. “No, do not be - uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be happy - there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear old - places again.” - </p> - <p> - “O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering,” said - Henrietta. “You do not know how I wish you would give it up!” - </p> - <p> - “Give it up! I would not for millions,” said Mrs. Langford. “Now go, my - dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again.” - </p> - <p> - The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough - for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept back - the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if she were doing - wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and remorseful, something - like a tyrant between the condemnation and execution of his victim. But by - the time the first course was over, and she and Frederick had begun to - recollect their long-cherished wishes, they made up their minds to be - happy, and fell into their usual strain of admiration of the unknown haven - of their hopes, and of expectations that it would in the end benefit their - mother. - </p> - <p> - The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs proceeded - in the usual manner; Frederick’s holidays came to an end, and he returned - to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and sister, but - with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might be at Knight - Sutton. - </p> - <p> - “Here, Henrietta,” said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a - day or two after Frederick’s departure, turning over to her the letter of - which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some - others. It was Uncle Geoffrey’s writing, and Henrietta read eagerly: - </p> - <p> - “MY DEAR MARY,—I would not write till I could give you some positive - information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a - conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you - think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain - that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set - upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you - know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much the - gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe that the - effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among your own - people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in what you - say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going to write, - and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and proceed to - business.” - </p> - <p> - Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease, - repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; she - knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to her - wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather - alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to make - the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them while - they were bargaining for it. - </p> - <p> - “O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear,” said she, “I - dare say it will not ruin us.” - </p> - <p> - “Not exactly,” said Mrs. Langford, smiling, “but gentlemen consider it a - disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed to - have his own way.” - </p> - <p> - “O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it.” - </p> - <p> - “A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up - before you can look at them,” said Mrs. Langford; “I have no fears but - that it is to be had.” But Henrietta could not help fancying that her - mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go - off independently of any determination of hers. - </p> - <p> - Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and often - talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate letters - of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a little. - She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, that they - had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly it was - desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for a weakness for - not having sooner resolved upon her present step. Henrietta’s work was - rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, than to prevent her from - changing her purpose, which never altered, respecting a return to the - neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though whether to the house of the - tempting name, was a question which remained in agitation during the rest - of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was not built in a day, so surely - cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, especially when a clever and - cautious lawyer acts for one party. - </p> - <p> - Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays was - reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford - laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at - their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded - to accept Mr. Langford’s invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall, - and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance. - Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes of - Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the - descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place had - ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half of her - life was spent in London. - </p> - <p> - It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey - Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of her - aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no other - of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could not bear - that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter lose the - pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. Langford be - deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she therefore arranged - to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and her father went as - usual to Knight Sutton. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from Devonshire, - but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had no merely - personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, declared herself - perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions but her daughter - and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house in London, there to be - met in a day or two by the two school-boys, Frederick and his cousin - Alexander, and then proceed all together to Knight Sutton. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was really - come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would find her - under a different roof from that which she had never left. She did not - know till now that she had any attachments to the place she had hitherto - believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she could not bid - it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with his rough - kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the rocky beach - where she and her brother had often played on the verge of the ocean, - watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple of the - advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, streams, - and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey had often - told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to find in - Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, which she - grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her regrets, - lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great anxiety. - </p> - <p> - She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little - time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the calm - quietness with which she went through the few trying days that immediately - preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant employment so great - a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on her own account, as - well as her mother’s, when every possible order had been given, every box - packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit opposite to each other, on - each side of the fire, in the idleness which precedes candle-light. Her - mother leant back in silence, and she watched her with an anxious gaze. - She feared to say anything of sympathy with what she supposed her feeling, - lest she should make her weep. An indifferent speech would be out of place - even if Henrietta herself could have made it, and yet to remain silent was - to allow melancholy thoughts to prey upon her. So thought the daughter, - longing at the same time that her persuasions were all unsaid. - </p> - <p> - “Come here, my dear child,” said her mother presently, and Henrietta - almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the - tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a low - footstool, leaning against her. “You are very much afraid for me,” - continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of - her face, far different from her own, “but you need not fear, it is all - well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not - really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here.” - </p> - <p> - All Henrietta’s consideration for her mother could not prevent her from - bursting into tears. “O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going - away from dear grandmamma.” - </p> - <p> - “Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on - whether we are in our duty or not.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not - know it till now!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our home, - Henrietta, to your father’s home in life and death, and it must be good - for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. Knight - Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she - who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most - ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial. - It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her - mother’s calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the - place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused - herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do - what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when the - wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she - blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much - attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and - after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, they - talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. - </h2> - <p> - The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick - Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey’s house - at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a - visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin - Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in the - delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal share. - </p> - <p> - The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, while - Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by Beatrice - and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece’s great amazement, - professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she did. A short - December day, though not what they would have chosen, had this advantage, - that the victim could not be as completely fagged and worn out as in a - summer’s day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high spirits when they - drove home and found to their delight that the two schoolboys had already - arrived. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but Alexander, - though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked shyly at the - new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished them elsewhere. - She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that her brother - regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore surprised to see - that his broad honest face expressed more good humour than intellect, and - his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably well-featured, with light eyes - and dark hair, and though half a year older than his cousin, was much - shorter, more perhaps in appearance than reality, from the breadth and - squareness of his shoulders, and from not carrying himself well. - </p> - <p> - Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son of - Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at Sutton - Leigh, a small house on his father’s estate, busied with farming, - sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make a - narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless tribe - of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in India; - and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, who had - been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed his - attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, that he - might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin Frederick been - always one step before him. - </p> - <p> - Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so that - on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but this was - but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to endure out - of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training or - companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, derided - in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his way among rude - brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended a protecting hand - to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. Soon overcoming his - effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, and was equal to Alex in - all but main bodily strength; but the spirit of rivalry once excited, had - never died away, and with a real friendship and esteem for each other, - their names or rather their nicknames had almost become party words among - their schoolfellows. - </p> - <p> - Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this first - occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself open to - that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account at once of - his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge of accomplishments; - but he did not guess at the feeling which made Alexander on his side - regard those very accomplishments with a feeling which, if it were not - jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very - little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called her - skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair of very - large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant expression, and - showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from sublime to - ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature otherwise. And if - instead of being “like the diamond bright,” they had been “dull as lead,” - it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice had been, she was - still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he could believe a - sister to be if he had one,—in short his own little Queen Bee. He - had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all the civilization - which he possessed, and it was with considerable mortification that he - thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison with his old rival, as - old a friend of hers, with the same claim to cousinly affection; and - instead of understanding only what she had taught him, familiar with the - tastes and pursuits on which she set perhaps too great a value. - </p> - <p> - Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice’s preference: it might be - that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister of - his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on which - he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely to be - secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school studies and - pastimes. - </p> - <p> - For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice - books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, and - which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly style of - living which some people thought befitted them. She called to her brother - who was standing by the fire, “Fred, do come and look at this beautiful - Albert Durer of Sintram.” - </p> - <p> - He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an - acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, “Yes, it was an old - promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be - pronounced insensible.” - </p> - <p> - “A wonderful old fellow was that Albert,” said Fred, looking, and - forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. “Yes; O - how wondrously the expression on Death’s face changes as it does in the - story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have you - seen it, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and - Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the - old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have a - word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of the - prints with no practised hand. “Take care, Alex, take care,” cried - Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; “don’t you see what a pinch you - are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a - pattern for you,” pointing to Fred. - </p> - <p> - She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the table. - Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed any - tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee’s black eyes - perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph. - </p> - <p> - But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very - sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, she - stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain parting - cautions. - </p> - <p> - “How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in - her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who - can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I—” - </p> - <p> - “Had better let it alone,” rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. “You will do - more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that - Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration! - To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always go - home!” - </p> - <p> - “We have lamented that often enough,” said her mother smiling. “It is - unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must - sometimes bend.” - </p> - <p> - “You say that for me, mamma,” said Beatrice. “You think grandmamma and I - have too much will for each other.” - </p> - <p> - “If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that wilful - will of yours.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope I shall,” said Beatrice, “but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good - night, mamma.” - </p> - <p> - And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she - well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the - many fervent resolutions she had made against it. - </p> - <p> - The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and set - out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad - carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice sat - opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with - animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with - explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper and - talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford. - </p> - <p> - The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the early - winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, or they - had reached the Allonfield station. - </p> - <p> - “Here we are!” exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same - moment a loud voice called out, “All right! where are you, Alex?” upon - which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the - carriage-door, replying, “Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought - Dumpling?” And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, “How d’ye do, - Carey?” - </p> - <p> - When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him - shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough - great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred - handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and - Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh - man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt Mary, - upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness, - presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied to - the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at home. - </p> - <p> - “Is the Hall carriage come?” asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff - affirmative, added, “then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while - Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage,” offered his arm with tolerable - courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. “There,” said he, “Carey has - driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Is the horse steady?” asked his aunt, anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?” said Alex, - patting his old friend. - </p> - <p> - “And no lamps?” - </p> - <p> - “O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen - times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat.” - </p> - <p> - “And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time.” - </p> - <p> - “Lots of ruts,” muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, “A few - ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places.” - </p> - <p> - By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state of - things, said, “I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I - should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house, - and then Dumpling’s feelings won’t be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton - Leigh.” - </p> - <p> - Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle - Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, as - the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw Alexander’s - own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting the boys have - their own way. She had been rather depressed in the morning on leaving her - mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits mounted, and she was - almost wild with glee. “Aunt Mary, do you know where you are?” - </p> - <p> - “On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d’ye do? You beginning of home! - I don’t know when it is best coming to you: on a summer’s evening, all - glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. There - is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the gate.” - </p> - <p> - “Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school,” said her - aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their blithe - young hearts, and added cheerfully, “Just the same as ever, I see: how - well I know the outline of the bank there!” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something - inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can’t you get up a little - enthusiasm?” - </p> - <p> - “Oceans, without getting it up,” replied Fred. “I never was more rejoiced - in my whole life,” and he began to hum Domum. - </p> - <p> - “Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton,” - cried Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - And the voices began, “Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;” even Aunt Mary herself - caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming to her - own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her situation, - and threw herself into the delight of returning. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “let us try those verses that you found a - tune for, that begin ‘What is home?’” - </p> - <p> - This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a - gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. “This is the - beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta,” said Mrs. - Frederick Langford. - </p> - <p> - “The wood with glades like cathedral aisles,” said Henrietta. “O, how - delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!” - </p> - <p> - “Which I have never seen,” said Beatrice. “I tell papa he has made his - fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it.” - </p> - <p> - “In which I fully agree with him,” said her aunt. “I should not like to - see him with nothing to do.” - </p> - <p> - “O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do,” - said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said her mother, “but people are always happier with work made for - them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey has - too much talent to be spared.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said Fred, “I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little - Busy Bee.” - </p> - <p> - “It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so,” - said Beatrice. “I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did - retire without—” - </p> - <p> - “Without what, Bee?” - </p> - <p> - “Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose,” said Henrietta very seriously. “I am - sure I should.” - </p> - <p> - “His being in Parliament will content me for the present,” said Beatrice, - “for I have been told too often that high principles don’t rise in the - world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as if he was.” - </p> - <p> - “You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee,” said - Henrietta; “but where are we now?” added she, as a gate swung back. - </p> - <p> - “Coming into the paddock,” said Beatrice; “don’t you see the lights in the - house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that large - one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don’t you see that red - fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to have.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in the - nervous pressure of her mother’s hand. The carriage stopped at the door, - whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to darkness; - but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but have - recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more than one - visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, clear eye, - and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than handing his - daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her brow; then he - hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while she received - the kiss of Mrs. Langford. - </p> - <p> - They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he - gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more - embraced her, saying, “Bless you, my own dear Mary!” She clung to him for - a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself in an - instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying to - administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which - suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of the - black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair was - perfectly white. “Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You had - better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? But - where is Geoffrey?” - </p> - <p> - “He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh,” said Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?” said grandpapa, holding out his - arms to her. “And,” added he, “is not this your first introduction to the - twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would wish to see - on a summer’s day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell you apart, when - you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake now though. Well, - I am right glad to have you here.” - </p> - <p> - “Won’t you take off some of your wraps, Mary?” proceeded Mrs. Langford, - and her daughter-in-law, with a soft “Thank you,” passively obeyed. “And - you too, my dear,” she added to Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta,” proceeded grandpapa. “Let me see - whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, Mary.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not you think his forehead like—” and she looked to the end of - the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers - Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now she - could attend to nothing but her mamma. - </p> - <p> - “Like poor dear Frederick?” said grandmamma. “Well, I can’t judge by - firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very - image.” - </p> - <p> - “You can’t be the image of any one I should like better,” said Mr. - Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta’s hand. “I wish - nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and out.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, there’s Geoffrey!” cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost - running to meet him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Geoffrey, how d’ye do?” added his father with an indescribable tone - and look of heartfelt delight. “Left all your cares behind you?” - </p> - <p> - “Left my wife behind me,” said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come,” said both the - old people, “but how is poor Lady Susan?” - </p> - <p> - “As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand. - Well, Mary, you look tired.” - </p> - <p> - Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other - accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, and - it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. Henrietta - thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the trouble, but this - would not have been at all according to the habits of grandmamma or - granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to a large - cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she supposed - Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their maid, who - was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the already - bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law who was - standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, “There, - Mary, I thought you would like to be here.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, thank you, you are always kind.” - </p> - <p> - “There now, Mary, don’t let yourself be overcome. You would not bring him - back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There—that is right—and - don’t think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had better not, - don’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Much better not, thank you, grandmamma,” said Henrietta, as she assisted - in settling her mother on the sofa. “She is tired and overcome now, but - she will be herself after a rest.” - </p> - <p> - “And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of - coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won’t you have a cup of - coffee, Mary, my dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, no thank you,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising herself. - “Indeed I am sorry—it is very foolish.” Here the choking sob came - again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming a - shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. “Poor thing, - poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? I’ll fetch - one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some sal-volatile? Yes, - Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?” - </p> - <p> - And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively - distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck, - wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again, - saying, “I did not think I was so weak!” - </p> - <p> - “Dearest mamma,” said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty. - </p> - <p> - “If I have not distressed grandmamma!” said her mother anxiously. “No, - never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and—” - </p> - <p> - Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the - unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days - when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new - thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there - again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? But - it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and the - sound of Mrs. Langford’s returning footsteps recalled her habit of - self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the - sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for having - given so much trouble. - </p> - <p> - “Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you - better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first time; - but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better—Ah! well, I see you - can’t bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best thing. - Don’t let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick - Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would have - waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear at table, - and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very fortunately, as - Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she pronounced to be - “the half-hour bell,” and she hastened away, telling her granddaughter - that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and calling the maid outside - the door to giver her full directions where to procure anything that her - mistress might want. - </p> - <p> - “Dear grandmamma! just like herself!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “But - Henrietta, my dear,” she added with some alarm, “make haste and dress: you - must never be too late in this house!” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too - anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair - was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her - mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. “You - don’t know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting,” said she. - </p> - <p> - At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled, - evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the door - to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest inquired, - and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them to eat her - turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were perhaps - damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford’s absence and its cause, for the dinner - was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing to Henrietta - and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country neighbourhood, - in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest. - </p> - <p> - As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to her - mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. “But, O mamma, is this a - good thing for you?” said Henrietta, looking at the red case containing - her father’s miniature, which had evidently been only just closed on her - entrance. - </p> - <p> - “The very best thing for me, dearest,” was the answer, now given in her - own calm tones. “It does truly make me happier than anything else. No, - don’t look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me, - but I trust it is not.” - </p> - <p> - “And does this really comfort you, mamma?” said Henrietta, as she pressed - the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. “O, I cannot fancy - that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might have been, - think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O mamma, I feel - quite rebellious!” - </p> - <p> - “You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child,” said her mother, - sadly. “As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to wish him - here?” - </p> - <p> - “And can you bear to say so, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had gone too - far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the daughter - timidly asked, “And was this your old room, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish - books. Bring that one,” she added, as Henrietta took one out, and opening - it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written “F.H. Langford,” with the - giver’s name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the page, “Mary - Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred.” “I believe that you may find that in - almost all of them,” said she. “I am glad they have been spared from the - children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few more to look over, - before you go down again to grandmamma?” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a - selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk, - in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance of - Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health, - strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a good - fire in Geoffrey’s room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be ready. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta’s ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. Vivian, - naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although considerably - younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in speechless - amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. “But, my dear child,” she - said, “I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you staying up - here all the evening.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she was - stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking - maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had been - nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time “Miss Mary” arrived from India, - and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been called - ladies’-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, if - anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known to all - who are happy enough to possess a “Judith.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, miss,” said she, as Henrietta opened the door just - before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called out, - “O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me.” - </p> - <p> - She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the - thin white hand stretched out to her. “I hope you are better, ma’am. It is - something like old times to have you here again.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith,” was the answer, “and very glad - to see you looking like your own dear self.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma’am; I wish I could see you looking - better.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been - introduced to Henrietta, there.” - </p> - <p> - “But I have often heard of you, Judith,” said Henrietta, cordially holding - out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with affectionate - earnestness. “Sure enough, miss,” said she, “as Missus says, you are the - very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I think I see a look of - poor Master Frederick too.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you seen my brother, Judith?” asked Henrietta, fearing a second - discussion on likenesses. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus’s room, when Mr. - Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said ‘Here’s a new - acquaintance for you, Judith,’ and there was Master Frederick. I should - have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine - young gentleman he is, to be sure.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, we must be like your grandchildren!” said Henrietta; “but O! here - comes Fred.” - </p> - <p> - And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to his - sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on - grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself. - </p> - <p> - They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa’s chair, with - one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say Henrietta - was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her by declaring he - should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish days. Then he - called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their home doings, - showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed and stood - amazed. “Ah,” said grandpapa, “you forgot that I had a Queen Bee to - enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go buzzing over - the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven’t we, Busy, Busy - Bee?” - </p> - <p> - Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit round - the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and it was - rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, “Come, - young ladies, I’ve been wearying for a tune these three months. I hope you - are not too tired to give us one.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no, grandpapa!” cried Beatrice, “but you must hear Henrietta. It is - a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my London - masters too.” - </p> - <p> - And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice - came to her aunt’s room to wish her good-night, and to hear Henrietta’s - opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater wonder—grandmamma - so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a grandpapa to be proud of! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. - </h2> - <p> - It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free from - headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to breakfast. - The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning light that - shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and Henrietta, as - usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the elms and the - last year’s rooks’ nests, to make the most of her time; so that the bell - for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma would not leave her, - and remained to help her. Just as they were going down at last, they met - Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for poor Mary. She would have - almost been better pleased with a slight indisposition than with dawdling; - but she kindly accepted Henrietta’s apologies, and there was one - exclamation of joy from all the assembled party at Mrs. Frederick - Langford’s unhoped-for entrance. - </p> - <p> - “Geoffrey, my dear,” began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and - congratulations were over, “will you see what is the matter with the lock - of this tea-chest?—it has been out of order these three weeks, and I - thought you could set it to rights.” - </p> - <p> - While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old - servant, put in his head. - </p> - <p> - “If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. Geoffrey - about his son on the railway.” - </p> - <p> - Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited - him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: “Geoffrey, I - put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them - when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust.” - </p> - <p> - A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three - boys, shouting with one voice—“Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you - must come and see which of Vixen’s puppies are to be saved!” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!” was Uncle Geoffrey’s answer; “don’t you - know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such - wild men of the woods.” - </p> - <p> - “All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey,” said grandmamma. “Ah, he - spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. - There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie,” she added, as - they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of Alexander. - “How shall I ever know them apart?” said she to Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “Like grandmamma’s nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below - another,” said Beatrice. “However, I don’t require you to learn them all - at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have - you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?” - </p> - <p> - Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter - make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen Bee’s - side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly discomposed by - Henrietta’s neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and in - another minute they made their appearance. “Good morning sir; good - morning, ma’am,” were Uncle Roger’s greetings, as he came in. “Ah, Mary, - how d’ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.—-Ah, - good morning, good morning,” as he quickly shook hands with the younger - ones. “Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into - the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping.” - </p> - <p> - And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, - during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to - see him look so young—younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but - in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had - thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey’s hair, paled his cheek, and traced - lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light - that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often - played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure that - might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and much more - robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face ruddy - brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In his - plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he looked - the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable family - likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and lip, which - recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the signal - for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up stairs for - her mother’s work, and came down again laughing. “I am sure, Queenie,” - said she, “that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may well be called a - great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at breakfast, I have - just come across a consultation on the stairs between him and Judith about—what - was it?—some money in a savings’ bank.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Beatrice, “Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these - degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give - ‘Master Geoffrey’ all the management of it. But if you are surprised now, - what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not asked in - at least fifty matters.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll count,” said Henrietta: “what have we had already?” and she took out - pencil and paper—“Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and - the turnpike trust—” - </p> - <p> - “Vixen’s puppies and the drill,” suggested her mamma. - </p> - <p> - “And Judith’s money,” added Henrietta. “Six already—” - </p> - <p> - “To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear - of,” said Beatrice; “and look here, what I am going to seal for him, one, - two, three—eight letters.” - </p> - <p> - “Why! when could he possibly have written them?” - </p> - <p> - “Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma - will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up with a - candle after eleven o’clock. I really believe that there is not another - living creature in the world who could do it in this house. There, you may - add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is going to the - Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar.” - </p> - <p> - “O, I wish we could walk there!” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say we can. I’ll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like Henrietta - to go and see the Pleasance?” - </p> - <p> - “Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee,” said Aunt - Mary; “but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Walk to Sutton Leigh!” echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the moment; - “not you, surely, Mary?” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, laughing; “she was only talking of - Henrietta’s doing it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this - morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you, - and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to - send over for poor Tom’s sore mouth.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked, - “Have they no currant jelly themselves?” - </p> - <p> - “O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don’t mean that the - boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor - Elizabeth can never make any preserves.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” objected Queen Bee, “if one of the children is ill, do you think - Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could take - the jelly.” - </p> - <p> - “O nonsense, Bee,” said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; “you don’t like - to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can’t be as good-natured - to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the village.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no, grandmamma,” joined in Henrietta, “we shall be very glad to - take it. Pray let us.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” added Beatrice, “if it is really to be of any use, no one can be - more willing.” - </p> - <p> - “Of any use?” repeated Mrs. Langford. “No! never mind. I’ll send someone.” - </p> - <p> - “No, pray do not, dear grandmamma,” eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; “I do beg - you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to let me - be useful.” - </p> - <p> - Grandmamma was pacified. “When will you set out?” she asked; “you had - better not lose this bright morning.” - </p> - <p> - “We will go directly,” said Queen Bee; “we will go by the west turning, so - that Henrietta may see the Pleasance.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won’t have you getting - wet in your feet and catching cold.” - </p> - <p> - “O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it - has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “As if he knew, or cared anything about it!—and you will be late for - luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day she - feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will always have - your own way.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this altercation; - and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her cousin, she would - have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would have interfered in - another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey gave a sudden turn to - affairs. - </p> - <p> - “Who likes to go to the Pleasance?” said he, as he entered. “All whose - curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots.” - </p> - <p> - “Here are the girls dying to go,” said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as - if she had not been objecting the minute before. - </p> - <p> - “Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens.” Then, turning - to his mother, “Didn’t I hear you say you had something to send to - Elizabeth, ma’am?” - </p> - <p> - “Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if—” - </p> - <p> - “O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don’t cheat me,” exclaimed - Henrietta. “If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better with - me than in Uncle Geoffrey’s pocket.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that will be the proper division of labour,” said Uncle Geoffrey, - looking well pleased with his niece; “but I thought you were off to get - ready.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t keep your uncle waiting, my dear,” added her mamma; and Henrietta - departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, “If - there is a thing I can’t endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of - the children is poorly! It is always bad enough—” - </p> - <p> - “Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!” cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of - any flaw in her paradise. - </p> - <p> - “You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden - bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your - shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that - crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the house. - It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over sum, es, - est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers in a small - house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing instead of - getting ready.” - </p> - <p> - “So are you.” - </p> - <p> - “My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I’ll tell you - what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you to - ‘improve each shining hour;’ for nothing will get you into such dire - disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame to - waste papa’s time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I will - trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself.” - </p> - <p> - In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still - measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted - her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at the - door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually waited - there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time since, and - the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together first. - Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance that she - might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil her - expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the masonry - was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of freestone and of - flints, the windows were not casements as she thought they ought to have - been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, which contained the - drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a respectable, - comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be said in its praise, - and Beatrice’s affection had so embellished it in description, that it was - no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly disappointed. She had had some - expectation, too, of seeing it in the midst of a park, instead of which - the carriage-drive along which they were walking, only skirted a rather - large grass field, full of elm trees, and known by the less dignified name - of the paddock. But she would not confess the failure of her expectations - even to herself, and as Beatrice was evidently looking for some - expressions of admiration, she said the road must be very pretty in - summer. - </p> - <p> - “Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves,” said Queen Bee. - “Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have - this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I - carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to me as - the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and rabbits. - But here are the outfield and the drill.” - </p> - <p> - And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they entered - a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and gravelled, so - as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, as the gentlemen - left them to march up and down there by themselves, whilst they were - discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine which was travelling - along the furrows. It was rather a trial of patience, but Beatrice was - used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to be pleased with anything. - </p> - <p> - At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his - granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with - Martin. - </p> - <p> - “Well, young ladies,” said he, “this is fine drilling, in patience at - least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger’s - new-fangled machines.” - </p> - <p> - “That is right, grandpapa,” said Queen Bee; “you hate them as much as I - do, don’t you now?” - </p> - <p> - “She is afraid they will make honey by steam,” said grandpapa, “and render - bees a work of supererogation.” - </p> - <p> - “They are doing what they can towards it,” said Beatrice. “Why, when Mr. - Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling for - my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy destroyed. And - they won’t even let them swarm their own way—a most unwarrantable - interference with the liberty of the subject.” - </p> - <p> - “Well done, Queenie,” said Mr. Langford, laughing; “a capital champion. - And so you don’t look forward to the time when we are to have our hay made - by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by a - third—ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?” - </p> - <p> - “Bird-starving!” repeated Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother’s elegant - diminutive,” said Beatrice, “serving as live scarecrows.” - </p> - <p> - “I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose,” said - Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten minutes,” - said grandpapa; “but I told Uncle Roger we would have none of them here - unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at every third - explosion.” - </p> - <p> - “Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home - with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave him - to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t they succeed, then?” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Why—ay—I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we - achieved a prize ox,—such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could - not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such - waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or - earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little - liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed - manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful - grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger. - </p> - <p> - “There is Sutton Leigh,” said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low - white house among farm buildings. “Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for - an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey into - the bargain?” - </p> - <p> - “Jessie Carey!” exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay. - </p> - <p> - “Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her - with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh.” - </p> - <p> - “Is she one of Aunt Roger’s nieces?” asked Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Beatrice. “And—O! grandpapa, don’t look at me in that - way. Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?” - </p> - <p> - “I won’t have Henrietta prejudiced,” said Mr. Langford. “Don’t listen to - her, my dear: and I’ll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest, - good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never - thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness.” - </p> - <p> - “Now for the but, grandpapa,” cried Beatrice. “I allow all that, only - grant me the but.” - </p> - <p> - “But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down on - us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual - society.” - </p> - <p> - “O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don’t really believe that. O, - say you don’t!” And Beatrice’s black eyes were full of tears. - </p> - <p> - “If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee,” and he - added, half whispering, “take care some of us do not believe the other - half. But don’t look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your - waxen cells, and don’t lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to you, - I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining - companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as yours.” - </p> - <p> - They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little - altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden in - front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in sight - there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, all - darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms. - </p> - <p> - “Let me loose, you varlets,” he cried, and disengaging one hand, in - another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, which - he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all the - urchins in pursuit. - </p> - <p> - At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford - appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing - Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never seen - a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and a - drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in - fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery. - </p> - <p> - Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie - Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty girl - of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and a face - which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton Leigh. - </p> - <p> - But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very - tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but for its - novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick Langford, - then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave the history - of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on Uncle Geoffrey’s - knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of his watch. - Henrietta’s list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle Geoffrey - advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie’s, and assisted - Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise. - </p> - <p> - It was almost one o’clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates was - heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to - luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on with - him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own affairs - at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had hardly - ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she was not - only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and uncalled-for - fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking on - deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the management - of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor was the matter - mended by the attempts at correction made from time to time by their - father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better than Beatrice, whose face - ill concealed an expression of disgust and weariness, and who maintained a - silence very unlike her usual habits. - </p> - <p> - At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their walk, - and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had quitted the - house, that the boys were too well occupied with their pudding to wish to - accompany them, but she did not venture on any further remarks before her - papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned to point out all the - interesting localities to Henrietta. There was something to tell of every - field, every tree, or every villager, with whom he exchanged his hearty - greeting. If it were only a name, it recalled some story of mamma’s, some - tradition handed on by Beatrice. Never was walk more delightful; and the - girls were almost sorry to find themselves at the green gate of the - Pleasance, leading to a gravel road, great part of which had been usurped - by the long shoots of the evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be - said to correspond in appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted, - unfurnished state; but the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle - Geoffrey was deep in the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted - about from garret to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing - possibilities, in complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for - ever; and rather tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of - the stairs, and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next - summer; then talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last - books they had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey, - being more merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and - summoned them to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road, - through the village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet - seen. It was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in - gardens, and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the - care of the proprietor. - </p> - <p> - “O, here is the church,” said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they came - to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground occupied - by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm trees, amongst - which could just be seen the small old church, with its large deep porch - and curious low tower. - </p> - <p> - “The door is open,” said Beatrice; “I suppose they are bringing in the - holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know,” said she, looking at her uncle. “Mamma—” - </p> - <p> - “I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and - herself too,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure I should wish it very much,” said Henrietta, and they entered - the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and - low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and - impressive to Henrietta’s present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her on - into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording the names - of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly noticeable - for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore the name of - Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and his age, only - twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had the initials - F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and looked in deep - silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and her uncle’s - thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. Her father had - been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so entirely one in - mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than his elder brother, - and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle Geoffrey’s life. - </p> - <p> - The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the door, as - the old clerk’s wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and dragging a - mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to her courtesy, - and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other end of the - church to assist in the Christmas decorations. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. “This is coming very near - him!” said she in a low voice. “Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure that - he knows me.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us,” - said Uncle Geoffrey. “Think rather of ‘I shall go to him, but he shall not - return to me.’” - </p> - <p> - “But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me and - knows how—how I would have loved him, and how I do love him,” she - added, while the tears rose to her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most - comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world: - but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to - dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it - depends but on ourselves.” - </p> - <p> - To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; but - he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta’s mind to merge the - reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical - feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had never - heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she lost sight - of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards her mother. It - was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, and with how many - daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, that though even to - himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. Geoffrey Langford - resolved that his niece’s first visit to her father’s grave should not be - spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, alluring because - involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in thoughts which - might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up of self-will. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta looked very thoughtful. “That time is so far away!” said she. - </p> - <p> - “How do you know that?” said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought - the full perception that “it is nigh, even at the doors.” - </p> - <p> - She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought home - to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father’s summons. - </p> - <p> - “It is awful,” she said. “I cannot bear to think of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta,” said her uncle solemnly, “guard yourself from being so - satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, most - real future.” He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: “The present, - which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of visions and - thoughts, but of deeds.” - </p> - <p> - Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, “But, uncle, that would - bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in - heart and mind ascend?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of - earthly affection.” - </p> - <p> - “Then would you not have me think of him at all?” said she, almost - reproachfully. - </p> - <p> - “I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb the - love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same time - you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that is what - your father would desire?” - </p> - <p> - “You mean,” she said sadly, “that while I do not think enough of God, and - while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the thought I - love best, the thought that he is near.” - </p> - <p> - “Take it rather as a caution than as blame,” said Uncle Geoffrey. A long - silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea - opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of her - father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much - worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it was - by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother’s mind, the - truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive it, but - still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished so as to be - almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey’s manner was so kind that she could - not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she had hoped for a - narration of some part of her father’s history, and for the indulgence of - that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead of this she was - bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, or to seek for a duty - which she had rather not believe that she had neglected, though—no, - she did not like to look deeper. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature it - might be, he could not guess, and then said, “One thing more before we - leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment in - its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. Will - you try to exert it in the right way?” - </p> - <p> - “You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age,” said - Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better than - what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the sake of - obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter.” - </p> - <p> - While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice’s operations with the holly - had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the - church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance showed - Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of whom she had - heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the holly in her hand. - “Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing.” - </p> - <p> - “I was just helping old Martha,” said Beatrice; “we came in to show my - cousin the church, and—” - </p> - <p> - By this time the others had advanced. - </p> - <p> - “How well the church looks this dark afternoon,” said Uncle Geoffrey, - speaking in a low tone, “it is quite the moment to choose for seeing it - for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your adornments.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to - the arrangement myself,” said Mr. Franklin, “but I am afraid I know very - little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with - your taste.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled with - delight. “I should like it exceedingly,” said the former; “I was just - thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it - beautifully.” - </p> - <p> - “Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can - be done?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard,” said - Queen Bee. “And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the places that - are out of reach.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, thank you,” said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; “I assure you the - matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is, - certainly has not the best taste in church dressing.” - </p> - <p> - “And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there - ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look, - papa, do you not think so?” - </p> - <p> - “You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel,” said - her papa, “and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at - the head of the tables of commandments.” - </p> - <p> - “O, and don’t you see,” said Henrietta, “there in front of the altar is a - space, where I really think we might make the cross and ‘I H S’ in holly?” - </p> - <p> - “But could you, Henrietta?” asked Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “O yes, I know I can; I made ‘M.L.’ in roses on mamma’s last birthday, and - set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure we - could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said Mr. Franklin, “I have heard of such things, but I had always - considered them as quite above our powers.” - </p> - <p> - “They would be, without Henrietta,” said Queen Bee, “but she was always - excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice - taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, and - we will do our work so as to amaze the parish.” - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “we must be walking home, my young ladies. - It is getting quite dark.” - </p> - <p> - It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading on - the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty on - the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the way - home with them, adding to Henrietta’s list by asking counsel about a damp - spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted with a - refractory farmer. - </p> - <p> - By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the - sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet them - in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been - lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they were - dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two girls - up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their things - on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at half-past five. - </p> - <p> - “Is mamma gone up?” asked Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is gone - to rest herself.” - </p> - <p> - “And how long have you been at home, Fred?” said Queen Bee. “Why, you have - performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?” - </p> - <p> - “I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone,” said - Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta’s ears, implied that he was not quite - pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to her, “I - wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and Carey - thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and thereby - they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to change - his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. I declare - it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made of sugar - candy.” - </p> - <p> - With Uncle Geoffrey’s admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints - sounded painfully in Henrietta’s ears, and she would gladly have soothed - away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the stairs - for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally appropriate, - especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming down from above - and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred therefore retreated into - their mamma’s room, where they found her sitting on a low stool by the - fire, reading by its light one of the old childish books, of which she - seemed never to weary. Fred’s petulance, to do him justice, never could - endure the charm of her presence, and his brow was as bright and open as - his sister’s as he came forward, hoping that she was not tired. - </p> - <p> - “Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear,” said she, smiling; “I enjoyed my - walk exceedingly.” - </p> - <p> - “A walk!” exclaimed Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with - grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen - garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen,” answered Henrietta, - gaily. “I have seen everything—Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and - the church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the - church for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only - think of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always - thought it something too great and too happy for me ever to do.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope you will be able to succeed in it,” said her mamma. “What a treat - it will be to see your work on Sunday.” - </p> - <p> - “And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach - the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures.” - </p> - <p> - Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole live - stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the plantations, - and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on the bark of - the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. He “was just - going to see Dumpling and Vixen’s puppies at Sutton Leigh, when—” - </p> - <p> - “When I caught you, my poor boy,” said his mamma; “and very cruel it was, - I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again.” - </p> - <p> - “I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks of - minding those things.” - </p> - <p> - “You should have seen him, Henrietta,” said his mother; “his shoes looked - as if he had been walking through a river.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but so were all the others,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such - sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. But - you—if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you - know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up - with a bad cold.” - </p> - <p> - “I never catch cold,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Boys always say so,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford; “it is a—what - shall I call it?—a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always - defeat when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I - won’t put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the - fender croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with - stick-liquorice and Ivanhoe.” - </p> - <p> - “You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma,” - said Henrietta, “just to see how grandmamma will nurse it.” - </p> - <p> - A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing the - arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford’s maid; who had come in such - good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed a whole - quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary punctuality - without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, sitting round - the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. Langford; and Uncle - Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a leisure time; and there - was so much merriment in talking over the walk, and discussing the plans - for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved never again to miss such a - pleasant reunion by her own tardiness. - </p> - <p> - Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by - getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the room - to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and by - finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of her - own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was going - on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. She kept - her list of Uncle Geoffrey’s manifold applicants on the table before her, - and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business unknown, who - sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud and eager appeal from - Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a question of taste on the - shades of grandmamma’s carpet-work, and by her own query how to translate - a difficult German passage which had baffled herself, mamma, and Fred. - </p> - <p> - However, Queen Bee’s number, fifty, had not been attained, and her majesty - was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of a day, for - which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be continued. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain her - resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford - evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two - children’s own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her sleep - something about “delightful,” “bright leaves and red berries,” and then, - “and ‘tis for my own dear papa.” - </p> - <p> - And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta and - Frederick as serenely happy as she was? - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. - </h2> - <p> - Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, - but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome - her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to a - degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. She - sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called a - sparrow’s allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained - nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut - her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if - each piece was to serve as a model for future generations. - </p> - <p> - The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her - spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party—a New-year’s - party on Monday week, the second of January. “It would be pleasant for the - young people,” she thought, “if Mary did not think it would be too much - for her.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer - would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should be - very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great treat - to Henrietta and Fred. - </p> - <p> - “We will have the carpet up in the dining-room,” added Mrs. Langford, “and - Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a nice - little set for a dance.” - </p> - <p> - “O thank you, grandmamma,” cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford - looked at her. - </p> - <p> - “Poor innocent, you little know!” murmured Queen Bee to herself. - </p> - <p> - “That is right, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “I like to see young - people like young people, not above a dance now and then,—all in - moderation.” - </p> - <p> - “Above dancing,” said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection - on his pet, Queen Bee, “that is what you call being on the high rope, - isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Are you on the high rope, Queenie?” asked Fred, who sat next to her: “do - you despise the light fantastic—?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know: I do not mind it much,” was all she could bring herself to - say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious before - her father. “Not much in itself,” she added, in a lower tone, as the - conversation grew louder, “it is the people, Philip Carey, and all,—but - hush! listen.” - </p> - <p> - He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at - each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her Aunt - Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and the - stream of conversation flowed away from the fête. - </p> - <p> - The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered - Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at the - Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. “Bring - him safe,” said she, “for if you fail, and prove a corbie messenger, I - promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry bee.” - </p> - <p> - Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up - after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma’s writing-case down for - her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help - waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing - between her mother and uncle. - </p> - <p> - “Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, “I think not.” - </p> - <p> - “Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you,” - said he in a voice of kind solicitude. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you very much, Geoffrey,” she replied, in an earnest tone, “but - indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on - such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand,” said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the - writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment’s perception of - the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her. - </p> - <p> - In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious family - of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the bright sunshine - near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy flower-pots, instantly - sprang forward with, “O grandmamma, let me help.” - </p> - <p> - Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she was - gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried the myrtle, - the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant deeply-indented - leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, and was deep in the - story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been planted by Uncle - Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed likely to grow beyond - the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when Beatrice came down and beheld - her with consternation—“Henrietta! Henrietta! what are you about?” - cried she, breaking full into the story. “Do make haste.” - </p> - <p> - “I will come in a minute,” said Henrietta, who was assisting in adjusting - the prop to which the old daphne was tied. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t stop for me, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford: “there, don’t let me be - in your way.” - </p> - <p> - “O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Henrietta,” persisted the despotic Queen Bee, “we really ought to be - there.” - </p> - <p> - “What is all this about?” said grandmamma, not particularly well pleased. - “There, go, go, my dear; I don’t want any more, thank you: what are you in - such a fuss for now, going out all day again?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, “did you not hear that Mr. Franklin - asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time in - these short days.” - </p> - <p> - “Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I never - heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very different - now!” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed “Do make haste,” and - then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, “I do not see why young - ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than - arraying themselves for balls and dances!” - </p> - <p> - True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her - father or mother stand before her at that moment? - </p> - <p> - “Ah, well! it is all very well,” said grandmamma, shaking her head, as she - always did when out-argued by Beatrice, “you girls think yourselves so - clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better let - old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were born, - and such a litter as you will make the Church won’t be fit to be seen - to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could - consent, Henrietta looks very delicate.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure she is hoarse this morning,” proceeded Mrs. Langford; “I shall - speak to her mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “O don’t, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would - Mr. Franklin do?” - </p> - <p> - “O very well, I promise you, as he has done before,” said Mrs. Langford, - hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted upstairs - to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could arrive. It - was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to have many - scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would be to be - obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of reach; so she - let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a far less leisurely - and discriminating manner than was usual with her. - </p> - <p> - “It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose,” said - Beatrice, “to go down the back stairs.” - </p> - <p> - “True,” said Henrietta, “we will even take the bull by the horns.” - </p> - <p> - “And trust to our heels,” said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; “the - coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not stop us if - they can help it. One, two, three, and away!” - </p> - <p> - Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green - walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, and - take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. And - after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have gone openly - and with clear consciences, had they but properly and submissively waited - the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who did not know how - ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been very sorry to - interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother to it, in his - own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had been entirely caused - by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of objecting when it had - been first mentioned the evening before, and had not Beatrice not first - fidgeted and then argued, would only have regarded it as a pleasant way of - occupying their morning. - </p> - <p> - “I could scold you, Miss Drone,” said Beatrice when the two girls had set - themselves to rights, and recovered breath; “it was all the fault of your - dawdling.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, perhaps it was,” said Henrietta, “but you know I could not see - grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her.” - </p> - <p> - “How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to be - helped?” - </p> - <p> - “Then she was very kind to me,” replied Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “I see how it will be,” said Beatrice, smiling, “you will be grandmamma’s - pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get her to let me - help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent.” - </p> - <p> - Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either - grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also - with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was - determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was of - course equally resolute. - </p> - <p> - “She is an amazing person!” said Henrietta. “Is she eighty yet?” - </p> - <p> - “Seventy-nine,” said Beatrice; “and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say I - think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and grandmothers, - if there was one like Uncle Roger’s fat cattle shows. You know she thinks - nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and all over the village - besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the Sutton Leigh path. Let - me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, that’s right! Capital!” - cried she in high glee; “here is Birnam wood coming across the field.” And - springing on one of the bars of the gate near the top, she flourished her - handkerchief, chanting or singing, - </p> - <p> - “Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, With - all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my—quick - descending:” - </p> - <p> - she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring - precipitately down to avoid a fall. “It made a capital conclusion, - however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen,” as four - or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush—“Well, - gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een.” - </p> - <p> - “With sair fingers, you mean,” said Fred; “these bushes scratch like half - a dozen wild cats.” - </p> - <p> - “It is in too good a cause for me to pity you,” said Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or - not,—“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let - me see, I have my penknife.” - </p> - <p> - “Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. - </p> - <p> - “But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. - </p> - <p> - “He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, Alex, - how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?” - </p> - <p> - “O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex. - </p> - <p> - “Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said - Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; I - tell her then she can’t be driven.” - </p> - <p> - Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not - yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not told - the news yet.” - </p> - <p> - “What news?” - </p> - <p> - “The Euphrosyne is coming home,” cried the boys with one voice. “Had we - not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any - day!” - </p> - <p> - “That is something like news,” said Queen Bee; “I thought it would only be - that the puppies could see, or that Tom’s tooth was through. Grandpapa has - not heard it?” - </p> - <p> - “Papa is going up to tell him,” said John. “I was going too, only Alex - bagged me to carry his holly-bush.” - </p> - <p> - “And so the great Rogero is coming home!” said Beatrice. “How you will - learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially if - he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must - practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, Careys - and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred’s great love of dancing.” - </p> - <p> - “I love dancing?” exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and contempt. - </p> - <p> - “Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was proposed? - I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for the first - quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!” - </p> - <p> - “If it comes at all you must start me, Bee,” said Alex, “for I am sure I - can’t dance with any one but you.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me request it now,” said Fred, “though why you should think I like - dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it - endurable.” - </p> - <p> - “There are compliments to your Majesty,” cried Henrietta, laughing; “one - will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it - endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified.” - </p> - <p> - “Time will show,” said Beatrice; “I shall ponder on their requests, and - decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against hater - of the dance.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t love it, I declare,” exclaimed Fred. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t mind it, if you dance with me,” said Alex. - </p> - <p> - And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself the - object of attention to both. - </p> - <p> - Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to think - applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal - appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have thought - herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of attention, her - delight in playing off her two cousins against each other? Beauty, or the - consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. Henrietta, if ever the - matter occurred to her, could not help knowing that she was uncommonly - pretty, yet no one could be more free from any tendency to this habit. - Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, but that did not make the - least difference; if any, it was rather on the side of vanity, in being - able without a handsome face, so to attract and engross her cousins. It - was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel her power to play them off, - and irritate the little feelings of jealousy which she had detected; and - thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she pursued her course. - </p> - <p> - On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had - brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they had - to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha’s to fetch the key. In a - few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them ready to - fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a huge heap - of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use. - </p> - <p> - The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on the - top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but she - thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field upon - which she had to work began to alarm her imagination. - </p> - <p> - Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations - with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the aisle, - and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring that they - could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made no - objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly - observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and - Alex. - </p> - <p> - “Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? - Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed, - we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us, - and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing.” - </p> - <p> - Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, - rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies’ - work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his assistance - when she asked Fred’s, and she felt secure of them both. - </p> - <p> - “There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see - if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to - make a festoon if we cannot fasten it.” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t see anything.” - </p> - <p> - “Here, give me your hand, and I’ll look.” Up tripped the little Bee, just - holding by his hand. “Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great rough nail - sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a sailor’s knot - round it. Help me down first though—thank you. Fred, will you trim - that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We must have a - long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the screen. How tough - this ivy is! Thank you—that’s it. Well, Mr. Franklin, I hope we - shall get on in time.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself - of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses - Langford would not tire themselves. - </p> - <p> - Angels’ work is Church decoration—work fit for angels, that is to - say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its - greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory - of God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches - before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a more - favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures - who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with those - bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary? - </p> - <p> - Angels’ work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon - earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence, - when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was that spirit of - holy fear—that sole desire for His glory—the chief thought - with these young people? - </p> - <p> - Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word - or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone - and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for - the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down ladders and - steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and - adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what - it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people, - under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours. - </p> - <p> - But still Beatrice’s great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the two - boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful power - it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment so little - accordant with their nature; kept them amused without irreverence, and - doing good service all the time. But it was a power of which she greatly - enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen the rivalry between - them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a hassock, very happy, and - very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath which she had yesterday - proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other three—certainly - neglected—but she did not feel it so; she had rather be quiet, for - she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked to think over - the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought to her mind. - Uncle Geoffrey’s conversation dwelt upon her too; she began to realize his - meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his desire, by - entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. Opportunities - for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she - had been looking forward to having him all to herself here, when he must - wish to visit his father’s grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that - his first attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first - thought was there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds - to anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the - present was full of tranquil enjoyment. - </p> - <p> - If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, - or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been - little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her. - </p> - <p> - “Is it possible!” exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the - single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. “I - thought you would have given us at least eleven more.” - </p> - <p> - “What a quantity remains to be done!” sighed Henrietta, laying down the - wreath which she had just completed. “Your work looks beautiful, Queenie, - but how shall we ever finish?” - </p> - <p> - “A short winter’s day, too!” said Beatrice. “One thing is certain—that - we can’t go home to luncheon.” - </p> - <p> - “What will grandmamma think of that?” said Henrietta doubtfully. “Will she - like it?” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice could have answered, “Not at all;” but she said, “O never mind, - it can’t be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and - besides we might be caught and stopped.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that would be worse than anything,” said Henrietta, quite convinced. - </p> - <p> - “So you mean to starve,” said Alex. - </p> - <p> - “See what slaves men are to creature comforts,” said Beatrice; “what do - you say, Henrietta?” - </p> - <p> - “I had much rather stay here,” said Henrietta; “I want nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “Much better fun to go without,” said Fred, who had not often enough - missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you what will do best of all!” cried Queen Bee. “You go to Dame - Reid’s, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme - of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men’s bench in the porch.” - </p> - <p> - “Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts,” said Alex. “I - thought she would soon come down to other mortals.” - </p> - <p> - “Only to gratify her famishing subjects,” said Beatrice, “you disloyal - vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure - to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey - is coming.” - </p> - <p> - “For his private eating?” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the - village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the - children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny - Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But - come, Alex, why are you not off?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I don’t happen to have a sixpence,” said Alex, with an honest - openness, overcoming his desire to add “in my pocket.” It cost him an - effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and - comparisons perpetually made, Fred’s superior wealth and larger allowance - had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not, - or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to - be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty. - </p> - <p> - “Every one is poor at the end of the half,” said Fred, tossing up his - purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. “Here is - a sixpence, though, at her Majesty’s service.” - </p> - <p> - “And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to - loyalty?” said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. “We are not fallen quite - so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in - my desk at home.” - </p> - <p> - “And my purse is in my workbox,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present,” said Beatrice, “if - it won’t quite break you down.” - </p> - <p> - “There are more where that came from,” said Fred, with a careless air. - “Come along, Alex.” - </p> - <p> - Away they went. “That is unlucky,” soliloquised Queen Bee: “if I could - have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come - back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them - no more.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, that would be rather too bad,” said Henrietta. “I am sure Fred - will behave better.” - </p> - <p> - “Mark what I say,” said Beatrice. “I know how it will be; a dog or a gun - is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again - ‘twill be a nine days’ wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to - look at your wreath.” - </p> - <p> - She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time - in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in - protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness - of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the - door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held - out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round, - hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid’s grandson. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said she. “Did Master Alexander give you this?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, that’s right!” and away he went. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came - out to the porch. “Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!” and she - took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary’s handwriting to Fred, - on the back of which Alex had written, “Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey - and Dick are going up to Andrews’s about his terrier.—A. L.” “Very - cool, certainly!” said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique. - “What a life I will lead them!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you were a true prophet,” said Henrietta, “and after all it does - not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but - still I thought Fred would have behaved better.” - </p> - <p> - “You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, - and Fred with his own congeners,” said Beatrice; “you don’t know half the - phases of boy nature.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected - him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was - nothing—that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and - true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father’s grave. He - was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that - it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one - moment’s doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to - each other at Rocksand. - </p> - <p> - It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had - passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and - smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the - natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the - churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well - pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. They - worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires - was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the - right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service - came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion - which she fancied had been with her the whole day. - </p> - <p> - It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was - kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, - timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger— - </p> - <p> - “Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth, - and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones - echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and - thankfulness for the “good tidings of great joy.” Another and another - Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices; - and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath - their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta, - turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the - door watching them. - </p> - <p> - “Beautiful!” said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; “your - work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don’t - think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?” - </p> - <p> - “She did, of course, papa,” said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. “Who - else could?” - </p> - <p> - “It is a very successful arrangement,” said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about - to find the spot for obtaining the best view. “It is an arrangement to - suggest so much.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time - perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the - altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves and - scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in the - centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around - them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the - many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar - stiff gracefulness. - </p> - <p> - “I see it now!” said she, in a low voice full of awe. “Uncle, I did not - mean to make it so!” - </p> - <p> - “How?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “It is like Good Friday!” said she, as the resemblance to the crown of - thorns struck her more and more strongly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, why not, my dear?” said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a - sort of alarm. “Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good - Friday?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy.” - </p> - <p> - “Where are those verses that say—let me see— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - ‘And still Thy Church’s faith Shall link, - In all her prayer and praise, - Thy glory with Thy death.’ -</pre> - <p> - So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, “It - is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art—or, what shall I call - it?—is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the - author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else.” - </p> - <p> - “There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the - spirit in which a thing is done,” said her father: “But have you much more - to do? Those columns look very well.” - </p> - <p> - “O, are you come to help us, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your not - coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again just - at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, “Very well, - we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make her - think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?” - </p> - <p> - It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows that - it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was promised. - He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste and execution, - the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin came in, his - surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had grown up in his - absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of evergreen at the east end, - centring in the crown and letters; the spiral festoons round the pillars; - the sprays in every niche; the tower of holly over the font—all were - more beautiful, both together and singly, than he had even imagined, and - he was profuse in admiration and thanks. - </p> - <p> - The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied - survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the - pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As - they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal: - children’s voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, - were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with - </p> - <p> - “As shepherds watch’d their flocks by night.” - </p> - <p> - And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little voices - was brought on the still frosty wind— - </p> - <p> - “Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.” - </p> - <p> - Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,—how - really Christmas-like—how well it suited the soft half-light, the - last pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn - stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and - sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!—and - how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta’s eyes! - </p> - <p> - The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, with - Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary’s beautiful voice, was - not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was teasing Fred - all the time about his defection? The church singers came up to the Hall, - and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to listen to them; - grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk with them, and so - passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the many little troops - of young small voices outside the windows, to whom Mrs. Langford’s plum - buns, and Mr. Geoffrey’s sixpences, were a very enjoyable part of the - Christmas festivities. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. - </h2> - <p> - The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with - many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must be - so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the - whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer - hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the party, - while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage by old Mr. - Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with recollecting that no - companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It was a sight to be - remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his arm, her sweet - expression of peace and resignation, making her even more lovely than when - last she entered there—her face in all its early bloom of youthful - beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness. - </p> - <p> - But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that “peace which passeth all - understanding;” and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her - eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and - she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go - through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged - their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather - than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome - channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her - more full of her father’s presence than of any other, so now, throughout - the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and - entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work - herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her mamma’s - own anxieties for Fred. - </p> - <p> - Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all - left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to talk - her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured by them - that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from it. But - though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was not much - likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had always been - sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when Fred saw that his - mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of agitation, he dismissed - anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at his sister’s alarms. - </p> - <p> - Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he - was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations which - had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, replying to - the scolding with which she visited their desertion. - </p> - <p> - Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, - which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning - sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the - compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. The - old women had “never seen nothing like it,”—the school children - whispered to each other, “How pretty!” Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin - admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted; - grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and - Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it “was like magic.” - </p> - <p> - It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been - accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall was - so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in time - for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which she had - often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, the - Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the - farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick - Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own - apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement - of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow - path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking - sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept him - estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for execution. - Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their grandfather was - wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping them to feed the cows - with turnips, and guarding them from going behind their heels. Henrietta - was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was doing the honours for her, - and instructing her in the difference between a Guernsey cow and a - short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen Bee all to himself in a - remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old spotted Nancy’s curly brow, - catching at her polished black-tipped horn, and listening to his hopes and - fears for the next half year. Not so Frederick, as he stood at the door - with Jessie Carey, who, having no love for the cow-house, especially when - in her best silk, thought always ready to take care of the children there, - was very glad to secure a companion outside, especially one so handsome, - so much more polished than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply - to her small talk. Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how - he longed to be listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking - holly into the cows’ halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the - hay-loft with Carey and William—anywhere, rather than be liable to - the imputation of being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house. - </p> - <p> - This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still - an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman, - and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and - the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while - Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, “Well, Fred, I congratulate - you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!” - </p> - <p> - “I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, you can’t deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me for - finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay so bad - a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I was - actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that great - print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy roof, - and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, the haze - of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite poetical,” said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. “How - charmed Jessie must have been!” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” said Fred, rather provoked. - </p> - <p> - “Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be quite - her phoenix; and how much ‘Thomson’s Seasons’ you will have to hear! I - dare say you have had it already— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - ‘Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!’” - </pre> - <p> - “Well, very good advice, too,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “I hate and detest Thomson,” said Beatrice; “above all, for travestying - Ruth into ‘the lovely young Lavinia;’ so whenever Jessie treated me to any - of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I said, by - great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an imposition - for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a capital hit, - for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much of him, and - since that time I have heard no more of ‘Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson! - O!’” - </p> - <p> - The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, reaching - Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with his mother, - made him suspect that the young people were getting into such spirits as - were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked them some - trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, and brought - it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone. - </p> - <p> - Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had - to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the - dining-room—an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin - was dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander. - </p> - <p> - Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the - whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to her, - as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, but for - the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular music, it - might as well have been any other day of the week. - </p> - <p> - Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had a - long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and she - helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions about - her mother’s health and habits, and heard a good deal that interested her, - but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. At Rocksand she used to - sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the darkening summer twilight, or - the bright red light of the winter fire, repeating or singing hymns, and - enjoying the most delightful talks that the whole week had to offer, and - now she greatly missed the conversation that would have “set this strange - week to rights in her head,” as she said to herself. - </p> - <p> - She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at - night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as - difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a new - day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by Knight - Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she asked - herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change in her way - of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last Sunday that - she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at Rocksand. Enough - had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was fulfilled; the - airy castle of former days had become a substance, and she was inhabiting - it: and was she really so very much happier? There she went into a reverie—but - musing is not meditating, nor vague dreamings wholesome reflections; she - went on sitting their, chiefly for want of energy to move, till the fire - burnt low, the clock struck twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed - in a sleepy voice, “My dear, are you going to sleep there?” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. - </h2> - <p> - Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the - Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in - Knight’s Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin - without loss of time. - </p> - <p> - “You are coming, are you not, Bee?” said Alex, leaning over the back of - her chair. - </p> - <p> - “O yes,” said she, nearly whispering “only take care. It is taboo there,”—and - she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, “and don’t frighten - Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey’s doing the deed as fast as - he can.” - </p> - <p> - Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and Fred - was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, hoping it - might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take care of himself - since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the alarmed expression had - come over her face, as she asked Alexander whether his father had looked - at the ice. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Alex, “but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and - it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece.” - </p> - <p> - “He is pretty well to be trusted,” said his grandfather, “more especially - as it would be difficult to get drowned there.” - </p> - <p> - “I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there,” said - Alex. - </p> - <p> - “The travelling man did,” exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t they come in just like the Greek chorus?” said Beatrice, in a - whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend to - her. - </p> - <p> - “I thought he was drowned in the river,” said Alex. - </p> - <p> - “No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the duckweed - grows so rank in summer,” said Carey. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey laughed. “I am sorry to interfere with your romantic - embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since you - are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours.” - </p> - <p> - “I always thought it was there,” said the boy. - </p> - <p> - “And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off.” - </p> - <p> - “I always heard it was at Knight’s Pool,” repeated Carey. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know what you may have heard,” said Uncle Geoffrey; “but as it - happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not - argue the point.” - </p> - <p> - “Grandpapa,” persisted Carey, “was it not in Knight’s Pool?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly not,” was the answer drily given. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” continued Carey, “I am sure you might drown yourself there.” - </p> - <p> - “Rather than own yourself mistaken,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction,” said grandmamma, rising and rustling - past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced face. “Take - your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and stand like a - gentleman. Do!” - </p> - <p> - “All in vain!” said Beatrice. “To the end of his life he will maintain - that Knight’s Pool drowned the travelling man!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, never mind,” said John, impatiently, “are we coming to skate this - morning or are we not?” - </p> - <p> - “I really wish,” said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, “without - distrusting either old Knight’s Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that you - would ask some one to look at it.” - </p> - <p> - “I should like just to run down and see the fun,” said Uncle Geoffrey, - thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran - joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, Beatrice - to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked her son - Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable shutting - of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done it, he - readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all else give - way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, “I shall be - ready by the time the young ladies come down.” - </p> - <p> - So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice - appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the boys - looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight Sutton, - being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but a messenger - came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except Sunday, and - returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient arrangement, - as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might probably say for - twenty years more. - </p> - <p> - As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., and - Fred’s face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written - business-like sheets. - </p> - <p> - “Fred, my poor fellow,” said his uncle, looking up, “I am sorry for you, - but one or two must be answered by this day’s post. I will not be longer - than I can help.” - </p> - <p> - “Then do let us come on,” exclaimed the chorus. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Queenie,” added Alex. - </p> - <p> - She delayed, however, saying, “Can I do any good, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save time - if you could just copy a letter.” - </p> - <p> - “O thank you, pray let me,” said Beatrice, delighted. “Go on, Henrietta, I - shall soon come.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her - brother, which she did not like to lose. - </p> - <p> - Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in - the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, “Freddy, I believe you think me - very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice - till one of your uncles has said it is safe.” - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Roger trusts Alex,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of you - together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be dangerous - places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear,” added she, as the - others were preparing to start, “only I beg you will not attempt to skate - till your uncle comes.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he - showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not to - set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had - resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest - days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place on - his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been - voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in vain - with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should bring - the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself for the - entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of - disobedience. - </p> - <p> - In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red - leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move, - apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like - the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in fact - the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat opposite to - him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely happy, for to the - credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that no talk with - Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, no, not even a - flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in her estimation to - the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though it was copying a dry - legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the smooth hard ice, in the - bright winter morning’s sunshine. - </p> - <p> - The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty or - five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice looked - up, and without speaking, held up her sheet. - </p> - <p> - “Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now - then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel for - him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:” and muttering - a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer’s indefatigable pen; - and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off with her droll, - tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so well with her little - alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black velvet bonnet, a tight - black velvet “jacket,” as she called it, and a brown silk dress, with - narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, because it was the colour - of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, boa, or ribbon about her, but - all close and compact, fit for the diversion which she was eager to enjoy. - The only girl among so many boys, she had learnt to share in many of their - sports, and one of the prime favourites was skating, a diversion which - owes as much of its charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to - the degree of skill which it requires. - </p> - <p> - She arrived at the stile leading to “Knight’s Portion,” as it was called, - and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if it was - all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner of a - down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied all the - attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of precipice, - where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old chalk pit - formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the foot of a - hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply traced - circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger ones with - those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which the unskilful - are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick and Henrietta - stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly cheerful; but - both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came to meet her with - eager inquiries for her papa. - </p> - <p> - She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from - the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and who - hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been - entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour, - and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, or - to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for was - impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and - exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his own - hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had occasioned - the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps in a sort of - secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as to form in his - eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown himself so - unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction she beheld - her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height above, and - while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to herself, “It - will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!” - </p> - <p> - So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once to - use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement for - the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as skating - with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection might have - shown her how much more annoying the privation would be rendered by the - sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which he was debarred. - It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon against her as a fault - that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of anything so “boyish,” and - had long ago entreated her to be more like a young lady. There was no - positive order in this case, and her papa and mamma did not object. So she - eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was - gliding merrily on the surface of the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins - watched her dexterity with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more - grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his - complaints. At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own - security to bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a - quarter of an hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising - to the pitch where consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own - phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred. - </p> - <p> - “How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never mind, - Fred, the post must go some time or other.” - </p> - <p> - “It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an hour!” - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her - ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in the - midst of her next circular sweep she chanted— - </p> - <p> - “Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that any - reason why I should be drowned?” - </p> - <p> - It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh, - nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the - house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. - </p> - <p> - “What news of Uncle Geoffrey?” - </p> - <p> - “I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle - Roger went to him there.” - </p> - <p> - “No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most provoking - face of wonder and curiosity. - </p> - <p> - “Presently,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, - though it was only rude. - </p> - <p> - “Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller - than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what they - pleased. - </p> - <p> - “His mamma won’t let him,” was Dick’s polite answer. Fred could have - knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place he - was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in the - third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper enough - left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling with him, so - contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that he had him as - his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what she thought of - the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., &c. - </p> - <p> - Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar - frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue much - longer. - </p> - <p> - “How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the - hedge!” said Henrietta; “and look, these pieces of chalk are almost cased - in glass.” - </p> - <p> - “O I do love such a sight!” said Jessie. “Here is a beautiful bit of stick - crusted over.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a perfect little Giant’s Causeway,” said Henrietta; “do look at - these lovely little columns, Fred.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said Jessie, “Myriads of little salts, or hook’d or shaped like - double wedges.—” - </p> - <p> - She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she - came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, - looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered—“O - Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!” - </p> - <p> - It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be - making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey’s side, was more - than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey was not - coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience gave way, - and he exclaimed, “Well, I shan’t wait any longer, it is not of the least - use.” - </p> - <p> - “O, Fred, consider!” said his sister. - </p> - <p> - “That’s right, Freddy,” shouted Carey, “he’ll not come now, I’ll answer - for it.” - </p> - <p> - “You know he promised he would,” pleaded Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the - sea,” said Fred, “the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not - wait any longer.” - </p> - <p> - “Think of mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?” exclaimed Fred impatiently, - “do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them must - needs break with me?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not suppose there is any danger,” said Henrietta, “but for the sake - of poor mamma’s entreaties!” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of my - life?” said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to - silence his sister and his conscience. “I have submitted to such absurd - nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in - the sight of everybody; so here goes!” - </p> - <p> - And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of the - pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta turned - away her eyes full of tears. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind, Henrietta,” shouted the good-natured Alexander, “I’ll engage - to fish him out if he goes in.” - </p> - <p> - “It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex,” returned Fred, slightly - affronted. - </p> - <p> - “Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case,” said the - naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the - consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible, - then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction, - “Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience - he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear.” - </p> - <p> - Whether Alex smiled at the words “past fear,” or whether Fred only thought - he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, “I only wish there - was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, Alex.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there is one,” said Alex, laughing, “where Carey drowns the - travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, so - you may try—” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t, Fred—I beg you won’t!” cried Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!” implored - Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “I shan’t look, I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Jessie, turning away. - </p> - <p> - Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across - the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the middle - of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his achievement, - a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles stood before them. - The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a short run, and slide - right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle Roger stood by laughing - and saying, “Well done, Geoffrey, you are not quite so heavy as I am.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by the - arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice that had - all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released from school, “I - hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is franked! Where’s - Fred?” - </p> - <p> - Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen Bee’s - complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander who had - spirit to answer, “We thought you were not coming at all.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed!” said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, “Why, Alex, - Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises,” a truth to which every one - gave a mental assent. - </p> - <p> - Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle - Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of their - merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all the - other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy more - than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her - brother’s conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her uncle, - wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind to do so, - for fear of her mamma’s asking about Fred; and whilst she was still - doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding her of - the saint’s day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton to which she - had so long looked forward. Yet here was another disappointment. The - uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. Jessie said she must - take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys could do as they - pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey’s hand was going with him, but - the rest continued their sport, and among them was Fred. He had never - disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not have done so now, but - as he saw none of his male companions setting off, he fancied that to - attend a week-day service in the holidays might be reckoned a girlish - proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as soon as his back was - turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey’s grave looks that he might be - taken to task when no longer protected by the presence of the rest. - </p> - <p> - He therefore replied with a gruff short “No” to his sister’s anxious - question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end - of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and - vexed at finding himself mistaken after all—at least so far as - regarded Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last - moment, and now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at - full speed after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they - reached the village. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of - footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to Church - grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in general - look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present case there - were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to plead to Uncle - Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity towards her poor - Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how much he had been teased. - This, however, she could not tell him without complaining of his daughter, - and in fact it was an additional pain that Queen Bee should have used all - her powerful influence in the wrong direction. - </p> - <p> - It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in such - circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put her arm - into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that could - sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, “My poor - Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this time, - but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything - happening.” - </p> - <p> - “O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded - him.” - </p> - <p> - “I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for - persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, - and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you would - not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would go into - the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? I could - have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no harm done.” - </p> - <p> - “There is your papa displeased with him.” - </p> - <p> - “O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and - beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred—I should like to - make a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever - act a charade, Henrietta?” - </p> - <p> - “Never; I scarcely know what it is.” - </p> - <p> - “O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told - you of fool-hardy, for now we can’t have that, but this evening, O, this - evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex! - Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant.” - </p> - <p> - Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and was - presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently persuading - him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta was not - sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All her - thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before all - her mother’s fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had recovered - her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of his Heavenly - Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of many a moral tale, - was tormenting herself with the expectation of retribution, and dwelling - on a fancied figure of her brother lifted senseless out of the water, with - closed eyes and dripping hair. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. - </h2> - <p> - With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little thing, - and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as she - returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, “Papa, - you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much plagued, and he - only had just begun when you came.” - </p> - <p> - “The other boys had been teasing him?” - </p> - <p> - “Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on - the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was my - fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only worthy - of Dick himself, but at poor Fred’s own disconsolate looks.” - </p> - <p> - “Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know how - easily I am run away with by high spirits.” - </p> - <p> - “And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no - right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but there are - many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are irresistible, or - seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I know I was to blame, - only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really did seem rather - unreasonable to keep him there parading about with Henrietta and Jessie, - when the ice was quite safe for everybody else.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way to - the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not show - any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position for a - boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these restraints.” - </p> - <p> - “And cannot you—” said Beatrice, stopping short. - </p> - <p> - “Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks - right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very reason I - will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that his amusement - should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his amusement.” - </p> - <p> - “Yet surely this cannot go on for life,” said Beatrice, as if she was half - afraid to hazard the remark. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and - gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do not - set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can plead - the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; you know the - greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful responsibility - incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to lead him astray for - the sake of—of vanity—of amusement.” - </p> - <p> - Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to - Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, and - she answered earnestly, “I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of saying - clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for I could - have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is vanity, and - I will try to subdue it.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and would - blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed reproof - by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was self-deception, - for it was not as if it was herself whom she was analysing, but rather as - if it was some character in a book; indeed, she would have described - herself almost exactly as she is here described, except that her - delineation would have been much more clever and more exact. She would not - have spared herself—for this reason, that her own character was more - a study to her than a reality, her faults rather circumstances than sins; - it was her mind, rather than her soul, that reflected and made - resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been resolutions, if they - had possessed any real earnestness, and not been done, as it were, - mechanically, because they became the occasion. - </p> - <p> - The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and she - ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following course: - “I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and wrong, and - all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll to see how - provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and after all, I - don’t think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only it flatters - his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as girls, not Alex - though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for me, and I have - put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought those charades - are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on superior ground, and - there will be none of these foolish questions who can be most manly mad. - Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and I thought papa could not - find it in his heart to be angry with him. How capitally he will act, and - how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make them take to the charades, it - will be so very delightful, and keep Fred quite out of mischief, which - will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused grandpapa will be! What shall - it be to-night? What Alex can manage to act tolerably. Ce n’est que le - premier pas qui conte, and the premier pas must be with our best foot - foremost. I give myself credit for the thought; it will make all smooth.” - </p> - <p> - These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more - rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her - swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was - standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, which - with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. “Don’t look dismal, - Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. Cheer up, - you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this evening.” - </p> - <p> - Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to - receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought him - excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all the - wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all fear of - Uncle Geoffrey’s eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, and he - entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle was vexed to - see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her entreaty had not - been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for she liked better to - trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too many boys, did not think - concealment blameable where there was no actual falsehood. - </p> - <p> - All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of - wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, and - was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into - different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some - extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, and - with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him the - loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant’s uniform; then she darted into the - drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger’s voice, and conjured him not to - forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, “Willy must - wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger’s dirk, and above all, beg, - borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger’s fishing boots.” Her next descent was upon - Aunt Mary, in her own room: “Aunt, would you do me a great favour, and ask - no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the three little - marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday evening. Only for - this one evening, and I’ll take great care.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like - myself in such finery,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as Beatrice - took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had the - discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft of its - plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in the secret - of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the work-room, - which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and Judith, - gratified by a visit from “Miss Bee,” dived for her sake into boxes and - drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to rummage. - </p> - <p> - All this might ultimately be for Henrietta’s entertainment, but at present - it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own resources - in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, listened to - a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the new pig-sty, - wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to ask Uncle - Geoffrey’s advice, tried to talk over things in general with her mamma, - but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming in and out of - the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt deserted, gave up - work, and had just found an entertaining book, when grandmamma came in, - and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She readily accepted, but for - want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her grandmamma waiting longer than - she liked, and had more of a scolding than was agreeable. The chickens - were all gone to roost by the time they arrived, the cock just peering - down at them with his coral-bordered eye, and the ducks waddling - stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, the hen-wife gone, and - Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but she - had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, they met - Mr. Langford, who called out, “So you have been walking with grandmamma! - Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with grandpapa. I - am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my ‘merry Christmas’ will - be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you with me.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be - refused, and she was at her grandpapa’s side in an instant, thanking him - so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. “I wish we had - Fred here too,” said he, as they walked on, “the old man will be very glad - to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Was he one of mamma’s many admirers in the village?” - </p> - <p> - “All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was old - Daniels’ chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for carpentry, - especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he was at work at - the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have held up his head - again when our great trouble came on us. He used to touch his hat, and - turn away without looking me in the face. And there you may see stuck up - over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new chisel that your father gave - him when he had broken his old one.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear old man!” said Henrietta, warmly, “I am so very glad that we have - come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, and - not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were come out - of banishment.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it is all the better for you,” said Mr. Langford; “if we had had - you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few - granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is that - little Busy Bee—by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are not - you in her secret?” - </p> - <p> - “O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came - out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would not - let me.” - </p> - <p> - “She turns us all round her finger,” said grandpapa. “I never found the - person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you do - not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and it - is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading.” - </p> - <p> - “O, grandpapa!” - </p> - <p> - “That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here!” and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he - disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. “Is - this weak?” - </p> - <p> - “No, it is strong in energy,” said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic - cane sprang back to its former shape. - </p> - <p> - “Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that - should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let your - own determination be only to keep upright.” - </p> - <p> - “But women are admired for influence.” - </p> - <p> - “Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it is - unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, take - care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own personal - wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially for young - ladies towards their elders.” - </p> - <p> - Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice, - grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how - applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the - moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. It - brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched - workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat but - for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages. - </p> - <p> - This was Henrietta’s first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness and - interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as fine-looking - as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages always are in - books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It was a very nice - trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on Mr. Langford’s knock, - and the room was neatness itself, but the old carpenter was not at all - what she had imagined. He was a little stooping old man, with a shaking - head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and did not seem to have - anything to say beyond “Yes, sir,” and “Thank you, sir,” when Mr. Langford - shouted into his deaf ears some of the “compliments of the season.” - Looking at the young lady, whom he evidently mistook for Beatrice, he - hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were quite well. His face lighted up a - little for a moment when Mr. Langford told him this was Mr. Frederick’s - daughter, but it was only for an instant, and in a somewhat querulous - voice he asked if there was not a young gentleman too. - </p> - <p> - “O yes,” said Mr. Langford, “he shall come and see you some day.” - </p> - <p> - “He would not care to see a poor old man,” said Daniels, turning a little - away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by saying, “He - is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting tired going to - church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he has been so - fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with him.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then - asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in the - workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak to him, - leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary waiting - time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class with whom - she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself agreeable, but - completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk to the old man, - and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation quite impossible - except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with her—she tried to - recollect what storied young ladies did say to old men, but nothing she - could think of would do, or was what she could find herself capable of - saying. At last she remembered, in “Gertrude,” the old nurse’s complaint - that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, and she hazarded her - voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not suffer from it. Clear - as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for she was really in a - fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man’s ear, and his - daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in a shrill sharp - scream, that almost went through her ears; then while the old man was - answering something in a muttering maundering way, she proceeded with a - reply, and told a long story about his ways with the doctor, in her Sussex - dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The conversation dropped, - until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at the Hall was quite well, - and as she inquired after them one by one, this took up a reasonable time; - but then again followed a silence. Mrs. Daniels was not a native of Knight - Sutton, or she would have had more to say about Henrietta’s mother; but - she had never seen her before, and had none of that interest in her that - half the parish felt. Henrietta wished there had been a baby to notice, - but she saw no trace in the room of the existence of children, and did not - like to ask if there were any. She looked at the open hearth, and said it - was very comfortable, and was told in return that it made a great draught, - and smoked very much. Then she bethought herself of admiring an - elaborately worked frame sampler, that hung against the wall; and the - conversation this supplied lasted her till, to her great joy, grandpapa - made his appearance again, and summoned her to return, as it was already - growing very dark. - </p> - <p> - She thought he might have made something of an apology for the - disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting that - she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that cottage - visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an occupation, - when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking about her mother’s - health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with her, saying how very - glad he was to have her there again, and how like his own daughter she had - always been. He went on to tell of his first sight of his two - daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would be such, he went - to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from India under the - care of General St. Leger. “There they were,” said he; “I can almost see - them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt a brown little - sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, and your mamma such - a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I felt quite ashamed to - take her among all my great scrambling boys.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she recollects - the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a carriage; but she - cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey or the coming here.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed that - in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys receiving - her,—Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,—for Roger was at school. How - they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like a - little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too - rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass. - And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!” - </p> - <p> - “That was when she was six,” said Henrietta, “and papa must have been - ten.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! and - come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was - almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten.” - </p> - <p> - “And were they?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she did - not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they knight and - giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many’s the time I have - laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived creature more - without will of her own.” - </p> - <p> - “Never,” responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford might - commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so appropriate - a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by her own - daughter. - </p> - <p> - “Eh!” said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in another - tone, “Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more on you than - on any one else.” - </p> - <p> - “I would do anything on earth for her!” said Henrietta, feeling it from - the bottom of her heart. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure you would, my dear,” said Mr. Langford, “and she deserves it. - There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think - of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, it - won’t do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, that - I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, as I am - sure it was for us.” - </p> - <p> - He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his - eldest son calling “Out late, sir,” and looking round, Henrietta saw what - looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt Roger, and - their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming to the Hall - for the regular Christmas dinner-party. - </p> - <p> - Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries - whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent - manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had been - saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her - mother’s youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and - which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the - scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother - having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and - resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the - conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side. - She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her - grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old - carpenter’s averted head—she thought what must have been the agony - of the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on - whom the world was just opening so brightly,—and the young wife—the - infant children—how fearful it must have been! “It was almost a - cruel dispensation,” thought Henrietta. “O, how happy and bright we might - have been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his - kiss, to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her - joyousness and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it - not so? And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner - he did say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it! - To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma, - grandpapa—no, I never shall understand it. They were good before; - why did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying ‘Thy will be - done?’ Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!” - </p> - <p> - “Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta,” said Bennet; - “it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been telling - me that I must get you ready faster.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink - again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, “I can’t, - Bennet, it breaks my neck.” Her will was not with her mother’s, in a - trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself - to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly - Parent, in what is above reason? - </p> - <p> - The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed in to - dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having already - been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again abandoned to - Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, partly because he - was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for the evening, and - partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was saying to Fred, in - the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the loud voice of Mr. - Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other sounds. Some - inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and her aunt, Lady - Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great lamentation for her - mother’s absence, and from thence into a description of what Lady Susan - exacted from her friends. “Aunt Susan is a regular fidget,” said she; “not - such a fidget as some people,” with an indication of Mrs. Langford. “Some - people are determined to make others comfortable in a way of their own, - and that is a fidget to be regarded with considerable respect; but Aunt - Susan’s fidgeting takes the turn of sacrificing the comfort of every one - else to her own and her little dog’s.” - </p> - <p> - “But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on mamma’s - coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her sister and - brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when she may be - taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous state that Mr. - Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence,” said Beatrice, in an - imitative tone, which made Fred laugh. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by her - querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or unselfishness - either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was kind to her when - she came home from India, and she manages to keep her quiet better than - anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma’s cheerful voice, which - drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot think how funny it is to - see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the cat the wrong way, and - mamma to smooth her down the right.” - </p> - <p> - A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. Langford - said, “What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?” - </p> - <p> - “O you are telling it all—O don’t, Bee!” cried Willy. - </p> - <p> - And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to - discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all—it - was the partridges—the conversation drifted away again from the - younger party. - </p> - <p> - As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging her - grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at present - stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where there was a - door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent rustlings were - heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or whispering, and a sound of - moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. Langford, that, starting up, she - exclaimed that she must go and see what they were doing. - </p> - <p> - “We are taking great care, grandmamma,” called Alexander. “We won’t hurt - it.” - </p> - <p> - This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far - from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage of - discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that all - was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed. - </p> - <p> - She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her—the latter, in - a marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself, - and yet in great terror lest the others should tell. - </p> - <p> - As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and - presently there was a call from behind the screen, “Are you ready, good - people?” - </p> - <p> - “Go it,” answered Carey. - </p> - <p> - “Are the elders ready?” said Beatrice’s voice. - </p> - <p> - “Papa, don’t go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!” cried Willy. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, all attention,” said grandpapa. “Now for it!” - </p> - <p> - The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, - ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a tiara - and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them a - nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, adorned - with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the form of - ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. As Uncle - Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it proceeded in - due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and present them to the - king and princess in the name of the Marquis Carabbas. - </p> - <p> - The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis might - be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king - cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, - until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, - “I’ve told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won’t believe me, I can’t - help it!” and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful a - manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to have - his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in - preparation for Scene II. - </p> - <p> - Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so as - to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close to - the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart - measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his head, - and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, reclined Alex, - his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an old, - long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had with - some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little figure in - a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox’s brush, and - with Mrs. Frederick Langford’s three feathers, and a coat bearing - marvellous resemblance to Beatrice’s own black velvet spencer, crossed - over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew full well. - “Do thou stand for my father,” began this droll little shape, “and examine - me in the particulars of my life.” - </p> - <p> - It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, acted - beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes were often - directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, obtained not - only a view of Prince Hal’s pink petticoat, but of a great Shakespeare - laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of the heir - apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was strongly - suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It was with - great spirit that the parting appeal was given, “Banish fat Jack, and - banish all the world!” And there was great applause when fat Jack and - Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; though Uncle - Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain historical and - antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was likely to wear - the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts at Eastcheap. - </p> - <p> - In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant’s uniform made a great - figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf, - and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his arm, - looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low bow, - which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish bonnet, - also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue ribbon. - Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine stood - confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled off, or - supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off the view; - and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, while Prince - Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced round Mr. - Langford, asking if he had guessed it. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. - </h2> - <p> - Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an amusement - likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of her - boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to imitate - it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the way of - scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were to dine at the - Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there should be a grand - charade, with all the splendour that due preparation could bestow upon it. - “It was such an amusement to grandpapa,” as Beatrice told Henrietta, “and - it occupied Fred so nicely,” as she said to her father; both which - observations being perfectly true, Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing - to promote the sport, and to tranquillise his mother respecting the - disarrangement of her furniture. - </p> - <p> - But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their own—some - for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, others for - Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already grouped her - dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta’s picturesque face and - figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her and Fred - represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she had always - believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for “another touch at - Prince Hal,” and devised numerous ways of acting Anonymous, for the sake - of “Anon, anon, sir.” Henrietta wanted to contrive something in which - Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy bee, and had very pretty visions - of making her a beneficent spirit in a little fanciful opera, for which - she had written three or four verses, when Fred put an end to it be - pronouncing it “nonsense and humbug.” - </p> - <p> - So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was - beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday - morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some - chance a wig of her papa’s was in the house, and a charade they must and - would have which would bring in the wig. “Come and see it,” said she, - drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being - the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. “There now, - is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is certain!” - </p> - <p> - Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister’s wig before, - were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in turn. - While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of her own fair - ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door suddenly opened, - and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, “What! nothing safe - from you, you impertinent kittens?” - </p> - <p> - “O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!” cried Henrietta, blushing crimson. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t take it off till I have looked at you,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Why, - you would make a capital Portia!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes!” cried Queen Bee, “that is it: Portia she shall be, and I’ll be - Nerissa.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!” said Henrietta: “I am sure I - can’t.” - </p> - <p> - “But I have set my heart on being the ‘little scrubby lawyer’s clerk,’” - said Busy Bee; “it is what I am just fit for; and let me see—Fred - shall be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and - you shall have Alex for your Bassanio.” - </p> - <p> - “But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine - Seyton?” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Let me see,” said Beatrice; “bond—bondage, jew—jeweller, - juniper,—” - </p> - <p> - “Lawsuit,” said Fred. “Ay, don’t you see, all the scenes would come out of - the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ There is ‘law’ when the old Jew is crying out - for his ducats, and—but halloo!” and Fred stood aghast at the sight - of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness. - </p> - <p> - “Traitor!” said Beatrice; “but never mind, I believe we must have let him - into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock.” - </p> - <p> - “O, Bee,” whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, “don’t tease him with our - nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock’s part, when he has all - that pile of papers on the table.” - </p> - <p> - “Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is some - ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night.” - </p> - <p> - Such was Uncle Geoffrey’s reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered to - the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, and - then clapped their hands in delighted admiration. - </p> - <p> - “Do you really know it all?” asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful awe. - </p> - <p> - “It won’t cost me much trouble to get it up,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford; - “Shylock’s growls stick in one’s memory better than finer speeches.” - </p> - <p> - “Then will you really be so very kind?” - </p> - <p> - “Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table this - morning,” said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a certain - degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as if it was - entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he did - actually enjoy it. - </p> - <p> - The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only - place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex could not - be taken to the maids’ workroom, and none of the downstairs apartments - could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their preparations. - Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing Uncle Geoffrey, but - his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon at an end when she - perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, and laughing, no more - than if they had been so many little sparrows twittering on the eaves, but - pursued the even tenor of his writing uninterruptedly, even while she - fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, which her ingenious fingers had - compounded of the lining of certain ugly old curtains. - </p> - <p> - His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs. - Langford’s periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she would - assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have come to a - collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole scheme. - </p> - <p> - It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta’s list of his avocations, - and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people - during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine by - the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were the - looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the curing - grandmamma’s old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing of an - emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle - supposed “to have no answer,” and the mending of some extraordinary spring - that was broken in Uncle Roger’s new drill. Beatrice was charmed with the - list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to every one; and - grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was ashamed to find that - his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to which Uncle Geoffrey - replied, that it was too true that “all work and no play make Jack a very - dull boy.” - </p> - <p> - The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and rain, - was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away all - temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and Antonio - and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey was heard to - observe that it might just as well be half year. They had besides their - own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of Arragon and - Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa as possible, - had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, all into the one - scene belonging to “suit.” It was one of those occasions on which she - showed little consideration, for she thus gave Portia an immense quantity - to learn in only two days; persuading herself all the time that it was no - such hard task, since the beautiful speech about mercy Henrietta already - knew by heart, and she made no difficulties about the rest. Indeed, - Beatrice thought herself excessively amiable in doing all she could to - show off her cousin’s beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part - herself; forgetting that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in - taking willingly that which is assigned us. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well as - at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil the - pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good earnest - to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her hand; she - learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, resisting - many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before daylight, - was up and learning again. - </p> - <p> - The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged: - grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger - that it would be over now and out of the children’s heads, for they turned - the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like - play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out - one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always - making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want of - his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt Mary, - and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very pretty, - and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to crack; - Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be magnificos, - found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened. - </p> - <p> - It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to - Shylock’s excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed - chasing him across the stage, crying, “The law, his ducats, and his - daughter!” - </p> - <p> - Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her hair, - almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed expression in - her glowing face was little accordant with the calm dignified - self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a handkerchief - folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet lambswool worked - into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with bright ribbon, made a - complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, pert reply to her lady’s - first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to restore Portia to herself, - and they got on well and with spirit through the description of the - suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. Portia looked - excessively dignified, and Nerissa’s by-play was capital. Whether it was - owing to Bassanio’s awkwardness or her own shyness, she did not prosper - quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; Bassanio seemed more - afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more at Nerissa than at her, - whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as cold and measured a way, as if - it had been the Prince of Morocco who had unfortunately hit upon the right - casket. - </p> - <p> - In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be wished. - She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the glowing - carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath which a few - bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand raised, and the - other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the Jew, as if she - either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in Antonio’s case, for - they glistened with tears, and her voice had a tremulous pleading tone, - which fairly made her grandfather and mother both cry heartily. - </p> - <p> - “Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!” - </p> - <p> - The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by - Bassanio from crying “No, he shan’t!” Nerissa was so absorbed as even to - have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to - the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick were - hanging with breathless attention on the “but,” when suddenly there was a - general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with a voice - and face full of delight, announced “Master Roger,” and there entered a - young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter. - </p> - <p> - Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and - handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another, - the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger - Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford - fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his - arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, “What, - Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Miss Jessie,” exclaimed Roger; “that is right: I have not seen such a - crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost your - pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?” - </p> - <p> - “Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary,” said his mother; and instantly there was a - subduing of the young sailor’s boisterous mirth, as he turned to answer - her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the appearance of - the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio’s short black cloak - and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his burnt cork eyebrows - and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know him; Uncle Geoffrey - still in Shylock’s yellow cap, and Fred somewhat grim with the Prince of - Morocco’s complexion. - </p> - <p> - “How d’ye do, Phil?” said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the hand - with interest. “What! are not you Philip Carey?” - </p> - <p> - “O, Roger, Roger!” cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden - predominated. - </p> - <p> - “What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d’ye do, aunt?” - </p> - <p> - “Well done, Roger! That’s right! Go on!” cried his father, laughing - heartily. - </p> - <p> - “Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as - like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I - thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not this - Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are you Fred - Langford, then?” - </p> - <p> - “Right this time,” said Fred, “so now you must shake hands with me in my - own name.” - </p> - <p> - “Very glad to do so, and see you here at last,” said Roger, cordially. - “And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were - crossing the Line?” - </p> - <p> - “You shall hear what it is all about, and see too,” said Mr. Langford. “We - must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But where - is my little Portia? What is become of her?” - </p> - <p> - “Fled, I suspect,” said her mother, “gone to turn into herself before her - introduction.” - </p> - <p> - “O, Roger, it was so jolly,” Carey was now heard to say above the - confusion of voices. “Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a pound - of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a lawyer’s wig, - and had just found such a dodge!” - </p> - <p> - “Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore - there, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?” - </p> - <p> - “Have you dined?” - </p> - <p> - “Cold turkey—excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper—a - cup of tea—no, but we will have the beef in—” - </p> - <p> - Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the answers - and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa exclaimed, “Ah! - here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new cousin for you, Roger; - here is the advocate for you when you have a tough law-suit! Lucky for - you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, or your nose would soon be - put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared you make your mother and - grandfather cry their hearts out?” - </p> - <p> - “I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir,” said Mrs. Frederick - Langford. “I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you - know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But to - see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking savage - with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of actors, all of - you, and we must see the end of it.” - </p> - <p> - This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with Henrietta - for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates decreed - otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to carve it, and - soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to his eldest grandson - about his travels. A sailor just returned from four years on the South - American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot condors on the Andes, - caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks in the Atlantic, and - heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could not fail to be very - entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas of Peru, and could - tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and accordingly everyone was - greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who sat in a corner of the - sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering how long Roger would go on - eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and strangling the yawns induced by - her inability to attract the notice of either of her squires, whose eyes - and ears were all for the newcomer. She was not even missed; if she had - been, it would have been some consolation; but on they went, listening and - laughing, as if the course of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the - adventures of her crew, were the only subjects of interest in the world. - He was only at home for a week, but so much the worse, that would be till - the end of Beatrice’s own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but - Euphrosyne the whole time. - </p> - <p> - There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask - about his cousins and all the neighbours. - </p> - <p> - “And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any - practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be - doctored by Master Philip!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip,” said Jessie. - “I assure you,” nodding to Fred, “I take it as a great compliment, and so - will Philip.” - </p> - <p> - “And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! grown quite fat and coarse,” said Jessie; “but you may judge for - yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a regular - Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And we are to - dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the county; the floor - is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield assembly-room.” - </p> - <p> - “No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate,” said Roger. - “This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I took - the prettiest girl there in to supper—don’t be jealous, Jessie, she - had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the next - ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather a thick - sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she found? A - great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever saw.” - </p> - <p> - “O, you horrid creature!” cried Jessie, “I am sure it was your doing. I am - sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or some - dreadful creature! I won’t let you take me in to supper on Monday, I - declare.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I won’t have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my partner, - if she will have me.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Cousin Roger,” faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with the - doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie might be - vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, looking at - her more fully than he had done before, went on, “Much honoured, cousin. - Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the prettiest girl in the - room for my partner. But how slow of them all not to have engaged her - before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “I hope for Queen Bee,” said Alex. - </p> - <p> - “And Jessie must dance with me, because I don’t know how,” said Carey. - </p> - <p> - “My dears, this will never do!” interposed grandmamma. “You can’t all - dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never heard - of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with little - Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” cried Roger, “I won’t give up my partner, ma’am; I am a - privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of - Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta, - stick fast to your engagement; you can’t break the first promise you ever - made me. Here,” proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, “let - us begin this minute; I’ll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian - ladies.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a pity. Come, Jessie, then.” - </p> - <p> - If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something - which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie answered - her cousin’s summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance at his - evident preference of Henrietta’s newer face. - </p> - <p> - “If I can’t waltz, I can play for you,” said Henrietta, willing not to - seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and - Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving shocks - against the furniture and minding them not the least in the world, till at - last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon the sofa. - </p> - <p> - The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into - silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, as - was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he - apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured - him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment. - </p> - <p> - Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no - waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no - possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as - much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring that - she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her days were - contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything newer, they - might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would not hear of - them. - </p> - <p> - And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her - grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the - universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the - table. - </p> - <p> - With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, as - she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining within - herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing up and - play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice came to her aunt’s room, when they went upstairs, and petitioned - for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind pity for her - present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even allowed her to - outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of the charade, and - the history of the preparations and contrivances gave subject to a very - animated conversation. - </p> - <p> - Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all to wish - for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense dislike to - the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, and there - were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much without - restraint as to Aunt Mary. - </p> - <p> - The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, and - here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had only - heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the doings of - the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly shocked and - amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and pleading for it. - </p> - <p> - “My dear!” said Beatrice, laughing, “I do not know what you would do if - you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the days - of her life.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and the - society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that make - the difference, not the temper.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite true, Busy Bee,” said her aunt, “temper may be the same in very - different circumstances.” - </p> - <p> - “But it is very curious, mamma,” said Henrietta, “how people can be - particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your pardon, - only I know you don’t mind it, Jessie did not approve of your skating.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Beatrice, “every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at - those of other people.” - </p> - <p> - “Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging,” said - Aunt Mary. - </p> - <p> - “But then, mamma,” said Henrietta, “we must hold to the right scruples, - and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less—less - desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we - are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things.” - </p> - <p> - “O, it is just according to what you are brought up to,” said Beatrice. “A - Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you think - it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, that will not do,” said Henrietta. “Something must be actually wrong. - Mamma, do say what you think.” - </p> - <p> - “I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an instinct - which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and whatever at the - first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her own individual case. - The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by education, or wilful - dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, though alive and active - on others.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Henrietta, as if satisfied. - </p> - <p> - “And above all,” said her mother, “it, like other gifts, grows dangerous, - it may become affectation.” - </p> - <p> - “Pruding,” said Beatrice, “showing openly that you like it to be observed - how prudent and proper you are.” - </p> - <p> - “Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious of - anything wrong,” said Henrietta. “Wrong I do not exactly mean, but - something on the borders of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Aunt Mary, “and above all, do not let this delicacy show - itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion - of ourselves, and very soon turns into ‘judging our neighbour.’” - </p> - <p> - “But there is false delicacy, aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion - tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. - </h2> - <p> - The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in her - cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and newly - arrived after five years’ absence, he had considerable claims to - attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold - open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that - Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even - grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter. - </p> - <p> - This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been - amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and - have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But - between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never - had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all - the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest, - thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either - Henrietta or Jessie. - </p> - <p> - If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was struck - with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself to - engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, it - may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, might - have carried her out of her natural character in the style that suited - him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her own - affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked him, but she - showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to appropriate him. - She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the attention due to - any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness than if it had - been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last of whom was a - pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his stories of adventures, - or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and a delighted ear; but all - common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell flat; she either did not - catch them, or did not catch at them. She might blush and look confused, - but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified embarrassment, and if she - found an answer, it was one either to change the subject, or honestly - manifest that she was not pleased. - </p> - <p> - She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought - at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to admire - her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, was not in - the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of enjoyment, - Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her mamma was still more - rejoiced to see her act so properly without self-consciousness or the - necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee ought to have been duly - grateful to the one faithful vassal who was proof against all allurements - from her side and service. - </p> - <p> - She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is - usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and been - very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did not feel - in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been much more - proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on which their - attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; for though the - world may be of opinion that they had had quite a sufficiency of - amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their success on Thursday, - and the sudden termination in the very height of their triumph. - </p> - <p> - They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of - Shylock’s trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation, - and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast in - the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely cleared of - all their various goods and chattels, Portia’s wig in its box, the three - caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke’s throne safe in its - place in the hall, and even Shylock’s yellow cap picked to pieces, and - rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to come of use in - seven years’ time. Judith, who was putting the finishing touches to the - re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great chair, and - restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the table, gave in - answer to her exclamations the information that “Missus had been up since - seven o’clock, helping to put away the things herself, for she said she - could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey’s room not fit for anybody to sit in.” - This might certainly be considered as a tolerably broad hint that they had - better discontinue their representations, but they were arrived at that - state of eagerness which may be best illustrated by the proverb referring - to a blind horse. Every one, inclined to that same impetuosity, and want - of soberness, can remember the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded - checks will recur to the mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of - the self-justification which truly answers that their object was not even - comprehended. Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of - dissent from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma’s dislike, and - Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a fidgety - fancy. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and - greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make a - pair of asses’ ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the - weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, and - Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to be - her own “primest of viziers.” - </p> - <p> - “And,” said Beatrice, “what an exquisite interlude it will make to relieve - the various plagues of Monday evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Why you don’t mean to act then!” exclaimed Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Why not? You don’t know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse - for getting away from all the stupidity.” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure it will,” cried Fred. “A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall - have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort.” - </p> - <p> - “But would grandmamma ever let us do it?” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “I will manage,” said Beatrice. “I will make grandpapa agree to it, and - then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it.” - </p> - <p> - “Before so many people!” said Henrietta. “O, Queenie, it will never do! It - would be a regular exhibition.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, what nonsense!” said Beatrice. “Why, it is all among friends and - neighbours.” - </p> - <p> - “Friends and neighbours to you,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or - inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer.” - </p> - <p> - “A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account,” said Fred. - “But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such nonsense - and affectation.” - </p> - <p> - “Affectation! O, Fred!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, to be sure it is,” said Fred: “to set up such scruples as these. - Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when once - you get into the spirit of the thing.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is affectation,” said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, “but - thinking what other people will think?” - </p> - <p> - There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some - degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation, - especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever and - determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in - preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering of - wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged not - to be Titania. - </p> - <p> - “O, you must, you silly child,” said Beatrice. “I have such designs for - dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa laugh - by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef.” - </p> - <p> - “But consider, Bee,” said Henrietta, “how much too tall I am for a fairy. - It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom himself—spoil - the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls to be the other - fairies, and take Titania yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made part - of the show,” said Beatrice. “Little Anna Carey has sense enough, I think; - ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep you to - come out in grand force in the last scene—Queen Eleanor sucking the - poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an - excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming to - see King Richard when he was ‘old-man-of-the-mountains.’” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” cried Fred, “stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no - more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I - could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair.” - </p> - <p> - “And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, in the - gentleman’s own presence, too,” said Beatrice. “Monsieur is apparemment - the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the French - governess in Miss Edgworth’s book?” - </p> - <p> - “Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the - mistake,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “And I do not wonder at it,” said Beatrice, “the mistake, I mean. Fred’s - white hands there have just the look of a doctor’s; of course Roger - thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for want - of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look.” - </p> - <p> - “You insulting creature!” said Fred. “Just as if I tried to look genteel.” - </p> - <p> - “You do, then, whether you try or not. You can’t help it, you know, and I - am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your hand - just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger thought - he had succeeded in attaining his object.” - </p> - <p> - “But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object,” said - Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “He could not be a Carey and be otherwise,” said Busy Bee. “And besides, - what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith - and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to - Roger’s proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows - the extent of a Carey’s intellects; and what is left for the poor man to - do but to study the cut of his boots?” - </p> - <p> - “If you say much more about it, Queenie,” said Henrietta, “you will make - Fred dance in Bottom’s hob-nailed shoes.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! it is a melancholy business,” said Beatrice; “but it cannot be - helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is this?” - exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such violence as to - shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, heated and - almost breathless. “Rats! rats!” was his cry; “Fred, that’s right. But - where is Uncle Geoffrey?” - </p> - <p> - “Gone to Allonfield.” - </p> - <p> - “More’s the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at - home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the place - regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for you and - Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly—like smoke—while I go - and tell grandpapa.” - </p> - <p> - Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room hurried - Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. Langford for - shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa laughed, thanked - him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time for the rat hunt, as - he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary thither and to the - Pleasance that afternoon. - </p> - <p> - Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the - girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at - Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased, - for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass before - they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their - arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates of - Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of - dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war - was at its height. - </p> - <p> - “O! the glories of a rat hunt!” cried Beatrice. “Come, Henrietta, here is - a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not to be - lost.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into the - farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on a - multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors which - were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown violently back - and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of ecstatic expectation, - tail straight out, head bent forward, now springing in rapture on the - prey; the boys rushing about with their huge sticks, and coming down now - and then with thundering blows, the labourers with their white shirt - sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the straw, Uncle Roger with a - portentous-looking club in the thick of the fight. On the ladder, cheering - them on, stood grandpapa, holding little Tom in his arms, and at the - bottom, armed with small sticks, were Charlie and Arthur, consoling - themselves for being turned out of the melée, by making quite as much - noise as all those who were doing real execution, thumping unmercifully at - every unfortunate dead mouse or rat that was thrown out, and charging - fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese that now and then came up to - inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such accidents will occur in the - best regulated families, to devour a share of the prey. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice’s first exclamation was, “O! if papa was but here!” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing can go on without him, I suppose,” said Henrietta. “And yet, is - this one of his great enjoyments?” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, don’t you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born - Englishman to delight in hunting ‘rats and mice and such small beer,’ as - much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that all - the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat hunt, - and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts.” - </p> - <p> - “There goes Fred!” cried Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There—there! O what - a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid - sort of light on the mist of dust at the top.” - </p> - <p> - “And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa’s head! I think that grandpapa - with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee.” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle - face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets - frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor - rats as keenly as anybody!” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly,” said Henrietta, “there is something very odd in man’s nature; - they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being cruel! - Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind and - gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and killing—” - </p> - <p> - “That is what town-people never can understand,” said Beatrice, “that - hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried down, - and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those people - could have seen what I did last summer—grandpapa calling Carey, and - holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their nest - that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when Dick did - something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years ago, and Alex - and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they were really punished - for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those bursts of generous - indignation.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a very curious thing,” said Henrietta, “the soldier spirit it must - be, I suppose—” - </p> - <p> - “What are you philosophising about, young ladies?” asked Mr. Langford, - coming up as Henrietta said these last words. - </p> - <p> - “Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, “what the - pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there.” - </p> - <p> - “Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies,” said grandpapa. “I - have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or more, and - I can’t say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going at it, for the - first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old veterans, and he has - a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is any satisfaction to - you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that’s it—there he goes!” - </p> - <p> - “Now, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, “I want just - to speak to you. Don’t you think we might have a little charade-acting on - Monday to enliven the evening a little?” - </p> - <p> - “Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think - they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of - Shylock?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Beatrice, “we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a - new word and a beauty, and don’t you think it will do very well?” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private - theatricals.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it won’t be nearly such regular acting as the last,” said Beatrice, - “I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so many - spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a very nice - diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don’t see any harm in it,” said grandpapa, “so long as grandmamma - does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?” - </p> - <p> - “O no,” said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would - make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred’s calling her - affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent to - anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise - power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some - subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she - was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles’ wife - might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son. - </p> - <p> - After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, - recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she said. - The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, where - the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the first occasion; - for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views respecting the - appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick Langford was harassed - and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the wishes of both, and vex - neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look over every corner, and - discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair at the fatigue her mother - was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in vain for a seat for her, and - having at last discovered a broken-backed kitchen chair in some of the - regions below, kept diligently carrying it after her in all her - peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that Uncle Geoffrey would come, - but in vain; and between the long talking at Sutton Leigh, the wandering - about the house, and the many discussions, her mamma was completely tired - out, and obliged, when they came home, to confess that she had a headache. - Henrietta fairly wished her safe at Rocksand. - </p> - <p> - While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading - her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one - matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand - object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting - down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with “Now listen - to me, my dear child,” and proceeded with a long story of certain private - theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain knowledge, ended in - a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice set to work to argue: - in the first place it was not probable that either she or Henrietta would - run away with their cousins; secondly, that the former elopement was not - chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that these were not private - theatricals at all. - </p> - <p> - “And pray what are they, then—when you dress yourselves up, and - speak the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?” - </p> - <p> - “You pay us a great compliment,” said Beatrice, who could sometimes be - pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her explanation - of how very far this was from anything that could be called theatrical; it - was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was the important point. - The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it was play-acting, and that - was enough for her, and she would not have it done. - </p> - <p> - “But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent.” This was a powerful - piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at the first - moment the shot did not tell. - </p> - <p> - “Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this,” said Mrs. Langford, - “and let who would consent, she would never have her granddaughters - standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before a whole room - full of company.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, grandmamma, I’ll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not - have one single scene out of Shakespeare—not one. Won’t that do?” - </p> - <p> - “You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse,” said Mrs. - Langford. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it - shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come in - at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so nicely! - and grandpapa has said we may.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. “Ah, well! you always will have your - own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things in - my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when their - elders had once said, ‘No.’” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it up - if you did; but pray do not—we will manage very well.” - </p> - <p> - “And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn everything - upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can’t have it done. I shall want the - study to put out the supper in.” - </p> - <p> - “We can dress in our own rooms, then,” said Beatrice, “never mind that.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your - fathers and mothers like to let you, I can’t help it—that’s all I - have to say,” said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred - entered from the other side a moment after. “Victory, victory, my dear - Fred!” cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. “I have - prevailed: you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! - announced for Monday night, before a select audience!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee,” said Fred; “why Alex has just - been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma’s - dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone ‘coon, as they say in - America.” - </p> - <p> - “I got grandpapa first,” said Beatrice, “and then I persuaded her; she - told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long lecture - which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last that the chief - points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the confusion in the - study; so by giving up those two I gained everything.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean that you gave up bully Bottom?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses’ ears. You shall wear them - in the character of King Midas.” - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said the ungrateful Fred, “that you might as well have given it - all up together as Bottom.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will - decidedly make him King of California, and I’ll be the priestess of - Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most - excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, ‘King - Midas has the ears of an ass.’ I would have made more of a fight for - Bottom, if that had not come into my head.” - </p> - <p> - “But you will have nothing to do.” - </p> - <p> - “That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very little, - and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the world in - all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as Queen - Eleanor; she will look so regal.” - </p> - <p> - Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister’s praises. “You are a wondrous - damsel, busy one,” said he, “to be content to play second fiddle.” - </p> - <p> - “Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you - would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall we - ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till Monday - evening to do everything in!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you will do it,” said Fred. “I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot - do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in,” he exclaimed, as he - heard the front door open. - </p> - <p> - “And I must go and dress,” said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste, - which did not speak well for the state of her conscience. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters. - “So you are entered with the vermin, Fred,” called he, as the two came out - of the drawing-room. - </p> - <p> - “O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?” - </p> - <p> - “I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just - come in?” - </p> - <p> - “No, we were having a consultation about the charades,” said Fred; “the - higher powers consent to our having them on Monday.” - </p> - <p> - “Grandmamma approving?” asked Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “O yes,” said Fred, in all honesty, “she only objected to our taking a - regular scene in a play, and ‘coming it as strong’ as we did the other - night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs, - listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained so - plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to dress - in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would have - doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but hearing - of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, was likely - to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, she knew he - had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his mother; and - since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, could Beatrice - actually say so to her own secret soul? - </p> - <p> - She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked - her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy - castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the - resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. - </h2> - <p> - “Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly and - carnal lusts:” so speaks the collect with which we begin the new year—such - the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, “Amen:” but what - was its application to them? What did they do with the wicked world in - their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he was in the world. It - might be for him to pray for that spirit which enabled him to pass - unscathed through the perils of his profession, neither tempted to grasp - at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his way, unhardened and - unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness on every side. This - might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, with her love of dress, - and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely pray that she might live - less to the vanities of the world; there were others, whose worn - countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of the world; but to - those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught how to prize vain pomp - and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, looking from a safe - distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; were not they truly - kept from that world which they had renounced? - </p> - <p> - Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that if - education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, and - more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. A - pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own - devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission; - these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but - if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how - could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and - stronger ones which would meet their riper years? - </p> - <p> - Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall, - there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than - those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the - midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand, - she whisked through the passages, Frederick’s voice was heard demanding - whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was made - wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. Zealous - indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish them anywhere - else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and newspaper, from one - corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly out into the hall, - threatening them with what Missus would say to them. At last grandmamma - came down with a party of neat little notes in her hand, to be immediately - sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, and Martin came to the door - leading to the kitchen regions to receive his directions. - </p> - <p> - “O how lucky!” cried Queen Bee, springing up. “The cotton velvet for the - ears! I’ll write a note in a second!” Then she paused. “But I can’t do it - without Henrietta, I don’t know how much she wants. Half a yard must do, I - suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of donkey-coloured - velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!” - </p> - <p> - “Have not you heard her bell?” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time.” - </p> - <p> - “You had better ask Bennet,” said Fred; “she sometimes gets up quietly, - and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives - her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress’s - room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon - disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin - departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations. - </p> - <p> - About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as any - one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had been - broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the bell - was, that she was not ready for Bennet. - </p> - <p> - As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble - confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for the - morning’s laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears? - </p> - <p> - The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta was - engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh with - Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than done, - and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with success, - for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were hailed by the - loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of four brothers, - marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some three miles off. - Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee’s summons, but he could do nothing - for her, for he had that morning been taken to task for not having made a - visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and especially ordered off to - call upon her, before meeting her at the party that evening. - </p> - <p> - “How abominably provoking!” cried Beatrice; “just as if it signified. If I - had but a fairy!” - </p> - <p> - “Carey!” called Alex, “here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won’t - you take Dumple and go?” - </p> - <p> - “Not I,” responded Carey; “I want to walk with Roger. But there’s Dumple, - let her go herself.” - </p> - <p> - “What, ride him?” asked Beatrice, “thank you, Carey.” - </p> - <p> - “Fred might drive you,” said Carey; “O no, poor fellow, I suppose he does - not know how.” - </p> - <p> - Fred coloured with anger. “I do,” said he; “I have often driven our own - horses.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said Beatrice, “with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary - little guessing what you were doing.” - </p> - <p> - “I assure you, Queen,” said Fred, very earnestly, “I do really know how to - drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with me, I - will bring you home quite safe.” - </p> - <p> - “I know you can have the gig,” said Carey, “for papa offered it to Roger - and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of - doubting whether to drive old Dumple!” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t question,” said Fred; “I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. I - won’t break your neck, I promise you.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt Mary, - but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the reverse. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t advise you, Bee,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “O, as to that,” said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, “I - have great faith in Dumple’s experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, as - the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My chief - doubt is about Aunt Mary.” - </p> - <p> - Fred’s successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly made - him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother’s desires, - and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, “O, you know I - only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so intensely - miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by knowing - nothing about it, I don’t think it need be considered.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next - moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this - case. - </p> - <p> - Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much - annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not - wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say, - “Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at - home.” - </p> - <p> - “O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex,” said - Beatrice, laughing. “No, no, I know very well that nobody will care when - it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love my own - neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. Come, if - that will put you into a better humour, I’ll dance with you first - to-night.” Alex turned away, muttering, “I don’t like it—I’d go - myself, but—Well, I shall speak to Fred.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had - excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance. - </p> - <p> - “You are sure now,” said he, “that you can drive safely? Remember it would - be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little Bee.” - </p> - <p> - This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come - from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of his - rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, that he - could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only wished that - their own horses were come from Rocksand. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I have no more to say,” said Alex, “only please to mind this, - Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him - to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice’s that I - spoke.” - </p> - <p> - “Much obliged, Langford senior,” replied Fred, making himself as tall as - he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, “Now, - Carey, we won’t stop you any longer, if you’ll only just be so good as to - tell your man to get out the gig.” - </p> - <p> - Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, - for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur running - after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in his very - sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, Beatrice - knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from him which - might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she explained in - a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors stood, and how the - boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive to Allonfield. Good - natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should not drive as well as - Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or nothing of his - sister-in-law’s fears, and would, perhaps, have taken Fred’s side of the - question if he had, did exactly as she intended, declared them perfectly - welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy into the house for the - driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did not fear even her father, who - was not likely to allow in words what a nonentity the authority of Uncle - Roger might really be esteemed. - </p> - <p> - Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he might - go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, of which - Roger’s return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. His cousins - were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly consenting, he - was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice’s complacency was - diminished as Uncle Roger called out, “Ha! Fred take care! What are you - doing?—you’ll be against the gate-post—don’t bring his head so - short round. If you don’t take more care, you’ll certainly come to a smash - before you get home.” - </p> - <p> - If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick - would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their bold - design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their own way - to yield, and Fred’s pride would never have allowed him to acknowledge - that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly undertaken. - Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of ignorance, - and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys to have many - anxieties on their account, let them go on without further question, and - turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest uneasiness - respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way of warning, - at least twenty times before. - </p> - <p> - Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some - points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise - enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the - way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him, - and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the - common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked into - the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded in - obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted that - donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent their - colour. As Fred’s finances were in a much more flourishing state since New - Year’s day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy by a present - of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes had often - before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in some dismay - on perceiving that it was nearly one o’clock. - </p> - <p> - “We must go straight home,” said Beatrice, “or this velvet will be of no - use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence.” - </p> - <p> - Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no - means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, well - aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately determined - that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest road to his own - stable. - </p> - <p> - As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he - made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a - little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the whip, - but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a - demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set off - over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred pulled - hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. “Sit still,” cried - Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, “the gate will stop him;” but - ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement of his own, - or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was thrown violently to - the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him no more. Instinct, - rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to the carriage with one - hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, to prevent him from - being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to side by the ruts and - stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes more, and their way was - barred by a gate—that which she had spoken of—the horse, used - to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood still, looking over it as - if nothing had happened. - </p> - <p> - Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy - beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her steps - swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it seemed as if - her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart dragged her - back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet her, but it - was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but too plainly. He was - stretched at full length on the ground, senseless—motionless. She - sank rather than knelt down beside him, and called him; but not a token - was there that he heard her. She lifted his hand, it fell powerless, and - clasping her own, she sat in an almost unconscious state of horror, till - roused by little Willy, who asked in a terrified breathless whisper, - </p> - <p> - “Bee, is he dead?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, no,” cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; “he - is only stunned. He is—he must be alive. He will come to him-self! - Help me to lift him up—here—that is it—his head on my - lap—” - </p> - <p> - “O, the blood!” said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it - streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face. - </p> - <p> - “That is not the worst,” said Beatrice. “There—hold him toward the - wind.” She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him; - but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight on - her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for help; - but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except Willy, - who stood helplessly looking at her. - </p> - <p> - “Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!” cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish - of mind. “Fred—dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh, - only speak to me! O what shall I do?” - </p> - <p> - “Pray to God,” whispered Willy. - </p> - <p> - “You—you—Willy; I can’t—it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!” - A few moments passed in silence, then she exclaimed, “What are we doing - here? Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through - the plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not - there, find grandpapa—any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don’t let - her hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand—any one but - Aunt Mary.” - </p> - <p> - Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, Willy - required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade fare to - bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the - ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the - surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin’s head, all clear - and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which made - her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest motion, - the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She wiped - away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and softly - laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the fair - shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself - whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, and - again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes were - being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of lip or - nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, and yet so - wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle Frederick, - and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so nearly in this - same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking which would almost - make her believe in a fate on the family. And that Fred should be cut off - in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she the cause! O thought - beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for herself, for her aunt, - but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found her mind pursuing Willy, - following him through all the gates and gaps, entering the garden, opening - the study door, seeing her father’s sudden start, hearing poor Henrietta’s - cry, devising how it would be broken to her aunt; and again, the misery of - recollecting her overpowered her, and she gave a groan, the very sound of - which thrilled her with the hope that Fred was reviving, and made her, if - possible, watch with double intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh. - She wished it was she who lay there, unconscious of such exceeding - wretchedness, and, strange to say, her imagination began to devise all - that would be said were it really so; what all her acquaintance would say - of the little Queen Bee, how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how - long Henrietta would cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently - Alex would grieve. “He would be a son to papa,” she thought; but then came - a picture of her home, her father and mother without their only one, and - tears came into her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the - absurdity of crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over - this but too positive and present distress. - </p> - <p> - There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, and - not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was perfectly - still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle of the - sheep-bell, the woodsman’s axe in the plantations, and now and then the - rattle of Dumple’s harness, as she shook his head or shifted his feet at - the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled above her head - in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each other from the high - furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near her with their broad - wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note like lamentation. - </p> - <p> - At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse’s - tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it might, - some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive solitude, - which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, would be - relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer might pass - by, she gently laid her cousin’s head on the grass, and flew rather than - ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the horseman had - passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the shoulders, and - with a scream almost wild in its energy, called “Philip! O, Philip Carey!” - </p> - <p> - Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement at - finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer by - leading the way down the lane. - </p> - <p> - In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored - him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived. - </p> - <p> - A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking - questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the - plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending - her voice before her with the good news, “He is alive! Philip Carey says - he is alive!” and with these words she stood before her father and her - Aunt Mary. - </p> - <p> - Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white and - still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped for - an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never could - forget. “Beatrice, my child!” he exclaimed, “you are hurt!” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, papa,” she cried. “It is Fred’s blood—I am quite, quite - safe!” - </p> - <p> - He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, - with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could never - remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the embrace,—all - had revealed to her the fervour of her father’s affection, beyond—far - beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one instant that he - gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood beside Frederick as - soon as his sister-in-law. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. - </h2> - <p> - The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle - incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail - wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers from - chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and appealing - to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though never - allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often came to her - help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe displeasure of - the absent queen, by laying aside Midas’s robes to assist in the - arrangements. “That picture is crooked, I am sure!” said Mrs. Langford; - and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned Geoffrey from - the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon a chair to - settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked Uncle Roger. - “Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma’am, you are making - yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?” - </p> - <p> - “He has ridden over to see the South Farm,” said Mrs. Langford. - </p> - <p> - “Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,—I understand.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?” asked Mrs. Frederick - Langford. “They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton Leigh, - and I have not seen them since.” - </p> - <p> - “O yes,” said Mr. Roger Langford, “I can tell you what has become of them; - they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, and - Will with them, after some of their acting affairs.” - </p> - <p> - Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this - intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him - full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. - Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in dismay. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean that Fred was driving?” said her mother. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,—surely - he knows how!” - </p> - <p> - “O, Roger, what have you done!” said she faintly, as if the exclamation - would break from her in spite of herself. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, mamma,” said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, “I assure you - Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was - sitting up by Dawson.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, Mary,” said Uncle Roger, “never fear. Depend upon it, boys do - many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with whole - bones after all.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey’s face, in - hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn - nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible. - </p> - <p> - “I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting,” said Mrs. - Langford; “and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot think. - So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as well have - sent by Martin!” And her head being pretty much engrossed with her present - occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, without much - perception of the consternation that prevailed in the drawing-room. - </p> - <p> - “Did you know they were going, Henrietta?” asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather - sternly. - </p> - <p> - “No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there - is any danger?” exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of - fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling to - overcome. Her mother’s inquiring, imploring glance followed her question. - </p> - <p> - “Foolish children!” said Uncle Geoffrey, “I am very much vexed with the - Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is - hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to - young hands.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some - degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger - Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:—“Come, - Mary, you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you. - You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound - imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be the - mamma’s boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you cannot - keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time or - other.” - </p> - <p> - “O yes, I know I am very foolish,” said she, trying to smile. - </p> - <p> - “I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you,” said Uncle Roger. “She would - have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all - such occasions.” - </p> - <p> - “Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland,” said - Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at his - ease, and divert his brother’s attention. “And by the by, Roger, you never - told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life,” said - his brother. “Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when you - yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting - Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings at - the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a few - stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood up, - seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,—then took a - long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran - after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was not - alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. “Thank you, my dear,” - said she. “I—no, really—you know how foolish I am, my dear, - and I think I had rather be alone. Don’t stay here and frighten yourself - too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left - alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know when - they come home.” - </p> - <p> - With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and descended - to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears were from - Uncle Roger. “Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe at home - again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to have let them - go?” - </p> - <p> - “I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of - little Bee,” said Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “If I had guessed it,” said Uncle Roger; “but then, you know, any of my - boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,—even Dick I have - trusted,—and they came up—you should have seen them—as - confidently as if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life. - Upon my word your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew - that he could not drive.” - </p> - <p> - “A tolerable spirit of self-will,” said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. “But - did you see them off, how did they manage?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame,” said his brother. “They - did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might - have questioned a little closer. But never mind, ‘tis all straight road. I - would lay any wager they will come back safe,—boys always do.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that he, - too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his - tranquillity deserted her. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o’er again of his battles - at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window, - where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a start, - “Here is Willy running across the paddock!” - </p> - <p> - “All right!” said Uncle Roger, “they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!” - </p> - <p> - “It is the opposite way!” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same - moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta’s heart throbbed fearfully as - she saw how wearied was the boy’s running, and yet how rapid. She could - hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the - same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as, - breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and threw - himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging as if - he could not stand. - </p> - <p> - “Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?” said his father, - kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as he - almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. “What is the matter now?” - </p> - <p> - There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of the boy. - Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle Geoffrey - stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of wine and some - water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his forehead, laid - her cold hand on it, and said, “Poor little fellow.” - </p> - <p> - At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered - something unintelligible. - </p> - <p> - “What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?” were questions - anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in - administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to his - aunt, - </p> - <p> - “Don’t—tell—her.” - </p> - <p> - It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying, - “Don’t be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it.” - </p> - <p> - He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. Henrietta’s - violently throbbing heart took from her almost the perception of what was - happening. - </p> - <p> - “Take breath, Willy,” said his father; “don’t keep us all anxious.” - </p> - <p> - “Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey,” said the boy. - </p> - <p> - “Is she safe?” asked Aunt Mary, earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks to God,” said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, with a - look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible mournfulness - which went to his heart. - </p> - <p> - “And Fred?” said Uncle Roger. - </p> - <p> - “Do not ask, Roger,” said she, still as calmly as before; “I always knew - how it would be.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one - word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few - confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters - in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came - to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was - still. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma!” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Here, dear child,”—but it was Mrs. Langford’s voice. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma!” again said she. “Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does the - room turn round?” - </p> - <p> - “You have not been well, my dear,” said her grandmother; “but drink this, - and lie still, you will soon be better.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is mamma?” repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but - Mrs. Langford and Bennet. “Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her I - am better.” - </p> - <p> - “She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “But weren’t there a great many people?” said Henrietta. “Were we not in - the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, where - are mamma and Fred?” - </p> - <p> - “They will soon be here, I hope.” - </p> - <p> - “But, grandmamma,” cried she vehemently, turning herself round as clearer - recollection returned, “something has happened—O! what has happened - to Fred?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford. “It was - Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles - are gone to see about him.” - </p> - <p> - “A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, tell - me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!” - </p> - <p> - With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and - bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all that - she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance on her, and - had only heard the main fact of Willy’s story. Henrietta clapped her hands - wildly together in an agony of grief. “He is killed—he is, I’m sure - of it!” said she. “Why do you not tell me so?” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred, - Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O, - Fred!” - </p> - <p> - She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of - sorrow. “And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O, - my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!” - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “you do not know what you are saying; you - must bear the will of God, be it what it may.” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t, I can not,” repeated Henrietta; “if I am to lose him, I can’t - live; I don’t care for anything without Fred!” - </p> - <p> - “Your mother, Henrietta.” - </p> - <p> - “Mamma! O, don’t speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, without - him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta’s grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish; - there was little thought of her mother,—little, indeed, for anything - but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and - sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly tried - to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and saying, “I - can’t be patient—no, I can’t!” and then again repeating her - brother’s name with all the fondest terms of endearment. - </p> - <p> - Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived—and she - became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required - her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel - disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, fancying - herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being told really - and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was urgent to go out - and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. Langford would not - permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful sight, which might - shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from taking it so; her - habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite of her usual - gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, and she burst - into a passionate fit of weeping. - </p> - <p> - In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps, - scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it as a - subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of a long - previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; gentle, - caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and deceitful. - But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her mother, prepared - for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a support to her; she - would have remembered how terrible must be the shock to her grandmother in - her old age, and how painful must be the remembrances thus excited of the - former bereavement; and in the attempt to console her, the sense of her - own sorrow would have been in some degree relieved; whereas she now seemed - to forget that Frederick was anything to any one but herself. She prayed, - but it was one wild repetition of “O, give him back to me!—save his - life!—let him be safe and well!” She had no room for any other - entreaty; she did not call for strength and resignation on the part of - herself and her mother, for whatever might be appointed; she did not pray - that his life might be granted only if it was for his good; she could ask - nothing but that her own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and - she ended her prayer as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she - began it. - </p> - <p> - The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and - Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and greatly - relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick’s life, and of - Philip Carey’s arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their first - entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their - narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and - when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again - turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look at - Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one flesh - from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one word, one - kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled ringlets that - floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead rested, and meantime - submitted with a kind of patient indifference to her grandmother’s caress, - drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, and finally was sent upstairs - to change her dress. Too restless, too anxious, too wretched to stay there - alone, longing for some interchange of sympathy,—but her mind too - turbid with agitation to seek it where it would most surely have been - found,—she hastened down again. Grandmamma was busied in giving - directions for the room which was being prepared for Fred; Uncle Roger had - walked out to meet those who were conveying him home: and Henrietta was - sitting in the window, her forehead resting against the glass, watching - intently for their arrival. - </p> - <p> - “Are they coming?” asked Beatrice anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “No!” was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as if - her cousin’s entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went up - and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand that - lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, “Henrietta, you forgive - me?” - </p> - <p> - The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised her - face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, “Of course, Bee, - only I am so wretched. Don’t talk to me.” - </p> - <p> - Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with a - more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; it - was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her - whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost - choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the - cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,—longed for her - almost as much for her papa’s, her Aunt Mary’s and her grandmother’s sake, - as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with her - have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to her, but - her hand was trembling—every pulse throbbing; she could not even sit - still enough to make the attempt. - </p> - <p> - At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the window - beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by Uncle - Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one side, and - on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger’s arm. - </p> - <p> - Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that moment - for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and deposited for a - few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed between her uncles, - and made her way up to him, unconscious of the presence of anyone else—even - of her mother—while she clasped his hand, and hanging over him - looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless features. The next - moment she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, and was forced to turn - round and look into her face: the sweet mournful meekness of which came - for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the dry burning desert of her - grief. - </p> - <p> - “My poor child,” said the gentle voice. - </p> - <p> - “O, mamma, is—is—.” She could not speak; her face was - violently agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered. - </p> - <p> - “They hope for the best, my dear,” was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey - Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the - intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only - took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended to - convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was telling - her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her to take - some rest. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, ma’am,—thank you very much indeed—you are very - kind: I am very sorry to give you so much trouble,” were her answers; and - simple as were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in - them. - </p> - <p> - Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at that - moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was retreating, - as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in Henrietta’s. - </p> - <p> - “I did not see you, before, Queenie,” she said, holding out her hand and - kissing her, “you have gone through more than any one.” - </p> - <p> - A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee’s - eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful - name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and - contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was no - one to attend to her—the patient occupied the whole attention of - all. He was carried to his mother’s room, placed in bed, and again - examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence that - there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. While - this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, her head - on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As evening - twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went down to - make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the - drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, and - beg to be let in. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the - bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first stood - by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down on a - footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother’s lap, gave herself up - to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the very luxury of - grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching his sister-in-law even - more anxiously than the patient, and thus a considerable interval passed - in complete silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire, the ticking - of the watches, or some slight change of posture of one or other of the - three nurses. At last the stillness was interrupted by a little movement - among the bedclothes, and with a feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the - hand, which had hitherto lain so still and helpless, stretched somewhat - out, and the head turned upon the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and - Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed her daughter’s hand with a sort of - convulsive tremor. A faint voice murmured “Mamma!” and while a flush of - trembling joy illumined her pale face, she bent over him, answering him - eagerly and fondly, but he did not seem to know her, and again repeating - “Mamma,” opened his eyes with a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express - some complaint. - </p> - <p> - In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness. - He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the sake - of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, not - even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, while - his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering his - half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with assistance - and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially supporting - his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance so precious - to a sinking heart. - </p> - <p> - Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that she - might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick Langford - only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful smile that it - was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta to go. The former - complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would create downstairs; but - Henrietta declared that she could not bear the thoughts of going down, and - it was only by a positive order that he succeeded in making her come with - him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded - her plate with all that was best on the table, but she looked at it with - disgust, and leaning back in her chair, faintly begged not to be asked to - eat. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which - startled her by its unwonted severity, “This will not do, Henrietta; I - cannot allow you to add to your mamma’s troubles by making yourself ill. I - desire you will eat, as you certainly can.” - </p> - <p> - Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have - interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling of - being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and - having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner, - by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, and - returned to Fred’s room as soon as he could, without giving that - appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm. - Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after - him, and neither of the two came down again to tea. - </p> - <p> - Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course very - glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the conversation - kept up with him for civility’s sake. She had been leading a forlorn - dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping grandmamma to write - notes to be sent to the intended guests, and afterwards, with a feeling of - intense disgust, putting out of sight all the preparations for their own - self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and yet when she found it, it was - unendurable, and to talk to her father or grandfather would be a great - relief, yet the first beginning might well be dreaded. Neither of them was - forthcoming, and now in the evening to hear the quiet grave discussion of - Allonfield gossip was excessively harassing and irritating. No one spoke - for their own pleasure, the thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only - talked thus for the sake of politeness; but she gave them no credit for - this, and felt fretted and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was - better than when they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of - the accident, requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it. - She hurried over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting. - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear,” said Mrs. Roger Langford, “what could have made you so - anxious to go to Allonfield?” - </p> - <p> - “O, Aunt Roger, it was very—” but here Beatrice, whose agitated - spirits made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized - with such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an - expedition, with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass’s ears, - that she was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt - Roger, after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up, - and came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more - uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and - when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed the - more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment - succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind - demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and a - certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all. - When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the - dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a - violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite - still, except for the trembling, which she could not control. - </p> - <p> - Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could not - bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. Langford’s - offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that she should go - up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit her when he - came out of Fred’s room. Her grandmamma came up with her, helped her to - undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and summoned Judith - to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible for Henrietta, who - was to sleep with her that night. It was with much difficulty that she - could avoid making a promise to go to bed immediately, and not to get up - to breakfast. At last, with a very affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her - to brush her hair, an operation which she resolved to lengthen out until - her papa’s visit. - </p> - <p> - It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the - passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before him, - her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual from the - contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white nightcap and - dressing-gown. - </p> - <p> - “How is Fred?” asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her to - speak. - </p> - <p> - “Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? Your - grandmamma said—” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind, papa,” interrupted she, “only tell me this—is Fred in - danger?” - </p> - <p> - “You have heard all we can tell, my dear—” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped her - hands: “I know—I know; but what do you think?” - </p> - <p> - “My own impression is,” said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost - reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, “that there is - no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain the - extent of the injury.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon - it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his - face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly, - “Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing.” - </p> - <p> - His face did not express surprise or horror—nothing but kindness and - compassion, while he answered, “My poor girl, I was afraid how it might - have been.” Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so as to - let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her time. He - might be in haste, but it was no time to show it. - </p> - <p> - She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, “Yes, yes, papa, it was the - very thing you warned me against—I mean—I mean—the being - set in my own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to - tell you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me,” and she touched - her throat. “I can’t get it out in words! O!” Poor Beatrice even groaned - aloud with oppression. - </p> - <p> - “Do not try to express it,” said her father: “at least, it is not I who - can give you the best comfort. Here”—and he took up a Prayer Book. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa,” said - Beatrice; “but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up in - me. Not one prayer or confession would come;—but now, O! now you - know it, and—and—I feel as if He would not turn away His face. - Do you know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even - ‘deliver me from blood-guiltiness,’ it would only make me shudder! O, - papa, it was dreadful!” - </p> - <p> - Her father’s answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and - read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer for - persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord’s Prayer. Beatrice, - when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not speak, nor weep, - but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her anxiously and - affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so much time on - her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again spoke, it was - in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, “Aunt Mary will forgive me, I - know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will not be quite so bad! Now I - can pray that he may be saved—O, papa—disobedient, and I the - cause; how could I ever bear the thought?” - </p> - <p> - “You can only pray,” replied her father. - </p> - <p> - “Now that I can once more,” said Beatrice; and again there was a silence, - while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual habit, not - speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her repentant feelings - by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. So they remained for - nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it time to leave her, and - made some movement as if to do so. Then she spoke, “Only tell me one - thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any hope? There was something—something - death-like in her face. Does she hope?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. “Not yet,” said he. “I think it may - be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning the - hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it will be as - it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his accident.” - </p> - <p> - “But surely, surely,” said Beatrice eagerly, “this is a very different - case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he - is convinced that there is no fracture—” - </p> - <p> - “It is a morbid feeling,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “and therefore - impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and I - shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor dear aunt!” sighed Beatrice. “I am glad, if it was to be, that you - were here, for nobody else would understand her.” - </p> - <p> - “Understand her!” said he, with something of a smile. “No, Bee, such - sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be - understood.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort, - said, “I suppose mamma will soon be here?” - </p> - <p> - “I think not,” said her father, “I shall tell her she had better wait to - see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is - needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, and - I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, I am of - more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if he is a long - time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her coming fresh, - and not half knocked up with previous attendance.” - </p> - <p> - “But how she will wish to be here!” exclaimed Beatrice, “and how you will - want her!” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt of that, Queenie,” said her father smiling, “but we must reserve - our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I must go. - Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “With me,” said Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with - her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite - oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what to do about her!” said Beatrice with more dejection - than she had yet shown, “I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I - can’t—I shall never do good to anybody—only harm.” - </p> - <p> - “Fear the harm, and the good will come,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. “Good - night, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on her - father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest, - unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew - not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of - such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never - known before. - </p> - <p> - So she continued till she heard Henrietta’s approaching steps, when she - rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection and - consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on her - eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour on half - her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole person, as if - but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, and took her - candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. “No better,” was - all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed answers to all - her cousin’s questions. She would have done the same to her grandmamma, or - any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, but this conduct - gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done to any one else, since - it kept up the last miserable feeling of being unforgiven. Beatrice let - her sit still for some minutes, looking at her all the time with an almost - piteous glance of entreaty, of which Henrietta was perfectly unconscious, - and then began to beg her to undress, seconding the proposal by beginning - to unfasten her dress. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta,” said Beatrice; “if you would but let - me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I shan’t,” said Henrietta shortly, “never mind me.” - </p> - <p> - “But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but—” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t go to bed,” replied Henrietta, “thank you, Bee, never mind—” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any - service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta’s grief than by the - unkind rejection of herself. “Papa thinks there is great hope,” said she - abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma does not,” said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to put - an end to the subject. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard it - was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door—it was - grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice of - the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours ago; - she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all Henrietta’s - feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, grandmamma - peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another half-hour the - cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta’s lethargy had become a heavy - sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every sound, forming every - possible speculation on the future, and to her own overstretched fancy - seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each other through her - throbbing head. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. - </h2> - <p> - “Half-past one,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual - observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal - twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since. - </p> - <p> - There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though carefully - avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick bed, he - knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he again heard - her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it had a tremulous - tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness. - </p> - <p> - Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the - expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the - crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when - the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught at - the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only answer - had been, “As you think right.” She spoke so as to show the greatest - consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with her usual - confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to be called in - entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and returned to her - station by Frederick, who had already missed and summoned her. - </p> - <p> - Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice’s sarcasm, - was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had owed - much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded with great - reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience and diffident - of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance in this, the - first very serious case which had fallen under his own management. The - proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a cause of great - rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to the measure. In - her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged fraternity in which - she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice from London would, she - thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. Roger Langford, and all the - Carey connection, but seriously injure the reputation of young Mr. Carey - in his own neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such - considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against - Frederick’s life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till her - son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted her by - letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and persuading - her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip’s practice that his - opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note. - </p> - <p> - The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before - she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely - satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already - taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was - genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy’s sake. He gave them, too, - more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had - ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the - brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do - well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had - begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment was - agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to enter on - a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged to go away - the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty that Fred would - be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys shared the - belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired them all with - something like hope. - </p> - <p> - The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick Langford - and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a considerable - degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his mother’s voice - did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew restless and - uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, “Is Uncle Geoffrey here?” was many - times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his usual answer to her - was “You speak so loud;” though in reality, her tone was almost exactly - the same as her mother’s; and above all others he disliked the presence of - Philip Carey. - </p> - <p> - “Who is that?” inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious of - the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked - quickly, “Is he gone?” - </p> - <p> - The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering - considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and - distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared, - glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle could - scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it were, by the - slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with pain, incapable of - thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his faculties, as it seemed, - restored only to be the means of suffering. Mrs. Langford came to the door - to announce that Philip Carey was come. Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to - speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta began to arrange the room a - little for his reception. Fred, however, soon stopped this. “I can’t bear - the shaking,” said he. “Tell them to leave off, mamma.” - </p> - <p> - Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing that - she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs in order, - but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and exclamation, and - Mrs. Langford remarked, “Well, if he cannot bear it, it cannot be helped; - but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!” And out she went, Fred - frowning with pain at every step she took. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you let people come?” asked he sharply of his mother. “Where is - Uncle Geoffrey gone?” - </p> - <p> - “He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him - directly.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want Philip Carey; don’t let him come.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may do - something for this sad pain.” - </p> - <p> - Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey opened - the door to ask if Fred was ready. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would - not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily for - his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face a little - more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window shutters - partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his intention, - as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of pain, he - turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes over it. - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy,” said his mother, pleadingly, “for one moment only!” - </p> - <p> - “I told you I could not bear the light,” was all the reply. - </p> - <p> - “If you would but oblige me for a few seconds,” said Philip. - </p> - <p> - “Fred!” said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as if - to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face again, - saying, “I can’t;” and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the shutter, - unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had opened it, - and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient scarcely - vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted the room, - and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a “Don’t go, mamma,” was - immediately heard. - </p> - <p> - “You must spare me for a very little while, my dear,” said she, gently but - steadily. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t stay long, then,” replied he. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light as - a woman’s, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, and for a - few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost immediately he - renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and had it been any - other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have grumbled at his - not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted with a discontented - murmur. “What an immense time you have stayed away!”—presently - after, “I wish you would not have that Carey!” and then, “I wish we were - at Rocksand,—I wish Mr. Clarke were here.” - </p> - <p> - Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as well - as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it comes - as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly in the - young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the old and - querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To a certain - degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of strength, and - the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses of the young, - often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their patience and - forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who have seen germs - of far other dispositions. And when this is not the case, who would have - the heart to complain? Certainly not those who are like the mother and - uncle who had most to endure from the exacting humours of Frederick - Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain degree of gentleness - of character, and a home where, though he was not over indulged, there was - little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined to make him appear one of - the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever existed; but there was no - substance in this apparent good quality, it was founded on no real - principle of obedience or submission, and when to an habitual spirit of - determination to have his own way, was superadded the irritability of - nerves which was a part of his illness, when his powers of reflection were - too much weakened to endure or comprehend argument; when, in fact, nothing - was left to fall back upon but the simple obedience which would have been - required in a child, and when that obedience was wanting, what could - result but increased discomfort to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as - we should lay up a store of prayers against that time when we shall be - unable to pray for ourselves, so surely should we lay up a store of habits - against the time when we may be unable to think or reason for ourselves! - How often have lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning - instantaneous obedience! - </p> - <p> - Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and - future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet too - disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was subjecting - his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission would have - led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually interrupting - even the short repose which she would now and then be persuaded to seek on - the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, harassing complaints, - not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every thing and every person - who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the only person against whom - he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled against measures to which he - was obliged to submit in the end, after he had distressed every one and - exhausted himself by his fruitless opposition. - </p> - <p> - It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would - endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of those - spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are nevertheless - capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to look worn and almost - aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still indefatigable, unconscious - of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in the thought of her son, and yet - not so absorbed as not to be full of consideration for all around. All - looked forward with apprehension to the time when the consequences of such - continued exertion must be felt, but in the meantime it was not in the - power of any one except her brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to - her, and her relations could only wait and watch with such patience as - they could command, for the period when their services might be effectual. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her - very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the - upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever she - entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always created a - disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was the aim of - the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, as may be - supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa’s “You had better not, my dear,” checked - her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: Uncle Geoffrey, - who might have had the best chance, had not time to spare for her; and no - one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how dangerous it was to - attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed the whole household for - indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times a day pronounced that he - would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did the best she could to - tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash did not accord - particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much depressed to - queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in the midst of the - suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and above all, poor - child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of confession and - parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; she was anxious - and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be all that her mother - was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that sat so heavy on her - mind was not one for discussion with any one but a mother, and this - consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with him, such as had - never before existed between them. - </p> - <p> - Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that chiefly - because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong affection and - esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now manifested, and - the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions served but to make - the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his brothers, and spent every - moment he could at the Hall, either reading in the library, or walking up - and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One of the many conversations - which they held will serve as a specimen of the rest. - </p> - <p> - “So they do not think he is much better to-day?” said Alex, walking into - the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice shook her head. “Every day that he is not worse is so much - gained,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “It is very odd,” meditated Alex: “I suppose the more heads have in them, - the easier it is to knock them!” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice smiled. “Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee,” and he examined his own - face in the glass over the chimney; “there, do you see a little bit of a - scar under my eyebrow?—there! Well, that was where I was knocked - over by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred could - have come against the ground,—but what harm did it do me? Why - everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black - eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise. - Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing I - saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I got - up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was the - worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would give - anything now.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but Alex, I don’t understand. You were very good friends at the - bottom, after all; you can’t have anything really to repent of towards - him.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, haven’t I though?” was the reply. “It was more the other fellows’ - doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing - all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of you, - had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be such a - friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was—a - fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl’s, and that did not even - know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could - begin it all over again.” - </p> - <p> - “But do you mean that he was really a—a—what you call a Miss - Molly?” - </p> - <p> - “Who said so? No, not a bit of it!” said Alex. “No one thought so in - reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend to - think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times more - spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been knocked - about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. The - matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I shan’t care - if we do win.” - </p> - <p> - “And the prize,” said Beatrice, “the scholarship!” - </p> - <p> - “I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey had not - a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the summer, why - then—hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no time, - clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don’t you think so?” - </p> - <p> - Queen Bee shook her head. “They say he must not read or study for a very - long time,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but six months—a whole year is an immense time,” said Alex. “O - yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does - other people; and his verses, they never fail—never except when he - is careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time. - That is right. Why there!” exclaimed Alex joyfully, “I do believe this is - the very best thing for his success!” Beatrice could not help laughing, - and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed him, that if - Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason to be - thankful. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this,” proceeded he. - “There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters - either.” - </p> - <p> - “The masters, perhaps,” said Beatrice; “but I thought you said there was a - party against him among the boys?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they - had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all - his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough to - let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. I - shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon as I - go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have not the - slightest notion what a fellow he is. I’ll just tell you one story of - him.” - </p> - <p> - Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to - illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again - and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed - between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more - conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted fellow, - that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to - Frederick’s; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him. - </p> - <p> - These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, if - only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that the - only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters which - her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of those of - cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred’s room. She thought she - could have borne everything excepting Henrietta’s coldness, which still - continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness to forgive, - but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her own troubles to - realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her uncle Geoffrey had - succeeded in awakening her consideration for her mother; but with her and - Fred it began and ended, and when outside the sick room, she seemed not to - have a thought beyond a speedy return to it. She seldom or never left it, - except at meal-times, or when her grandfather insisted on her taking a - walk with him, as he did almost daily. Then he walked between her and - Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse her to talk, and she, replying as - shortly as possible when obliged to speak, left her cousin to sustain the - conversation. - </p> - <p> - The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the Epiphany, - and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which their own hands - had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the glistening leaves - unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear began to gather in - Beatrice’s eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if she could not bear the - sight of those branches, so lately gathered by her brother. As they were - leaving the church, both looked towards the altar at the wreath which - Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a deeper and more awful meaning - than she had designed. Their eyes met, and they saw that they had the same - thought in their minds. - </p> - <p> - When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee - stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but - with a gesture that was almost timid, saying, - </p> - <p> - “Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of - this.” - </p> - <p> - And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse— - </p> - <p> - “Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And—mark it - well—e’en there He wears His Crown of Thorns. - </p> - <p> - “Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set around, - of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping foe.” - </p> - <p> - “They go very deep,” sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful - complaining glance. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct on - Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the “thing profane” - that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she had even - appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning to speak, - but Henrietta cut her short by saying, “Yes, yes, but I can’t stay,” and - was flying along the passage the next moment. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in - recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of her - recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured out - her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the very - germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: and a - calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, began to - dawn on her. - </p> - <p> - It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave her - alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had heard - the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that her - presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the - gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even - stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be - comforted by talking to her. - </p> - <p> - Her thought was only the repining one: “the thorns go deep!” Poor child, - had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful - surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden source - of the malady. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. - </h2> - <p> - On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton - carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and her - father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when alone - together. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring - breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery - threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy grass, - the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver “pussycats” on the withy, and the - tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such sights - were a refreshment—a sort of holiday—after the many springs - spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long - attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking - deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if it - would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she had - not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! Her - father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, and - no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on - changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her - mother’s place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going - to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, and they - would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning themselves the - next morning to Westminster. - </p> - <p> - They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs. - Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new - books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey’s for some medicines; and - then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train. - </p> - <p> - Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,—the - dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions; - the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the dress - so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy Beatrice - was that first moment of feeling herself at her side! - </p> - <p> - “My dear! my own dear child!” Then anxiously following her husband with - her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, “How thin he looks, - Queenie!” - </p> - <p> - “O, he has been doing so much,” said Busy Bee. “It is only for this last - week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred’s room. - This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to Church, and - a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma.” - </p> - <p> - He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. “Come, Beatrice,” said he - to his wife, “I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh face of - yours will do us all so much good.” - </p> - <p> - “One thing is certain,” said she; “I shall send home orders that you shall - be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall hide half - the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, Geoffrey, are - you really well?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn,” said her husband - laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?” - </p> - <p> - “He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to - lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch’s outlines to look at: so you may - guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the - books and prints?” - </p> - <p> - “Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight.” - </p> - <p> - “It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only - take care, they must not be at Henrietta’s discretion, or his own, or he - will be overwhelmed with them,—a very little oversets him, and might - do great mischief.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?” - </p> - <p> - “O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep - him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite is - returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him.” - </p> - <p> - “I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of poor - Mary’s over gentleness.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some - strange prejudice against Philip Carey.” - </p> - <p> - Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while her - father proceeded. - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand it at all: Philip’s manners in a sick room are - particularly good—much better than I should have expected, and he - has been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has - shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most of - it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the London - doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than Philip has - ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks and exclaims - the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of wishing for - old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for never having - proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great faith in the old - man, but I believe it was only her mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really - are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am - very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing but - her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about her.” - </p> - <p> - “As if I did not know that,” said he, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I should - like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred’s part. Have you ever - asked him?” - </p> - <p> - “No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the - prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and - again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence - in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp enough - to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the great - trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned it, for - fear of annoying my mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” said Busy Bee, “I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It was - my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor Fred - about Roger’s having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of things - that I did not really mean.” - </p> - <p> - “Hem!” said her father. “Well, I should think it might be so; it always - struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, the - memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained.” - </p> - <p> - “And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am - to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might do - away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; only do - not let him think it has been under discussion.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. - </p> - <p> - “Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?” said her mother. - </p> - <p> - “Too wonderfully,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “in a way which I fear will - cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way as she - ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of the old - complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am persuaded - that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said his wife, with great concern, “that is just what I have been - dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ——, how - strongly he forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let - me come? I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting - off.” - </p> - <p> - “It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice,” said he, smiling; “a - sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to make - themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I did not - see you.” - </p> - <p> - “But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?” - </p> - <p> - “Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother and - me; you could not have saved either of us an hour’s nursing then, whereas - now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she will suffer - it, and that she will do better from you than from any one else.” - </p> - <p> - They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee - was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as it - had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. Even - her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was so much - to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that they had - not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived at the - gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, excessively - delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs. - Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of a - curiously varying and always opposite description. When her - daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of - respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable - life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning, - lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these prejudices - in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own sake, as well - as because she was Geoffrey’s wife. On the contrary, the younger Beatrice, - while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,—the Queen of Bees, - the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has already been shown - how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or had once done so, - though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there had been only one - collision between them for the last ten days, and that was caused by her - strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred was not yet fit for - boiled chicken and calves’ foot jelly. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford’s greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her mamma - hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!” - </p> - <p> - “Is he tired?” asked Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of - Queen Bee’s promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?” - </p> - <p> - Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had not - seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know how to - begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, while Henrietta - went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, Henrietta opened it, - and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by the fire, in his - dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless manner that betokens - great feebleness. There were the purple marks of leeches on his temples; - his hair had been cropped close to his head; his face was long and thin, - without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked large and bright; and he - smiled and held out his hand: “Ah, Queenie, how d’ye do?” - </p> - <p> - “How d’ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better.” - </p> - <p> - “You see I have the asses’ ears after all,” said he, pointing to his own, - which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort, - and succeeded, while she said, “I should have complimented you on the - increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head was - so like papa’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Is Aunt Geoffrey come?” asked Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said his sister: “but mamma thinks you had better not see her till - to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going,” said Fred. “Nobody else has the - least notion of making one tolerably comfortable.” - </p> - <p> - “O, your mamma, Fred!” said Queen Bee. - </p> - <p> - “O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged.” - </p> - <p> - “Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work in - London,” said Henrietta; “but I do not know what we should have done - without him.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know what we shall do now,” said Fred, in a languid and doleful - tone. - </p> - <p> - The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost - alarmed eagerness, “O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will enjoy - having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and Philip - Carey manages you so well—” - </p> - <p> - “Manages!” said Fred; “ay, and I’ll tell you how, Queenie; just as the man - managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he thinks I - am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he knew himself - what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire through my - hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a - merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing else on - earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the strength of - a midge!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but of course he knows,” said Busy Bee; “Papa says he has had an - excellent education, and he must know.” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how - to keep a patient when he has got one.” - </p> - <p> - “How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign - you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “I am talking no nonsense,” said Fred, sharply; “I am as serious as - possible.” - </p> - <p> - “But you can’t really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such - an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor - too?” - </p> - <p> - “What! when that man gets I don’t know how many guineas from mamma every - time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should get - well?” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Fred,” interposed his sister, “you are exciting yourself, and - that is so very bad for you.” - </p> - <p> - “I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to be - shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding twice - a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey’s pockets! Now, there was old - Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; but this - man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to kick him out - of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying to be gen-tee-eel, - and condoling; and those boots—O! Busy Bee! those boots! whenever he - makes a step I always hear them say, ‘O what a pretty fellow I am!’” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be very merry here, my dears,” said Aunt Mary, coming in; - “but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even - before I opened the door.” - </p> - <p> - Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not absolutely - to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, sitting down, - began to talk to the visitor, “Well, my little Queen, we have seen very - little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose you. I suppose - your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must not expect any, - but we shall want very much to know how you get on with Aunt Susan and her - little dog.” - </p> - <p> - “O very well, I dare say,” said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was - looking at her aunt’s delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her - father had been saying. - </p> - <p> - “And Queenie,” continued her aunt, earnestly, “you must take great care of - your papa—make him rest, and listen to your music, and read - story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening.” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can.” - </p> - <p> - “But Bee,” said Fred, “you don’t mean that you are going to be shut up - with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don’t you stay here, and - let her take care of herself?” - </p> - <p> - “Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is really - ill, Fred,” said Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “It is too bad, now I am just getting better—if they would let me, I - mean,” said Fred: “just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you - go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame.” - </p> - <p> - “So it is, Fred,” said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once she - would have answered him, “a great shame in you not to have learned to feel - for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “That is right, Bee,” said Aunt Mary, smiling; “tell him he ought to be - ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the comfort - of your household. I am sure I am,” added she, her eyes filling with - tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice’s hand. - </p> - <p> - Queen Bee’s heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to the - expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only pressed - her aunt’s long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face to the - fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was a little - silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the engravings at - which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till the dressing bell - rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook hands with Fred, - saying cheerfully, “Well, good-bye, I hope you will be better friends with - the doctors next time I see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!” repeated Fred, as she - left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma in - the space allowed for dressing. - </p> - <p> - Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick’s own place, - there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet to sit - with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old - man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both - Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence. - </p> - <p> - Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and - talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was - ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again, - Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with - Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either - writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly - like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, she - was no repiner. “I deserve it,” said she to herself, “and surely I ought - to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. Besides, - with even one little bit of papa’s company I am only too well off.” - </p> - <p> - So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no - one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed - upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were much - more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about Fred, - and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful - gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously amiss - with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to rights. - Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain of remorse - was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every little gesture - and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the accident. - </p> - <p> - Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so much - talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of his - uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, but - still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, for - when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as he watched - the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time sedulously making - for his comfort, “Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you very much; I am - afraid I have been a great plague to you.” - </p> - <p> - Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle - Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully - expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, coupled - with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was salutary. - </p> - <p> - “Anything for your good, my dear sir,” said he, with a smile. “You are - welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma is - not quite so tough.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I do try to be considerate about her,” said Fred. “I mean to make - her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to - save her.” - </p> - <p> - “You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her - discussions.” - </p> - <p> - Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the - early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly - harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which Henrietta - had left on the sofa. “I like those very much,” said Fred, “especially the - Fight with the Dragon.” - </p> - <p> - “You know Schiller’s poem on it?” said Uncle Geoffrey. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Henrietta has it in German.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration.” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a - dragon-killing expedition,” said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh. - </p> - <p> - “Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - ‘The duty hardest to fulfil, - To learn to yield our own self-will.’” - </pre> - <p> - “There is very little hasty pudding in the case,” said Fred, rather - disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of - resolution of this kind, “I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let - that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it, - unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit - to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up - to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head and - aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful - than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and - besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so much - so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have half an - hour’s talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at last, however, - and his first question was, “What do you think of the little Bee?” - </p> - <p> - “I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able - to do for some time past,” was the answer. - </p> - <p> - “Poor child, she has felt it very deeply,” said he, “I have been grieved - to have so little time to bestow on her.” - </p> - <p> - “I am disposed to think,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, “that - it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much talk has - always been the mischief with her, as with many another only child, and it - struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so little. There was - something very touching in the complete absence of moralizing to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “None of her sensible sayings,” said her father, with a gratified though a - grave smile. “It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self in - it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness - about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have - seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much - pleased with her, she was so simple: ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I hope I - shall be able to make her comfortable:’ no begging off, no heroism. And - really, Beatrice, don’t you think we could make some other arrangement? It - is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very well, - and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor little - Queen here with you.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Geoffrey,” said his wife, “that would never do: I do not mean on - my aunt’s account, but on the Busy Bee’s; I am sure, wish it as we may,” - and the tears were in her eyes, “this is no time for even the semblance of - neglecting a duty for her sake.” - </p> - <p> - “Not so much hers as yours,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “you have more on - your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a - valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it - is your turn to keep her now.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, no,” she repeated, though not without an effort, “it is best as - it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write to - me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred times - more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death with no - one to remonstrate.” - </p> - <p> - So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost both - mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which they kept - close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one fragment of - each other’s company; but they had very few moments alone together, and - those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in minute directions as - to the little things that conduced to keep Lady Susan in good humour, and - above all, the arrangements for papa’s comfort. There was thus not much - time for Beatrice to spend with Henrietta, nor indeed would much have - resulted if there had been more. As she grew more at ease about her - brother, Henrietta had gradually resumed her usual manner, and was now as - affectionate to Beatrice as ever, but she was quite unconscious of her - previous unkindness, and therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen - Bee had ceased to think of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the - two girls, they neither of them perceived it. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London - so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but their - hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, who came - in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey about his - school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a merrier - meeting next summer. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. - </h2> - <p> - Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety for - her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to allow - that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than she had - hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and after a - few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe fit of the - spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at intervals, and - was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, relying with - complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her son. - </p> - <p> - It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to devote - herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of Frederick, who - was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she only gave him as - much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and to superintend the - regulation of his room. He had all the society he wanted in his sister, - who was always with him, and in grandpapa and grandmamma, whose short and - frequent visits he began greatly to enjoy. He had also been more amenable - to authority of late, partly in consequence of his uncle’s warning, partly - because it was not quite so easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and - partly too because, excepting always the starving system, he had nothing - in particular of which to complain. His mother’s illness might also have - its effect in subduing him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or - Henrietta’s, as they were too much accustomed to her ill health to be - easily alarmed on her account. - </p> - <p> - It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in the - afternoon—Fred’s best time in the day—to take his leave. All - the morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good - deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he had - been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay away - from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and - finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be thus - laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and leading - member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable that he - would never return there again. - </p> - <p> - He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be - missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees, - and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: the - “beech-crowned steep,” girdled in with the “hollow trench that the Danish - pirate made;” the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of the - chapel, the surpliced scholars,—even the very shops in the streets - had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he sighed - at the thought that there he would be known no more,—all would go on - as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of compassion, - he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race of - distinction; his school-boy career be at an end. - </p> - <p> - His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford’s entrance with Aunt - Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, to - walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after putting - a book within Fred’s reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma were quite - willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his - health, and the present mode of treatment,—a subject on which they - were perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as - the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully - dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for a - long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room without - excessive giddiness—what was that but the effect of want of - nourishment? “If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the thing - was wholesome.” So she said, and her grandson assented with his whole - heart. - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most - tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly. - </p> - <p> - “O, grandmamma!” said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively lighted - up at the sight. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very good. - It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must do you - good.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice,” said Fred, gazing on it - with wistful eyes, “but really I do not think I ought.” - </p> - <p> - “If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a - thing,” said Mrs. Langford. “But I have lived a good many more years in - the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all - this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the - neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the - fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the - system,—that was what he used to say.” - </p> - <p> - “Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!” sighed Fred. “I know my system would - like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid stuff; - but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if they knew - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind,” said grandmamma; “‘tis all my doing, you know. Come, to - oblige me, taste it, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “One spoonful,” said Fred—“to oblige grandmamma,” added he to - himself: and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could - bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a little,—“There - is wine in it!” said he. - </p> - <p> - “A very little—just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any - difference. Do you like it, my dear?” as the spoon scooped out another - transparent rock. “Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt - Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith.” - </p> - <p> - “I am in for it now,” thought Fred. “Well, ‘tis excellent,” said he; - “capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers’ ends,” added he with a - smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles - remaining in the small end. - </p> - <p> - “That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!” said grandmamma, - hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it - implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of his own - case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very imprudently,—that - is to say, his better sense was aware—but his spirit of self-will - made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and was greatly - confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. Grandmamma - returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed her, and after - shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the alteration in Fred’s - appearance. - </p> - <p> - This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over - school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his friends, - discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, the studies, - the employments; Alex lamenting Fred’s absence, engaging to write, - undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his speedy - recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,—the prize. Never had the - two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was no - competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both felt - great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud became their - glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not in perfect - health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; and finding Fred - so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest farewells and good - wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie quiet and rest, and sat - down herself to see that he did so. - </p> - <p> - Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and - eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went on - more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some one - who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but he - grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the time - for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and sent Bennet - to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a quiescent state. - He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of the evening; but so - wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began to be alarmed, and - fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was in the right after all. - Towards morning, however, a short sleep visited him, and he awoke at - length quite sufficiently refreshed to be self-willed as ever; and, - contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his bed at his usual hour. - </p> - <p> - Philip Carey came at about twelve o’clock, and was disappointed as well as - surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as he could - not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was unsatisfactory; but - Philip thought the excitement of the interview with Alex well accounted - for the sleepless night, as well as for the exhaustion of the present day: - and Fred persuaded himself to believe so too. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take a - ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone by - was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in his - granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. Geoffrey - Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be too bustling a - nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently impatient to be left - alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick Langford, resolving, however, - not to be long absent. - </p> - <p> - In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, in - spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent - irritation of Philip’s last visit made him more willing to act in - opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of - swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in which - he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale glass - safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford’s door was - opened at the other end of the passage. - </p> - <p> - Fred’s sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,—too - high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa, - too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly - though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought she - did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain concluding - shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him in a - passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came in, and it - seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the horses’ feet - upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because his sister went - first to her mamma’s room; and it was grandpapa who came to him full of a - story of Henrietta’s good management of her horse when they suddenly met - the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in her habit, her hair - hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and eyes lighted up by the - exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, begging his pardon for - having kept him waiting, but saying she thought he did not want her - directly, as he had grandpapa. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of - spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong - scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then insisted - on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating to him from - the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she sat down - directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to be thus - satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her translation, and - desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read first so fast that - he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was quite unbearable, and - she must go on translating. With the greatest patience and sweetest temper - she obeyed; only when next he interrupted her to find fault, she stopped - and said gently, “Dear Fred, I am afraid you are not feeling so well.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I suppose. - Well, never mind, I will go on for myself,” said he, snatching the book. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to vindicate - herself. - </p> - <p> - “Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would - not be so silly.” - </p> - <p> - “If you would only let me go on, dear Fred,” said she, thinking that - occupying him would be better than arguing. “It is so dark where you are, - and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming.” - </p> - <p> - Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time, - till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when the - failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light from - the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad of her, - when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that horrible red - flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, which had been - one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so alarmed her that - she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and was heartily glad to - see her enter the room. - </p> - <p> - “Well, how are you going on?” she said, cheerfully. “Why, my dear, how hot - you must be in that habit!” - </p> - <p> - “Rather,” said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her - perplexity, was almost crimson. “We have been reading ‘Nicolo,’ and I am - very much afraid it is as bad as Alex’s visit, and has excited Fred - again.” - </p> - <p> - “I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!” said Fred, impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt,” said Aunt Geoffrey. “But - yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity.” - </p> - <p> - Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta - that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt. - </p> - <p> - “Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?” said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as well - as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to acquire - sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and still she - held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in the hope that - it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened them. - </p> - <p> - “What! ‘tis faster?” asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when - she released him at last. - </p> - <p> - “You are flushed, Fred,” she answered very quietly, though she felt full - of consternation. “Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had better - not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better than last - night.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Then I will ring for Stephens,” said she. - </p> - <p> - The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and - there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms - that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without - exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to - recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as she - left her sister’s room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had left with - Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been giving him any - of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey Langford could hardly - believe that either party could have acted so foolishly, yet when she - remembered a few words that had passed about the jelly that morning at - breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly reproached herself for - not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of her suspicion she however - said nothing, but sealing her note, she went down to the drawing-room, - told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred quite so well that evening, - and asked him if he did not think it might be better to let Philip Carey - know. He agreed instantly, and rang the bell to order a servant to ride to - Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who could not bear any one but Geoffrey to - act without consulting her, pitied man and horse for being out so late, - and opined that Beatrice forgot that she was not in London, where the - medical man could be called in so easily. - </p> - <p> - It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger, - for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was not - easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. “Well, it is very kind in you - to attend to my London fancies,” said she; “I think if we can do anything - to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Langford. “It is very disappointing when - he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something - imprudent.” - </p> - <p> - It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her daughter-in-law - had long since come to a resolution never to convey to her anything like - reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken kindness of heart, or - her respectable prejudices; so, without entering on what many in her place - might have made a scene of polite recrimination, she left the room, and on - her way up, heard Frederick’s door gently opened. Stephens came quickly - and softly to the end of the passage to meet her. “He is asking for you, - ma’am,” said he; “I am afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring, - for fear of alarming my mistress, but—” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and - exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion - and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and - looked wildly about. “Oh, Aunt Geoffrey,” he exclaimed, “what shall I do? - It is as bad—worse than ever!” - </p> - <p> - “You have been doing something imprudent, I fear,” said Aunt Geoffrey, - determined to come to the truth at once. - </p> - <p> - “Only that glass of jelly—if I had guessed!” - </p> - <p> - “Only one?” - </p> - <p> - “One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma’s doing. Don’t let her know - that I told. I wish mamma was here!” - </p> - <p> - Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could - not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed. - </p> - <p> - “The inflammation is coming back!” he cried, in an agony of apprehension - that almost overcame the sense of pain. “I shall be in danger—I - shall lose my senses—I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “Lie still, my dear Fred,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand on - him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to sit up. - “Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. You must - control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will do the best - in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you think me very ill?” said Fred, trying to speak more composedly. - </p> - <p> - “I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will keep - yourself quiet, both mind and body. There—” she settled him as - comfortably as she could: “Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make a - resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall - soon come back.” - </p> - <p> - This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as a - favour to spare her, and yet his aunt’s tone was so affectionate, as well - as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left the room, - and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant against the - wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite overwhelmed, - and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, or even for one - short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, there was no time, - and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning up her energies, she - walked on to the person whom she at that moment most dreaded to see, her - sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her arm-chair, Henrietta with her, - both looking very anxious, and she was glad to find her prepared. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” was the first eager question. - </p> - <p> - “He has been attempting rather too much of late,” was the answer, “and has - knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better stay - with him, and perhaps you might miss me.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as that - you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much - trouble. Don’t stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if he - misses you—” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you.” - </p> - <p> - This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother - said, “No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants her.” - </p> - <p> - “By no means,” said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; “he will be quieter - without her.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting down - to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus checked, and - she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her brother as her - aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on which it is - susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for her brother, - whereas it was impatience of being ordered. - </p> - <p> - Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. “Aunt Geoffrey is a capital - nurse,” said she; “there is something so decided about her that it always - does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of thinking for - oneself.” - </p> - <p> - “I had rather judge for myself,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “That is all very well to talk of,” said her mother, smiling sadly, “but - it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what do you like to hear?” said Henrietta, who found herself too - cross for conversation. “The old man’s home?” - </p> - <p> - “Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. You - would want ‘lungs of brass’ to go on all day to both of us. You had better - not. I should like to talk.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it - gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting a - hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred conversation. - So she took up a book, and began, without any perception of the sense of - what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly on her brother, and - partly on her aunt’s provoking ways. She read on through a whole chapter, - then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, “I must go and see what Aunt - Geoffrey is doing with Fred.” - </p> - <p> - “She is not such a very dangerous person,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, - almost laughing at the form of the expression. - </p> - <p> - “Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was - just going to sleep now.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door.” - </p> - <p> - “Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take - care, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “I must go, I can’t bear it any longer; I will only just listen,” said - Henrietta; “I will not be a moment.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me have the book, my dear,” said her mother, who knew but too well - the length of Henrietta’s moments, and who had just, by means of a great - effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred’s room was - ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing - round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from - Frederick’s temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long - gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. “Leeches!” thought Henrietta, - as she started with consternation and displeasure. “This is pretty strong! - Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing something - with him indeed.” - </p> - <p> - She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, till - at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some bottle. - </p> - <p> - “Let me do something,” said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she - thought likely to be the right one. - </p> - <p> - Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, “You had better - stay with your mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has he - ordered it?” - </p> - <p> - “He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much - obliged if you would go back to your mamma.” - </p> - <p> - Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked up and - still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, “Henrietta, - you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses him; your mamma - must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?” - </p> - <p> - “I was just going,” said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an additional - offence, and walking off in a dignified way. - </p> - <p> - It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, the - neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to lay upon her, - and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much displeased, and too - distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any precautions which her - aunt might have tried to impress upon her. - </p> - <p> - “Well!” asked her mother anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “She would not let me stay,” answered Henrietta. “She has been putting on - leeches.” - </p> - <p> - “Leeches!” exclaimed her mother. “He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is - Mr. Carey here?” - </p> - <p> - “No, that is the odd thing.” - </p> - <p> - “Has he not been sent for?” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure I don’t know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her - own way.” - </p> - <p> - “It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!” said - Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed. - </p> - <p> - “And never to tell you!” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should - be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?” - </p> - <p> - “Very faint, I thought,” said Henrietta, “there seemed to be a great deal - of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near.” - </p> - <p> - “She knows exactly what to do,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “How well it - was that she should be here.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother’s complete confidence in - her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue it - away. “Aunt Geoffrey is so quick—she does things without half the - consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything.” - </p> - <p> - But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be - even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl. - </p> - <p> - “My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you - were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied that - she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I am - satisfied, no one else has any right to object.” - </p> - <p> - There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but - to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of - distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more - than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and - the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did to - fly to her son’s room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by the - fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The tears, - whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and restored - her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather alarmed, - too, when she saw her mamma’s pale looks, as she leant back almost - exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little idea - of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer them - both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then they - heard sounds announcing Philip Carey’s arrival, and presently after in - came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and that - his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, saying, - “Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you so long, - and I believe Henrietta,” looking at her with a smile, “thinks I have used - you very ill.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe she did,” said her mother, “but I was sure you would do right; - you say he is better? Let me hear.” - </p> - <p> - “Much better; only—. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should - go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me hear about him first.” - </p> - <p> - Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one - would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified - Henrietta’s opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own - responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and Fred, - already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had felt - considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip Carey, - who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. Now, - however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, and, - although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, had - pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the - patient’s life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had now - come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all that - had passed, and ask her pardon. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and Geoffrey - have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? and is it - not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always will do so? - You know that is the reason I never thank you.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and - ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, “You thought it very hard - to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for it, - but I had not much time to be polite.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry I was in the way,” said she, an acknowledgment such as she had - seldom made. - </p> - <p> - Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in his - progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the worst - fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered. - </p> - <p> - But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations - of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety. - </p> - <p> - It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, that - she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding, - </p> - <p> - “As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame - better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. I - think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I do not - speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed herself - quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to imagine that - she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, and I think it - much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. Lady Amelia - comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman’s penance may be - over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no doubt that it is a - heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and an hour’s freedom from - that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk sufficiently testify.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. - </h2> - <p> - Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of no - slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been so - stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his - danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he had - suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses - perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to the - grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over him, - as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute of - clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And how - had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much of - that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had been - exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved to be - cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted. - </p> - <p> - He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an earnest - thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made in silence - during the two or three days that passed, partly in such thoughts as - these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes his aunt, - sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his bed-side - unchidden for not being “mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “Above all,” said he to himself, “he would for the future devote himself, - to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for his sake. - Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the rest of his - life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?” It was very - disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do for her - was to send her messages—and affection does not travel well by - message,—and at the same time to show submission to her known - wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown - submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to be - argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have - indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of - their futility. - </p> - <p> - So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to grumble, - and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less unpleasant even - external things appeared, and how much his health benefited by the - tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing to be pleased with - all that was done with that intent; and as he grew better, it certainly - was a strange variety with which he had to be amused throughout the day. - Very good naturedly he received all such civilities, especially when Willy - brought him a bottle of the first live sticklebacks of the season, - accompanied by a message from Arthur that he hoped soon to send him a - basin of tame tadpoles,—and when John rushed up with a basket of - blind young black satin puppies, their mother following in a state of - agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford and Judith. - </p> - <p> - Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and spent - much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond what - could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party. - </p> - <p> - When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable - correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still unable - to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between the two - rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or droll - descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of the - fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of a bunch of - violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the headache, the - fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting their saws on the - next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks who were building - their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford’s window, and whom she - watched so much that she was said to be in a fair way of solving the - problem of how many sticks go to a crow’s nest; criticisms of the books - read by each party, and very often a reference to that celebrated billet, - unfortunately delivered over night to Prince Talleyrand, informing him - that his devoted friend had scarcely closed her eyes all night, and then - only to dream of him! - </p> - <p> - Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers as in - their younger days,—depending upon her, participating in all her - pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, by - their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the - beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most - valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom - looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories of - down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or school; had - a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration for the spring - flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of budding woods, - soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma enjoyed comparing - notes with her about those same woods and dells, and would describe the - adventures of her own youth! And now it might be noticed that she did not - avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta’s father had been engaged; nay, - she dwelt on them by preference, and without the suppressed sigh which had - formerly followed anything like a reference to him. Sometimes she would - smile to identify the bold open down with the same where she had run races - with him, and even laugh to think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the - shady woodland walk would make her describe their nutting parties, or it - would bring her thoughts to some fit of childish mischief and concealment, - and to the confession to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at - length led her. Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken - together when older grown, when each had become prime counsellor and - confidante of the other; and the interests and troubles of home and of - school were poured out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged. - How Fred and Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love - had grown up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady - coombs, and green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened - with advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been - to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of - crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if - she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same - time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to tell - Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most - characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, that - she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his death, - as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of his - memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so much as - her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these - recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them anxious - about her mother’s health, but for her own part she did not think her - worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued in nearly - the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was so cheerful, - and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even though there was - no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint there was, as she knew - of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed so long, that after the - first shock of being told of it two years ago, she had almost ceased to - think about it. She satisfied herself to her own mind that it could not, - should not be progressing, and that this was only a very slow recovery - from the last attack. - </p> - <p> - Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and merry - when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or take - less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet he grew - grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother grew - minute and anxious. - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta,” said he, one day when they were alone together, “I was trying - to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “You have told me that so many times,” said Fred. “I think I must try to - get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey - comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there.” - </p> - <p> - “It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, “But - how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it - not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here.” - </p> - <p> - “It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey - went.” - </p> - <p> - “The fourth,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first - spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Henrietta, “you know she was five weeks without stirring out - of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is getting - better.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think it is getting better,” said Fred. “You always say so, but I - don’t think you have anything to show for it.” - </p> - <p> - “You might say the same for yourself,” said Henrietta, laughing. “You have - been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not boast.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, at least I can show something for it,” said Fred; “they allow me a - lark’s diet instead of a wren’s, I can hold up my head like other people - now, and I actually made my own legs and the table’s carry me to the - window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not think it - is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or eleven - o’clock; now I don’t believe she ever is till one.” - </p> - <p> - “It has been close, damp weather,” said Henrietta, surprised at the - accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. “She misses the cold - bracing wind.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t like it,” said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval - beginning again more earnestly, “Henrietta, neither you nor any one else - are keeping anything from me, I trust?” - </p> - <p> - “O, no, no!” said Henrietta, eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “You are quite sure?” - </p> - <p> - “Quite,” responded she. “You know all I know, every bit; and I know all - Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr. - Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong - things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would not - do so.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think they would,” said Fred; “but I am not satisfied. Recollect - and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only recovering - slowly—I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not a thing - to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as well as - usual?” - </p> - <p> - “I do,” said Henrietta, “and you know I am more used to her illness than - any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how bad - the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we could - not expect her to get on faster.” - </p> - <p> - “You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey.” - </p> - <p> - “O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just like - Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure you could not - get any more information from her than from me, and impressions—I am - sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma.” - </p> - <p> - Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never lost - one of his mother’s little notes, placing them as soon as read in his - pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta to - lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her marriage. It - represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the long ringlets and - plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the arch suppressed smile - on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep blue eye. He looked at it - for a little while, and then asked Henrietta if she thought that she could - find, among the things sent from Rocksand which had not yet been unpacked, - another portrait, taken in the earlier months of her widowhood, when she - had in some partial degree recovered from her illness, but her life seemed - still to hang on a thread. Mrs. Vivian, at whose especial desire it had - been taken, had been very fond of it, and had always kept it in her room, - and Fred was very anxious to see it again. After a long search, with - Bennet’s help, Henrietta found it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and - in the deep black garments, there was much more general resemblance to her - present appearance in this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling - bride. “And yet,” said Fred, as he compared them, “do not you think, - Henrietta, that there is more of mamma in the first?” - </p> - <p> - “I see what you mean,” said Henrietta. “You know it is by a much better - artist.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said he, “the other is like enough in feature,—more so - certainly to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet - what is it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their - look, and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind - of hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet - smile, that is quite her own!” - </p> - <p> - “If you could but see her now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “I think you would - indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that - lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks - about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the - miniature, all but her thinness.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father,” murmured - Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her eyes; then - a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she began to - speak of something else as fast as she could. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a minute’s - visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his - sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister’s information - that “it was on business,” and only was in a slight degree reassured by - being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day. - Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially - anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she would - not leave him alone in Fred’s room, knowing full well that no questions - would be asked except in private—none at least of the description - which she dreaded. - </p> - <p> - All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he might - visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it was - possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged that on - Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, his uncle - should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them both. - </p> - <p> - Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great - undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at length - the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to take away - all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited a few - moments; then said, with some hesitation, “Fred, you must be prepared to - see her a good deal altered.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Fred, impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do - not ask it for your own sake.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Fred, resolutely. - </p> - <p> - “Then come.” - </p> - <p> - And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his uncle’s - arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she sat by the - fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on one knee - before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on his face, and a - quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then rising, he sank back - into another great chair, which his sister had arranged for him close to - hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he passively let Henrietta make - him comfortable there; while holding his mother’s hand, he kept his eyes - fixed upon her, and she, anxious only for him, patted his cushions, - offered her own, and pushed her footstool towards him. - </p> - <p> - A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the - door. - </p> - <p> - “I still think it a great risk,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “But I should not feel justified in preventing it,” was his answer, “only - do not leave them long alone.” Then opening the door he called, - “Henrietta, there is the last bell.” And Henrietta, much against her will, - was obliged to go with him to Church. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, my dear,” said her mother. “Think of us prisoners in the right - way at Church, and not in the wrong one.” - </p> - <p> - Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the - window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of the - rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear and - blue, the buds were bursting into life. - </p> - <p> - “How very lovely it is!” added she. - </p> - <p> - Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His - eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of what - was to him a thousand times more lovely,—that frail wasted form, - namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had - described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the - rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness - under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as - sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her - face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the - chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen - about her,—more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was - not an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with - a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow - towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the - exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated with - pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in shaking off - the traces of illness. - </p> - <p> - The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last - stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant spray - of the budding sweet-briar. - </p> - <p> - “The bees are coming out with you, Freddy,” said she. “I have just been - round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses.” - </p> - <p> - “How delicious!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered the - sweet-briar. “Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up with his - journey.” - </p> - <p> - “O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you,” said Fred, sitting up - vigorously; “you do not know how strong I am growing.” And then turning to - the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook’s nest, as - she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more cheerful questions - and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. Frederick Langford proposed - that the reading of the service should begin. - </p> - <p> - Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took the - alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, and as - he now and then raised his eyes to his mother’s face, he saw her lips - follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a glistening - in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget. - </p> - <p> - “He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal - their sickness.” - </p> - <p> - “He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.” - </p> - <p> - He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking of - the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the - former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole - room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother’s face. It was a - sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his - memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, with - its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright fire, and - the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all around, all - conduced to that impression which never left him. - </p> - <p> - The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the - “Christian Year,” and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as it - may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there was some - conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. Silent as he - was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more than ten minutes, - when sounds were heard of the rest of the family returning from Church, - and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet them. - </p> - <p> - In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many - kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a few - cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister - responded with pleasure, said, “Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I am - coming back almost directly to carry you off.” - </p> - <p> - “So soon!” exclaimed Henrietta. “Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure of - seeing you together?” - </p> - <p> - No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed behind - his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then bent - forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, “Mamma, - say you forgive me.” - </p> - <p> - She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head - against her. - </p> - <p> - “My own dear boy,” said she, “I will not say I have nothing to forgive, - for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely - forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been against - my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!” she added, pressing her - hand upon his head. “His choicest blessings be with you forever.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey’s knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, was - folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, suffered his - uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to his own. He - stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, and gave two or - three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, though his uncle - could scarcely determine whether by grief or by physical exhaustion. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say nothing: - and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which he - remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down to - watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in which she - had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long time tranquil, - if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, complained that his - head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in quiet. It might be - that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt a charm upon him which - he could not bear to break. At any rate, he scarcely looked up or spoke - all the rest of the evening, excepting that, when he went to bed, he sent - a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey would come to his room the next - morning before setting off, as he was obliged to do at a very early hour. - </p> - <p> - He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he had - slept little, and allowing that his head still ached. - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at - him earnestly, “would it be of no use to have further advice?” - </p> - <p> - His uncle understood him, and answered, “I hope that Dr. —— - will come this evening or to-morrow morning. But,” added he, slowly and - kindly, “you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from - the feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that - he can be of use.” - </p> - <p> - “Then there is no hope?” said Fred, with a strange quietness. - </p> - <p> - “Man can do nothing,” answered his uncle. “You know how the case stands; - the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of - its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may - yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer.” - </p> - <p> - “If I could but think so!” said Fred. “But I cannot. Her face will not let - me hope.” - </p> - <p> - “If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint,” said Uncle - Geoffrey,—but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away, - walked to the window. - </p> - <p> - “And you must go?” said Fred, when he came back to his side again. - </p> - <p> - “I must,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Nothing but the most absolute necessity - could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man if - I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, at - latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort to - Henrietta.” - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta knows all this?” asked Fred. - </p> - <p> - “As far as she will bear to believe it,” said his uncle. “We cannot grudge - her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for her in the - end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, good-bye, and may - God bless and strengthen you in your trial!” - </p> - <p> - Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had - ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her whom - he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and reverence,—the - gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful being he knew! Who - would ever care for him as she did? To whom would it matter now whether he - was in danger or in safety? whether he distinguished himself or not? And - how thoughtlessly had he trifled with her comfort, for the mere pleasure - of a moment, and even fancied himself justified in doing so! Even her - present illness, had it not probably been brought on by her anxiety and - attendance on him? and it was his own wilful disobedience to which all - might be traced. It was no wonder that, passing from one such miserable - thought to another, his bodily weakness was considerably increased, and he - remained very languid and unwell; so much so that had Philip Carey ever - presumed to question anything Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he - would have pronounced yesterday’s visit a most imprudent measure. In the - afternoon, as Fred was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs, - and going along the passage. - </p> - <p> - “Who is that?” said he; “the new doctor already? It is a strange step.” - </p> - <p> - “O! Fred, don’t be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were at - the worst,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “But do you know who it is?” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “It is Mr. Franklin,” said Henrietta. “You know mamma has only been once - at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So - you must not fancy she is worse, Fred.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish we were confirmed,” said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, “My - Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta.” - </p> - <p> - “You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small print,” - said she; “I will read anything you want to you.” - </p> - <p> - He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was - to say, “I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come - to me.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could against - it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask Aunt - Geoffrey’s consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss the - opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to fetch - Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no reason to - regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much oppressed - and weighted down when she again returned to him. - </p> - <p> - The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick - Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his opinion - was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to expect. It was - impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: another attack - might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be deferred for weeks - or months, or even now it was possible that she might rally, and return to - her usual state of health. - </p> - <p> - It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, probability, - that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as if unsaid; she - would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that brought the least - impression of the kind. The only occasion when she would avow her fears - even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and then how wild and - unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and wretched she would - feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute she would drive off - her fears as by force; call up a vision of a brightly smiling future; - think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes would prevent the approach of - the enemy she dreaded. - </p> - <p> - Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa, - though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to sadden - her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for the future, - till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his deep sigh was - the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for much argument, - and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, was easily - silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the patient. Her - whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to “Mary,” the friend, - the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended upon with something of - the reverent devotedness with which an angel might be watched and served, - were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; feeling it a privilege each - day that she was still permitted to attend her, and watching for each - passing word and expression as a treasure to be dwelt on in many a - subsequent year. - </p> - <p> - It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on marking - no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that her mother - was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her always cheerful, - ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and still with the - playfulness which never failed to light up all that approached her. A - flower,—what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her smile would be! - </p> - <p> - It was on the evening of the day after the physician’s visit, that - Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering - her mother’s spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford - had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the - flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, “Your papa planted a root - of those in my little garden the first summer I was here.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear child,”—she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon - her, frightened at the manner—“you must not build upon our favourite - old plan; you must prepare—” - </p> - <p> - “O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago; - and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!” said her mother, taking her hand. - “But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to you. I - want you to make up your mind—” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. “Mamma! mamma! you - must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think - despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!” - </p> - <p> - “Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!” - </p> - <p> - The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,—I can’t bear it!” she - cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, which - her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend with. She - rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully followed with - her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, who continued to - arrange the things on the table, and make desperate attempts to regain her - composure; but completely failing, caught up her bonnet, and hurried out - of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Poor dear child,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, “I wish she was more - prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I - leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man; - but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more - like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear me—but - no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might give her pain - in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I would say.” - </p> - <p> - “If I could!” - </p> - <p> - “You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now. - Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life: - how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and his - children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how - crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved - chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying. - And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you - remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?” - </p> - <p> - “It was after we were gone home.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so utterly - unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came with those - verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be forgiven for not - being able to follow them. Now I can own with all my heart the mercy that - would not grant my blind wish for death. My treasure was indeed in heaven, - but O! it was not the treasure that was meant. I was forgetting my mother, - and so selfish and untamed was I, that I was almost forgetting my poor - babies! Yes, tell her this, Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and - happiness sprang up all around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought - myself, so much the more will they for her; and ‘at evening time there - shall be light.’ Tell her that I look to her for guiding and influencing - Fred. She must never let a week pass without writing to him, and she must - have the honoured office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and - grandmother. I think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are - fond of her, and she seems to suit them.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have - especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I - have tried to teach Beatrice.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should not - see her, give her her godmother’s love, and tell her that she and - Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I - trust that after thirty-five years’ friendship, they will still have as - much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. I - have written her name in one of these books,” she added after a short - interval, touching some which were always close to her. “And, Beatrice, - one thing more I had to say,” she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and - finding out a place in it. “Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous - man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his - turn, then show him this.” She pointed out the verse, “Be as a father to - the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou be - as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy mother - doth.” “Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary’s last - blessing.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. - </h2> - <p> - On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night’s rest. - Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She thought - it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head turned, - the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her. - </p> - <p> - Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for - some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. “How is - mamma? Does she want me? Why?” Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it - seemed beyond her power. - </p> - <p> - “O, aunt, aunt!” cried she, “what is the matter? What has happened? Speak - to me!” - </p> - <p> - “Henrietta,” said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, “she bade you - bear up for your brother’s sake.” - </p> - <p> - “But—but—” said Henrietta, breathlessly; “and she—” - </p> - <p> - “My dear child, she is at rest.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to - realise what she had heard. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me,” she said, after a few moments. - </p> - <p> - Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. “It - was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very - quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her face - looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt oppressed, - and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning against my arm, - there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we must only think of - her as in perfect peace!” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a - sort of anger, “O, why did you not call me?” - </p> - <p> - “There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of - disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late.” - </p> - <p> - “O, why was I not there? I would—I would—she must have heard - me. I would not have let her go. O, mamma!” cried Henrietta, almost - unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of - ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent - exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but all - she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she found - herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in some - degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as poor - Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs grew less - loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey thought she could - be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, “Now we must pray - that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, and try to help - your brother.” - </p> - <p> - “Fred, O poor Fred!” and she seemed on the point of another burst of - lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking—“I must go to him; he has - yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are - dressed.” - </p> - <p> - “O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! O - no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!” A fresh fit of - weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in - great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this - condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go to - poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the - truth. - </p> - <p> - “I must leave you, my dear,” said she, at last. “Think how your dear - mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who - alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I - hope you will be more composed.” - </p> - <p> - The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good - preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness - made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey - Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and hastened - down from Henrietta’s room with a hurried step. - </p> - <p> - She knocked at Fred’s door, and was answered by his voice. As she entered - he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, said, “I - know what you are come to tell me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Fred,” said she; “but how?” - </p> - <p> - “I was sure of it,” said Fred. “I knew I should never see her again; and - there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?” - </p> - <p> - “She has been crying very much,” said his aunt. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! she would never believe it,” said Fred. “But after last Sunday—O, - no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any - longer!” - </p> - <p> - “We could not wish it for her sake,” said his aunt, for the first time - feeling almost overcome. - </p> - <p> - “Let me hear how it was,” said Frederick, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked - quickly, “What did you do? I did not hear you ring.” - </p> - <p> - “No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I - met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and—and was - very kind—then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and - went to wait for Henrietta’s waking.” - </p> - <p> - Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, “Poor Henrietta! Is she very - much overcome?” - </p> - <p> - “So much, that I hardly know how to leave her.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but I - don’t think anything is much good to me.” He hid his face as he spoke - thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred,” said she, gently. “Then I will go to - your sister again.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you.” And she had reached the door when he asked, “When does Uncle - Geoffrey come?” - </p> - <p> - “By the four o’clock train,” she answered, and moved on. - </p> - <p> - Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of - agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister’s. - O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the - frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for a - moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; but - then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even exist - under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of misery seemed - chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of another person he - could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in which he had already - done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it was, did not affect - his health as the first anticipation of it had done. With Henrietta things - were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in a sort of stupor, in - which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance of any person into her - room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, ever increasing in - vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was left to herself, but she - could not, or would not, turn where alone comfort could be found, and - repelled, almost as if it was an insult to her affection, any entreaty - that she would even try to be comforted. Above all, in the perverse-ness - of her undisciplined affliction, she persisted in refusing to see her - brother. “She should do him harm,” she said. “No, it was utterly - impossible for her to control herself so as not to do him harm.” And - thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She would not touch a morsel of - food; she would not consent to leave her bed when asked to do so, though - ten minutes after, in the restlessness of her misery, she was found - walking up and down her room in her dressing-gown. - </p> - <p> - Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr. - Langford, who had loved “Mary” like his own child, did indeed bear up - under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian - submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little - assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share. - Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down in - her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for “poor Mary,” or “dear - Frederick,” all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then rising - vigorously, saying, “Well, it is His will; it is all for the best!” and - hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make some - arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey’s room ready for him. And - in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to sympathise, - or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she did. In the - course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from Sutton Leigh, - and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and assisting Mrs. - Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there were the two - young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only resting now - and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow far too selfish - and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of Him Who sent it, - or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was gone; and as once - the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care for her mother, so - now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration for Frederick; so - that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make any exertion for - his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize her except Aunt - Geoffrey’s reading to her; and then it was only that she was lulled by the - sound of the voice, not that the sense reached her mind. But then, how go - on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was left in his lonely room, to - bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? For though Mr. and Mrs. - Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him many brief kind visits, they - all of them had either too much on their hands, or were unfitted by - disposition to be the companions he wanted. It was only Aunt Geoffrey who - could come and sit by him, and tell him all those precious sayings of his - mother in her last days, which in her subdued low voice renewed that idea - of perfect peace and repose which came with the image of his mother, and - seemed to still the otherwise overpowering thought that she was gone. But - in the midst the door would open, and grandmamma would come in, looking - much distressed, with some such request as this—“Beatrice, if Fred - can spare you, would you just go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was - better, and that it was as well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for - one of her dresses, to send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has - set her off crying to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing - with her. I wish Geoffrey was come!” - </p> - <p> - Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one - wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only - person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in - hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield; - and at length Fred’s sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage - wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as their - own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden bursts of - lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, wanted to talk - to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only his father who - seemed even to recollect that his wife might want him more than all. And - so she did. Her feelings were very strong and impetuous by nature, and the - loss was one of the greatest she could have sustained. Nothing save her - husband and her child was so near to her heart as her sister; and worn out - as she was by long attendance, sleepless nights, and this trying day, when - all seemed to rest upon her, she now completely gave way, and was no - sooner alone with her husband and daughter, than her long repressed - feelings relieved themselves in a flood of tears, which, though silent, - were completely beyond her own control. Now that he was come, she could, - and indeed must, give way; and the more she attempted to tell him of the - peacefulness of her own dear Mary, the more her tears would stream forth. - He saw how it was, and would not let her even reproach herself for her - weakness, or attempt any longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on - her bed, and told her that he and Queen Bee could manage very well. - </p> - <p> - Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had - scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt’s death; and new as affliction - was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether this was her - own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother’s grief seemed to her almost - more like a dream. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been - named, “I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she - thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Go straight up to her,” continued her mother; “don’t wait to let her - think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do the - same.” - </p> - <p> - “If I could but do her any good,” sighed Beatrice, as she opened the door - and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for an - answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry, - threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around - was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee’s heart when she was - thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to know - what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that occurred - to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and call her by - the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was as yet fit to - bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out to her cousin all - her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. Beatrice was sometimes - indeed startled by the want of all idea of resignation, but she could not - believe that any one could feel otherwise,—least of all Henrietta, - who had lost her only parent, and that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she - feel herself good enough to talk seriously to Henrietta; she considered - herself as only sent to sit with her, so she did not make any attempt to - preach the resignation which was so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had - all day been hearing of it, and rebelling against it, was almost grateful - to her. So Henrietta talked and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the - same dreary views of the future coming over and over again; and Beatrice’s - only answer was to agree with all her heart to all that was said of her - own dear Aunt Mary, and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was - still left for her in so many hearts on earth. - </p> - <p> - The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined - to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the same - discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to her, and - thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a tolerable - meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with tears, put - her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept quietly down - to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the drawing-room good - night, she reflected whether she had done what she ought for her cousin. - </p> - <p> - “I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her head,” - said she to herself; “for as to the reading, she did not attend to that. - But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself before I - try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be allowed to - be any comfort at all.” - </p> - <p> - Thanks partly to Beatrice’s possessing no rightful authority over - Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to - make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But - nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could not - endure to pass “that door,” where ever before the fondest welcome awaited - her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred yesterday, - seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of perverseness—for - it really deserved no better name—was that it began to vex Fred. - “But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, “I - should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything so strange.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after - leaving Fred’s room he knocked at his niece’s door. She was sitting by the - fire with a book in her hand, but not reading. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, my dear,” said he, taking her languid hand. “I bring you a - message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him.” - </p> - <p> - She turned away her head. “Poor dear Fred!” said she; “but it is quite - impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and do - him harm.” - </p> - <p> - “And why cannot you bear it as he does?” said her uncle gravely. “You do - not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the advantages - of health and strength.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no one can feel as I do!” cried Henrietta, with one of her passionate - outbreaks. “O how I loved her!” - </p> - <p> - “Fred did not love her less,” proceeded her uncle. “And why will you leave - him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister’s love that should be - his chief stay?” - </p> - <p> - “He does not doubt it,” sobbed Henrietta. “He knows me better.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which is - not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments’ painful - emotion?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out of this - room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the house—to - go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, your affection for him is not strong enough.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta’s pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. “You do not - know me, Uncle Geoffrey,” said she proudly, and then she almost choked - with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness. - </p> - <p> - “I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief - and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which you - will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making yourself - useless.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the - first weapon she could. “Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I - am,” said she. - </p> - <p> - If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though if - he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would have - repressed even such demonstrations as he made. “Henrietta, this is too - bad! Has she been weakly yielding?—has she been shutting herself up - in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she - should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and - distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to - do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after - she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now, - when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she has made - for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her resting, you - fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your mother would - have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have no more to - say.” - </p> - <p> - He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the - accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that - she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. “Uncle Geoffrey!” she - cried, “O, uncle—” but he was gone; and forgetting everything else, - she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything - else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, “O uncle, do not - think I meant that!” - </p> - <p> - At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. “Henrietta!” - said he, “I am glad to see you downstairs.” - </p> - <p> - Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then - laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle’s arm, said, “Only say you are - not angry with me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person,” said he - with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her - surprise at finding herself downstairs after all. - </p> - <p> - “And you do not imagine me ungrateful?” - </p> - <p> - “Not when you are in your right senses.” - </p> - <p> - “Ungrateful!” exclaimed Mr. Langford. “What is he accusing you of, - Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “but that Henrietta and I have both been - somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not, - Henrietta?” - </p> - <p> - It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing - Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning - her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa’s with - very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened and - admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to receive - their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs. - </p> - <p> - “You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?” said - grandpapa. - </p> - <p> - “No, I was only going to Fred,” said she, growing as desirous of seeing - him as she had before been averse to it. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “that you were to take a turn or two round - the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, and you - will bring Fred in a fresher face.” - </p> - <p> - “I will fetch your bonnet,” said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top of - the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at seeing - her cousin in the hall. - </p> - <p> - And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a - shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had - opened the sashed door into the garden. - </p> - <p> - It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the - sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft - masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening with - drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. Henrietta’s - burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, she could not - help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first thing she began - to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a warm expression - of gratitude towards her. - </p> - <p> - Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two turns - in silence; but Henrietta’s heart began to fail her when she thought of - going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could hardly - resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, gave her - shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred’s door. - </p> - <p> - “Is that you?” was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward to - meet her. “Poor Henrietta!” was all he said, as she put her arm round his - neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his sofa, made - her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for her comfort. - She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no longer, but she - reproached herself excessively for having left him to himself so long, - when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to make some apology. - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred.” - </p> - <p> - “O, it is of no use to talk about it,” said Fred, playing with her long - curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in times - long gone by. “You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you been - out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And how - are you this morning, Freddy?” - </p> - <p> - “O, pretty well I think,” said he, sighing, as if he cared little about - the matter. “I wanted to show you this, Henrietta.” And he took up a book - where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks in some - other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading yesterday, - and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, as she could - not help feeling herself. - </p> - <p> - And here was the first great point gained, though there was still much for - Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been conscious of - her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her proneness to make all - give way to her own feeling of the moment. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. - </h2> - <p> - There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta - shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it - before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there, - partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and partly - from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was willing to - do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day’s neglect: and - she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at least Fred - seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her. - </p> - <p> - Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much - to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour - of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion, - she had figured to herself her father’s funeral, little thinking of the - reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, than what - any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her perfectly - impossible that she should ever have power to go through with it. - </p> - <p> - In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the prospect - gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, she found the - reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing nothing, observing - nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked along, wrapped in one - absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first words that “broke the - stillness of that hour,” healing as they were, seemed but to add certainty - to that one thought that “she was gone.” But while the Psalms and the - Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression of grief seemed in some - degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and the words reached her mind; - a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who had wiped away the tears from - her mother’s eyes, and by Whom the sting of death had been taken away. - Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, in meek submission, until now - her long widowhood was over; and what better for her could those who most - loved her desire, than that she should safely sleep in the chancel of the - Church of her childhood, close to him whom she had so loved and so - mourned, until the time when both should once more awaken,—the - corruptible should put on incorruption, the mortal should put on - immortality, and death be swallowed up in victory. - </p> - <p> - Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears - flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was - enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round - the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against the - expression that it was “in great mercy that the soul of this our dear - sister” was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound of the - earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever the most - loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for ever,—might - she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection and the Life—might - she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive the blessing to be - pronounced to all that love and fear Him. - </p> - <p> - It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. Langford - moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before doing so, she - raised her eyes to her father’s name, to take leave of him as it were, as - she always did before going out of Church. She met her Uncle Geoffrey’s - eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as she was out of the - church, she said almost in a whisper, “Uncle, I don’t wish for him now.” - </p> - <p> - He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak, - for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might - safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which - was coming upon her. - </p> - <p> - They came home—to the home that looked as if it would fain be once - more cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn - stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, for - she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape veil. - She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose on - hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. Beatrice - came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful how to - address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and looking - earnestly in her face, repeated— - </p> - <p> - “Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To run - untir’d love’s blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, Over the - grave their Lord have met.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Queenie,” said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, “it is a very - different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, you - must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time past, - though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness.” She kissed her - affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - “Me! me, of all people,” she said. “O, Henrietta!” - </p> - <p> - “We must talk of it all another time,” said Henrietta, “but now it will - not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don’t think this like the days - when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee—that time when I - would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly.” - </p> - <p> - While she spoke, there was something of the “new bracing” visible in every - movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, which of - late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, that showed - how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about her whole - frame. - </p> - <p> - “O no, do not stay with me,” said Queen Bee, “I am going”—to mamma, - she would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking - to Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Henrietta, understanding her. “And tell her, Bee—for I - am sure I shall never be able to say it to her,—all about our - thanks, and how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her - comfort.” “If I had only believed, instead of blinding myself so - wilfully!” she almost whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now - ready, she ran downstairs and entered her brother’s room. His countenance - bore traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he - looked anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her - hand into his, and said, “Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go.” - </p> - <p> - “I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over,” said Fred. “I have - been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very different - thing.” - </p> - <p> - “It will all come to you when you go to Church again,” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “How little I thought that New Year’s Day—!” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer’s holidays!” said - Henrietta. “If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; but it was - my determination to come here that seems to have caused everything, and - that is the thought I cannot bear.” - </p> - <p> - “I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night,” said Fred, - “and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with - consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the - horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame - himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not - think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened now; - that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the results. - Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, to be sure, - that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much disobedience, - and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing came of it, except - that I grew more wilful.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Henrietta, “but I shall always feel as if everything had been - caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again.” - </p> - <p> - “It was just as much my wish as yours,” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you pleased, - and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of course, to make - her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was always doing, and now - I can never make up for it!” - </p> - <p> - “O yes,” said Fred, “we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how - she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same as - ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to remember, - now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don’t you see, Henrietta, my - dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?—that if you did domineer over her, - it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you must not - accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. He says he - does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most for her - comfort, if—” - </p> - <p> - “O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!” - </p> - <p> - “If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well - again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta. - Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and - attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that I - might have gone on to much worse at school and college.” - </p> - <p> - “Never, never!” said Henrietta. - </p> - <p> - “Not now, I hope,” said Fred; “but that was not what I meant to say. No - one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on - either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing, - and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was - convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been - here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa - and grandmamma’s sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to have - been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful that she - had come to die in my father’s home, after seeing us well settled here, - instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place.” - </p> - <p> - “How little we guessed it was for that,” said Henrietta. “O what were we - doing? But if it made her happy—” - </p> - <p> - “Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand,” said - Fred. “I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave of - everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle - Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and - the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much - for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already.” - </p> - <p> - “Home!” said Henrietta, “how determinedly we used to call it so! But O, - that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all - overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot - complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way.” - </p> - <p> - “The devices and desires of our own hearts!” said Fred. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own - sake,” proceeded Henrietta. “Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to me, - as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again for me; - so that it was all twofold!” Here she hid her face, and her tears streamed - fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that Fred also was - much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute. - </p> - <p> - “But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more than - I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still obeying her. - I think at last I may get something of the right sort of feeling; for I am - sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used to mean when they - talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to read to you?” - </p> - <p> - Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford. - Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother’s wish, their home; and - there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and - summer, of watching her brother’s recovery, which was very slow, but at - the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as he - required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as quite - a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than she had ever - been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to return to - Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the vacation - would bring them all back to Knight Sutton. - </p> - <p> - The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great - disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred - would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able - indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume many - of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in a - condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application. - Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as Alex had - numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and kindness, by - silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, and again and - again silently giving up some favourite scheme of amusement when Fred - proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself almost learned to trust - Fred to Alex’s care, which was so much less irritating than her own; and - how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is best shown, when it is related, - that neither by word nor look did she once interrupt the harmony between - them, or attempt to obtain the attention, of which, in fact, she always - had as large a share as any reasonable person could desire. - </p> - <p> - How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the best - requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer—a very - adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it—to undertake - little Willy’s Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger’s knowledge, - had been under Alex’s care for the holidays. Willy was a very good pupil - on the whole—better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had been—and - very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such a test as - perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an insensible - manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over to Henrietta, - whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect quite made up, in - grandmamma’s eyes, for her very tolerable amount of acquirements in Latin - and Greek. - </p> - <p> - By the time care for her brother’s health had ceased to be Henrietta’s - grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue - his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up - around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful and - valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted with - when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a - granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil to - the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful to her, as - well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and Charlie, as for - the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used to exercise her - taste when Henrietta’s wardrobe failed to afford her sufficient - occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, and demonstrated - it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners gradually acquired - the influence over them which Queen Bee had only exerted over Alex and - Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew less awkward and - bearish, without losing their honest downright good humour and good - nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in attributing the change to - her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was also the friend of the poor - women, the teacher and guide of the school children, and in their eyes and - imagination second to no one but Mr. Franklin. And withal she did not - cease to be all that she had ever been to her brother, if not still more. - His heart and soul were for her, and scarce a joy and sorrow but was - shared between them. She was his home, his everything, and she well - fulfilled her mother’s parting trust of being his truest friend and - best-loved counsellor. - </p> - <p> - Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented - her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! This - was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through life; - and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, there was - linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and domineering on - her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that spoke only of - blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to her whom she had - lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the steps of Him Who - “came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that sent Him.” - </p> - <p> - THE END <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta’s Wish, by Charlotte M. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Henrietta's Wish - -Author: Charlotte M. Yonge - -Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5124] -Posting Date: April 8, 2009 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA'S WISH *** - - - - -Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and the Victorian Women -Writers Project at Indiana University - - - - - - - - - -HENRIETTA'S WISH; - -OR, DOMINEERING - - -By Charlotte M. Yonge - - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - -On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was -waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as -the railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently -enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to -express their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek -shining skins, but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now -and then to whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of -his whip. - -Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about -sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and -flushed complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two -or three minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand -to examine the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, -and study the countenances of the bystanders to see whether they -expressed any anxiety respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, -however, seemed quite at their ease, and after a time the arrival of the -railway omnibus and two or three other carriages, convinced her that the -rest of the world only now began to consider it to be due. At last the -ringing of a bell quickened everybody into a sudden state of activity, -and assured her that the much-desired moment was come. The cloud of -smoke was seen, the panting of the engine was heard, the train displayed -its length before the station, men ran along tapping the doors of the -carriages, and shouting a word which bore some distant resemblance to -"Teignmouth," and at the same moment various travellers emerged from the -different vehicles. - -Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after -a hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to -the carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form, -complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then -withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the -hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the "Well, -Fred!" "Well, Henrietta!" which formed the greeting of the twin brother -and sister. - -"And was not mamma well enough to come?" asked Frederick, as the -carriage turned away from the station. - -"She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write -yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; -but she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your -school affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?" - -"I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie -between us next year." - -"Surely," said Henrietta, "you must be able to beat him then, if you are -before him now." - -"Don't make too sure, Henrietta," said Frederick, shaking his head, -"Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should -not have been before him now if it had not been for my verses." - -"I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander," said Henrietta, "she would -make a great deal of his success." - -"Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?" said Frederick with -some dissatisfaction. - -"O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she -patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. -And indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to -her that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think -him worth cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched -up together in an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the -Great. And how she always talks about Alex when she is here." - -"Is she at Knight Sutton?" - -"Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to -be far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only -think, Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close -to the village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept -on saying how well it would do for us." - -"O, if we could but get mamma there!" said Fred. "What does she say?" - -"She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one," said -Henrietta; "but that is not an inch--no, not the hundredth part of an -inch--towards going there!" - -"It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought -to believe so," said Frederick. "All her attachments are there--her own -home; my father's home." - -"There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here," said -Henrietta. "Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to -acquaintance, the people are always changing." - -"And there is nothing to do," added Fred; "nothing possible but boating -and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as -Uncle Geoffrey says. It is very, very--" - -"Aggravating," said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of -family slang words. - -"Yes, aggravating," said he with a smile, "to be placed under the -necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!" - -"Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through -when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were -on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a -timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I -am sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it -again and again that she is not easily frightened." - -"No: and I do not think she is afraid for you." - -"Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious -than girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I -think that is reasonable." - -"Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it," -said Fred: "he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden -shock--" - -"What? Our father's accident?" asked Henrietta. "I never knew rightly -about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old." - -"No one saw it happen," said Fred; "he went out riding, his horse came -home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road." - -"Did they bring him home?" asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling -tone in which her brother spoke. - -"Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said 'Mary,' once or -twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!" - -"Terrible!" said Henrietta, with a shudder. "O! how did mamma ever -recover it?--at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,--but I -meant live, or be even as well as she is." - -"She was fearfully ill for long after," said Fred, "and Uncle Geoffrey -thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says -they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be -wondered at." - -"O no, no," said Henrietta. "What a mystery it has always seemed to us -about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish -days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma -stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter -his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a -comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always -cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her." - -"But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his -death?" - -"O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we -had, and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from -talking to each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did -Uncle Geoffrey tell you this?" - -"Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to -speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept -back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of -being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how -it is." - -"But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which -one would have thought she would have dreaded most of all." - -"That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said -to him, 'Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to -ride, never mind my folly.' He says that he thinks it cost her as much -resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about -going to school." - -"Yes, yes; exactly," said Henrietta, "if she thinks it is right, bear it -she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee -says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as -she does." - -"I never saw anyone so like a queen," said Fred. "No, nor anyone so -beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her -in her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of -your own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live -to be a hundred." - -"You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own, -Master Fred," retorted his sister; "but one comfort is, that I shall -grow more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all -the little likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was -going to say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth -in what Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made -it worse. You know she had always been in India, and knew less about -boys than mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so -she might really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have -often seen her quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you--her -consolations just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making -mamma twice as bad." - -"Well," said Fred, sighing, "that is all over now, and she thought she -was doing it all for the best." - -"And," proceeded Henrietta, "I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this -perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. -She imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and -that it was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving--" - -"Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke," added Fred. - -"Till now, I really believe," said Henrietta, "that the possibility of -moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes -that she can do it than that the house can." - -"Yes," said Fred, "I do not think a journey occurs to her among events -possible, and yet without being very fond of this place." - -"Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike -about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she -once went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own -friends, instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma's time -it was not so bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. -Rocksand has all the loneliness of the country without its advantages." - -"There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all," said Fred. - -"No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be -well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless -one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no -clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it -would be at Knight Sutton!" - -"And perhaps she would be cured of her fears," added Fred; "she would -find no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins -there come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!" - -"Well, we will see what we can do," said Henrietta. "I do think we may -persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and -for yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done." - -And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep -straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were -within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed -Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer's lodging, but was -little fitted for a permanent abode. - -In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no -ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with -more affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung -from the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and -returning such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that -he had done nothing to forfeit home love and confidence. - -Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford -looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively, -"All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey? -Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now, -Freddy, tell us about your examination," added she, as fondly leaning on -his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together -on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously. - -Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in -truth one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the -admiration expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the -features were beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet -placid resignation which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. -The eyes were deep dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed -their brightness, their softness was increased; the smile was one of -peace, of love, of serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it -were, before her time, had lived on in meek patience and submission, -almost a child in her ways, as devoted to her mother, as little with -a will and way of her own, as free from the cares of this work-a-day -world. The long luxuriant dark brown hair, which once, as now with -Henrietta, had clustered in thick glossy ringlets over her comb and -round her face, was in thick braids beneath the delicate lace cap which -suited with her plain black silk dress. Her figure was slender, so tall -that neither her well-grown son nor daughter had yet reached her height, -and, as Frederick said, with something queenlike in its unconscious -grace and dignity. - -As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had -great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of -the moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to -her manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her -spirit would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in -earlier days. - -Frederick's account of his journey and of his school news was heard and -commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next -matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival -was to talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey's proceedings, and the Knight -Sutton affairs. - -"So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?" said Fred. - -"Yes, on a special retainer," said Mrs. Langford, "and very much he -seems to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral." - -"He wrote to me in court," said Fred, "to tell me what books I had -better get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled -all over one side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was -beautiful beyond all he ever imagined." - -"Had he never seen it before?" said Henrietta. "Lawyers seem made to -travel in their vacations." - -"Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared," said her mamma; "I do not know -what Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his -holidays than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed -to take his own pleasure." - -"Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta. - -"He goes home just as he used from school," said Mrs. Langford. "Indeed, -except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered -from those days; his work and play come in just the same way." - -"And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet," added -Henrietta, "only rivalled by Busy Bee herself." - -"No," said Fred, "according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one -sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa's pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma's. It -must be great fun to see them." - -"Happy people!" said Mrs. Langford. - -"Henrietta says," proceeded Fred, "that there is a house to be let at -Knight Sutton." - -"The Pleasance; yes, I know it well," said his mother: "it is not -actually in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty -place." - -"With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, "said Henrietta, "and -looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in -mamma's room." - -"What size is it?" added Fred. - -"The comparative degree," said Mrs. Langford, "but my acquaintance -with it does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking -drawing-room with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed -to run about when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old -Miss Drakes. I wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys -can scarcely, I should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are -all at home." - -"I wish some one else would take it," said Fred. - -"Some one," added Henrietta, "who would like it of all things, and be -quite at home there." - -"A person," proceeded the boy, "who likes Knight Sutton and its -inhabitants better than anything else." - -"Only think," joined in the young lady, "how delightful it would be. I -can just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a -summer's day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to -the nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle -and Aunt Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without -ringing at the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt -Geoffrey all the vacation!" - -"Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton," said Mrs. -Langford. "Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, -Henrietta, riding shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your -mamma did before you." - -"And being as happy as a queen," said Henrietta; "and the poor people, -you know them all, don't you, mamma?" - -"I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But -I should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used -to work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress -in her spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a -noun and a verb!" - -"Who has been so cruel?" asked Fred. "Busy Bee, I suppose." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "she teaches away with all her might; but she -says she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for -there is no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should -like to be Queen Bee's deputy." - -"But," said Fred, "how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure -such novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old -mistress herself." - -"Queen Bee's is not merely a nominal sovereignty," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Besides," said Henrietta, "the new Clergyman approves of all that sort -of thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - -From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles -in the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought -of the brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as -Henrietta truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk -of what she still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the -pang it must give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the -burial-place of her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been -augmented by the tender over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, -who had strenuously endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a -proposal into consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it -out of the question. - -A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of -Mrs. Vivian's life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her -daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was -a general impression throughout the family that now was the time for -her to come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but -beginning to dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles -and imagining scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being -realized, or that it only depended upon her, to find herself at home -there; and when Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of -talking, pressed it upon her, she would reply with some vague intention -of a return some time or other, but still thinking of it as something -far away, and rather to be dreaded than desired. - -It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind -that it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take -a lease of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present -abode; and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank -from entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason -to hope. - -"Yet, I think," said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they -were walking together on the sands; "I think if she once thought it was -right, if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really -tell her that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon -it." - -"But why did he not do so long ago?" said Fred. - -"O! because of grandmamma, I suppose," said Henrietta; "but he really -does wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put -it into his head to do it." - -"Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her," said Fred; "but it never -answers to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; -he always says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect." - -"If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all -parties, I would not say so much about it," said Henrietta, in a tone -rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of -domineering over her mother. - -To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good -sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide -for herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and -during her long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her -brother-in-law, Mr. Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, -and in lesser ones upon her children. Girls are generally older of their -age than boys, and Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother's constant -companion, occupied a position in the family which amounted to something -more than prime minister. Some one person must always be leader, and -thus she had gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for -justice requires it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know -her mamma's mind for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to -do so always was more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. -The habit of being called on to settle whether they should use the -britska or the pony carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or -that book should be ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very -unwilling to be thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially -in one on which were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the -wishes of all the family. - -Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best -calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick, -having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed -on their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the -same occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and -Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the -custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid -for those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement -there was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many -beautiful walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford -in the pony carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were -the order of the day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not -been for an occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out -sailing without his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were -spending their holidays in a very different manner, he would have been -perfectly happy. Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the -boys in the neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before -him. - -Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care -with which he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his -accomplishments, of his handsome features, and she would willingly have -been proud of his excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she -was proud of the spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it -by her full and entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints -must be diminished at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as -much as her own wish for the scenes round which imagination had thrown -such a brilliant halo. Of society they had hitherto seen little or -nothing; Mrs. Langford's health and spirits had never been equal to -visiting, nor was there much to tempt her in the changing inhabitants of -a watering-place. Now and then, perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant -connexion of some part of the family came for a month or six weeks, and -a few calls were exchanged, and it was one of these visits that led to -the following conversation. - -"By the by, mamma," said Fred, "I meant to ask you what that foolish -woman meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly -approved of Aunt Geoffrey's marriage." - -"About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy," replied -Mrs. Langford, "considering that I was always accused of having made the -match." - -"Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you -really?" - -"Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the -credit as I do." - -"Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey's?" - -"O yes, Fred," said Henrietta, "to be sure you knew that. You have heard -how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy -and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?" - -"Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used -to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to -my friend--" - -"Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it." - -"I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the -other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend -Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter -vacation. It was when the general was in command at ----, and Beatrice -was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the house, -entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call -brilliant." - -"Were you there, mamma?" - -"Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very -droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; -she to find her brother's guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford -who had gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, -very shy at first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making -giggle; and he to find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so -really simple in tastes and habits." - -"Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?" asked Fred. - -"She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual -beauty but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really -handsome person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and -indeed has now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a -better word, I must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always -very striking." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, -and it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is -something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met -her in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. -And then and there they fell in love, did they?" - -"In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, -but in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked -either wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose -that anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, -and Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king's daughter of -Hongarie." - -"O yes, of course," said Henrietta, "but that only makes it more -delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in -their history." - -"That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth -or a truism often repeated, Henrietta," said her mother with a soft -sigh, which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: "Poor Frank's -illness and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a -very different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, -and was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they -were to him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his -youthful spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and -night, and looking ill and overworked." - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey," cried Henrietta, in an -ecstasy; "you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could -not fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and -pining away all the time and saying nothing about it." - -"Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, -after the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading -succeeded; he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were." - -"And still he saw nothing of her," said Fred. - -"Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the -Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters -a wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some -unlucky speculation which was to have doubled his daughter's fortune, -managed to lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay." - -"Capital!" cried Frederick, "that brings her down to him." - -"So it did," said his mother, smiling; "but the spectators did not -rejoice quite so heartily as you do. The general's health was failing, -and it was hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. -Leger's family, though very kind, were not more congenial than they are -now. As soon as all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the -general, who was very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait -until it was prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after -it was all settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey -was with him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great -comfort to know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she -went first to the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then -I would have her to be my bridesmaid, though"--and Mrs. Langford tried -to smile, while again she strangled a sobbing sigh--"she warned me that -her mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we -went abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight -Sutton. Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected -a fine lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her -gaiety and all her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was -delighted with her the first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey's -coming home and thanking us for having managed so well as to make her -like one of the family, while the truth was that she had fitted herself -in, and found her place from the first moment. Now came a time of grave -private conferences. A long engagement which might have been very well -if the general had lived, was a dreary prospect now that Beatrice was -without a home; but then your uncle was but just called to the bar, -and had next to nothing of his own, present or to come. However, he -had begun his literary works, and found them answer so well, that he -believed he could maintain himself till briefs came in, and he had the -sort of talent which gives confidence. He thought, too, that even in -the event of his death she would be better off as one of us, than as -a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by talking to us, he nearly -persuaded himself to believe it would be a very prudent thing to marry. -It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but persuade him he did, -and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very summer." - -"That's right," cried Fred, "excellent and glorious! A farthing for all -the St. Legers put together." - -"Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion -that it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady -Amelia were present, so that no one had any reason to say that they -disapproved. Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, -I would also suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple -comme il-y-en a peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious." - -"Why, they are very well off," said Fred; "he is quite at the head of -his profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name -is, if I belong to Langford the barrister." - -"Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily -bread, if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the -buoyant school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a -child to its play, his health could never have stood it." - -"But then it has been success and triumph," said Fred; "one could work -like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery." - -"It was not all success at first," said his mother; "there was hard -work, and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to -bear it, and to win through with it." - -"And were they very poor?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. -The house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and -cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt -Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan's -visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was -to find 'poor Beatrice' looking so bright and like herself, and how -little she guessed at her morning's work, the study of shirt-making, and -the copying out a review of her husband's, full of Greek quotations." - -"Well, the poverty is all over now," said Henrietta; "but still they -live in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey's connexions and the -fortune he has made." - -"Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?" said Mrs. -Langford. - -Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a -cousin of her aunt Geoffrey's of whom she had seen something in the last -year. - -"The truth is," said Mrs. Langford, "that your aunt had display and -luxury enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not -desire it except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, -beyond what any one knows or suspects." - -"Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school," said -Fred. - -"Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton," said Henrietta, "the -school, and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, -mamma, if you made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your -work." - -"There's nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always -maintain," said Fred. - -His mother sighed, saying, "I don't know what we should have done -without him!" and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her -countenance which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more -was said till it was discovered that it was bed time. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - -"Where is Madame?" asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the -breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in -her hand. - -"A headache," answered Henrietta, "and a palpitation." - -"A bad one?" - -"Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it -will not do, and we must give it up." - -"How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with -it? Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?" - -"Just listen what an effect last evening's conversation had upon her. -Last night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there -I saw her kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just -then it struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her -know I was awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am -sure she did not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her -most uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when -I looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come -down to-day." - -"And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought -it on?" said Fred, with much concern; "yet it did not seem to have much -to do with my father." - -"O but it must," said Henrietta. "He must have been there all the time -mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always -together when they were children." - -"Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding," said -Fred. "Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt -Geoffrey and with her, after they had been young and happy together. -Yes, no doubt it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into -letting them marry!" - -"And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death," said -Henrietta. "No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those -thoughts." - -"And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, -I suppose we must give it up," said Fred, with a sigh. "After all, we -can be very happy here!" - -"O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished -it," said the sister. - -"And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it -would be pleasanter for you when I am away," said Fred. - -"And so," said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, "we agree to persuade -each other that we don't care about it." - -Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to -make her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her -of fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain -feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence. - -After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got -up, but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a -walk by her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and -on their return they found her lying on the sofa. - -"Mamma has been in mischief," said Fred. "She did not think herself -knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly." - -"Oh, mamma!" was Henrietta's reproachful exclamation, as she looked at -her pale face and red swollen eyelids. - -"Never mind, my dears," said she, trying to smile, "I shall be better -now this is done, and I have it off my mind." They looked at her in -anxious interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. "You -will seal that letter with a good will, Henrietta," she said. "It is to -ask Uncle Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance." - -"Mamma!" and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: -then Henrietta exclaimed-- - -"No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it." - -"Yes," said Fred; "indeed we agreed this morning that it would be -better not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and -comfort. I am sure it suits you best." - -"Thank you, thank you, my dear ones," said she, drawing them towards -her, and fondly kissing them, "but it is all settled, and I am sure it -is better for you. It is but a dull life for you here." - -"O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you," cried -Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. "We are, indeed -we are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; -do not think we want a change." - -Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile. - -"But we would not have you to do it on our account," said Fred. "Pray -put it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a -passing fancy." - -"You will not talk me out of it, my dears," said Mrs. Langford. "I know -it is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that -was the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of -you, when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not -let that letter be too late for the post." - -"I do not half like it," said Fred, pausing at the door. - -"I have not many fears on that score," said she, smiling. "No, do not -be uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be -happy there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear -old places again." - -"O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering," -said Henrietta. "You do not know how I wish you would give it up!" - -"Give it up! I would not for millions," said Mrs. Langford. "Now go, my -dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again." - -The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough -for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept -back the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if -she were doing wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and -remorseful, something like a tyrant between the condemnation and -execution of his victim. But by the time the first course was over, and -she and Frederick had begun to recollect their long-cherished wishes, -they made up their minds to be happy, and fell into their usual strain -of admiration of the unknown haven of their hopes, and of expectations -that it would in the end benefit their mother. - -The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs -proceeded in the usual manner; Frederick's holidays came to an end, and -he returned to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and -sister, but with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might -be at Knight Sutton. - -"Here, Henrietta," said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a -day or two after Frederick's departure, turning over to her the letter -of which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some -others. It was Uncle Geoffrey's writing, and Henrietta read eagerly: - - -"MY DEAR MARY,--I would not write till I could give you some positive -information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a -conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you -think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain -that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set -upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you -know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much -the gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe -that the effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among -your own people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in -what you say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going -to write, and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and -proceed to business." - - -Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease, -repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; -she knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to -her wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather -alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to -make the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them -while they were bargaining for it. - -"O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear," said she, "I -dare say it will not ruin us." - -"Not exactly," said Mrs. Langford, smiling, "but gentlemen consider it a -disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed -to have his own way." - -"O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it." - -"A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up -before you can look at them," said Mrs. Langford; "I have no fears but -that it is to be had." But Henrietta could not help fancying that her -mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go -off independently of any determination of hers. - -Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and -often talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate -letters of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a -little. She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, -that they had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly -it was desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for -a weakness for not having sooner resolved upon her present step. -Henrietta's work was rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, -than to prevent her from changing her purpose, which never altered, -respecting a return to the neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though -whether to the house of the tempting name, was a question which remained -in agitation during the rest of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was -not built in a day, so surely cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, -especially when a clever and cautious lawyer acts for one party. - -Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays -was reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford -laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at -their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded -to accept Mr. Langford's invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall, -and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance. -Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes -of Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the -descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place -had ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half -of her life was spent in London. - -It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no -other of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could -not bear that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter -lose the pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. -Langford be deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she -therefore arranged to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and -her father went as usual to Knight Sutton. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from -Devonshire, but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had -no merely personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, -declared herself perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions -but her daughter and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house -in London, there to be met in a day or two by the two school-boys, -Frederick and his cousin Alexander, and then proceed all together to -Knight Sutton. - -Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was -really come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would -find her under a different roof from that which she had never left. She -did not know till now that she had any attachments to the place she -had hitherto believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she -could not bid it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with -his rough kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the -rocky beach where she and her brother had often played on the verge of -the ocean, watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple -of the advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, -streams, and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey -had often told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to -find in Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, -which she grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her -regrets, lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great -anxiety. - -She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little -time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the -calm quietness with which she went through the few trying days that -immediately preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant -employment so great a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on -her own account, as well as her mother's, when every possible order had -been given, every box packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit -opposite to each other, on each side of the fire, in the idleness which -precedes candle-light. Her mother leant back in silence, and she watched -her with an anxious gaze. She feared to say anything of sympathy -with what she supposed her feeling, lest she should make her weep. An -indifferent speech would be out of place even if Henrietta herself could -have made it, and yet to remain silent was to allow melancholy thoughts -to prey upon her. So thought the daughter, longing at the same time that -her persuasions were all unsaid. - -"Come here, my dear child," said her mother presently, and Henrietta -almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the -tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a -low footstool, leaning against her. "You are very much afraid for me," -continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of -her face, far different from her own, "but you need not fear, it is all -well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not -really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here." - -All Henrietta's consideration for her mother could not prevent her from -bursting into tears. "O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going -away from dear grandmamma." - -"Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on -whether we are in our duty or not." - -"Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not -know it till now!" - -"Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our -home, Henrietta, to your father's home in life and death, and it must be -good for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. -Knight Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be." - -Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she -who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most -ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial. -It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her -mother's calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the -place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused -herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do -what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when -the wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she -blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much -attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and -after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, -they talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - -The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey's house -at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a -visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin -Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in -the delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal -share. - -The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, -while Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by -Beatrice and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece's great -amazement, professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she -did. A short December day, though not what they would have chosen, had -this advantage, that the victim could not be as completely fagged and -worn out as in a summer's day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high -spirits when they drove home and found to their delight that the two -schoolboys had already arrived. - -Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but -Alexander, though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked -shyly at the new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished -them elsewhere. She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that -her brother regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore -surprised to see that his broad honest face expressed more good -humour than intellect, and his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably -well-featured, with light eyes and dark hair, and though half a year -older than his cousin, was much shorter, more perhaps in appearance than -reality, from the breadth and squareness of his shoulders, and from not -carrying himself well. - -Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son -of Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at -Sutton Leigh, a small house on his father's estate, busied with farming, -sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make -a narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless -tribe of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in -India; and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, -who had been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed -his attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, -that he might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin -Frederick been always one step before him. - -Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so -that on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but -this was but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to -endure out of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training -or companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, -derided in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his -way among rude brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended -a protecting hand to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. -Soon overcoming his effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, -and was equal to Alex in all but main bodily strength; but the spirit -of rivalry once excited, had never died away, and with a real friendship -and esteem for each other, their names or rather their nicknames had -almost become party words among their schoolfellows. - -Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this -first occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself -open to that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account -at once of his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge -of accomplishments; but he did not guess at the feeling which made -Alexander on his side regard those very accomplishments with a feeling -which, if it were not jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it. - -Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very -little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called -her skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair -of very large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant -expression, and showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from -sublime to ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature -otherwise. And if instead of being "like the diamond bright," they had -been "dull as lead," it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice -had been, she was still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he -could believe a sister to be if he had one,--in short his own little -Queen Bee. He had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all -the civilization which he possessed, and it was with considerable -mortification that he thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison -with his old rival, as old a friend of hers, with the same claim to -cousinly affection; and instead of understanding only what she had -taught him, familiar with the tastes and pursuits on which she set -perhaps too great a value. - -Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice's preference: it might be -that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister -of his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on -which he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely -to be secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school -studies and pastimes. - -For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice -books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, -and which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly -style of living which some people thought befitted them. She called to -her brother who was standing by the fire, "Fred, do come and look at -this beautiful Albert Durer of Sintram." - -He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an -acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, "Yes, it was an -old promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be -pronounced insensible." - -"A wonderful old fellow was that Albert," said Fred, looking, and -forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. "Yes; -O how wondrously the expression on Death's face changes as it does in -the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have -you seen it, mamma?" - -His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and -Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the -old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have -a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of -the prints with no practised hand. "Take care, Alex, take care," cried -Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; "don't you see what a pinch you -are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a -pattern for you," pointing to Fred. - -She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the -table. Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed -any tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee's black eyes -perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph. - -But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very -sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, -she stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain -parting cautions. - -"How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in -her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who -can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I--" - -"Had better let it alone," rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. "You will do -more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that -Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place." - -"Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration! -To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always -go home!" - -"We have lamented that often enough," said her mother smiling. "It is -unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must -sometimes bend." - -"You say that for me, mamma," said Beatrice. "You think grandmamma and I -have too much will for each other." - -"If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that -wilful will of yours." - -"I hope I shall," said Beatrice, "but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good -night, mamma." - -And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she -well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the -many fervent resolutions she had made against it. - -The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and -set out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad -carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice -sat opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with -animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with -explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper -and talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford. - -The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the -early winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, -or they had reached the Allonfield station. - -"Here we are!" exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same -moment a loud voice called out, "All right! where are you, Alex?" upon -which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the -carriage-door, replying, "Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought -Dumpling?" And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, "How d'ye do, -Carey?" - -When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him -shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough -great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred -handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and -Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh -man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt -Mary, upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness, -presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied -to the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at -home. - -"Is the Hall carriage come?" asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff -affirmative, added, "then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while -Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage," offered his arm with tolerable -courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. "There," said he, "Carey -has driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with -him." - -"Is the horse steady?" asked his aunt, anxiously. - -"Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?" said Alex, -patting his old friend. - -"And no lamps?" - -"O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen -times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat." - -"And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time." - -"Lots of ruts," muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, "A -few ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places." - -By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state -of things, said, "I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I -should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house, -and then Dumpling's feelings won't be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton -Leigh." - -Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle -Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, -as the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw -Alexander's own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting -the boys have their own way. She had been rather depressed in the -morning on leaving her mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits -mounted, and she was almost wild with glee. "Aunt Mary, do you know -where you are?" - -"On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks." - -"Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d'ye do? You beginning of -home! I don't know when it is best coming to you: on a summer's evening, -all glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. -There is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the -gate." - -"Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school," said -her aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their -blithe young hearts, and added cheerfully, "Just the same as ever, I -see: how well I know the outline of the bank there!" - -"Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something -inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can't you get up a little -enthusiasm?" - -"Oceans, without getting it up," replied Fred. "I never was more -rejoiced in my whole life," and he began to hum Domum. - -"Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton," -cried Henrietta. - -And the voices began, "Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;" even Aunt Mary -herself caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming -to her own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her -situation, and threw herself into the delight of returning. - -"Now, Fred," said Henrietta, "let us try those verses that you found a -tune for, that begin 'What is home?'" - -This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a -gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. "This is the -beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta," said Mrs. -Frederick Langford. - -"The wood with glades like cathedral aisles," said Henrietta. "O, how -delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!" - -"Which I have never seen," said Beatrice. "I tell papa he has made his -fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it." - -"In which I fully agree with him," said her aunt. "I should not like to -see him with nothing to do." - -"O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do," -said Henrietta. - -"No," said her mother, "but people are always happier with work made for -them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey -has too much talent to be spared." - -"Ay," said Fred, "I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little -Busy Bee." - -"It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so," -said Beatrice. "I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did -retire without--" - -"Without what, Bee?" - -"Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose," said Henrietta very seriously. "I am -sure I should." - -"His being in Parliament will content me for the present," said -Beatrice, "for I have been told too often that high principles don't -rise in the world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as -if he was." - -"You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee," said -Henrietta; "but where are we now?" added she, as a gate swung back. - -"Coming into the paddock," said Beatrice; "don't you see the lights in -the house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that -large one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don't you see that red -fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to -have." - -Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in -the nervous pressure of her mother's hand. The carriage stopped at the -door, whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to -darkness; but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but -have recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more -than one visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, -clear eye, and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than -handing his daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her -brow; then he hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while -she received the kiss of Mrs. Langford. - -They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he -gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more -embraced her, saying, "Bless you, my own dear Mary!" She clung to him -for a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself -in an instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying -to administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which -suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of -the black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair -was perfectly white. "Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You -had better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? -But where is Geoffrey?" - -"He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh," said Beatrice. - -"Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?" said grandpapa, holding out -his arms to her. "And," added he, "is not this your first introduction -to the twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would -wish to see on a summer's day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell -you apart, when you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake -now though. Well, I am right glad to have you here." - -"Won't you take off some of your wraps, Mary?" proceeded Mrs. Langford, -and her daughter-in-law, with a soft "Thank you," passively obeyed. "And -you too, my dear," she added to Henrietta. - -"Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta," proceeded grandpapa. "Let me -see whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, -Mary." - -"Do not you think his forehead like--" and she looked to the end of -the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers -Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now -she could attend to nothing but her mamma. - -"Like poor dear Frederick?" said grandmamma. "Well, I can't judge by -firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very -image." - -"You can't be the image of any one I should like better," said Mr. -Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta's hand. "I -wish nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and -out." - -"Ah, there's Geoffrey!" cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost -running to meet him. - -"Well, Geoffrey, how d'ye do?" added his father with an indescribable -tone and look of heartfelt delight. "Left all your cares behind you?" - -"Left my wife behind me," said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face. - -"Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come," said both the -old people, "but how is poor Lady Susan?" - -"As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand. -Well, Mary, you look tired." - -Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other -accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, -and it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. -Henrietta thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the -trouble, but this would not have been at all according to the habits of -grandmamma or granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to -a large cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she -supposed Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their -maid, who was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the -already bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law -who was standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, -"There, Mary, I thought you would like to be here." - -"Thank you, thank you, you are always kind." - -"There now, Mary, don't let yourself be overcome. You would not -bring him back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There--that is -right--and don't think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had -better not, don't you?" - -"Much better not, thank you, grandmamma," said Henrietta, as she -assisted in settling her mother on the sofa. "She is tired and overcome -now, but she will be herself after a rest." - -"And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of -coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won't you have a cup of -coffee, Mary, my dear?" - -"Thank you, no thank you," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising -herself. "Indeed I am sorry--it is very foolish." Here the choking sob -came again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming -a shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. "Poor -thing, poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? -I'll fetch one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some -sal-volatile? Yes, Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?" - -And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively -distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck, -wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again, -saying, "I did not think I was so weak!" - -"Dearest mamma," said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty. - -"If I have not distressed grandmamma!" said her mother anxiously. "No, -never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and--" - -Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the -unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days -when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new -thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there -again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? -But it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and -the sound of Mrs. Langford's returning footsteps recalled her habit of -self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the -sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for -having given so much trouble. - -"Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you -better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first -time; but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better--Ah! well, I see -you can't bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best -thing. Don't let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear." - -There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick -Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would -have waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear -at table, and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very -fortunately, as Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she -pronounced to be "the half-hour bell," and she hastened away, telling -her granddaughter that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and -calling the maid outside the door to giver her full directions where to -procure anything that her mistress might want. - -"Dear grandmamma! just like herself!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford. "But -Henrietta, my dear," she added with some alarm, "make haste and dress: -you must never be too late in this house!" - -Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too -anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair -was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her -mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. "You -don't know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting," said she. - -At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled, -evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the -door to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest -inquired, and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them -to eat her turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were -perhaps damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford's absence and its cause, for -the dinner was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing -to Henrietta and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country -neighbourhood, in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest. - -As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to -her mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. "But, O mamma, is -this a good thing for you?" said Henrietta, looking at the red case -containing her father's miniature, which had evidently been only just -closed on her entrance. - -"The very best thing for me, dearest," was the answer, now given in her -own calm tones. "It does truly make me happier than anything else. No, -don't look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me, -but I trust it is not." - -"And does this really comfort you, mamma?" said Henrietta, as she -pressed the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. "O, I cannot -fancy that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might -have been, think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O -mamma, I feel quite rebellious!" - -"You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child," said her -mother, sadly. "As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to -wish him here?" - -"And can you bear to say so, mamma?" - -She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had -gone too far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the -daughter timidly asked, "And was this your old room, mamma?" - -"Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish -books. Bring that one," she added, as Henrietta took one out, and -opening it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written "F.H. Langford," -with the giver's name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the -page, "Mary Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred." "I believe that you -may find that in almost all of them," said she. "I am glad they have -been spared from the children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few -more to look over, before you go down again to grandmamma?" - -Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a -selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk, -in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance -of Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health, -strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a -good fire in Geoffrey's room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be -ready. - -Henrietta's ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. -Vivian, naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although -considerably younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in -speechless amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. "But, my dear -child," she said, "I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you -staying up here all the evening." - -Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she -was stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking -maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had -been nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time "Miss Mary" arrived from -India, and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been -called ladies'-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, -if anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known -to all who are happy enough to possess a "Judith." - -"I beg your pardon, miss," said she, as Henrietta opened the door just -before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called -out, "O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me." - -She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the -thin white hand stretched out to her. "I hope you are better, ma'am. It -is something like old times to have you here again." - -"Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith," was the answer, "and very -glad to see you looking like your own dear self." - -"Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma'am; I wish I could see you looking -better." - -"I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been -introduced to Henrietta, there." - -"But I have often heard of you, Judith," said Henrietta, cordially -holding out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with -affectionate earnestness. "Sure enough, miss," said she, "as Missus -says, you are the very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I -think I see a look of poor Master Frederick too." - -"Have you seen my brother, Judith?" asked Henrietta, fearing a second -discussion on likenesses. - -"Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus's room, when -Mr. Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said 'Here's a new -acquaintance for you, Judith,' and there was Master Frederick. I should -have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine -young gentleman he is, to be sure." - -"Why, we must be like your grandchildren!" said Henrietta; "but O! here -comes Fred." - -And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to -his sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on -grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself. - -They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa's chair, -with one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say -Henrietta was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her -by declaring he should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish -days. Then he called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their -home doings, showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed -and stood amazed. "Ah," said grandpapa, "you forgot that I had a Queen -Bee to enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go -buzzing over the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven't -we, Busy, Busy Bee?" - -Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit -round the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and -it was rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, -"Come, young ladies, I've been wearying for a tune these three months. I -hope you are not too tired to give us one." - -"O no, no, grandpapa!" cried Beatrice, "but you must hear Henrietta. It -is a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my -London masters too." - -And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice -came to her aunt's room to wish her good-night, and to hear -Henrietta's opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater -wonder--grandmamma so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a -grandpapa to be proud of! - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - -It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free -from headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to -breakfast. The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning -light that shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and -Henrietta, as usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the -elms and the last year's rooks' nests, to make the most of her time; -so that the bell for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma -would not leave her, and remained to help her. Just as they were going -down at last, they met Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for -poor Mary. She would have almost been better pleased with a slight -indisposition than with dawdling; but she kindly accepted Henrietta's -apologies, and there was one exclamation of joy from all the assembled -party at Mrs. Frederick Langford's unhoped-for entrance. - -"Geoffrey, my dear," began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and -congratulations were over, "will you see what is the matter with the -lock of this tea-chest?--it has been out of order these three weeks, and -I thought you could set it to rights." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old -servant, put in his head. - -"If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. -Geoffrey about his son on the railway." - -Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited -him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: "Geoffrey, -I put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them -when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust." - -A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three -boys, shouting with one voice--"Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you must -come and see which of Vixen's puppies are to be saved!" - -"Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!" was Uncle Geoffrey's answer; "don't you -know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such -wild men of the woods." - -"All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey," said grandmamma. "Ah, he -spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. -There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie," she added, as -they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. - -Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of -Alexander. "How shall I ever know them apart?" said she to Beatrice. - -"Like grandmamma's nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below -another," said Beatrice. "However, I don't require you to learn them all -at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have -you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?" - -Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter -make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen -Bee's side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly -discomposed by Henrietta's neighbourhood. - -John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and -in another minute they made their appearance. "Good morning sir; good -morning, ma'am," were Uncle Roger's greetings, as he came in. "Ah, Mary, -how d'ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.---Ah, -good morning, good morning," as he quickly shook hands with the younger -ones. "Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into -the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping." - -And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, -during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to -see him look so young--younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but -in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had -thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey's hair, paled his cheek, and traced -lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light -that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often -played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure -that might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and -much more robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face -ruddy brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In -his plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he -looked the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable -family likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and -lip, which recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle -Geoffrey. - -The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the -signal for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up -stairs for her mother's work, and came down again laughing. "I am sure, -Queenie," said she, "that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may -well be called a great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at -breakfast, I have just come across a consultation on the stairs between -him and Judith about--what was it?--some money in a savings' bank." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these -degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give -'Master Geoffrey' all the management of it. But if you are surprised -now, what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not -asked in at least fifty matters." - -"I'll count," said Henrietta: "what have we had already?" and she took -out pencil and paper--"Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and -the turnpike trust--" - -"Vixen's puppies and the drill," suggested her mamma. - -"And Judith's money," added Henrietta. "Six already--" - -"To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear -of," said Beatrice; "and look here, what I am going to seal for him, -one, two, three--eight letters." - -"Why! when could he possibly have written them?" - -"Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma -will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up -with a candle after eleven o'clock. I really believe that there is not -another living creature in the world who could do it in this house. -There, you may add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is -going to the Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar." - -"O, I wish we could walk there!" - -"I dare say we can. I'll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like -Henrietta to go and see the Pleasance?" - -"Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee," said Aunt -Mary; "but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day." - -"Walk to Sutton Leigh!" echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the -moment; "not you, surely, Mary?" - -"O no, no, grandmamma," said Beatrice, laughing; "she was only talking -of Henrietta's doing it." - -"Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this -morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you, -and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to -send over for poor Tom's sore mouth." - -Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked, -"Have they no currant jelly themselves?" - -"O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don't mean that the -boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor -Elizabeth can never make any preserves." - -"But," objected Queen Bee, "if one of the children is ill, do you think -Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could -take the jelly." - -"O nonsense, Bee," said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; "you don't -like to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can't be as -good-natured to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the -village." - -"Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that." - -"O no, no, grandmamma," joined in Henrietta, "we shall be very glad to -take it. Pray let us." - -"Yes," added Beatrice, "if it is really to be of any use, no one can be -more willing." - -"Of any use?" repeated Mrs. Langford. "No! never mind. I'll send -someone." - -"No, pray do not, dear grandmamma," eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; "I do -beg you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to -let me be useful." - -Grandmamma was pacified. "When will you set out?" she asked; "you had -better not lose this bright morning." - -"We will go directly," said Queen Bee; "we will go by the west turning, -so that Henrietta may see the Pleasance." - -"My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won't have you getting -wet in your feet and catching cold." - -"O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it -has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning." - -"As if he knew, or cared anything about it!--and you will be late for -luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day -she feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will -always have your own way." - -Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this -altercation; and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her -cousin, she would have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would -have interfered in another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey -gave a sudden turn to affairs. - -"Who likes to go to the Pleasance?" said he, as he entered. "All whose -curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots." - -"Here are the girls dying to go," said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as -if she had not been objecting the minute before. - -"Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens." Then, -turning to his mother, "Didn't I hear you say you had something to send -to Elizabeth, ma'am?" - -"Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if--" - -"O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don't cheat me," exclaimed -Henrietta. "If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better -with me than in Uncle Geoffrey's pocket." - -"Ay, that will be the proper division of labour," said Uncle Geoffrey, -looking well pleased with his niece; "but I thought you were off to get -ready." - -"Don't keep your uncle waiting, my dear," added her mamma; and Henrietta -departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, "If -there is a thing I can't endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of -the children is poorly! It is always bad enough--" - -"Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!" cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of -any flaw in her paradise. - -"You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden -bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your -shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that -crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the -house. It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over -sum, es, est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers -in a small house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing -instead of getting ready." - -"So are you." - -"My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I'll tell you -what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you -to 'improve each shining hour;' for nothing will get you into such dire -disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame -to waste papa's time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I -will trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself." - -In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still -measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted -her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at -the door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually -waited there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time -since, and the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together -first. Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance -that she might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil -her expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the -masonry was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of -freestone and of flints, the windows were not casements as she thought -they ought to have been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, -which contained the drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a -respectable, comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be -said in its praise, and Beatrice's affection had so embellished it -in description, that it was no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly -disappointed. She had had some expectation, too, of seeing it in the -midst of a park, instead of which the carriage-drive along which they -were walking, only skirted a rather large grass field, full of elm -trees, and known by the less dignified name of the paddock. But she -would not confess the failure of her expectations even to herself, and -as Beatrice was evidently looking for some expressions of admiration, -she said the road must be very pretty in summer. - -"Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves," said Queen Bee. -"Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have -this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I -carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to -me as the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and -rabbits. But here are the outfield and the drill." - -And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they -entered a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and -gravelled, so as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, -as the gentlemen left them to march up and down there by themselves, -whilst they were discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine -which was travelling along the furrows. It was rather a trial of -patience, but Beatrice was used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to -be pleased with anything. - -At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his -granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with -Martin. - -"Well, young ladies," said he, "this is fine drilling, in patience at -least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger's -new-fangled machines." - -"That is right, grandpapa," said Queen Bee; "you hate them as much as I -do, don't you now?" - -"She is afraid they will make honey by steam," said grandpapa, "and -render bees a work of supererogation." - -"They are doing what they can towards it," said Beatrice. "Why, when Mr. -Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling -for my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy -destroyed. And they won't even let them swarm their own way--a most -unwarrantable interference with the liberty of the subject." - -"Well done, Queenie," said Mr. Langford, laughing; "a capital champion. -And so you don't look forward to the time when we are to have our hay -made by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by -a third--ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?" - -"Bird-starving!" repeated Henrietta. - -"Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother's elegant -diminutive," said Beatrice, "serving as live scarecrows." - -"I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose," -said Henrietta. - -"This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten -minutes," said grandpapa; "but I told Uncle Roger we would have none -of them here unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at -every third explosion." - -"Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?" said Henrietta. - -"He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home -with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave -him to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast." - -"Don't they succeed, then?" said Henrietta. - -"Why--ay--I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we -achieved a prize ox,--such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could -not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such -waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog." - -Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or -earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little -liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed -manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful -grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger. - -"There is Sutton Leigh," said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low -white house among farm buildings. "Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for -an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey -into the bargain?" - -"Jessie Carey!" exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay. - -"Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her -with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh." - -"Is she one of Aunt Roger's nieces?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Beatrice. "And--O! grandpapa, don't look at me in that way. -Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?" - -"I won't have Henrietta prejudiced," said Mr. Langford. "Don't listen to -her, my dear: and I'll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest, -good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never -thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness." - -"Now for the but, grandpapa," cried Beatrice. "I allow all that, only -grant me the but." - -"But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down -on us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual -society." - -"O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don't really believe that. -O, say you don't!" And Beatrice's black eyes were full of tears. - -"If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee," and he -added, half whispering, "take care some of us do not believe the other -half. But don't look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your -waxen cells, and don't lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to -you, I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining -companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as -yours." - -They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little -altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden -in front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in -sight there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, -all darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms. - -"Let me loose, you varlets," he cried, and disengaging one hand, in -another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, -which he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all -the urchins in pursuit. - -At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford -appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing -Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never -seen a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and -a drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in -fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery. - -Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie -Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty -girl of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and -a face which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton -Leigh. - -But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very -tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but -for its novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick -Langford, then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave -the history of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on -Uncle Geoffrey's knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of -his watch. Henrietta's list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle -Geoffrey advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie's, and -assisted Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise. - -It was almost one o'clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates -was heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to -luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on -with him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own -affairs at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had -hardly ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she -was not only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and -uncalled-for fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking -on deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the -management of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor -was the matter mended by the attempts at correction made from time -to time by their father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better -than Beatrice, whose face ill concealed an expression of disgust and -weariness, and who maintained a silence very unlike her usual habits. - -At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their -walk, and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had -quitted the house, that the boys were too well occupied with their -pudding to wish to accompany them, but she did not venture on any -further remarks before her papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned -to point out all the interesting localities to Henrietta. There was -something to tell of every field, every tree, or every villager, with -whom he exchanged his hearty greeting. If it were only a name, it -recalled some story of mamma's, some tradition handed on by Beatrice. -Never was walk more delightful; and the girls were almost sorry to find -themselves at the green gate of the Pleasance, leading to a gravel -road, great part of which had been usurped by the long shoots of the -evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be said to correspond in -appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted, unfurnished state; but -the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle Geoffrey was deep in -the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted about from garret -to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing possibilities, in -complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for ever; and rather -tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of the stairs, -and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next summer; then -talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last books they -had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey, being more -merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and summoned them -to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road, through the -village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet seen. It -was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in gardens, -and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the care of -the proprietor. - -"O, here is the church," said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they -came to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground -occupied by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm -trees, amongst which could just be seen the small old church, with its -large deep porch and curious low tower. - -"The door is open," said Beatrice; "I suppose they are bringing in the -holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?" - -"I do not know," said she, looking at her uncle. "Mamma--" - -"I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and -herself too," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"I am sure I should wish it very much," said Henrietta, and they entered -the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and -low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and -impressive to Henrietta's present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her -on into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording -the names of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly -noticeable for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore -the name of Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and -his age, only twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had -the initials F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and -looked in deep silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and -her uncle's thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. -Her father had been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so -entirely one in mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than -his elder brother, and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle -Geoffrey's life. - -The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the -door, as the old clerk's wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and -dragging a mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to -her courtesy, and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other -end of the church to assist in the Christmas decorations. - -Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. "This is coming very -near him!" said she in a low voice. "Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure -that he knows me." - -"Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us," -said Uncle Geoffrey. "Think rather of 'I shall go to him, but he shall -not return to me.'" - -"But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me -and knows how--how I would have loved him, and how I do love him," she -added, while the tears rose to her eyes. - -"It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most -comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world: -but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to -dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it -depends but on ourselves." - -To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; -but he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta's mind to merge the -reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical -feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had -never heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she -lost sight of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards -her mother. It was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, -and with how many daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, -that though even to himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. -Geoffrey Langford resolved that his niece's first visit to her father's -grave should not be spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, -alluring because involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in -thoughts which might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up -of self-will. - -Henrietta looked very thoughtful. "That time is so far away!" said she. - -"How do you know that?" said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought -the full perception that "it is nigh, even at the doors." - -She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought -home to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father's -summons. - -"It is awful," she said. "I cannot bear to think of it." - -"Henrietta," said her uncle solemnly, "guard yourself from being so -satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, -most real future." He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: "The -present, which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of -visions and thoughts, but of deeds." - -Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, "But, uncle, that would -bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in -heart and mind ascend?" - -"Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of -earthly affection." - -"Then would you not have me think of him at all?" said she, almost -reproachfully. - -"I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb -the love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same -time you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that -is what your father would desire?" - -"You mean," she said sadly, "that while I do not think enough of God, -and while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the -thought I love best, the thought that he is near." - -"Take it rather as a caution than as blame," said Uncle Geoffrey. A long -silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea -opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of -her father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much -worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it -was by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother's mind, -the truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive -it, but still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished -so as to be almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey's manner was so kind -that she could not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she -had hoped for a narration of some part of her father's history, and for -the indulgence of that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead -of this she was bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, -or to seek for a duty which she had rather not believe that she had -neglected, though--no, she did not like to look deeper. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature -it might be, he could not guess, and then said, "One thing more before -we leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment -in its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. -Will you try to exert it in the right way?" - -"You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age," said -Henrietta. - -"Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better -than what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the -sake of obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter." - -While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice's operations with the holly -had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the -church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance -showed Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of -whom she had heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the -holly in her hand. "Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing." - -"I was just helping old Martha," said Beatrice; "we came in to show my -cousin the church, and--" - -By this time the others had advanced. - -"How well the church looks this dark afternoon," said Uncle Geoffrey, -speaking in a low tone, "it is quite the moment to choose for seeing -it for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your -adornments." - -"I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to -the arrangement myself," said Mr. Franklin, "but I am afraid I know very -little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with -your taste." - -Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled -with delight. "I should like it exceedingly," said the former; "I was -just thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it -beautifully." - -"Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can -be done?" - -"Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard," -said Queen Bee. "And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the -places that are out of reach." - -"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; "I assure you the -matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is, -certainly has not the best taste in church dressing." - -"And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there -ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look, -papa, do you not think so?" - -"You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel," said -her papa, "and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at -the head of the tables of commandments." - -"O, and don't you see," said Henrietta, "there in front of the altar -is a space, where I really think we might make the cross and 'I H S' in -holly?" - -"But could you, Henrietta?" asked Beatrice. - -"O yes, I know I can; I made 'M.L.' in roses on mamma's last birthday, -and set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure -we could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!" - -"Ah!" said Mr. Franklin, "I have heard of such things, but I had always -considered them as quite above our powers." - -"They would be, without Henrietta," said Queen Bee, "but she was always -excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice -taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, -and we will do our work so as to amaze the parish." - -"And now," said Uncle Geoffrey, "we must be walking home, my young -ladies. It is getting quite dark." - -It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading -on the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty -on the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the -way home with them, adding to Henrietta's list by asking counsel about -a damp spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted -with a refractory farmer. - -By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the -sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet -them in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been -lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they -were dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two -girls up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their -things on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at -half-past five. - -"Is mamma gone up?" asked Henrietta. - -"Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is -gone to rest herself." - -"And how long have you been at home, Fred?" said Queen Bee. "Why, you -have performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?" - -"I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone," -said Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta's ears, implied that he was not -quite pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to -her, "I wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and -Carey thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and -thereby they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to -change his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. -I declare it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made -of sugar candy." - -With Uncle Geoffrey's admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints -sounded painfully in Henrietta's ears, and she would gladly have soothed -away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the -stairs for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally -appropriate, especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming -down from above and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred -therefore retreated into their mamma's room, where they found her -sitting on a low stool by the fire, reading by its light one of the old -childish books, of which she seemed never to weary. Fred's petulance, -to do him justice, never could endure the charm of her presence, and his -brow was as bright and open as his sister's as he came forward, hoping -that she was not tired. - -"Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear," said she, smiling; "I enjoyed -my walk exceedingly." - -"A walk!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with -grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen -garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?" - -"I've been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen," answered Henrietta, -gaily. "I have seen everything--Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and the -church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the church -for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only think -of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always thought -it something too great and too happy for me ever to do." - -"I hope you will be able to succeed in it," said her mamma. "What a -treat it will be to see your work on Sunday." - -"And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach -the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures." - -Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole -live stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the -plantations, and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on -the bark of the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. -He "was just going to see Dumpling and Vixen's puppies at Sutton Leigh, -when--" - -"When I caught you, my poor boy," said his mamma; "and very cruel it -was, I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again." - -"I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks -of minding those things." - -"You should have seen him, Henrietta," said his mother; "his shoes -looked as if he had been walking through a river." - -"Well, but so were all the others," said Fred. - -"Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such -sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. -But you--if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you -know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up -with a bad cold." - -"I never catch cold," said Fred. - -"Boys always say so," said Mrs. Frederick Langford; "it is a--what shall -I call it?--a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always defeat -when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I won't -put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the fender -croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with stick-liquorice -and Ivanhoe." - -"You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma," -said Henrietta, "just to see how grandmamma will nurse it." - -A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing -the arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford's maid; who had come in -such good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed -a whole quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary -punctuality without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, -sitting round the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. -Langford; and Uncle Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a -leisure time; and there was so much merriment in talking over the walk, -and discussing the plans for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved -never again to miss such a pleasant reunion by her own tardiness. - -Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by -getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the -room to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and -by finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of -her own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was -going on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. -She kept her list of Uncle Geoffrey's manifold applicants on the table -before her, and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business -unknown, who sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud -and eager appeal from Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a -question of taste on the shades of grandmamma's carpet-work, and by her -own query how to translate a difficult German passage which had baffled -herself, mamma, and Fred. - -However, Queen Bee's number, fifty, had not been attained, and her -majesty was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of -a day, for which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be -continued. - -Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain -her resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford -evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two -children's own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her -sleep something about "delightful," "bright leaves and red berries," and -then, "and 'tis for my own dear papa." - -And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta -and Frederick as serenely happy as she was? - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - -Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, -but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome -her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to -a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. -She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called -a sparrow's allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained -nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut -her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if -each piece was to serve as a model for future generations. - -The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her -spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year's -party on Monday week, the second of January. "It would be pleasant for -the young people," she thought, "if Mary did not think it would be too -much for her." - -Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer -would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should -be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great -treat to Henrietta and Fred. - -"We will have the carpet up in the dining-room," added Mrs. Langford, -"and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a -nice little set for a dance." - -"O thank you, grandmamma," cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford -looked at her. - -"Poor innocent, you little know!" murmured Queen Bee to herself. - -"That is right, Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "I like to see young -people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in -moderation." - -"Above dancing," said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection -on his pet, Queen Bee, "that is what you call being on the high rope, -isn't it?" - -Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. - -"Are you on the high rope, Queenie?" asked Fred, who sat next to her: -"do you despise the light fantastic--?" - -"I don't know: I do not mind it much," was all she could bring herself -to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious -before her father. "Not much in itself," she added, in a lower tone, -as the conversation grew louder, "it is the people, Philip Carey, and -all,--but hush! listen." - -He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at -each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her -Aunt Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and -the stream of conversation flowed away from the fete. - -The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered -Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at -the Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. -"Bring him safe," said she, "for if you fail, and prove a corbie -messenger, I promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry -bee." - -Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up -after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma's writing-case down -for her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help -waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing -between her mother and uncle. - -"Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?" he asked. - -"Thank you," she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, "I think not." - -"Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you," -said he in a voice of kind solicitude. - -"Thank you very much, Geoffrey," she replied, in an earnest tone, "but -indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on -such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order." - -"I understand," said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the -writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment's perception -of the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her. - -In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious -family of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the -bright sunshine near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy -flower-pots, instantly sprang forward with, "O grandmamma, let me help." - -Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she -was gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried -the myrtle, the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant -deeply-indented leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, -and was deep in the story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been -planted by Uncle Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed -likely to grow beyond the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when -Beatrice came down and beheld her with consternation--"Henrietta! -Henrietta! what are you about?" cried she, breaking full into the story. -"Do make haste." - -"I will come in a minute," said Henrietta, who was assisting in -adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied. - -"Don't stop for me, my dear," said Mrs. Langford: "there, don't let me -be in your way." - -"O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much." - -"But, Henrietta," persisted the despotic Queen Bee, "we really ought to -be there." - -"What is all this about?" said grandmamma, not particularly well -pleased. "There, go, go, my dear; I don't want any more, thank you: what -are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?" - -"Yes, grandmamma," said Beatrice, "did you not hear that Mr. Franklin -asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time -in these short days." - -"Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I -never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very -different now!" - -Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed "Do make haste," and -then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, "I do not see why -young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than -arraying themselves for balls and dances!" - -True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her -father or mother stand before her at that moment? - -"Ah, well! it is all very well," said grandmamma, shaking her head, as -she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, "you girls think yourselves -so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better -let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were -born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won't be fit to be -seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could -consent, Henrietta looks very delicate." - -"O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed." - -"I am sure she is hoarse this morning," proceeded Mrs. Langford; "I -shall speak to her mamma." - -"O don't, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would -Mr. Franklin do?" - -"O very well, I promise you, as he has done before," said Mrs. Langford, -hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted -upstairs to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could -arrive. It was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to -have many scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would -be to be obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of -reach; so she let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a -far less leisurely and discriminating manner than was usual with her. - -"It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose," -said Beatrice, "to go down the back stairs." - -"True," said Henrietta, "we will even take the bull by the horns." - -"And trust to our heels," said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; -"the coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not -stop us if they can help it. One, two, three, and away!" - -Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green -walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, -and take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. -And after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have -gone openly and with clear consciences, had they but properly and -submissively waited the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, -who did not know how ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been -very sorry to interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother -to it, in his own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had -been entirely caused by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of -objecting when it had been first mentioned the evening before, and -had not Beatrice not first fidgeted and then argued, would only have -regarded it as a pleasant way of occupying their morning. - -"I could scold you, Miss Drone," said Beatrice when the two girls had -set themselves to rights, and recovered breath; "it was all the fault of -your dawdling." - -"Well, perhaps it was," said Henrietta, "but you know I could not see -grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her." - -"How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to -be helped?" - -"Then she was very kind to me," replied Henrietta. - -"I see how it will be," said Beatrice, smiling, "you will be -grandmamma's pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get -her to let me help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent." - -Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either -grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also -with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was -determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was -of course equally resolute. - -"She is an amazing person!" said Henrietta. "Is she eighty yet?" - -"Seventy-nine," said Beatrice; "and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say -I think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and -grandmothers, if there was one like Uncle Roger's fat cattle shows. You -know she thinks nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and -all over the village besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the -Sutton Leigh path. Let me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, -that's right! Capital!" cried she in high glee; "here is Birnam wood -coming across the field." And springing on one of the bars of the gate -near the top, she flourished her handkerchief, chanting or singing, - - -"Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, -With all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my--quick -descending:" - - -she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring -precipitately down to avoid a fall. "It made a capital conclusion, -however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen," as -four or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush--"Well, -gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een." - -"With sair fingers, you mean," said Fred; "these bushes scratch like -half a dozen wild cats." - -"It is in too good a cause for me to pity you," said Beatrice. - -"Nor would I accept it if you would," said Fred. - -His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would -or not,--"How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let -me see, I have my penknife." - -"Stuff!" was Fred's gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. - -"But why did you not put on your gloves?" proceeded Henrietta. - -"Gloves, nonsense!" said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. - -"He will take up the gauntlet presently," said Beatrice. "By the by, -Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?" - -"O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield," said Alex. - -"Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them," said -Carey, "but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl's things; -I tell her then she can't be driven." - -Fred could not bear to hear of Carey's driving, a thing which he had not -yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, "You have not -told the news yet." - -"What news?" - -"The Euphrosyne is coming home," cried the boys with one voice. "Had we -not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any -day!" - -"That is something like news," said Queen Bee; "I thought it would -only be that the puppies could see, or that Tom's tooth was through. -Grandpapa has not heard it?" - -"Papa is going up to tell him," said John. "I was going too, only Alex -bagged me to carry his holly-bush." - -"And so the great Rogero is coming home!" said Beatrice. "How you will -learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially -if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must -practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, -Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred's great love of -dancing." - -"I love dancing?" exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and -contempt. - -"Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was -proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for -the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!" - -"If it comes at all you must start me, Bee," said Alex, "for I am sure I -can't dance with any one but you." - -"Let me request it now," said Fred, "though why you should think I like -dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it -endurable." - -"There are compliments to your Majesty," cried Henrietta, laughing; "one -will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it -endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified." - -"Time will show," said Beatrice; "I shall ponder on their requests, -and decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against -hater of the dance." - -"I don't love it, I declare," exclaimed Fred. - -"I don't mind it, if you dance with me," said Alex. - -And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself -the object of attention to both. - -Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to -think applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal -appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have -thought herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of -attention, her delight in playing off her two cousins against each -other? Beauty, or the consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. -Henrietta, if ever the matter occurred to her, could not help knowing -that she was uncommonly pretty, yet no one could be more free from any -tendency to this habit. Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, -but that did not make the least difference; if any, it was rather on the -side of vanity, in being able without a handsome face, so to attract and -engross her cousins. It was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel -her power to play them off, and irritate the little feelings of jealousy -which she had detected; and thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she -pursued her course. - -On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had -brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they -had to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha's to fetch the key. -In a few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them -ready to fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a -huge heap of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use. - -The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on -the top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but -she thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field -upon which she had to work began to alarm her imagination. - -Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations -with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the -aisle, and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring -that they could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made -no objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly -observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and -Alex. - -"Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? -Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed, -we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us, -and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing." - -Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, -rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies' -work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his -assistance when she asked Fred's, and she felt secure of them both. - -"There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see -if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to -make a festoon if we cannot fasten it." - -"I can't see anything." - -"Here, give me your hand, and I'll look." Up tripped the little Bee, -just holding by his hand. "Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great -rough nail sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a -sailor's knot round it. Help me down first though--thank you. Fred, will -you trim that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We -must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the -screen. How tough this ivy is! Thank you--that's it. Well, Mr. Franklin, -I hope we shall get on in time." - -Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and -himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that -the Misses Langford would not tire themselves. - -Angels' work is Church decoration--work fit for angels, that is to say; -but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its greatness -makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory of -God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches -before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a -more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young -creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with -those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His -sanctuary? - -Angels' work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we -upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful -reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was -that spirit of holy fear--that sole desire for His glory--the chief -thought with these young people? - -Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in -word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a -tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect -for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down -ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little -mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly -perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for -four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so -many hours. - -But still Beatrice's great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the -two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful -power it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment -so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused without -irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a power of -which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen -the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a -hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath -which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other -three--certainly neglected--but she did not feel it so; she had rather -be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked -to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought -to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey's conversation dwelt upon her too; she began -to realize his meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his -desire, by entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. -Opportunities for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight -Sutton, and she had been looking forward to having him all to herself -here, when he must wish to visit his father's grave with her. She was -vexed for a moment that his first attention was not given to it; but she -knew that his first thought was there, and boys never showed what was -uppermost in their minds to anyone but their sisters. She should have -him by and by, and the present was full of tranquil enjoyment. - -If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, -or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been -little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her. - -"Is it possible!" exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of -the single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. "I -thought you would have given us at least eleven more." - -"What a quantity remains to be done!" sighed Henrietta, laying down -the wreath which she had just completed. "Your work looks beautiful, -Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?" - -"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain--that -we can't go home to luncheon." - -"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will -she like it?" - -Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never mind, -it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, -and besides we might be caught and stopped." - -"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite -convinced. - -"So you mean to starve," said Alex. - -"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do -you say, Henrietta?" - -"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing." - -"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough -missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke. - -"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to -Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls -the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the -porch." - -"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I -thought she would soon come down to other mortals." - -"Only to gratify her famishing subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal -vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is -sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. -Geoffrey is coming." - -"For his private eating?" said Fred. - -"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the -village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the -children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little -Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. -But come, Alex, why are you not off?" - -"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest -openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him -an effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, -and comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger -allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either -knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently -awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty. - -"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his -purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here -is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty's service." - -"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to -loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen quite -so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up -in my desk at home." - -"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta. - -"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, -"if it won't quite break you down." - -"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air. -"Come along, Alex." - -Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could -have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have -come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see -them no more." - -"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure Fred -will behave better." - -"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a gun -is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again -'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to -look at your wreath." - -She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much -time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and -in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the -faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was -heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper -parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and -a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame -Reid's grandson. - -"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?" - -"Ay." - -"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went. - -"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came -out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and -she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting -to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg pardon, -but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews's about his terrier.--A. L." -"Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little -pique. "What a life I will lead them!" - -"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does -not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but -still I thought Fred would have behaved better." - -"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, -and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half -the phases of boy nature." - -Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she -expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that -was nothing--that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and -true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father's grave. -He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear -that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her -one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in -all to each other at Rocksand. - -It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it -had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, -and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by -the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the -churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well -pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. -They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her -squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest -and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of -this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper -of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day. - -It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was -kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, -timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-- - - -"Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on -earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." - - -Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their -tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight -and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another and -another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier -voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably -beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till -Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just -within the door watching them. - -"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your -work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I -don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?" - -"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. "Who -else could?" - -"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about -to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an arrangement to -suggest so much." - -Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time -perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the -altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves -and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in -the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and -around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, -the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their -peculiar stiff gracefulness. - -"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did not -mean to make it so!" - -"How?" he asked. - -"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of -thorns struck her more and more strongly. - -"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in -a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for -Good Friday?" - -"Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy." - -"Where are those verses that say--let me see-- - - - 'And still Thy Church's faith Shall link, - In all her prayer and praise, - Thy glory with Thy death.' - - -So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right." - -Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, -"It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art--or, what shall I call -it?--is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the author -intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else." - -"There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the -spirit in which a thing is done," said her father: "But have you much -more to do? Those columns look very well." - -"O, are you come to help us, papa?" - -"I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your -not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again -just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you." - -Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, "Very well, -we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make -her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?" - -It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows -that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was -promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste -and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin -came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which -had grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of -evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the spiral -festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower of -holly over the font--all were more beautiful, both together and singly, -than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and thanks. - -The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied -survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the -pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As -they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal: -children's voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, -were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with - - -"As shepherds watch'd their flocks by night." - - -And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little -voices was brought on the still frosty wind-- - - -"Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind." - -Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,--how -really Christmas-like--how well it suited the soft half-light, the last -pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn stars -that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and -sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!--and how -the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta's eyes! - -The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, -with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary's beautiful -voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was -teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came -up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party -to listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk -with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the -many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom -Mrs. Langford's plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey's sixpences, were a very -enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - -The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with -many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must -be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the -whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer -hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the -party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage -by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with -recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It -was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his -arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, making her even more -lovely than when last she entered there--her face in all its early bloom -of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness. - -But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that "peace which passeth all -understanding;" and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her -eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and -she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go -through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged -their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather -than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome -channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her -more full of her father's presence than of any other, so now, throughout -the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and -entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work -herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her -mamma's own anxieties for Fred. - -Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all -left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to -talk her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured -by them that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from -it. But though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was -not much likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had -always been sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when -Fred saw that his mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of -agitation, he dismissed anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at -his sister's alarms. - -Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he -was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations -which had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, -replying to the scolding with which she visited their desertion. - -Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, -which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning -sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the -compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. -The old women had "never seen nothing like it,"--the school children -whispered to each other, "How pretty!" Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin -admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted; -grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and -Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it "was like magic." - -It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been -accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall -was so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in -time for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which -she had often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, -the Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the -farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked. - -Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick -Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own -apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement -of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow -path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking -sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen. - -Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept -him estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for -execution. Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their -grandfather was wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping -them to feed the cows with turnips, and guarding them from going behind -their heels. Henrietta was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was -doing the honours for her, and instructing her in the difference between -a Guernsey cow and a short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen -Bee all to himself in a remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old -spotted Nancy's curly brow, catching at her polished black-tipped horn, -and listening to his hopes and fears for the next half year. Not so -Frederick, as he stood at the door with Jessie Carey, who, having no -love for the cow-house, especially when in her best silk, thought always -ready to take care of the children there, was very glad to secure a -companion outside, especially one so handsome, so much more polished -than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply to her small talk. -Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how he longed to be -listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking holly into the -cows' halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the hay-loft with -Carey and William--anywhere, rather than be liable to the imputation of -being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house. - -This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still -an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman, -and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and -the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while -Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, "Well, Fred, I congratulate -you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!" - -"I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?" - -"Nay, you can't deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me -for finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay -so bad a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise." - -"How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I -was actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that -great print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy -roof, and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, -the haze of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns." - -"Quite poetical," said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. -"How charmed Jessie must have been!" - -"Why?" said Fred, rather provoked. - -"Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be -quite her phoenix; and how much 'Thomson's Seasons' you will have to -hear! I dare say you have had it already-- - - - 'Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!'" - - -"Well, very good advice, too," said Fred. - -"I hate and detest Thomson," said Beatrice; "above all, for travestying -Ruth into 'the lovely young Lavinia;' so whenever Jessie treated me to -any of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I -said, by great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an -imposition for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a -capital hit, for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much -of him, and since that time I have heard no more of 'Jemmy Thomson! -Jemmy Thomson! O!'" - -The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, -reaching Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with -his mother, made him suspect that the young people were getting into -such spirits as were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked -them some trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, -and brought it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone. - -Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had -to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the -dining-room--an entree all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin was -dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander. - -Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the -whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to -her, as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, -but for the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular -music, it might as well have been any other day of the week. - -Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had -a long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and -she helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions -about her mother's health and habits, and heard a good deal that -interested her, but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. -At Rocksand she used to sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the -darkening summer twilight, or the bright red light of the winter fire, -repeating or singing hymns, and enjoying the most delightful talks that -the whole week had to offer, and now she greatly missed the conversation -that would have "set this strange week to rights in her head," as she -said to herself. - -She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at -night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as -difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a -new day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by -Knight Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she -asked herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change -in her way of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last -Sunday that she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at -Rocksand. Enough had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was -fulfilled; the airy castle of former days had become a substance, and -she was inhabiting it: and was she really so very much happier? There -she went into a reverie--but musing is not meditating, nor vague -dreamings wholesome reflections; she went on sitting their, chiefly -for want of energy to move, till the fire burnt low, the clock struck -twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed in a sleepy voice, "My -dear, are you going to sleep there?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - -Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the -Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in -Knight's Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin -without loss of time. - -"You are coming, are you not, Bee?" said Alex, leaning over the back of -her chair. - -"O yes," said she, nearly whispering "only take care. It is taboo -there,"--and she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, "and -don't frighten Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey's doing the -deed as fast as he can." - -Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and -Fred was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, -hoping it might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take -care of himself since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the -alarmed expression had come over her face, as she asked Alexander -whether his father had looked at the ice. - -"No," said Alex, "but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and -it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece." - -"He is pretty well to be trusted," said his grandfather, "more -especially as it would be difficult to get drowned there." - -"I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there," said -Alex. - -"The travelling man did," exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. - -"Don't they come in just like the Greek chorus?" said Beatrice, in a -whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend -to her. - -"I thought he was drowned in the river," said Alex. - -"No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the -duckweed grows so rank in summer," said Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey laughed. "I am sorry to interfere with your romantic -embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since -you are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours." - -"I always thought it was there," said the boy. - -"And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off." - -"I always heard it was at Knight's Pool," repeated Carey. - -"I do not know what you may have heard," said Uncle Geoffrey; "but as it -happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not -argue the point." - -"Grandpapa," persisted Carey, "was it not in Knight's Pool?" - -"Certainly not," was the answer drily given. - -"Well," continued Carey, "I am sure you might drown yourself there." - -"Rather than own yourself mistaken," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction," said grandmamma, rising and -rustling past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced -face. "Take your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and -stand like a gentleman. Do!" - -"All in vain!" said Beatrice. "To the end of his life he will maintain -that Knight's Pool drowned the travelling man!" - -"Well, never mind," said John, impatiently, "are we coming to skate this -morning or are we not?" - -"I really wish," said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, "without -distrusting either old Knight's Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that -you would ask some one to look at it." - -"I should like just to run down and see the fun," said Uncle Geoffrey, -thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran -joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, -Beatrice to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked -her son Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable -shutting of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done -it, he readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all -else give way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, "I -shall be ready by the time the young ladies come down." - -So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice -appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the -boys looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight -Sutton, being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but -a messenger came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except -Sunday, and returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient -arrangement, as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might -probably say for twenty years more. - -As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., -and Fred's face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written -business-like sheets. - -"Fred, my poor fellow," said his uncle, looking up, "I am sorry for you, -but one or two must be answered by this day's post. I will not be longer -than I can help." - -"Then do let us come on," exclaimed the chorus. - -"Come, Queenie," added Alex. - -She delayed, however, saying, "Can I do any good, papa?" - -"Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save -time if you could just copy a letter." - -"O thank you, pray let me," said Beatrice, delighted. "Go on, Henrietta, -I shall soon come." - -Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her -brother, which she did not like to lose. - -Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in -the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, "Freddy, I believe you think me -very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice -till one of your uncles has said it is safe." - -"Uncle Roger trusts Alex," said Fred. - -"Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of -you together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be -dangerous places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear," added -she, as the others were preparing to start, "only I beg you will not -attempt to skate till your uncle comes." - -"Very well," said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he -showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not -to set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had -resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest -days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place -on his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been -voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in -vain with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should -bring the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself -for the entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of -disobedience. - -In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red -leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move, -apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like -the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in -fact the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat -opposite to him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely -happy, for to the credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that -no talk with Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, -no, not even a flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in -her estimation to the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though -it was copying a dry legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the -smooth hard ice, in the bright winter morning's sunshine. - -The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty -or five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice -looked up, and without speaking, held up her sheet. - -"Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now -then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel -for him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:" and -muttering a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer's -indefatigable pen; and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off -with her droll, tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so -well with her little alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black -velvet bonnet, a tight black velvet "jacket," as she called it, and a -brown silk dress, with narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, -because it was the colour of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, -boa, or ribbon about her, but all close and compact, fit for the -diversion which she was eager to enjoy. The only girl among so many -boys, she had learnt to share in many of their sports, and one of the -prime favourites was skating, a diversion which owes as much of its -charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to the degree of -skill which it requires. - -She arrived at the stile leading to "Knight's Portion," as it was -called, and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if -it was all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner -of a down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied -all the attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of -precipice, where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old -chalk pit formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the -foot of a hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply -traced circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger -ones with those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which -the unskilful are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick -and Henrietta stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly -cheerful; but both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came -to meet her with eager inquiries for her papa. - -She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from -the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and -who hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been -entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour, -and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, -or to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for -was impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and -exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his -own hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had -occasioned the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps -in a sort of secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as -to form in his eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown -himself so unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction -she beheld her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height -above, and while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to -herself, "It will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!" - -So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once -to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement -for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as -skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment's reflection -might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be -rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which -he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon -against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of -anything so "boyish," and had long ago entreated her to be more like a -young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her papa -and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander's summons, -fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the surface of -the Knight's Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity with surprise -and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, -looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. At first she -had occupation enough in attending to her own security to bestow any -attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an hour, she -began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the pitch where -consideration is lost, she "could not help," in her own phrase, laughing -at the disconsolate Fred. - -"How woebegone he looks!" said she, as she whisked past, "but never -mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other." - -"It must be gone," said Fred. "I am sure we have been here above an -hour!" - -"Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her -ducklings to the water!" observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in -the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted-- - - -"Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that -any reason why I should be drowned?" - - -It was a great aggravation of Fred's calamities to be obliged to laugh, -nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the -house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. - -"What news of Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"I did not see him," said Jessie: "I think he was in the study, Uncle -Roger went to him there." - -"No hope then!" muttered the unfortunate Fred. - -"Can't you skate, Fred?" asked little Arthur with a certain most -provoking face of wonder and curiosity. - -"Presently," said Fred. - -"He must not," cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, -though it was only rude. - -"Must not?" and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller -than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what -they pleased. - -"His mamma won't let him," was Dick's polite answer. Fred could have -knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place -he was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in -the third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper -enough left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling -with him, so contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that -he had him as his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what -she thought of the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., -&c. - -Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar -frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue -much longer. - -"How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the -hedge!" said Henrietta; "and look, these pieces of chalk are almost -cased in glass." - -"O I do love such a sight!" said Jessie. "Here is a beautiful bit of -stick crusted over." - -"It is a perfect little Giant's Causeway," said Henrietta; "do look at -these lovely little columns, Fred." - -"Ah!" said Jessie, "Myriads of little salts, or hook'd or shaped like -double wedges.--" - -She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she -came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, -looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered--"O -Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!" - -It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be -making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey's side, was -more than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey -was not coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience -gave way, and he exclaimed, "Well, I shan't wait any longer, it is not -of the least use." - -"O, Fred, consider!" said his sister. - -"That's right, Freddy," shouted Carey, "he'll not come now, I'll answer -for it." - -"You know he promised he would," pleaded Henrietta. - -"Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the -sea," said Fred, "the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not -wait any longer." - -"Think of mamma." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?" exclaimed Fred impatiently, -"do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them -must needs break with me?" - -"I do not suppose there is any danger," said Henrietta, "but for the -sake of poor mamma's entreaties!" - -"Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of -my life?" said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to -silence his sister and his conscience. "I have submitted to such absurd -nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in -the sight of everybody; so here goes!" - -And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of -the pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta -turned away her eyes full of tears. - -"Never mind, Henrietta," shouted the good-natured Alexander, "I'll -engage to fish him out if he goes in." - -"It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex," returned Fred, slightly -affronted. - -"Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case," said the -naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the -consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible, -then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction, -"Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience -he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear." - -Whether Alex smiled at the words "past fear," or whether Fred only -thought he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, "I only -wish there was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, -Alex." - -"Well, there is one," said Alex, laughing, "where Carey drowns the -travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, -so you may try--" - -"Don't, Fred--I beg you won't!" cried Beatrice. - -"O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!" implored -Henrietta. - -"I shan't look, I can't bear it!" exclaimed Jessie, turning away. - -Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across -the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the -middle of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his -achievement, a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles -stood before them. The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a -short run, and slide right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle -Roger stood by laughing and saying, "Well done, Geoffrey, you are not -quite so heavy as I am." - -Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by -the arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice -that had all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released -from school, "I hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is -franked! Where's Fred?" - -Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen -Bee's complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander -who had spirit to answer, "We thought you were not coming at all." - -"Indeed!" said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, "Why, Alex, -Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises," a truth to which every -one gave a mental assent. - -Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle -Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of -their merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all -the other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy -more than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her -brother's conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her -uncle, wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind -to do so, for fear of her mamma's asking about Fred; and whilst she was -still doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding -her of the saint's day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton -to which she had so long looked forward. Yet here was another -disappointment. The uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. -Jessie said she must take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys -could do as they pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey's hand was -going with him, but the rest continued their sport, and among them was -Fred. He had never disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not -have done so now, but as he saw none of his male companions setting off, -he fancied that to attend a week-day service in the holidays might be -reckoned a girlish proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as -soon as his back was turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey's grave -looks that he might be taken to task when no longer protected by the -presence of the rest. - -He therefore replied with a gruff short "No" to his sister's anxious -question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end -of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and -vexed at finding himself mistaken after all--at least so far as regarded -Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last moment, and -now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at full speed -after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they reached the -village. - -Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of -footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to -Church grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in -general look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present -case there were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to -plead to Uncle Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity -towards her poor Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how -much he had been teased. This, however, she could not tell him without -complaining of his daughter, and in fact it was an additional pain -that Queen Bee should have used all her powerful influence in the wrong -direction. - -It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in -such circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put -her arm into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that -could sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, "My -poor Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this -time, but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything -happening." - -"O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded -him." - -"I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for -persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, -and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you -would not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would -go into the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? -I could have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no -harm done." - -"There is your papa displeased with him." - -"O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and -beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred--I should like to make -a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever act a -charade, Henrietta?" - -"Never; I scarcely know what it is." - -"O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told -you of fool-hardy, for now we can't have that, but this evening, O, this -evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex! -Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant." - -Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and -was presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently -persuading him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta -was not sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All -her thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before -all her mother's fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had -recovered her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of -his Heavenly Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of -many a moral tale, was tormenting herself with the expectation of -retribution, and dwelling on a fancied figure of her brother lifted -senseless out of the water, with closed eyes and dripping hair. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - -With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little -thing, and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as -she returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, -"Papa, you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much -plagued, and he only had just begun when you came." - -"The other boys had been teasing him?" - -"Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on -the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was -my fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only -worthy of Dick himself, but at poor Fred's own disconsolate looks." - -"Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?" - -"Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know -how easily I am run away with by high spirits." - -"And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no -right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless." - -"I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but -there are many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are -irresistible, or seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I -know I was to blame, only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really -did seem rather unreasonable to keep him there parading about with -Henrietta and Jessie, when the ice was quite safe for everybody else." - -"I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way -to the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not -show any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position -for a boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these -restraints." - -"And cannot you--" said Beatrice, stopping short. - -"Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks -right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very -reason I will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that -his amusement should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his -amusement." - -"Yet surely this cannot go on for life," said Beatrice, as if she was -half afraid to hazard the remark. - -"Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and -gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do -not set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can -plead the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; -you know the greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful -responsibility incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to -lead him astray for the sake of--of vanity--of amusement." - -Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to -Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, -and she answered earnestly, "I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of -saying clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for -I could have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is -vanity, and I will try to subdue it." - -Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and -would blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed -reproof by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was -self-deception, for it was not as if it was herself whom she was -analysing, but rather as if it was some character in a book; indeed, she -would have described herself almost exactly as she is here described, -except that her delineation would have been much more clever and more -exact. She would not have spared herself--for this reason, that her -own character was more a study to her than a reality, her faults rather -circumstances than sins; it was her mind, rather than her soul, that -reflected and made resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been -resolutions, if they had possessed any real earnestness, and not been -done, as it were, mechanically, because they became the occasion. - -The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and -she ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following -course: "I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and -wrong, and all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll -to see how provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and -after all, I don't think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only -it flatters his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as -girls, not Alex though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for -me, and I have put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought -those charades are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on -superior ground, and there will be none of these foolish questions who -can be most manly mad. Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and -I thought papa could not find it in his heart to be angry with him. How -capitally he will act, and how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make -them take to the charades, it will be so very delightful, and keep Fred -quite out of mischief, which will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused -grandpapa will be! What shall it be to-night? What Alex can manage to -act tolerably. Ce n'est que le premier pas qui conte, and the premier -pas must be with our best foot foremost. I give myself credit for the -thought; it will make all smooth." - -These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more -rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her -swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was -standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, -which with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. "Don't look -dismal, Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. -Cheer up, you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this -evening." - -Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to -receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought -him excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all -the wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all -fear of Uncle Geoffrey's eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, -and he entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle -was vexed to see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her -entreaty had not been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for -she liked better to trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too -many boys, did not think concealment blameable where there was no actual -falsehood. - -All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of -wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, -and was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into -different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some -extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, -and with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him -the loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant's uniform; then she darted into the -drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger's voice, and conjured him not to -forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, "Willy -must wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger's dirk, and above all, -beg, borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger's fishing boots." Her next descent -was upon Aunt Mary, in her own room: "Aunt, would you do me a great -favour, and ask no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the -three little marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday -evening. Only for this one evening, and I'll take great care." - -"I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like -myself in such finery," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as -Beatrice took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had -the discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft -of its plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in -the secret of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the -work-room, which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and -Judith, gratified by a visit from "Miss Bee," dived for her sake into -boxes and drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to -rummage. - -All this might ultimately be for Henrietta's entertainment, but at -present it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own -resources in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, -listened to a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the -new pig-sty, wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to -ask Uncle Geoffrey's advice, tried to talk over things in general with -her mamma, but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming -in and out of the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt -deserted, gave up work, and had just found an entertaining book, when -grandmamma came in, and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She -readily accepted, but for want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her -grandmamma waiting longer than she liked, and had more of a scolding -than was agreeable. The chickens were all gone to roost by the time they -arrived, the cock just peering down at them with his coral-bordered eye, -and the ducks waddling stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, -the hen-wife gone, and Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late. - -Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but -she had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, -they met Mr. Langford, who called out, "So you have been walking with -grandmamma! Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with -grandpapa. I am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my 'merry -Christmas' will be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you -with me." - -Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be -refused, and she was at her grandpapa's side in an instant, thanking him -so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. "I wish we had -Fred here too," said he, as they walked on, "the old man will be very -glad to see you." - -"Was he one of mamma's many admirers in the village?" - -"All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was -old Daniels' chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for -carpentry, especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he -was at work at the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have -held up his head again when our great trouble came on us. He used to -touch his hat, and turn away without looking me in the face. And there -you may see stuck up over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new -chisel that your father gave him when he had broken his old one." - -"Dear old man!" said Henrietta, warmly, "I am so very glad that we have -come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, -and not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were -come out of banishment." - -"Well, it is all the better for you," said Mr. Langford; "if we had -had you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few -granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is -that little Busy Bee--by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are -not you in her secret?" - -"O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came -out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would -not let me." - -"She turns us all round her finger," said grandpapa. "I never found the -person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you -do not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and -it is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading." - -"O, grandpapa!" - -"That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it." - -"Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa." - -"Look here!" and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he -disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. -"Is this weak?" - -"No, it is strong in energy," said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic -cane sprang back to its former shape. - -"Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that -should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let -your own determination be only to keep upright." - -"But women are admired for influence." - -"Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it -is unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, -take care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own -personal wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially -for young ladies towards their elders." - -Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice, -grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how -applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the -moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. -It brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched -workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat -but for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages. - -This was Henrietta's first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness -and interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as -fine-looking as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages -always are in books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It -was a very nice trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on -Mr. Langford's knock, and the room was neatness itself, but the old -carpenter was not at all what she had imagined. He was a little stooping -old man, with a shaking head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and -did not seem to have anything to say beyond "Yes, sir," and "Thank -you, sir," when Mr. Langford shouted into his deaf ears some of -the "compliments of the season." Looking at the young lady, whom he -evidently mistook for Beatrice, he hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were -quite well. His face lighted up a little for a moment when Mr. Langford -told him this was Mr. Frederick's daughter, but it was only for an -instant, and in a somewhat querulous voice he asked if there was not a -young gentleman too. - -"O yes," said Mr. Langford, "he shall come and see you some day." - -"He would not care to see a poor old man," said Daniels, turning a -little away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by -saying, "He is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting -tired going to church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he -has been so fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with -him." - -Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then -asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in -the workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak -to him, leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary -waiting time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class -with whom she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself -agreeable, but completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk -to the old man, and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation -quite impossible except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with -her--she tried to recollect what storied young ladies did say to old -men, but nothing she could think of would do, or was what she could find -herself capable of saying. At last she remembered, in "Gertrude," the -old nurse's complaint that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, -and she hazarded her voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not -suffer from it. Clear as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for -she was really in a fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man's -ear, and his daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in -a shrill sharp scream, that almost went through her ears; then while -the old man was answering something in a muttering maundering way, she -proceeded with a reply, and told a long story about his ways with the -doctor, in her Sussex dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The -conversation dropped, until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at -the Hall was quite well, and as she inquired after them one by one, -this took up a reasonable time; but then again followed a silence. Mrs. -Daniels was not a native of Knight Sutton, or she would have had more to -say about Henrietta's mother; but she had never seen her before, and had -none of that interest in her that half the parish felt. Henrietta wished -there had been a baby to notice, but she saw no trace in the room of the -existence of children, and did not like to ask if there were any. She -looked at the open hearth, and said it was very comfortable, and was -told in return that it made a great draught, and smoked very much. Then -she bethought herself of admiring an elaborately worked frame sampler, -that hung against the wall; and the conversation this supplied lasted -her till, to her great joy, grandpapa made his appearance again, and -summoned her to return, as it was already growing very dark. - -She thought he might have made something of an apology for the -disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting -that she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that -cottage visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an -occupation, when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking -about her mother's health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with -her, saying how very glad he was to have her there again, and how like -his own daughter she had always been. He went on to tell of his first -sight of his two daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would -be such, he went to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from -India under the care of General St. Leger. "There they were," said he; -"I can almost see them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt -a brown little sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, -and your mamma such a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I -felt quite ashamed to take her among all my great scrambling boys." - -"Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she -recollects the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a -carriage; but she cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey -or the coming here." - -"I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed -that in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys -receiving her,--Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,--for Roger was at school. How -they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like -a little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too -rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass. -And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!" - -"That was when she was six," said Henrietta, "and papa must have been -ten." - -"Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! -and come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was -almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten." - -"And were they?" - -"No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she -did not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they -knight and giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many's the -time I have laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived -creature more without will of her own." - -"Never," responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford -might commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so -appropriate a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by -her own daughter. - -"Eh!" said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in -another tone, "Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more -on you than on any one else." - -"I would do anything on earth for her!" said Henrietta, feeling it from -the bottom of her heart. - -"I am sure you would, my dear," said Mr. Langford, "and she deserves it. -There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think -of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, -it won't do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, -that I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, -as I am sure it was for us." - -He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his -eldest son calling "Out late, sir," and looking round, Henrietta saw -what looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt -Roger, and their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming -to the Hall for the regular Christmas dinner-party. - -Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries -whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent -manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had -been saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her -mother's youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and -which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the -scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother -having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and -resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the -conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side. -She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her -grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old -carpenter's averted head--she thought what must have been the agony of -the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on whom -the world was just opening so brightly,--and the young wife--the -infant children--how fearful it must have been! "It was almost a cruel -dispensation," thought Henrietta. "O, how happy and bright we might have -been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his kiss, -to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her joyousness -and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it not so? -And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner he did -say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it! -To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma, -grandpapa--no, I never shall understand it. They were good before; why -did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying 'Thy will be -done?' Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!" - -"Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta," said Bennet; -"it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been -telling me that I must get you ready faster." - -Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink -again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, "I can't, -Bennet, it breaks my neck." Her will was not with her mother's, in a -trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself -to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly -Parent, in what is above reason? - -The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed -in to dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having -already been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again -abandoned to Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, -partly because he was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for -the evening, and partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was -saying to Fred, in the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the -loud voice of Mr. Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other -sounds. Some inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and -her aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great -lamentation for her mother's absence, and from thence into a description -of what Lady Susan exacted from her friends. "Aunt Susan is a regular -fidget," said she; "not such a fidget as some people," with an -indication of Mrs. Langford. "Some people are determined to make others -comfortable in a way of their own, and that is a fidget to be regarded -with considerable respect; but Aunt Susan's fidgeting takes the turn -of sacrificing the comfort of every one else to her own and her little -dog's." - -"But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey," said Fred. - -"Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on -mamma's coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her -sister and brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when -she may be taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous -state that Mr. Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence," said -Beatrice, in an imitative tone, which made Fred laugh. - -"I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself," said he. - -"So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by -her querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or -unselfishness either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was -kind to her when she came home from India, and she manages to keep her -quiet better than anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma's -cheerful voice, which drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot -think how funny it is to see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the -cat the wrong way, and mamma to smooth her down the right." - -A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. -Langford said, "What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?" - -"O you are telling it all--O don't, Bee!" cried Willy. - -And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to -discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all--it -was the partridges--the conversation drifted away again from the younger -party. - -As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging -her grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at -present stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where -there was a door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent -rustlings were heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or -whispering, and a sound of moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. -Langford, that, starting up, she exclaimed that she must go and see what -they were doing. - -"We are taking great care, grandmamma," called Alexander. "We won't hurt -it." - -This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far -from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage -of discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that -all was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed. - -She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her--the latter, in a -marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself, -and yet in great terror lest the others should tell. - -As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and -presently there was a call from behind the screen, "Are you ready, good -people?" - -"Go it," answered Carey. - -"Are the elders ready?" said Beatrice's voice. - -"Papa, don't go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!" cried Willy. - -"Ay, ay, all attention," said grandpapa. "Now for it!" - -The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, -ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a -tiara and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them -a nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, -adorned with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the -form of ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. -As Uncle Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it -proceeded in due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and -present them to the king and princess in the name of the Marquis -Carabbas. - -The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis -might be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king -cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, -until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, -"I've told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won't believe me, I can't -help it!" and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful -a manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to -have his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in -preparation for Scene II. - -Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so -as to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close -to the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart -measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his -head, and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, -reclined Alex, his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an -old, long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had -with some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little -figure in a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox's -brush, and with Mrs. Frederick Langford's three feathers, and a coat -bearing marvellous resemblance to Beatrice's own black velvet spencer, -crossed over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew -full well. "Do thou stand for my father," began this droll little shape, -"and examine me in the particulars of my life." - -It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, -acted beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes -were often directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, -obtained not only a view of Prince Hal's pink petticoat, but of a great -Shakespeare laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of -the heir apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was -strongly suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It -was with great spirit that the parting appeal was given, "Banish fat -Jack, and banish all the world!" And there was great applause when fat -Jack and Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; -though Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain -historical and antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was -likely to wear the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts -at Eastcheap. - -In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant's uniform made a great -figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf, -and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his -arm, looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low -bow, which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish -bonnet, also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue -ribbon. Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine -stood confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled -off, or supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off -the view; and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, -while Prince Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced -round Mr. Langford, asking if he had guessed it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - -Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an -amusement likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of -her boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to -imitate it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the -way of scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were -to dine at the Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there -should be a grand charade, with all the splendour that due preparation -could bestow upon it. "It was such an amusement to grandpapa," as -Beatrice told Henrietta, "and it occupied Fred so nicely," as she -said to her father; both which observations being perfectly true, -Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing to promote the sport, and to -tranquillise his mother respecting the disarrangement of her furniture. - -But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their -own--some for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, -others for Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already -grouped her dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta's picturesque -face and figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her -and Fred represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she -had always believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for -"another touch at Prince Hal," and devised numerous ways of acting -Anonymous, for the sake of "Anon, anon, sir." Henrietta wanted to -contrive something in which Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy -bee, and had very pretty visions of making her a beneficent spirit in a -little fanciful opera, for which she had written three or four verses, -when Fred put an end to it be pronouncing it "nonsense and humbug." - -So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was -beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday -morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some -chance a wig of her papa's was in the house, and a charade they must and -would have which would bring in the wig. "Come and see it," said she, -drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being -the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. "There -now, is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is -certain!" - -Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister's wig -before, were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in -turn. While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of -her own fair ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door -suddenly opened, and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, -"What! nothing safe from you, you impertinent kittens?" - -"O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!" cried Henrietta, blushing -crimson. - -"Don't take it off till I have looked at you," said Uncle Geoffrey. -"Why, you would make a capital Portia!" - -"Yes, yes!" cried Queen Bee, "that is it: Portia she shall be, and I'll -be Nerissa." - -"Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!" said Henrietta: "I am sure I -can't." - -"But I have set my heart on being the 'little scrubby lawyer's clerk,'" -said Busy Bee; "it is what I am just fit for; and let me see--Fred shall -be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and you -shall have Alex for your Bassanio." - -"But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine -Seyton?" said Henrietta. - -"Let me see," said Beatrice; "bond--bondage, jew--jeweller, juniper,--" - -"Lawsuit," said Fred. "Ay, don't you see, all the scenes would come out -of the 'Merchant of Venice.' There is 'law' when the old Jew is crying -out for his ducats, and--but halloo!" and Fred stood aghast at the sight -of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness. - -"Traitor!" said Beatrice; "but never mind, I believe we must have let -him into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock." - -"O, Bee," whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, "don't tease him with our -nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock's part, when he has all -that pile of papers on the table." - - -"Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is -some ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night." - - -Such was Uncle Geoffrey's reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered -to the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, -and then clapped their hands in delighted admiration. - -"Do you really know it all?" asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful -awe. - -"It won't cost me much trouble to get it up," said Mr. Geoffrey -Langford; "Shylock's growls stick in one's memory better than finer -speeches." - -"Then will you really be so very kind?" - -"Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table -this morning," said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a -certain degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as -if it was entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he -did actually enjoy it. - -The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only -place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex -could not be taken to the maids' workroom, and none of the downstairs -apartments could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their -preparations. Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing -Uncle Geoffrey, but his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon -at an end when she perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, -and laughing, no more than if they had been so many little sparrows -twittering on the eaves, but pursued the even tenor of his writing -uninterruptedly, even while she fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, -which her ingenious fingers had compounded of the lining of certain ugly -old curtains. - -His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs. -Langford's periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she -would assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have -come to a collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole -scheme. - -It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta's list of his avocations, -and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people -during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine -by the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were -the looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the -curing grandmamma's old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing -of an emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle -supposed "to have no answer," and the mending of some extraordinary -spring that was broken in Uncle Roger's new drill. Beatrice was charmed -with the list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to -every one; and grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was -ashamed to find that his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to -which Uncle Geoffrey replied, that it was too true that "all work and no -play make Jack a very dull boy." - -The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and -rain, was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away -all temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and -Antonio and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey -was heard to observe that it might just as well be half year. They had -besides their own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of -Arragon and Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa -as possible, had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, -all into the one scene belonging to "suit." It was one of those -occasions on which she showed little consideration, for she thus gave -Portia an immense quantity to learn in only two days; persuading herself -all the time that it was no such hard task, since the beautiful -speech about mercy Henrietta already knew by heart, and she made -no difficulties about the rest. Indeed, Beatrice thought herself -excessively amiable in doing all she could to show off her cousin's -beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part herself; forgetting -that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in taking willingly -that which is assigned us. - -Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well -as at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil -the pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good -earnest to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her -hand; she learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, -resisting many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before -daylight, was up and learning again. - -The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged: -grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger -that it would be over now and out of the children's heads, for they -turned the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like -play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out -one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always -making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want -of his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt -Mary, and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very -pretty, and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to -crack; Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be -magnificos, found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened. - -It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to -Shylock's excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed -chasing him across the stage, crying, "The law, his ducats, and his -daughter!" - -Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her -hair, almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed -expression in her glowing face was little accordant with the calm -dignified self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a -handkerchief folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet -lambswool worked into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with -bright ribbon, made a complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, -pert reply to her lady's first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to -restore Portia to herself, and they got on well and with spirit through -the description of the suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. -Portia looked excessively dignified, and Nerissa's by-play was capital. -Whether it was owing to Bassanio's awkwardness or her own shyness, -she did not prosper quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; -Bassanio seemed more afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more -at Nerissa than at her, whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as -cold and measured a way, as if it had been the Prince of Morocco who had -unfortunately hit upon the right casket. - -In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be -wished. She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the -glowing carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath -which a few bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand -raised, and the other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the -Jew, as if she either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in -Antonio's case, for they glistened with tears, and her voice had a -tremulous pleading tone, which fairly made her grandfather and mother -both cry heartily. - - -"Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!" - - -The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by -Bassanio from crying "No, he shan't!" Nerissa was so absorbed as even to -have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to -the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick -were hanging with breathless attention on the "but," when suddenly there -was a general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with -a voice and face full of delight, announced "Master Roger," and there -entered a young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter. - -Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and -handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another, -the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger -Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford -fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his -arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, "What, -Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!" - -"Ah! Miss Jessie," exclaimed Roger; "that is right: I have not seen such -a crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost -your pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?" - -"Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary," said his mother; and instantly there -was a subduing of the young sailor's boisterous mirth, as he turned -to answer her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the -appearance of the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio's -short black cloak and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his -burnt cork eyebrows and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know -him; Uncle Geoffrey still in Shylock's yellow cap, and Fred somewhat -grim with the Prince of Morocco's complexion. - -"How d'ye do, Phil?" said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the -hand with interest. "What! are not you Philip Carey?" - -"O, Roger, Roger!" cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden -predominated. - -"What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d'ye do, aunt?" - -"Well done, Roger! That's right! Go on!" cried his father, laughing -heartily. - -"Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as -like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I -thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not -this Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are -you Fred Langford, then?" - -"Right this time," said Fred, "so now you must shake hands with me in my -own name." - -"Very glad to do so, and see you here at last," said Roger, cordially. -"And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were -crossing the Line?" - -"You shall hear what it is all about, and see too," said Mr. Langford. -"We must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But -where is my little Portia? What is become of her?" - -"Fled, I suspect," said her mother, "gone to turn into herself before -her introduction." - -"O, Roger, it was so jolly," Carey was now heard to say above the -confusion of voices. "Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a -pound of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a -lawyer's wig, and had just found such a dodge!" - -"Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore -there, and--" - -"Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?" - -"Have you dined?" - -"Cold turkey--excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper--a cup of -tea--no, but we will have the beef in--" - -Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the -answers and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa -exclaimed, "Ah! here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new -cousin for you, Roger; here is the advocate for you when you have a -tough law-suit! Lucky for you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, -or your nose would soon be put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared -you make your mother and grandfather cry their hearts out?" - -"I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir," said Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you -know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying." - -"Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But -to see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking -savage with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of -actors, all of you, and we must see the end of it." - -This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with -Henrietta for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates -decreed otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to -carve it, and soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to -his eldest grandson about his travels. A sailor just returned from -four years on the South American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot -condors on the Andes, caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks -in the Atlantic, and heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could -not fail to be very entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas -of Peru, and could tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and -accordingly everyone was greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who -sat in a corner of the sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering -how long Roger would go on eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and -strangling the yawns induced by her inability to attract the notice of -either of her squires, whose eyes and ears were all for the newcomer. -She was not even missed; if she had been, it would have been some -consolation; but on they went, listening and laughing, as if the course -of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the adventures of her crew, -were the only subjects of interest in the world. He was only at home for -a week, but so much the worse, that would be till the end of Beatrice's -own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but Euphrosyne the whole -time. - -There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask -about his cousins and all the neighbours. - -"And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any -practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be -doctored by Master Philip!" - -"Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip," said -Jessie. "I assure you," nodding to Fred, "I take it as a great -compliment, and so will Philip." - -"And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?" - -"Oh! grown quite fat and coarse," said Jessie; "but you may judge -for yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a -regular Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And -we are to dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the -county; the floor is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield -assembly-room." - -"No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate," said Roger. -"This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I -took the prettiest girl there in to supper--don't be jealous, Jessie, -she had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the -next ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather -a thick sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she -found? A great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever -saw." - -"O, you horrid creature!" cried Jessie, "I am sure it was your doing. -I am sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or -some dreadful creature! I won't let you take me in to supper on Monday, -I declare." - -"Perhaps I won't have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my -partner, if she will have me." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger," faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with -the doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie -might be vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, -looking at her more fully than he had done before, went on, "Much -honoured, cousin. Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the -prettiest girl in the room for my partner. But how slow of them all -not to have engaged her before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for -yourself?" - -"I hope for Queen Bee," said Alex. - -"And Jessie must dance with me, because I don't know how," said Carey. - -"My dears, this will never do!" interposed grandmamma. "You can't all -dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never -heard of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with -little Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson." - -"No, no," cried Roger, "I won't give up my partner, ma'am; I am a -privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of -Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta, -stick fast to your engagement; you can't break the first promise you -ever made me. Here," proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, -"let us begin this minute; I'll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian -ladies." - -"Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz," said Henrietta. - -"That's a pity. Come, Jessie, then." - -If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something -which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie -answered her cousin's summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance -at his evident preference of Henrietta's newer face. - -"If I can't waltz, I can play for you," said Henrietta, willing not to -seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and -Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving -shocks against the furniture and minding them not the least in the -world, till at last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon -the sofa. - -The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into -silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, -as was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he -apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured -him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment. - -Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no -waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no -possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as -much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring -that she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her -days were contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything -newer, they might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would -not hear of them. - -And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her -grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the -universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the -table. - -With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, -as she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining -within herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing -up and play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve. - -Beatrice came to her aunt's room, when they went upstairs, and -petitioned for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind -pity for her present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even -allowed her to outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of -the charade, and the history of the preparations and contrivances gave -subject to a very animated conversation. - -Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all -to wish for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense -dislike to the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, -and there were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much -without restraint as to Aunt Mary. - -The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, -and here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had -only heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the -doings of the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly -shocked and amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and -pleading for it. - -"My dear!" said Beatrice, laughing, "I do not know what you would do -if you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the -days of her life." - -"Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady." - -"Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and -the society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that -make the difference, not the temper." - -"Quite true, Busy Bee," said her aunt, "temper may be the same in very -different circumstances." - -"But it is very curious, mamma," said Henrietta, "how people can be -particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your -pardon, only I know you don't mind it, Jessie did not approve of your -skating." - -"Yes," said Beatrice, "every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at -those of other people." - -"Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging," -said Aunt Mary. - -"But then, mamma," said Henrietta, "we must hold to the right scruples, -and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less--less -desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we -are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things." - -"O, it is just according to what you are brought up to," said Beatrice. -"A Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you -think it." - -"No, that will not do," said Henrietta. "Something must be actually -wrong. Mamma, do say what you think." - -"I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an -instinct which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and -whatever at the first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her -own individual case. The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by -education, or wilful dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, -though alive and active on others." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, as if satisfied. - -"And above all," said her mother, "it, like other gifts, grows -dangerous, it may become affectation." - -"Pruding," said Beatrice, "showing openly that you like it to be -observed how prudent and proper you are." - -"Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious -of anything wrong," said Henrietta. "Wrong I do not exactly mean, but -something on the borders of it." - -"Yes," said Aunt Mary, "and above all, do not let this delicacy show -itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion -of ourselves, and very soon turns into 'judging our neighbour.'" - -"But there is false delicacy, aunt." - -"Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion -tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - -The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in -her cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and -newly arrived after five years' absence, he had considerable claims to -attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold -open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that -Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even -grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter. - -This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been -amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and -have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But -between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never -had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all -the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest, -thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either -Henrietta or Jessie. - -If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was -struck with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself -to engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, -it may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, -might have carried her out of her natural character in the style that -suited him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her -own affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked -him, but she showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to -appropriate him. She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the -attention due to any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness -than if it had been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last -of whom was a pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his -stories of adventures, or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and -a delighted ear; but all common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell -flat; she either did not catch them, or did not catch at them. She might -blush and look confused, but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified -embarrassment, and if she found an answer, it was one either to change -the subject, or honestly manifest that she was not pleased. - -She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought -at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to -admire her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, -was not in the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of -enjoyment, Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her -mamma was still more rejoiced to see her act so properly without -self-consciousness or the necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee -ought to have been duly grateful to the one faithful vassal who was -proof against all allurements from her side and service. - -She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is -usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and -been very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did -not feel in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been -much more proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on -which their attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; -for though the world may be of opinion that they had had quite a -sufficiency of amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their -success on Thursday, and the sudden termination in the very height of -their triumph. - -They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of -Shylock's trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation, -and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast -in the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely -cleared of all their various goods and chattels, Portia's wig in its -box, the three caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke's throne -safe in its place in the hall, and even Shylock's yellow cap picked to -pieces, and rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to -come of use in seven years' time. Judith, who was putting the finishing -touches to the re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great -chair, and restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the -table, gave in answer to her exclamations the information that "Missus -had been up since seven o'clock, helping to put away the things herself, -for she said she could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey's room not fit for -anybody to sit in." This might certainly be considered as a tolerably -broad hint that they had better discontinue their representations, -but they were arrived at that state of eagerness which may be best -illustrated by the proverb referring to a blind horse. Every one, -inclined to that same impetuosity, and want of soberness, can remember -the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded checks will recur to the -mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of the self-justification -which truly answers that their object was not even comprehended. -Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of dissent -from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma's dislike, and -Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a -fidgety fancy. - -Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and -greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make -a pair of asses' ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the -weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, -and Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to -be her own "primest of viziers." - -"And," said Beatrice, "what an exquisite interlude it will make to -relieve the various plagues of Monday evening." - -"Why you don't mean to act then!" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"Why not? You don't know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse -for getting away from all the stupidity." - -"To be sure it will," cried Fred. "A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall -have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort." - -"But would grandmamma ever let us do it?" said Henrietta. - -"I will manage," said Beatrice. "I will make grandpapa agree to it, and -then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it." - -"Before so many people!" said Henrietta. "O, Queenie, it will never do! -It would be a regular exhibition." - -"My dear, what nonsense!" said Beatrice. "Why, it is all among friends -and neighbours." - -"Friends and neighbours to you," said Henrietta. - -"And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or -inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer." - -"A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account," said Fred. -"But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such -nonsense and affectation." - -"Affectation! O, Fred!" - -"Yes, to be sure it is," said Fred: "to set up such scruples as these. -Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when -once you get into the spirit of the thing." - -"And what is affectation," said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, "but -thinking what other people will think?" - -There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some -degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation, -especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever -and determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in -preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering -of wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged -not to be Titania. - -"O, you must, you silly child," said Beatrice. "I have such designs -for dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa -laugh by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef." - -"But consider, Bee," said Henrietta, "how much too tall I am for -a fairy. It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom -himself--spoil the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls -to be the other fairies, and take Titania yourself." - -"Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made -part of the show," said Beatrice. "Little Anna Carey has sense enough, -I think; ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep -you to come out in grand force in the last scene--Queen Eleanor sucking -the poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an -excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming -to see King Richard when he was 'old-man-of-the-mountains.'" - -"No, no," cried Fred, "stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no -more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I -could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair." - -"And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, -in the gentleman's own presence, too," said Beatrice. "Monsieur is -apparemment the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the -French governess in Miss Edgworth's book?" - -"Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the -mistake," said Henrietta. - -"And I do not wonder at it," said Beatrice, "the mistake, I mean. Fred's -white hands there have just the look of a doctor's; of course Roger -thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for -want of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look." - -"You insulting creature!" said Fred. "Just as if I tried to look -genteel." - -"You do, then, whether you try or not. You can't help it, you know, and -I am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your -hand just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger -thought he had succeeded in attaining his object." - -"But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object," -said Henrietta. - -"He could not be a Carey and be otherwise," said Busy Bee. "And besides, -what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith -and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to -Roger's proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows -the extent of a Carey's intellects; and what is left for the poor man to -do but to study the cut of his boots?" - -"If you say much more about it, Queenie," said Henrietta, "you will make -Fred dance in Bottom's hob-nailed shoes." - -"Ah! it is a melancholy business," said Beatrice; "but it cannot be -helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is -this?" exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such -violence as to shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, -heated and almost breathless. "Rats! rats!" was his cry; "Fred, that's -right. But where is Uncle Geoffrey?" - -"Gone to Allonfield." - -"More's the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at -home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the -place regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for -you and Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly--like smoke--while I go -and tell grandpapa." - -Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room -hurried Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. -Langford for shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa -laughed, thanked him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time -for the rat hunt, as he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary -thither and to the Pleasance that afternoon. - -Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the -girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at -Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased, -for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass -before they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their -arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates -of Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of -dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war -was at its height. - -"O! the glories of a rat hunt!" cried Beatrice. "Come, Henrietta, here -is a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not -to be lost." - -Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into -the farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on -a multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors -which were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown -violently back and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of -ecstatic expectation, tail straight out, head bent forward, now -springing in rapture on the prey; the boys rushing about with their -huge sticks, and coming down now and then with thundering blows, the -labourers with their white shirt sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the -straw, Uncle Roger with a portentous-looking club in the thick of the -fight. On the ladder, cheering them on, stood grandpapa, holding little -Tom in his arms, and at the bottom, armed with small sticks, were -Charlie and Arthur, consoling themselves for being turned out of the -melee, by making quite as much noise as all those who were doing real -execution, thumping unmercifully at every unfortunate dead mouse or rat -that was thrown out, and charging fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese -that now and then came up to inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such -accidents will occur in the best regulated families, to devour a share -of the prey. - -Beatrice's first exclamation was, "O! if papa was but here!" - -"Nothing can go on without him, I suppose," said Henrietta. "And yet, is -this one of his great enjoyments?" - -"My dear, don't you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born -Englishman to delight in hunting 'rats and mice and such small beer,' as -much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that -all the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat -hunt, and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts." - -"There goes Fred!" cried Henrietta. - -"Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There--there! O what -a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid -sort of light on the mist of dust at the top." - -"And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa's head! I think that -grandpapa with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee." - -"To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle -face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets -frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor -rats as keenly as anybody!" - -"Certainly," said Henrietta, "there is something very odd in man's -nature; they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being -cruel! Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind -and gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and -killing--" - -"That is what town-people never can understand," said Beatrice, "that -hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried -down, and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those -people could have seen what I did last summer--grandpapa calling Carey, -and holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their -nest that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when -Dick did something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years -ago, and Alex and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they -were really punished for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those -bursts of generous indignation." - -"It is a very curious thing," said Henrietta, "the soldier spirit it -must be, I suppose--" - -"What are you philosophising about, young ladies?" asked Mr. Langford, -coming up as Henrietta said these last words. - -"Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa," said Beatrice, "what -the pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there." - -"Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies," said grandpapa. -"I have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or -more, and I can't say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going -at it, for the first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old -veterans, and he has a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is -any satisfaction to you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that's it--there -he goes!" - -"Now, grandpapa," said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, "I want just -to speak to you. Don't you think we might have a little charade-acting -on Monday to enliven the evening a little?" - -"Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think -they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of -Shylock?" - -"No," said Beatrice, "we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a -new word and a beauty, and don't you think it will do very well?" - -"I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private -theatricals." - -"Well, it won't be nearly such regular acting as the last," said -Beatrice, "I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so -many spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a -very nice diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa." - -"Well, I don't see any harm in it," said grandpapa, "so long as -grandmamma does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?" - -"O no," said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would -make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred's calling her -affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent -to anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise -power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some -subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she -was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles' -wife might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son. - -After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, -recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she -said. The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, -where the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the -first occasion; for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views -respecting the appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick -Langford was harassed and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the -wishes of both, and vex neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look -over every corner, and discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair -at the fatigue her mother was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in -vain for a seat for her, and having at last discovered a broken-backed -kitchen chair in some of the regions below, kept diligently carrying -it after her in all her peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that -Uncle Geoffrey would come, but in vain; and between the long talking at -Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the house, and the many discussions, -her mamma was completely tired out, and obliged, when they came home, -to confess that she had a headache. Henrietta fairly wished her safe at -Rocksand. - -While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading -her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one -matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand -object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting -down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with "Now -listen to me, my dear child," and proceeded with a long story of -certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain -knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice -set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable that either -she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; secondly, that the -former elopement was not chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that -these were not private theatricals at all. - -"And pray what are they, then--when you dress yourselves up, and speak -the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?" - -"You pay us a great compliment," said Beatrice, who could sometimes -be pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her -explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called -theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was -the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it -was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it -done. - -"But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent." This was a -powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at -the first moment the shot did not tell. - -"Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this," said Mrs. -Langford, "and let who would consent, she would never have her -granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before -a whole room full of company." - -"Well, then, grandmamma, I'll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not -have one single scene out of Shakespeare--not one. Won't that do?" - -"You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse," said Mrs. -Langford. - -"No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it -shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come -in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so -nicely! and grandpapa has said we may." - -Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. "Ah, well! you always will have your -own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things -in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when -their elders had once said, 'No.'" - -"Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it -up if you did; but pray do not--we will manage very well." - -"And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn -everything upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can't have it done. I -shall want the study to put out the supper in." - -"We can dress in our own rooms, then," said Beatrice, "never mind that." - -"Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your -fathers and mothers like to let you, I can't help it--that's all I have -to say," said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred entered -from the other side a moment after. "Victory, victory, my dear Fred!" -cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. "I have prevailed: -you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! announced for -Monday night, before a select audience!" - -"Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee," said Fred; "why Alex has just -been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma's -dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone 'coon, as they say in -America." - -"I got grandpapa first," said Beatrice, "and then I persuaded her; -she told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long -lecture which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last -that the chief points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the -confusion in the study; so by giving up those two I gained everything." - -"You don't mean that you gave up bully Bottom?" - -"Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses' ears. You shall wear -them in the character of King Midas." - -"I think," said the ungrateful Fred, "that you might as well have given -it all up together as Bottom." - -"No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will -decidedly make him King of California, and I'll be the priestess of -Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most -excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, 'King -Midas has the ears of an ass.' I would have made more of a fight for -Bottom, if that had not come into my head." - -"But you will have nothing to do." - -"That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very -little, and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the -world in all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as -Queen Eleanor; she will look so regal." - -Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister's praises. "You are a -wondrous damsel, busy one," said he, "to be content to play second -fiddle." - -"Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you -would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall -we ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till -Monday evening to do everything in!" - -"Oh, you will do it," said Fred. "I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot -do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in," he exclaimed, as -he heard the front door open. - -"And I must go and dress," said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste, -which did not speak well for the state of her conscience. - -Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters. -"So you are entered with the vermin, Fred," called he, as the two came -out of the drawing-room. - -"O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?" - -"I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just -come in?" - -"No, we were having a consultation about the charades," said Fred; "the -higher powers consent to our having them on Monday." - -"Grandmamma approving?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"O yes," said Fred, in all honesty, "she only objected to our taking a -regular scene in a play, and 'coming it as strong' as we did the other -night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously." - -Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs, -listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained -so plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to -dress in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would -have doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but -hearing of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, -was likely to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, -she knew he had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his -mother; and since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, -could Beatrice actually say so to her own secret soul? - -She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked -her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy -castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the -resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - -"Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly -and carnal lusts:" so speaks the collect with which we begin the new -year--such the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, -"Amen:" but what was its application to them? What did they do with the -wicked world in their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he -was in the world. It might be for him to pray for that spirit which -enabled him to pass unscathed through the perils of his profession, -neither tempted to grasp at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his -way, unhardened and unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness -on every side. This might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, -with her love of dress, and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely -pray that she might live less to the vanities of the world; there were -others, whose worn countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of -the world; but to those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught -how to prize vain pomp and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, -looking from a safe distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; -were not they truly kept from that world which they had renounced? - -Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that -if education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, -and more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. -A pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own -devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission; -these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but -if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how -could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and -stronger ones which would meet their riper years? - -Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall, -there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than -those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the -midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand, -she whisked through the passages, Frederick's voice was heard demanding -whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was -made wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. -Zealous indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish -them anywhere else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and -newspaper, from one corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly -out into the hall, threatening them with what Missus would say to them. -At last grandmamma came down with a party of neat little notes in her -hand, to be immediately sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, -and Martin came to the door leading to the kitchen regions to receive -his directions. - -"O how lucky!" cried Queen Bee, springing up. "The cotton velvet for the -ears! I'll write a note in a second!" Then she paused. "But I can't do -it without Henrietta, I don't know how much she wants. Half a yard -must do, I suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of -donkey-coloured velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!" - -"Have not you heard her bell?" said Fred. - -"No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time." - -"You had better ask Bennet," said Fred; "she sometimes gets up quietly, -and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives -her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning." - -Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress's -room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon -disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin -departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations. - -About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as -any one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had -been broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the -bell was, that she was not ready for Bennet. - -As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble -confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for -the morning's laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears? - -The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta -was engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh -with Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than -done, and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with -success, for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were -hailed by the loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of -four brothers, marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some -three miles off. Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee's summons, but -he could do nothing for her, for he had that morning been taken to -task for not having made a visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and -especially ordered off to call upon her, before meeting her at the party -that evening. - -"How abominably provoking!" cried Beatrice; "just as if it signified. If -I had but a fairy!" - -"Carey!" called Alex, "here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won't -you take Dumple and go?" - -"Not I," responded Carey; "I want to walk with Roger. But there's -Dumple, let her go herself." - -"What, ride him?" asked Beatrice, "thank you, Carey." - -"Fred might drive you," said Carey; "O no, poor fellow, I suppose he -does not know how." - -Fred coloured with anger. "I do," said he; "I have often driven our own -horses." - -"Ay," said Beatrice, "with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary -little guessing what you were doing." - -"I assure you, Queen," said Fred, very earnestly, "I do really know how -to drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with -me, I will bring you home quite safe." - -"I know you can have the gig," said Carey, "for papa offered it to Roger -and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of -doubting whether to drive old Dumple!" - -"I don't question," said Fred; "I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. -I won't break your neck, I promise you." - -Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt -Mary, but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the -reverse. - -"I don't advise you, Bee," said he. - -"O, as to that," said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, "I -have great faith in Dumple's experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, -as the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My -chief doubt is about Aunt Mary." - -Fred's successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly -made him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother's -desires, and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, "O, -you know I only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so -intensely miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by -knowing nothing about it, I don't think it need be considered." - -Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next -moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this -case. - -Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much -annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not -wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and -say, "Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about -it at home." - -"O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex," -said Beatrice, laughing. "No, no, I know very well that nobody will care -when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love -my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. -Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I'll dance with you -first to-night." Alex turned away, muttering, "I don't like it--I'd go -myself, but--Well, I shall speak to Fred." - -Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had -excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance. - -"You are sure now," said he, "that you can drive safely? Remember it -would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little -Bee." - -This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come -from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of -his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, -that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only -wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand. - -"Well, I have no more to say," said Alex, "only please to mind this, -Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him -to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice's that -I spoke." - -"Much obliged, Langford senior," replied Fred, making himself as tall as -he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, "Now, -Carey, we won't stop you any longer, if you'll only just be so good as -to tell your man to get out the gig." - -Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, -for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur -running after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in -his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, -Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from -him which might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she -explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors -stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive -to Allonfield. Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should -not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or -nothing of his sister-in-law's fears, and would, perhaps, have taken -Fred's side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, -declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy -into the house for the driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did -not fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a -nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed. - -Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he -might go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, -of which Roger's return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. -His cousins were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly -consenting, he was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice's -complacency was diminished as Uncle Roger called out, "Ha! Fred take -care! What are you doing?--you'll be against the gate-post--don't bring -his head so short round. If you don't take more care, you'll certainly -come to a smash before you get home." - -If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick -would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their -bold design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their -own way to yield, and Fred's pride would never have allowed him to -acknowledge that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly -undertaken. Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of -ignorance, and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys -to have many anxieties on their account, let them go on without further -question, and turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest -uneasiness respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way -of warning, at least twenty times before. - -Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some -points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise -enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the -way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him, -and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the -common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked -into the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded -in obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted -that donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent -their colour. As Fred's finances were in a much more flourishing state -since New Year's day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy -by a present of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes -had often before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in -some dismay on perceiving that it was nearly one o'clock. - -"We must go straight home," said Beatrice, "or this velvet will be of no -use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence." - -Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no -means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, -well aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately -determined that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest -road to his own stable. - -As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he -made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a -little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the -whip, but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a -demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set -off over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred -pulled hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. "Sit still," -cried Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, "the gate will stop -him;" but ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement -of his own, or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was -thrown violently to the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him -no more. Instinct, rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to -the carriage with one hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, -to prevent him from being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to -side by the ruts and stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes -more, and their way was barred by a gate--that which she had spoken -of--the horse, used to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood -still, looking over it as if nothing had happened. - -Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy -beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her -steps swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it -seemed as if her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart -dragged her back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet -her, but it was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but -too plainly. He was stretched at full length on the ground, -senseless--motionless. She sank rather than knelt down beside him, and -called him; but not a token was there that he heard her. She lifted -his hand, it fell powerless, and clasping her own, she sat in an almost -unconscious state of horror, till roused by little Willy, who asked in a -terrified breathless whisper, - -"Bee, is he dead?" - -"No, no, no," cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; -"he is only stunned. He is--he must be alive. He will come to him-self! -Help me to lift him up--here--that is it--his head on my lap--" - -"O, the blood!" said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it -streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face. - -"That is not the worst," said Beatrice. "There--hold him toward the -wind." She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him; -but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight -on her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for -help; but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except -Willy, who stood helplessly looking at her. - -"Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!" cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish -of mind. "Fred--dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh, only -speak to me! O what shall I do?" - -"Pray to God," whispered Willy. - -"You--you--Willy; I can't--it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!" A few moments -passed in silence, then she exclaimed, "What are we doing here? -Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through the -plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not -there, find grandpapa--any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don't let her -hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand--any one but Aunt -Mary." - -Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, -Willy required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade -fare to bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the -ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the -surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin's head, all clear -and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which -made her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest -motion, the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She -wiped away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and -softly laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the -fair shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself -whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, -and again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes -were being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of -lip or nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, -and yet so wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle -Frederick, and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so -nearly in this same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking -which would almost make her believe in a fate on the family. And that -Fred should be cut off in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she -the cause! O thought beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for -herself, for her aunt, but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found -her mind pursuing Willy, following him through all the gates and gaps, -entering the garden, opening the study door, seeing her father's sudden -start, hearing poor Henrietta's cry, devising how it would be broken to -her aunt; and again, the misery of recollecting her overpowered her, -and she gave a groan, the very sound of which thrilled her with the hope -that Fred was reviving, and made her, if possible, watch with double -intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh. She wished it was she who -lay there, unconscious of such exceeding wretchedness, and, strange -to say, her imagination began to devise all that would be said were it -really so; what all her acquaintance would say of the little Queen Bee, -how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how long Henrietta would -cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently Alex would grieve. -"He would be a son to papa," she thought; but then came a picture of her -home, her father and mother without their only one, and tears came into -her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the absurdity of -crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over this but too -positive and present distress. - -There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, -and not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was -perfectly still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle -of the sheep-bell, the woodsman's axe in the plantations, and now and -then the rattle of Dumple's harness, as she shook his head or shifted -his feet at the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled -above her head in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each -other from the high furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near -her with their broad wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note -like lamentation. - -At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse's -tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it -might, some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive -solitude, which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, -would be relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer -might pass by, she gently laid her cousin's head on the grass, and flew -rather than ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the -horseman had passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the -shoulders, and with a scream almost wild in its energy, called "Philip! -O, Philip Carey!" - -Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement -at finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer -by leading the way down the lane. - -In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored -him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived. - -A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking -questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the -plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending -her voice before her with the good news, "He is alive! Philip Carey says -he is alive!" and with these words she stood before her father and her -Aunt Mary. - -Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white -and still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped -for an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never -could forget. "Beatrice, my child!" he exclaimed, "you are hurt!" - -"No, no, papa," she cried. "It is Fred's blood--I am quite, quite safe!" - -He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, -with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could -never remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the -embrace,--all had revealed to her the fervour of her father's affection, -beyond--far beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one -instant that he gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood -beside Frederick as soon as his sister-in-law. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - -The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle -incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail -wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers -from chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and -appealing to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though -never allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often -came to her help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe -displeasure of the absent queen, by laying aside Midas's robes to assist -in the arrangements. "That picture is crooked, I am sure!" said Mrs. -Langford; and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned -Geoffrey from the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon -a chair to settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked -Uncle Roger. "Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma'am, you -are making yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?" - -"He has ridden over to see the South Farm," said Mrs. Langford. - -"Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,--I understand." - -"Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?" asked Mrs. Frederick -Langford. "They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton -Leigh, and I have not seen them since." - -"O yes," said Mr. Roger Langford, "I can tell you what has become of -them; they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, -and Will with them, after some of their acting affairs." - -Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this -intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him -full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. -Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in -dismay. - -"You don't mean that Fred was driving?" said her mother. - -"Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,--surely -he knows how!" - -"O, Roger, what have you done!" said she faintly, as if the exclamation -would break from her in spite of herself. - -"Indeed, mamma," said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, "I assure -you Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was -sitting up by Dawson." - -"Ay, ay, Mary," said Uncle Roger, "never fear. Depend upon it, boys -do many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with -whole bones after all." - -Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey's face, in -hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn -nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible. - -"I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting," said -Mrs. Langford; "and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot -think. So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as -well have sent by Martin!" And her head being pretty much engrossed with -her present occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, -without much perception of the consternation that prevailed in the -drawing-room. - -"Did you know they were going, Henrietta?" asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather -sternly. - -"No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there -is any danger?" exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of -fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling -to overcome. Her mother's inquiring, imploring glance followed her -question. - -"Foolish children!" said Uncle Geoffrey, "I am very much vexed with the -Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is -hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to -young hands." - -Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some -degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger -Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:--"Come, Mary, -you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you. -You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound -imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be -the mamma's boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you -cannot keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time -or other." - -"O yes, I know I am very foolish," said she, trying to smile. - -"I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you," said Uncle Roger. "She would -have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all -such occasions." - -"Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland," said -Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at -his ease, and divert his brother's attention. "And by the by, Roger, you -never told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers." - -"Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life," said -his brother. "Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when -you yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?" - -Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting -Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings -at the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a -few stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood -up, seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,--then took -a long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran -after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was -not alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. "Thank you, my -dear," said she. "I--no, really--you know how foolish I am, my dear, -and I think I had rather be alone. Don't stay here and frighten yourself -too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left -alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know -when they come home." - -With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and -descended to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears -were from Uncle Roger. "Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe -at home again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to -have let them go?" - -"I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of -little Bee," said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"If I had guessed it," said Uncle Roger; "but then, you know, any of -my boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,--even Dick I have -trusted,--and they came up--you should have seen them--as confidently as -if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life. Upon my word -your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew that he -could not drive." - -"A tolerable spirit of self-will," said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. -"But did you see them off, how did they manage?" - -"Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame," said his brother. "They -did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might -have questioned a little closer. But never mind, 'tis all straight road. -I would lay any wager they will come back safe,--boys always do." - -Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that -he, too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his -tranquillity deserted her. - -Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o'er again of his battles -at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window, -where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a -start, "Here is Willy running across the paddock!" - -"All right!" said Uncle Roger, "they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!" - -"It is the opposite way!" said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same -moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta's heart throbbed fearfully as -she saw how wearied was the boy's running, and yet how rapid. She could -hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the -same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as, -breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and -threw himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging -as if he could not stand. - -"Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?" said his father, -kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as -he almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. "What is the matter now?" - -There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of -the boy. Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle -Geoffrey stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of -wine and some water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his -forehead, laid her cold hand on it, and said, "Poor little fellow." - -At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered -something unintelligible. - -"What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?" were questions -anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in -administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to -his aunt, - -"Don't--tell--her." - -It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying, -"Don't be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it." - -He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. -Henrietta's violently throbbing heart took from her almost the -perception of what was happening. - -"Take breath, Willy," said his father; "don't keep us all anxious." - -"Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey," said the boy. - -"Is she safe?" asked Aunt Mary, earnestly. - -"Yes." - -"Thanks to God," said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, -with a look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible -mournfulness which went to his heart. - -"And Fred?" said Uncle Roger. - -"Do not ask, Roger," said she, still as calmly as before; "I always knew -how it would be." - -Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one -word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few -confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters -in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came -to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was -still. - -"Mamma!" said she. - -"Here, dear child,"--but it was Mrs. Langford's voice. - -"Mamma!" again said she. "Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does -the room turn round?" - -"You have not been well, my dear," said her grandmother; "but drink -this, and lie still, you will soon be better." - -"Where is mamma?" repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but -Mrs. Langford and Bennet. "Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her -I am better." - -"She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep." - -"But weren't there a great many people?" said Henrietta. "Were we not -in the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, -where are mamma and Fred?" - -"They will soon be here, I hope." - -"But, grandmamma," cried she vehemently, turning herself round as -clearer recollection returned, "something has happened--O! what has -happened to Fred?" - -"Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear," said Mrs. Langford. "It was -Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles -are gone to see about him." - -"A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, -tell me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!" - -With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and -bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all -that she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance -on her, and had only heard the main fact of Willy's story. Henrietta -clapped her hands wildly together in an agony of grief. "He is -killed--he is, I'm sure of it!" said she. "Why do you not tell me so?" - -"My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned." - -"No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred, -Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O, -Fred!" - -She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of -sorrow. "And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O, -my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!" - -"Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "you do not know what you are saying; -you must bear the will of God, be it what it may." - -"I can't, I can not," repeated Henrietta; "if I am to lose him, I can't -live; I don't care for anything without Fred!" - -"Your mother, Henrietta." - -"Mamma! O, don't speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, -without him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing." - -Henrietta's grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish; -there was little thought of her mother,--little, indeed, for anything -but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and -sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly -tried to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and -saying, "I can't be patient--no, I can't!" and then again repeating her -brother's name with all the fondest terms of endearment. - -Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived--and she -became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required -her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel -disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, -fancying herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being -told really and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was -urgent to go out and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. -Langford would not permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful -sight, which might shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from -taking it so; her habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite -of her usual gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, -and she burst into a passionate fit of weeping. - -In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps, -scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it -as a subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of -a long previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; -gentle, caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and -deceitful. But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her -mother, prepared for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a -support to her; she would have remembered how terrible must be the -shock to her grandmother in her old age, and how painful must be the -remembrances thus excited of the former bereavement; and in the attempt -to console her, the sense of her own sorrow would have been in some -degree relieved; whereas she now seemed to forget that Frederick -was anything to any one but herself. She prayed, but it was one wild -repetition of "O, give him back to me!--save his life!--let him be safe -and well!" She had no room for any other entreaty; she did not call -for strength and resignation on the part of herself and her mother, for -whatever might be appointed; she did not pray that his life might be -granted only if it was for his good; she could ask nothing but that her -own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and she ended her prayer -as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she began it. - -The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and -Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and -greatly relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick's life, -and of Philip Carey's arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their -first entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their -narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and -when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again -turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look -at Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one -flesh from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one -word, one kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled -ringlets that floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead -rested, and meantime submitted with a kind of patient indifference to -her grandmother's caress, drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, -and finally was sent upstairs to change her dress. Too restless, too -anxious, too wretched to stay there alone, longing for some interchange -of sympathy,--but her mind too turbid with agitation to seek it where it -would most surely have been found,--she hastened down again. Grandmamma -was busied in giving directions for the room which was being prepared -for Fred; Uncle Roger had walked out to meet those who were conveying -him home: and Henrietta was sitting in the window, her forehead resting -against the glass, watching intently for their arrival. - -"Are they coming?" asked Beatrice anxiously. - -"No!" was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as -if her cousin's entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went -up and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand -that lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, "Henrietta, you -forgive me?" - -The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised -her face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, "Of course, -Bee, only I am so wretched. Don't talk to me." - -Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with -a more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; -it was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her -whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost -choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the -cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,--longed for her -almost as much for her papa's, her Aunt Mary's and her grandmother's -sake, as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with -her have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to -her, but her hand was trembling--every pulse throbbing; she could not -even sit still enough to make the attempt. - -At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the -window beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by -Uncle Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one -side, and on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger's -arm. - -Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that -moment for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and -deposited for a few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed -between her uncles, and made her way up to him, unconscious of the -presence of anyone else--even of her mother--while she clasped his hand, -and hanging over him looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless -features. The next moment she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, -and was forced to turn round and look into her face: the sweet mournful -meekness of which came for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the -dry burning desert of her grief. - -"My poor child," said the gentle voice. - -"O, mamma, is--is--." She could not speak; her face was violently -agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered. - -"They hope for the best, my dear," was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey -Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the -intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only -took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended -to convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was -telling her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her -to take some rest. - -"Thank you, ma'am,--thank you very much indeed--you are very kind: I am -very sorry to give you so much trouble," were her answers; and simple as -were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in them. - -Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at -that moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was -retreating, as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in -Henrietta's. - -"I did not see you, before, Queenie," she said, holding out her hand and -kissing her, "you have gone through more than any one." - -A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee's -eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful -name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and -contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was -no one to attend to her--the patient occupied the whole attention of -all. He was carried to his mother's room, placed in bed, and again -examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence -that there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. -While this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, -her head on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As -evening twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went -down to make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the -drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, -and beg to be let in. - -Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the -bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first -stood by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down -on a footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother's lap, gave -herself up to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the -very luxury of grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching -his sister-in-law even more anxiously than the patient, and thus a -considerable interval passed in complete silence, only broken by the -crackling of the fire, the ticking of the watches, or some slight change -of posture of one or other of the three nurses. At last the stillness -was interrupted by a little movement among the bedclothes, and with a -feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the hand, which had hitherto lain -so still and helpless, stretched somewhat out, and the head turned upon -the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed -her daughter's hand with a sort of convulsive tremor. A faint voice -murmured "Mamma!" and while a flush of trembling joy illumined her pale -face, she bent over him, answering him eagerly and fondly, but he did -not seem to know her, and again repeating "Mamma," opened his eyes with -a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express some complaint. - -In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness. -He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the -sake of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, -not even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, -while his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering -his half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with -assistance and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially -supporting his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance -so precious to a sinking heart. - -Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that -she might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick -Langford only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful -smile that it was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta -to go. The former complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would -create downstairs; but Henrietta declared that she could not bear the -thoughts of going down, and it was only by a positive order that he -succeeded in making her come with him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made -her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded her plate with all that was best -on the table, but she looked at it with disgust, and leaning back in her -chair, faintly begged not to be asked to eat. - -Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which -startled her by its unwonted severity, "This will not do, Henrietta; I -cannot allow you to add to your mamma's troubles by making yourself ill. -I desire you will eat, as you certainly can." - -Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have -interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling -of being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and -having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner, -by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed. - -Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, -and returned to Fred's room as soon as he could, without giving that -appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm. -Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after -him, and neither of the two came down again to tea. - -Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course -very glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the -conversation kept up with him for civility's sake. She had been -leading a forlorn dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping -grandmamma to write notes to be sent to the intended guests, and -afterwards, with a feeling of intense disgust, putting out of sight all -the preparations for their own self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and -yet when she found it, it was unendurable, and to talk to her father or -grandfather would be a great relief, yet the first beginning might well -be dreaded. Neither of them was forthcoming, and now in the evening to -hear the quiet grave discussion of Allonfield gossip was excessively -harassing and irritating. No one spoke for their own pleasure, the -thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only talked thus for the sake -of politeness; but she gave them no credit for this, and felt fretted -and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was better than when -they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of the accident, -requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it. She hurried -over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting. - -"But, my dear," said Mrs. Roger Langford, "what could have made you so -anxious to go to Allonfield?" - -"O, Aunt Roger, it was very--" but here Beatrice, whose agitated spirits -made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized with -such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an expedition, -with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass's ears, that she -was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt Roger, -after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up, and -came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more -uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and -when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed -the more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment -succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind -demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and -a certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all. -When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the -dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a -violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite -still, except for the trembling, which she could not control. - -Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could -not bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. -Langford's offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that -she should go up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit -her when he came out of Fred's room. Her grandmamma came up with her, -helped her to undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and -summoned Judith to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible -for Henrietta, who was to sleep with her that night. It was with -much difficulty that she could avoid making a promise to go to bed -immediately, and not to get up to breakfast. At last, with a very -affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her to brush her hair, an operation -which she resolved to lengthen out until her papa's visit. - -It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the -passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before -him, her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual -from the contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white -nightcap and dressing-gown. - -"How is Fred?" asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her -to speak. - -"Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? -Your grandmamma said--" - -"Never mind, papa," interrupted she, "only tell me this--is Fred in -danger?" - -"You have heard all we can tell, my dear--" - -Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped -her hands: "I know--I know; but what do you think?" - -"My own impression is," said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost -reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, "that there -is no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain -the extent of the injury." - -Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon -it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his -face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly, -"Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing." - -His face did not express surprise or horror--nothing but kindness and -compassion, while he answered, "My poor girl, I was afraid how it might -have been." Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so -as to let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her -time. He might be in haste, but it was no time to show it. - -She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, "Yes, yes, papa, it was the -very thing you warned me against--I mean--I mean--the being set in my -own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to tell -you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me," and she touched -her throat. "I can't get it out in words! O!" Poor Beatrice even groaned -aloud with oppression. - -"Do not try to express it," said her father: "at least, it is not I who -can give you the best comfort. Here"--and he took up a Prayer Book. - -"Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa," said -Beatrice; "but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up -in me. Not one prayer or confession would come;--but now, O! now you -know it, and--and--I feel as if He would not turn away His face. Do you -know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even 'deliver me -from blood-guiltiness,' it would only make me shudder! O, papa, it was -dreadful!" - -Her father's answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and -read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer -for persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord's Prayer. -Beatrice, when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not -speak, nor weep, but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her -anxiously and affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so -much time on her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again -spoke, it was in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, "Aunt Mary -will forgive me, I know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will -not be quite so bad! Now I can pray that he may be saved--O, -papa--disobedient, and I the cause; how could I ever bear the thought?" - -"You can only pray," replied her father. - -"Now that I can once more," said Beatrice; and again there was a -silence, while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual -habit, not speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her -repentant feelings by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. -So they remained for nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it -time to leave her, and made some movement as if to do so. Then she -spoke, "Only tell me one thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any -hope? There was something--something death-like in her face. Does she -hope?" - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. "Not yet," said he. "I think it -may be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning -the hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it -will be as it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his -accident." - -"But surely, surely," said Beatrice eagerly, "this is a very different -case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he -is convinced that there is no fracture--" - -"It is a morbid feeling," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "and therefore -impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and -I shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over." - -"Poor dear aunt!" sighed Beatrice. "I am glad, if it was to be, that you -were here, for nobody else would understand her." - -"Understand her!" said he, with something of a smile. "No, Bee, -such sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be -understood." - -Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort, -said, "I suppose mamma will soon be here?" - -"I think not," said her father, "I shall tell her she had better wait -to see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is -needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, -and I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, -I am of more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if -he is a long time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her -coming fresh, and not half knocked up with previous attendance." - -"But how she will wish to be here!" exclaimed Beatrice, "and how you -will want her!" - -"No doubt of that, Queenie," said her father smiling, "but we must -reserve our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I -must go. Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?" - -"With me," said Beatrice. - -"I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with -her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite -oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!" - -"I don't know what to do about her!" said Beatrice with more dejection -than she had yet shown, "I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I -can't--I shall never do good to anybody--only harm." - -"Fear the harm, and the good will come," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. -"Good night, my dear." - -Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on -her father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest, -unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew -not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of -such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never -known before. - -So she continued till she heard Henrietta's approaching steps, when she -rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection -and consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on -her eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour -on half her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole -person, as if but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, -and took her candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. "No -better," was all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed -answers to all her cousin's questions. She would have done the same to -her grandmamma, or any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, -but this conduct gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done -to any one else, since it kept up the last miserable feeling of being -unforgiven. Beatrice let her sit still for some minutes, looking at -her all the time with an almost piteous glance of entreaty, of which -Henrietta was perfectly unconscious, and then began to beg her to -undress, seconding the proposal by beginning to unfasten her dress. - -Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed. - -"I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta," said Beatrice; "if you would but -let me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still." - -"No, I shan't," said Henrietta shortly, "never mind me." - -"But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but--" - -"I can't go to bed," replied Henrietta, "thank you, Bee, never mind--" - -Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any -service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta's grief than by -the unkind rejection of herself. "Papa thinks there is great hope," said -she abruptly. - -"Mamma does not," said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to -put an end to the subject. - -Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard -it was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door--it was -grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice -of the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours -ago; she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all -Henrietta's feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, -grandmamma peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another -half-hour the cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta's lethargy -had become a heavy sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every -sound, forming every possible speculation on the future, and to her own -overstretched fancy seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each -other through her throbbing head. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - -"Half-past one," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual -observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal -twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since. - -There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though -carefully avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick -bed, he knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he -again heard her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it -had a tremulous tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness. - -Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the -expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the -crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when -the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught -at the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only -answer had been, "As you think right." She spoke so as to show the -greatest consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with -her usual confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to -be called in entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and -returned to her station by Frederick, who had already missed and -summoned her. - -Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice's sarcasm, -was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had -owed much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded -with great reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience -and diffident of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance -in this, the first very serious case which had fallen under his own -management. The proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a -cause of great rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to -the measure. In her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged -fraternity in which she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice -from London would, she thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. -Roger Langford, and all the Carey connection, but seriously injure the -reputation of young Mr. Carey in his own neighbourhood. - -Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such -considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against -Frederick's life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till -her son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted -her by letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and -persuading her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip's practice -that his opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note. - -The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before -she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely -satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already -taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was -genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy's sake. He gave them, too, -more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had -ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the -brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do -well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had -begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment -was agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to -enter on a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged -to go away the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty -that Fred would be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys -shared the belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired -them all with something like hope. - -The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick -Langford and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a -considerable degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his -mother's voice did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew -restless and uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, "Is Uncle Geoffrey -here?" was many times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his -usual answer to her was "You speak so loud;" though in reality, her tone -was almost exactly the same as her mother's; and above all others he -disliked the presence of Philip Carey. - -"Who is that?" inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious -of the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked -quickly, "Is he gone?" - -The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering -considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and -distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared, -glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle -could scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it -were, by the slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with -pain, incapable of thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his -faculties, as it seemed, restored only to be the means of suffering. -Mrs. Langford came to the door to announce that Philip Carey was come. -Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta -began to arrange the room a little for his reception. Fred, however, -soon stopped this. "I can't bear the shaking," said he. "Tell them to -leave off, mamma." - -Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing -that she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs -in order, but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and -exclamation, and Mrs. Langford remarked, "Well, if he cannot bear it, it -cannot be helped; but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!" And out -she went, Fred frowning with pain at every step she took. - -"Why do you let people come?" asked he sharply of his mother. "Where is -Uncle Geoffrey gone?" - -"He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him -directly." - -"I don't want Philip Carey; don't let him come." - -"My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may -do something for this sad pain." - -Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey -opened the door to ask if Fred was ready. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would -not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily -for his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face -a little more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window -shutters partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his -intention, as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of -pain, he turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes -over it. - -"My dear boy," said his mother, pleadingly, "for one moment only!" - -"I told you I could not bear the light," was all the reply. - -"If you would but oblige me for a few seconds," said Philip. - -"Fred!" said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as -if to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face -again, saying, "I can't;" and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the -shutter, unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had -opened it, and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient -scarcely vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted -the room, and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a "Don't go, -mamma," was immediately heard. - -"You must spare me for a very little while, my dear," said she, gently -but steadily. - -"Don't stay long, then," replied he. - -Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light -as a woman's, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, -and for a few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost -immediately he renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and -had it been any other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have -grumbled at his not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted -with a discontented murmur. "What an immense time you have stayed -away!"--presently after, "I wish you would not have that Carey!" and -then, "I wish we were at Rocksand,--I wish Mr. Clarke were here." - -Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as -well as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it -comes as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly -in the young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the -old and querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To -a certain degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of -strength, and the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses -of the young, often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their -patience and forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who -have seen germs of far other dispositions. And when this is not the -case, who would have the heart to complain? Certainly not those who -are like the mother and uncle who had most to endure from the exacting -humours of Frederick Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain -degree of gentleness of character, and a home where, though he was not -over indulged, there was little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined -to make him appear one of the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever -existed; but there was no substance in this apparent good quality, it -was founded on no real principle of obedience or submission, and when to -an habitual spirit of determination to have his own way, was superadded -the irritability of nerves which was a part of his illness, when his -powers of reflection were too much weakened to endure or comprehend -argument; when, in fact, nothing was left to fall back upon but the -simple obedience which would have been required in a child, and when -that obedience was wanting, what could result but increased discomfort -to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as we should lay up a store of -prayers against that time when we shall be unable to pray for ourselves, -so surely should we lay up a store of habits against the time when we -may be unable to think or reason for ourselves! How often have -lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning instantaneous -obedience! - -Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and -future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet -too disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was -subjecting his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission -would have led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually -interrupting even the short repose which she would now and then be -persuaded to seek on the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, -harassing complaints, not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every -thing and every person who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the -only person against whom he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled -against measures to which he was obliged to submit in the end, after -he had distressed every one and exhausted himself by his fruitless -opposition. - -It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would -endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of -those spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are -nevertheless capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to -look worn and almost aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still -indefatigable, unconscious of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in -the thought of her son, and yet not so absorbed as not to be full of -consideration for all around. All looked forward with apprehension to -the time when the consequences of such continued exertion must be -felt, but in the meantime it was not in the power of any one except her -brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to her, and her relations could -only wait and watch with such patience as they could command, for the -period when their services might be effectual. - -Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her -very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the -upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever -she entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always -created a disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was -the aim of the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, -as may be supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa's "You had better not, my -dear," checked her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: -Uncle Geoffrey, who might have had the best chance, had not time to -spare for her; and no one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how -dangerous it was to attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed -the whole household for indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times -a day pronounced that he would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did -the best she could to tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash -did not accord particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much -depressed to queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in -the midst of the suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and -above all, poor child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of -confession and parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; -she was anxious and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be -all that her mother was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that -sat so heavy on her mind was not one for discussion with any one but a -mother, and this consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with -him, such as had never before existed between them. - -Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that -chiefly because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong -affection and esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now -manifested, and the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions -served but to make the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his -brothers, and spent every moment he could at the Hall, either reading in -the library, or walking up and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One -of the many conversations which they held will serve as a specimen of -the rest. - -"So they do not think he is much better to-day?" said Alex, walking into -the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters. - -Beatrice shook her head. "Every day that he is not worse is so much -gained," said she. - -"It is very odd," meditated Alex: "I suppose the more heads have in -them, the easier it is to knock them!" - -Beatrice smiled. "Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex." - -"Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee," and he examined his own -face in the glass over the chimney; "there, do you see a little bit of -a scar under my eyebrow?--there! Well, that was where I was knocked over -by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred -could have come against the ground,--but what harm did it do me? Why -everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black -eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise. -Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing -I saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I -got up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was -the worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would -give anything now." - -"Well, but Alex, I don't understand. You were very good friends at the -bottom, after all; you can't have anything really to repent of towards -him." - -"Oh, haven't I though?" was the reply. "It was more the other fellows' -doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing -all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of -you, had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be -such a friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was--a -fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl's, and that did not even -know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could -begin it all over again." - -"But do you mean that he was really a--a--what you call a Miss Molly?" - -"Who said so? No, not a bit of it!" said Alex. "No one thought so in -reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend -to think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times -more spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been -knocked about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. -The matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I -shan't care if we do win." - -"And the prize," said Beatrice, "the scholarship!" - -"I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey -had not a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the -summer, why then--hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no -time, clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don't you think -so?" - -Queen Bee shook her head. "They say he must not read or study for a very -long time," said she. - -"Yes, but six months--a whole year is an immense time," said Alex. "O -yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does -other people; and his verses, they never fail--never except when he is -careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time. -That is right. Why there!" exclaimed Alex joyfully, "I do believe -this is the very best thing for his success!" Beatrice could not help -laughing, and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed -him, that if Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason -to be thankful. - -"Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this," proceeded -he. "There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters -either." - -"The masters, perhaps," said Beatrice; "but I thought you said there was -a party against him among the boys?" - -"Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they -had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all -his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough -to let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. -I shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon -as I go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have -not the slightest notion what a fellow he is. I'll just tell you one -story of him." - -Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to -illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again -and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed -between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more -conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted -fellow, that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to -Frederick's; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him. - -These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, -if only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that -the only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters -which her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of -those of cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred's room. She -thought she could have borne everything excepting Henrietta's coldness, -which still continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness -to forgive, but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her -own troubles to realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her -uncle Geoffrey had succeeded in awakening her consideration for her -mother; but with her and Fred it began and ended, and when outside the -sick room, she seemed not to have a thought beyond a speedy return -to it. She seldom or never left it, except at meal-times, or when her -grandfather insisted on her taking a walk with him, as he did almost -daily. Then he walked between her and Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse -her to talk, and she, replying as shortly as possible when obliged to -speak, left her cousin to sustain the conversation. - -The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the -Epiphany, and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which -their own hands had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the -glistening leaves unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear -began to gather in Beatrice's eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if -she could not bear the sight of those branches, so lately gathered by -her brother. As they were leaving the church, both looked towards the -altar at the wreath which Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a -deeper and more awful meaning than she had designed. Their eyes met, and -they saw that they had the same thought in their minds. - -When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee -stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but -with a gesture that was almost timid, saying, - -"Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of -this." - -And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse-- - - -"Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And--mark it -well--e'en there He wears His Crown of Thorns. - -"Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set -around, of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping -foe." - - -"They go very deep," sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful -complaining glance. - -Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct -on Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the "thing -profane" that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she -had even appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning -to speak, but Henrietta cut her short by saying, "Yes, yes, but I can't -stay," and was flying along the passage the next moment. - -Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in -recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of -her recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured -out her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the -very germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: -and a calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, -began to dawn on her. - -It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave -her alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had -heard the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that -her presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the -gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even -stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be -comforted by talking to her. - -Her thought was only the repining one: "the thorns go deep!" Poor child, -had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful -surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden -source of the malady. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - -On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton -carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and -her father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when -alone together. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring -breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery -threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy -grass, the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver "pussycats" on the withy, and -the tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such -sights were a refreshment--a sort of holiday--after the many springs -spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long -attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking -deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if -it would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she -had not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! -Her father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, -and no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on -changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her -mother's place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going -to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, -and they would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning -themselves the next morning to Westminster. - -They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs. -Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new -books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey's for some medicines; -and then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train. - -Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,--the -dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions; -the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the -dress so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy -Beatrice was that first moment of feeling herself at her side! - -"My dear! my own dear child!" Then anxiously following her husband with -her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, "How thin he -looks, Queenie!" - -"O, he has been doing so much," said Busy Bee. "It is only for this -last week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred's -room. This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to -Church, and a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma." - -He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. "Come, Beatrice," said -he to his wife, "I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh -face of yours will do us all so much good." - -"One thing is certain," said she; "I shall send home orders that you -shall be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall -hide half the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, -Geoffrey, are you really well?" - -"Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn," said her husband -laughing. - -"Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?" - -"He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to -lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch's outlines to look at: so you may -guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the -books and prints?" - -"Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight." - -"It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only -take care, they must not be at Henrietta's discretion, or his own, or he -will be overwhelmed with them,--a very little oversets him, and might do -great mischief." - -"You don't think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?" - -"O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep -him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite -is returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him." - -"I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of -poor Mary's over gentleness." - -"Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some -strange prejudice against Philip Carey." - -Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while -her father proceeded. - -"I do not understand it at all: Philip's manners in a sick room are -particularly good--much better than I should have expected, and he has -been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has -shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most -of it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the -London doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than -Philip has ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks -and exclaims the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of -wishing for old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for -never having proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great -faith in the old man, but I believe it was only her mother." - -"Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really -are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am -very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing -but her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about -her." - -"As if I did not know that," said he, smiling. - -"And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I -should like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred's part. Have you -ever asked him?" - -"No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the -prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and -again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence -in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp -enough to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the -great trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned -it, for fear of annoying my mother." - -"Papa," said Busy Bee, "I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It -was my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor -Fred about Roger's having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of -things that I did not really mean." - -"Hem!" said her father. "Well, I should think it might be so; it always -struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, -the memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained." - -"And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am -to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon." - -"Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might -do away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; -only do not let him think it has been under discussion." - -Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. - -"Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?" said her mother. - -"Too wonderfully," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "in a way which I fear -will cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way -as she ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of -the old complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am -persuaded that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago." - -"Ah!" said his wife, with great concern, "that is just what I have been -dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ----, how strongly he -forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let me come? -I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting off." - -"It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice," said he, smiling; -"a sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to -make themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I -did not see you." - -"But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?" - -"Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother -and me; you could not have saved either of us an hour's nursing then, -whereas now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she -will suffer it, and that she will do better from you than from any one -else." - -They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee -was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as -it had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. -Even her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was -so much to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that -they had not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived -at the gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, -excessively delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey. - -In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs. -Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of -a curiously varying and always opposite description. When her -daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of -respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable -life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning, -lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these -prejudices in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own -sake, as well as because she was Geoffrey's wife. On the contrary, the -younger Beatrice, while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,--the -Queen of Bees, the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has -already been shown how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or -had once done so, though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there -had been only one collision between them for the last ten days, and that -was caused by her strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred -was not yet fit for boiled chicken and calves' foot jelly. - -Mrs. Langford's greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her -mamma hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey. - -"My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!" - -"Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!" - -"Is he tired?" asked Uncle Geoffrey. - -"No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of -Queen Bee's promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?" - -Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had -not seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know -how to begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, -while Henrietta went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, -Henrietta opened it, and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by -the fire, in his dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless -manner that betokens great feebleness. There were the purple marks of -leeches on his temples; his hair had been cropped close to his head; his -face was long and thin, without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked -large and bright; and he smiled and held out his hand: "Ah, Queenie, how -d'ye do?" - -"How d'ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better." - -"You see I have the asses' ears after all," said he, pointing to his -own, which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition. - -Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort, -and succeeded, while she said, "I should have complimented you on the -increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head -was so like papa's." - -"Is Aunt Geoffrey come?" asked Fred. - -"Yes," said his sister: "but mamma thinks you had better not see her -till to-morrow." - -"I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going," said Fred. "Nobody else has the -least notion of making one tolerably comfortable." - -"O, your mamma, Fred!" said Queen Bee. - -"O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged." - -"Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work -in London," said Henrietta; "but I do not know what we should have done -without him." - -"I do not know what we shall do now," said Fred, in a languid and -doleful tone. - -The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost -alarmed eagerness, "O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will -enjoy having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and -Philip Carey manages you so well--" - -"Manages!" said Fred; "ay, and I'll tell you how, Queenie; just as the -man managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he -thinks I am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he -knew himself what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire -through my hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a -merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing -else on earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the -strength of a midge!" - -"Well, but of course he knows," said Busy Bee; "Papa says he has had an -excellent education, and he must know." - -"To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how -to keep a patient when he has got one." - -"How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign -you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it." - -"I am talking no nonsense," said Fred, sharply; "I am as serious as -possible." - -"But you can't really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such -an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor -too?" - -"What! when that man gets I don't know how many guineas from mamma every -time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should -get well?" - -"My dear Fred," interposed his sister, "you are exciting yourself, and -that is so very bad for you." - -"I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to -be shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding -twice a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey's pockets! Now, there was -old Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; -but this man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to -kick him out of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying -to be gen-tee-eel, and condoling; and those boots--O! Busy Bee! those -boots! whenever he makes a step I always hear them say, 'O what a pretty -fellow I am!'" - -"You seem to be very merry here, my dears," said Aunt Mary, coming in; -"but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even -before I opened the door." - -Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not -absolutely to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, -sitting down, began to talk to the visitor, "Well, my little Queen, we -have seen very little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose -you. I suppose your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must -not expect any, but we shall want very much to know how you get on with -Aunt Susan and her little dog." - -"O very well, I dare say," said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was -looking at her aunt's delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her -father had been saying. - -"And Queenie," continued her aunt, earnestly, "you must take great -care of your papa--make him rest, and listen to your music, and read -story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening." - -"To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can." - -"But Bee," said Fred, "you don't mean that you are going to be shut up -with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don't you stay here, and -let her take care of herself?" - -"Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is -really ill, Fred," said Beatrice. - -"It is too bad, now I am just getting better--if they would let me, I -mean," said Fred: "just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you -go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame." - -"So it is, Fred," said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once -she would have answered him, "a great shame in you not to have learned -to feel for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself." - -"That is right, Bee," said Aunt Mary, smiling; "tell him he ought to -be ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the -comfort of your household. I am sure I am," added she, her eyes filling -with tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice's hand. - -Queen Bee's heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to -the expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only -pressed her aunt's long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face -to the fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was -a little silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the -engravings at which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till -the dressing bell rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook -hands with Fred, saying cheerfully, "Well, good-bye, I hope you will be -better friends with the doctors next time I see you." - -"Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!" repeated Fred, as she -left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma -in the space allowed for dressing. - -Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick's own -place, there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet -to sit with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old -man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both -Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence. - -Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and -talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was -ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again, -Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with -Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either -writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly -like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, -she was no repiner. "I deserve it," said she to herself, "and surely -I ought to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. -Besides, with even one little bit of papa's company I am only too well -off." - -So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no -one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed -upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were -much more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about -Fred, and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful -gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously -amiss with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to -rights. Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain -of remorse was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every -little gesture and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the -accident. - -Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so -much talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of -his uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, -but still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, -for when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as -he watched the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time -sedulously making for his comfort, "Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you -very much; I am afraid I have been a great plague to you." - -Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle -Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully -expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, -coupled with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was -salutary. - -"Anything for your good, my dear sir," said he, with a smile. "You are -welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma -is not quite so tough." - -"Well, I do try to be considerate about her," said Fred. "I mean to make -her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to -save her." - -"You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her -discussions." - -Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the -early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly -harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey. - -Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which -Henrietta had left on the sofa. "I like those very much," said Fred, -"especially the Fight with the Dragon." - -"You know Schiller's poem on it?" said Uncle Geoffrey. - -"Yes, Henrietta has it in German." - -"Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration." - -"I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a -dragon-killing expedition," said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh. - -"Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for-- - - - 'The duty hardest to fulfil, - To learn to yield our own self-will.'" - - -"There is very little hasty pudding in the case," said Fred, rather -disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of -resolution of this kind, "I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let -that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it, -unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit -to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up -to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head -and aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!" - -Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful -than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and -besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so -much so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have -half an hour's talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at -last, however, and his first question was, "What do you think of the -little Bee?" - -"I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able -to do for some time past," was the answer. - -"Poor child, she has felt it very deeply," said he, "I have been grieved -to have so little time to bestow on her." - -"I am disposed to think," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, -"that it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much -talk has always been the mischief with her, as with many another only -child, and it struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so -little. There was something very touching in the complete absence of -moralizing to-day." - -"None of her sensible sayings," said her father, with a gratified though -a grave smile. "It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self -in it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness -about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have -seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much -pleased with her, she was so simple: 'Very well,' she said, 'I hope I -shall be able to make her comfortable:' no begging off, no heroism. And -really, Beatrice, don't you think we could make some other arrangement? -It is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very -well, and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor -little Queen here with you." - -"No, no, Geoffrey," said his wife, "that would never do: I do not mean -on my aunt's account, but on the Busy Bee's; I am sure, wish it as we -may," and the tears were in her eyes, "this is no time for even the -semblance of neglecting a duty for her sake." - -"Not so much hers as yours," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "you have more -on your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a -valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it -is your turn to keep her now." - -"No, no, no," she repeated, though not without an effort, "it is best as -it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write -to me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred -times more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death -with no one to remonstrate." - -So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost -both mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which -they kept close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one -fragment of each other's company; but they had very few moments alone -together, and those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in -minute directions as to the little things that conduced to keep Lady -Susan in good humour, and above all, the arrangements for papa's -comfort. There was thus not much time for Beatrice to spend with -Henrietta, nor indeed would much have resulted if there had been more. -As she grew more at ease about her brother, Henrietta had gradually -resumed her usual manner, and was now as affectionate to Beatrice as -ever, but she was quite unconscious of her previous unkindness, and -therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen Bee had ceased to think -of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the two girls, they neither -of them perceived it. - -Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London -so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but -their hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, -who came in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey -about his school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a -merrier meeting next summer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety -for her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to -allow that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than -she had hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and -after a few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe -fit of the spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at -intervals, and was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, -relying with complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her -son. - -It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to -devote herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of -Frederick, who was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she -only gave him as much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and -to superintend the regulation of his room. He had all the society he -wanted in his sister, who was always with him, and in grandpapa and -grandmamma, whose short and frequent visits he began greatly to -enjoy. He had also been more amenable to authority of late, partly in -consequence of his uncle's warning, partly because it was not quite so -easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and partly too because, excepting -always the starving system, he had nothing in particular of which to -complain. His mother's illness might also have its effect in subduing -him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or Henrietta's, as they -were too much accustomed to her ill health to be easily alarmed on her -account. - -It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in -the afternoon--Fred's best time in the day--to take his leave. All the -morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good -deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he -had been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay -away from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and -finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be -thus laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and -leading member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable -that he would never return there again. - -He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be -missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees, -and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: -the "beech-crowned steep," girdled in with the "hollow trench that the -Danish pirate made;" the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of -the chapel, the surpliced scholars,--even the very shops in the streets -had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he -sighed at the thought that there he would be known no more,--all would -go on as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of -compassion, he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race -of distinction; his school-boy career be at an end. - -His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford's entrance with Aunt -Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, -to walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after -putting a book within Fred's reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma -were quite willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother. - -Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his -health, and the present mode of treatment,--a subject on which they were -perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as -the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully -dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for -a long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room -without excessive giddiness--what was that but the effect of want of -nourishment? "If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the -thing was wholesome." So she said, and her grandson assented with his -whole heart. - -In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most -tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly. - -"O, grandmamma!" said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively -lighted up at the sight. - -"Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very -good. It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must -do you good." - -"Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice," said Fred, gazing on -it with wistful eyes, "but really I do not think I ought." - -"If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a -thing," said Mrs. Langford. "But I have lived a good many more years in -the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all -this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the -neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the -fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the -system,--that was what he used to say." - -"Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!" sighed Fred. "I know my system -would like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid -stuff; but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if -they knew it." - -"Never mind," said grandmamma; "'tis all my doing, you know. Come, to -oblige me, taste it, my dear." - -"One spoonful," said Fred--"to oblige grandmamma," added he to himself: -and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could -bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a -little,--"There is wine in it!" said he. - -"A very little--just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any -difference. Do you like it, my dear?" as the spoon scooped out another -transparent rock. "Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt -Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith." - -"I am in for it now," thought Fred. "Well, 'tis excellent," said he; -"capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers' ends," added he with a -smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles -remaining in the small end. - -"That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!" said grandmamma, -hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it -implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of -his own case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very -imprudently,--that is to say, his better sense was aware--but his spirit -of self-will made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and -was greatly confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. -Grandmamma returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed -her, and after shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the -alteration in Fred's appearance. - -This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over -school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his -friends, discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, -the studies, the employments; Alex lamenting Fred's absence, engaging -to write, undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his -speedy recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,--the prize. Never had -the two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was -no competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both -felt great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud -became their glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not -in perfect health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; -and finding Fred so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest -farewells and good wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie -quiet and rest, and sat down herself to see that he did so. - -Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and -eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went -on more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some -one who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but -he grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the -time for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and -sent Bennet to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a -quiescent state. He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of -the evening; but so wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began -to be alarmed, and fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was -in the right after all. Towards morning, however, a short sleep -visited him, and he awoke at length quite sufficiently refreshed to be -self-willed as ever; and, contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his -bed at his usual hour. - -Philip Carey came at about twelve o'clock, and was disappointed as well -as surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as -he could not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was -unsatisfactory; but Philip thought the excitement of the interview -with Alex well accounted for the sleepless night, as well as for the -exhaustion of the present day: and Fred persuaded himself to believe so -too. - -Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take -a ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone -by was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in -his granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. -Geoffrey Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be -too bustling a nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently -impatient to be left alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick -Langford, resolving, however, not to be long absent. - -In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, -in spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent -irritation of Philip's last visit made him more willing to act in -opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of -swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in -which he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale -glass safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford's -door was opened at the other end of the passage. - -Fred's sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,--too -high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa, -too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly -though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought -she did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain -concluding shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him -in a passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came -in, and it seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the -horses' feet upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because -his sister went first to her mamma's room; and it was grandpapa who came -to him full of a story of Henrietta's good management of her horse when -they suddenly met the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in -her habit, her hair hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and -eyes lighted up by the exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, -begging his pardon for having kept him waiting, but saying she thought -he did not want her directly, as he had grandpapa. - -Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of -spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong -scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then -insisted on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating -to him from the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she -sat down directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to -be thus satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her -translation, and desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read -first so fast that he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was -quite unbearable, and she must go on translating. With the greatest -patience and sweetest temper she obeyed; only when next he interrupted -her to find fault, she stopped and said gently, "Dear Fred, I am afraid -you are not feeling so well." - -"Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I -suppose. Well, never mind, I will go on for myself," said he, snatching -the book. - -Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to -vindicate herself. - -"Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would -not be so silly." - -"If you would only let me go on, dear Fred," said she, thinking that -occupying him would be better than arguing. "It is so dark where you -are, and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming." - -Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time, -till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when -the failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light -from the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad -of her, when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that -horrible red flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, -which had been one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so -alarmed her that she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and -was heartily glad to see her enter the room. - -"Well, how are you going on?" she said, cheerfully. "Why, my dear, how -hot you must be in that habit!" - -"Rather," said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her -perplexity, was almost crimson. "We have been reading 'Nicolo,' and I -am very much afraid it is as bad as Alex's visit, and has excited Fred -again." - -"I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!" said Fred, -impatiently. - -"Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt," said Aunt Geoffrey. "But -yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity." - -Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta -that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt. - -"Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?" said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as -well as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to -acquire sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and -still she held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in -the hope that it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened -them. - -"What! 'tis faster?" asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when -she released him at last. - -"You are flushed, Fred," she answered very quietly, though she felt -full of consternation. "Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had -better not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better -than last night." - -"Very well," said Fred. - -"Then I will ring for Stephens," said she. - -The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and -there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms -that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without -exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to -recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as -she left her sister's room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had -left with Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been -giving him any of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford could hardly believe that either party could have acted so -foolishly, yet when she remembered a few words that had passed about the -jelly that morning at breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly -reproached herself for not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of -her suspicion she however said nothing, but sealing her note, she went -down to the drawing-room, told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred -quite so well that evening, and asked him if he did not think it might -be better to let Philip Carey know. He agreed instantly, and rang the -bell to order a servant to ride to Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who -could not bear any one but Geoffrey to act without consulting her, -pitied man and horse for being out so late, and opined that Beatrice -forgot that she was not in London, where the medical man could be called -in so easily. - -It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger, -for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was -not easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. "Well, it is very kind -in you to attend to my London fancies," said she; "I think if we can do -anything to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Langford. "It is very disappointing -when he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something -imprudent." - -It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her -daughter-in-law had long since come to a resolution never to convey to -her anything like reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken -kindness of heart, or her respectable prejudices; so, without -entering on what many in her place might have made a scene of polite -recrimination, she left the room, and on her way up, heard Frederick's -door gently opened. Stephens came quickly and softly to the end of -the passage to meet her. "He is asking for you, ma'am," said he; "I am -afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring, for fear of alarming -my mistress, but--" - -Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and -exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion -and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and -looked wildly about. "Oh, Aunt Geoffrey," he exclaimed, "what shall I -do? It is as bad--worse than ever!" - -"You have been doing something imprudent, I fear," said Aunt Geoffrey, -determined to come to the truth at once. - -"Only that glass of jelly--if I had guessed!" - -"Only one?" - -"One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma's doing. Don't let her -know that I told. I wish mamma was here!" - -Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could -not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed. - -"The inflammation is coming back!" he cried, in an agony of apprehension -that almost overcame the sense of pain. "I shall be in danger--I shall -lose my senses--I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?" - -"Lie still, my dear Fred," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand -on him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to -sit up. "Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. -You must control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will -do the best in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God." - -"Then you think me very ill?" said Fred, trying to speak more -composedly. - -"I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will -keep yourself quiet, both mind and body. There--" she settled him as -comfortably as she could: "Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make -a resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall -soon come back." - -This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as -a favour to spare her, and yet his aunt's tone was so affectionate, as -well as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left -the room, and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant -against the wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite -overwhelmed, and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, -or even for one short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, -there was no time, and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning -up her energies, she walked on to the person whom she at that moment -most dreaded to see, her sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her -arm-chair, Henrietta with her, both looking very anxious, and she was -glad to find her prepared. - -"What is it?" was the first eager question. - -"He has been attempting rather too much of late," was the answer, "and -has knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better -stay with him, and perhaps you might miss me." - -"O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as -that you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much -trouble. Don't stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if -he misses you--" - -"Don't you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you." - -This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother -said, "No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants -her." - -"By no means," said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; "he will be quieter -without her." - -Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting -down to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus -checked, and she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her -brother as her aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on -which it is susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for -her brother, whereas it was impatience of being ordered. - -Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. "Aunt Geoffrey is a -capital nurse," said she; "there is something so decided about her that -it always does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of -thinking for oneself." - -"I had rather judge for myself," said Henrietta. - -"That is all very well to talk of," said her mother, smiling sadly, "but -it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it." - -"Well, what do you like to hear?" said Henrietta, who found herself too -cross for conversation. "The old man's home?" - -"Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. -You would want 'lungs of brass' to go on all day to both of us. You had -better not. I should like to talk." - -Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it -gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting -a hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred -conversation. So she took up a book, and began, without any perception -of the sense of what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly -on her brother, and partly on her aunt's provoking ways. She read on -through a whole chapter, then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, "I -must go and see what Aunt Geoffrey is doing with Fred." - -"She is not such a very dangerous person," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, -almost laughing at the form of the expression. - -"Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?" - -"To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was -just going to sleep now." - -"Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door." - -"Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take -care, my dear." - -"I must go, I can't bear it any longer; I will only just listen," said -Henrietta; "I will not be a moment." - -"Let me have the book, my dear," said her mother, who knew but too well -the length of Henrietta's moments, and who had just, by means of a great -effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book. - -Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred's room was -ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing -round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from -Frederick's temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long -gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. "Leeches!" thought Henrietta, -as she started with consternation and displeasure. "This is pretty -strong! Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing -something with him indeed." - -She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, -till at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some -bottle. - -"Let me do something," said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she -thought likely to be the right one. - -Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, "You had better -stay with your mamma." - -"But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has -he ordered it?" - -"He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much -obliged if you would go back to your mamma." - -Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked -up and still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, -"Henrietta, you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses -him; your mamma must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?" - -"I was just going," said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an -additional offence, and walking off in a dignified way. - -It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, -the neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to -lay upon her, and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much -displeased, and too distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any -precautions which her aunt might have tried to impress upon her. - -"Well!" asked her mother anxiously. - -"She would not let me stay," answered Henrietta. "She has been putting -on leeches." - -"Leeches!" exclaimed her mother. "He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is -Mr. Carey here?" - -"No, that is the odd thing." - -"Has he not been sent for?" - -"I am sure I don't know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her -own way." - -"It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!" said -Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed. - -"And never to tell you!" said Henrietta. - -"O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should -be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?" - -"Very faint, I thought," said Henrietta, "there seemed to be a great -deal of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near." - -"She knows exactly what to do," said Mrs. Frederick Langford. "How well -it was that she should be here." - -Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother's complete confidence in -her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue -it away. "Aunt Geoffrey is so quick--she does things without half the -consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything." - -But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be -even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl. - -"My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you -were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied -that she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I -am satisfied, no one else has any right to object." - -There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but -to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of -distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more -than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and -the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did -to fly to her son's room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by -the fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The -tears, whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and -restored her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather -alarmed, too, when she saw her mamma's pale looks, as she leant back -almost exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation. - -Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little -idea of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer -them both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then -they heard sounds announcing Philip Carey's arrival, and presently after -in came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and -that his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, -saying, "Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you -so long, and I believe Henrietta," looking at her with a smile, "thinks -I have used you very ill." - -"I believe she did," said her mother, "but I was sure you would do -right; you say he is better? Let me hear." - -"Much better; only--. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should go -to bed." - -"Let me hear about him first." - -Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one -would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified -Henrietta's opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own -responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and -Fred, already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had -felt considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip -Carey, who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. -Now, however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, -and, although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, -had pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the -patient's life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had -now come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all -that had passed, and ask her pardon. - -"Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and -Geoffrey have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? -and is it not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always -will do so? You know that is the reason I never thank you." - -Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and -ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, "You thought it very -hard to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for -it, but I had not much time to be polite." - -"I am sorry I was in the way," said she, an acknowledgment such as she -had seldom made. - -Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in -his progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the -worst fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered. - -But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations -of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety. - -It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, -that she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding, - -"As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame -better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. -I think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I -do not speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed -herself quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to -imagine that she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, -and I think it much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. -Lady Amelia comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman's -penance may be over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no -doubt that it is a heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and -an hour's freedom from that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk -sufficiently testify." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - -Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of -no slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been -so stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his -danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he -had suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses -perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to -the grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over -him, as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute -of clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And -how had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much -of that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had -been exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved -to be cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted. - -He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an -earnest thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made -in silence during the two or three days that passed, partly in such -thoughts as these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes -his aunt, sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his -bed-side unchidden for not being "mamma." - -"Above all," said he to himself, "he would for the future devote -himself, to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for -his sake. Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the -rest of his life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?" It -was very disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do -for her was to send her messages--and affection does not travel well by -message,--and at the same time to show submission to her known -wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown -submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to -be argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have -indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of -their futility. - -So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to -grumble, and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less -unpleasant even external things appeared, and how much his health -benefited by the tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing -to be pleased with all that was done with that intent; and as he grew -better, it certainly was a strange variety with which he had to be -amused throughout the day. Very good naturedly he received all such -civilities, especially when Willy brought him a bottle of the first live -sticklebacks of the season, accompanied by a message from Arthur that he -hoped soon to send him a basin of tame tadpoles,--and when John rushed -up with a basket of blind young black satin puppies, their mother -following in a state of agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford -and Judith. - -Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and -spent much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond -what could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party. - -When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable -correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still -unable to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between -the two rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or -droll descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of -the fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of -a bunch of violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the -headache, the fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting -their saws on the next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks -who were building their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford's -window, and whom she watched so much that she was said to be in a fair -way of solving the problem of how many sticks go to a crow's nest; -criticisms of the books read by each party, and very often a reference -to that celebrated billet, unfortunately delivered over night to Prince -Talleyrand, informing him that his devoted friend had scarcely closed -her eyes all night, and then only to dream of him! - -Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers -as in their younger days,--depending upon her, participating in all her -pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, -by their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the -beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most -valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom -looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories -of down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or -school; had a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration -for the spring flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of -budding woods, soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma -enjoyed comparing notes with her about those same woods and dells, and -would describe the adventures of her own youth! And now it might be -noticed that she did not avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta's -father had been engaged; nay, she dwelt on them by preference, and -without the suppressed sigh which had formerly followed anything like -a reference to him. Sometimes she would smile to identify the bold open -down with the same where she had run races with him, and even laugh to -think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the shady woodland walk would -make her describe their nutting parties, or it would bring her thoughts -to some fit of childish mischief and concealment, and to the confession -to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at length led her. -Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken together when older -grown, when each had become prime counsellor and confidante of the -other; and the interests and troubles of home and of school were poured -out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged. How Fred and -Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love had grown -up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady coombs, and -green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened with -advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been -to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of -crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if -she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same -time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to -tell Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most -characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, -that she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his -death, as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of -his memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so -much as her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these -recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy. - -Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them -anxious about her mother's health, but for her own part she did not -think her worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued -in nearly the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was -so cheerful, and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even -though there was no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint -there was, as she knew of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed -so long, that after the first shock of being told of it two years ago, -she had almost ceased to think about it. She satisfied herself to her -own mind that it could not, should not be progressing, and that this was -only a very slow recovery from the last attack. - -Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and -merry when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or -take less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet -he grew grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother -grew minute and anxious. - -"Henrietta," said he, one day when they were alone together, "I was -trying to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma." - -"O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more," said -Henrietta. - -"You have told me that so many times," said Fred. "I think I must try to -get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey -comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there." - -"It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!" said Henrietta. - -"Yes," said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, "But -how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it -not?" - -"Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here." - -"It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey -went." - -"The fourth," said Henrietta. - -"And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first -spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!" - -"Well," said Henrietta, "you know she was five weeks without stirring -out of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is -getting better." - -"I don't think it is getting better," said Fred. "You always say so, but -I don't think you have anything to show for it." - -"You might say the same for yourself," said Henrietta, laughing. "You -have been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not -boast." - -"Well, at least I can show something for it," said Fred; "they allow -me a lark's diet instead of a wren's, I can hold up my head like other -people now, and I actually made my own legs and the table's carry me -to the window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not -think it is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or -eleven o'clock; now I don't believe she ever is till one." - -"It has been close, damp weather," said Henrietta, surprised at the -accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. "She misses the cold -bracing wind." - -"I don't like it," said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval -beginning again more earnestly, "Henrietta, neither you nor any one else -are keeping anything from me, I trust?" - -"O, no, no!" said Henrietta, eagerly. - -"You are quite sure?" - -"Quite," responded she. "You know all I know, every bit; and I know all -Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr. -Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong -things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would -not do so." - -"I don't think they would," said Fred; "but I am not satisfied. -Recollect and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only -recovering slowly--I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not -a thing to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as -well as usual?" - -"I do," said Henrietta, "and you know I am more used to her illness than -any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how -bad the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we -could not expect her to get on faster." - -"You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey." - -"O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just -like Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure -you could not get any more information from her than from me, and -impressions--I am sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma." - -Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never -lost one of his mother's little notes, placing them as soon as read in -his pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta -to lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her -marriage. It represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the -long ringlets and plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the -arch suppressed smile on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep -blue eye. He looked at it for a little while, and then asked Henrietta -if she thought that she could find, among the things sent from Rocksand -which had not yet been unpacked, another portrait, taken in the earlier -months of her widowhood, when she had in some partial degree recovered -from her illness, but her life seemed still to hang on a thread. Mrs. -Vivian, at whose especial desire it had been taken, had been very fond -of it, and had always kept it in her room, and Fred was very anxious to -see it again. After a long search, with Bennet's help, Henrietta found -it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and in the deep black garments, -there was much more general resemblance to her present appearance in -this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling bride. "And yet," -said Fred, as he compared them, "do not you think, Henrietta, that there -is more of mamma in the first?" - -"I see what you mean," said Henrietta. "You know it is by a much better -artist." - -"Yes," said he, "the other is like enough in feature,--more so certainly -to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet what is -it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their look, -and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind of -hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet -smile, that is quite her own!" - -"If you could but see her now, Fred," said Henrietta, "I think you would -indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that -lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks -about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the -miniature, all but her thinness." - -"I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father," -murmured Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her -eyes; then a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she -began to speak of something else as fast as she could. - -Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a -minute's visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his -sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister's information -that "it was on business," and only was in a slight degree reassured by -being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day. -Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially -anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she -would not leave him alone in Fred's room, knowing full well that -no questions would be asked except in private--none at least of the -description which she dreaded. - -All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he -might visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it -was possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged -that on Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, -his uncle should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them -both. - -Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great -undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at -length the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to -take away all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited -a few moments; then said, with some hesitation, "Fred, you must be -prepared to see her a good deal altered." - -"Yes," said Fred, impatiently. - -"And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do -not ask it for your own sake." - -"Yes," said Fred, resolutely. - -"Then come." - -And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his -uncle's arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she -sat by the fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on -one knee before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on -his face, and a quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then -rising, he sank back into another great chair, which his sister had -arranged for him close to hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he -passively let Henrietta make him comfortable there; while holding his -mother's hand, he kept his eyes fixed upon her, and she, anxious only -for him, patted his cushions, offered her own, and pushed her footstool -towards him. - -A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the -door. - -"I still think it a great risk," said she. - -"But I should not feel justified in preventing it," was his answer, -"only do not leave them long alone." Then opening the door he called, -"Henrietta, there is the last bell." And Henrietta, much against her -will, was obliged to go with him to Church. - -"Good-bye, my dear," said her mother. "Think of us prisoners in the -right way at Church, and not in the wrong one." - -Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the -window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of -the rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear -and blue, the buds were bursting into life. - -"How very lovely it is!" added she. - -Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His -eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of -what was to him a thousand times more lovely,--that frail wasted form, -namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had -described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the -rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness -under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as -sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her -face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the -chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen -about her,--more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was not -an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with -a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow -towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the -exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated -with pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in -shaking off the traces of illness. - -The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last -stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant -spray of the budding sweet-briar. - -"The bees are coming out with you, Freddy," said she. "I have just been -round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses." - -"How delicious!" said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered -the sweet-briar. "Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up -with his journey." - -"O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you," said Fred, sitting up -vigorously; "you do not know how strong I am growing." And then turning -to the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook's -nest, as she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more -cheerful questions and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. -Frederick Langford proposed that the reading of the service should -begin. - -Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took -the alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, -and as he now and then raised his eyes to his mother's face, he saw -her lips follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a -glistening in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget. - -"He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal -their sickness." - -"He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their -names." - -He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking -of the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the -former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole -room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother's face. It was a -sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his -memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, -with its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright -fire, and the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all -around, all conduced to that impression which never left him. - -The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the -"Christian Year," and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as -it may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there -was some conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. -Silent as he was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more -than ten minutes, when sounds were heard of the rest of the family -returning from Church, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet -them. - -In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many -kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a -few cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister -responded with pleasure, said, "Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I -am coming back almost directly to carry you off." - -"So soon!" exclaimed Henrietta. "Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure -of seeing you together?" - -No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed -behind his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then -bent forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, -"Mamma, say you forgive me." - -She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head -against her. - -"My own dear boy," said she, "I will not say I have nothing to forgive, -for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely -forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been -against my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!" she added, -pressing her hand upon his head. "His choicest blessings be with you -forever." - -Uncle Geoffrey's knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, -was folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, -suffered his uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to -his own. He stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, -and gave two or three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, -though his uncle could scarcely determine whether by grief or by -physical exhaustion. - -Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say -nothing: and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which -he remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down -to watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in -which she had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long -time tranquil, if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, -complained that his head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in -quiet. It might be that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt -a charm upon him which he could not bear to break. At any rate, he -scarcely looked up or spoke all the rest of the evening, excepting that, -when he went to bed, he sent a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey -would come to his room the next morning before setting off, as he was -obliged to do at a very early hour. - -He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he -had slept little, and allowing that his head still ached. - -"Uncle Geoffrey," said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at -him earnestly, "would it be of no use to have further advice?" - -His uncle understood him, and answered, "I hope that Dr. ---- will come -this evening or to-morrow morning. But," added he, slowly and kindly, -"you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from the -feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that -he can be of use." - -"Then there is no hope?" said Fred, with a strange quietness. - -"Man can do nothing," answered his uncle. "You know how the case stands; -the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of -its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may -yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer." - -"If I could but think so!" said Fred. "But I cannot. Her face will not -let me hope." - -"If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint," said -Uncle Geoffrey,--but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away, -walked to the window. - -"And you must go?" said Fred, when he came back to his side again. - -"I must," said Uncle Geoffrey. "Nothing but the most absolute necessity -could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man -if I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, -at latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort -to Henrietta." - -"Henrietta knows all this?" asked Fred. - -"As far as she will bear to believe it," said his uncle. "We cannot -grudge her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for -her in the end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, -good-bye, and may God bless and strengthen you in your trial!" - -Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had -ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her -whom he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and -reverence,--the gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful -being he knew! Who would ever care for him as she did? To whom would -it matter now whether he was in danger or in safety? whether he -distinguished himself or not? And how thoughtlessly had he trifled with -her comfort, for the mere pleasure of a moment, and even fancied himself -justified in doing so! Even her present illness, had it not probably -been brought on by her anxiety and attendance on him? and it was his own -wilful disobedience to which all might be traced. It was no wonder that, -passing from one such miserable thought to another, his bodily weakness -was considerably increased, and he remained very languid and unwell; -so much so that had Philip Carey ever presumed to question anything -Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he would have pronounced -yesterday's visit a most imprudent measure. In the afternoon, as Fred -was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs, and going along -the passage. - -"Who is that?" said he; "the new doctor already? It is a strange step." - -"O! Fred, don't be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were -at the worst," said Henrietta. - -"But do you know who it is?" said Fred. - -"It is Mr. Franklin," said Henrietta. "You know mamma has only been once -at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So -you must not fancy she is worse, Fred." - -"I wish we were confirmed," said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, -"My Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta." - -"You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small -print," said she; "I will read anything you want to you." - -He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was -to say, "I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come -to me." - -Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could -against it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask -Aunt Geoffrey's consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss -the opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to -fetch Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no -reason to regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much -oppressed and weighted down when she again returned to him. - -The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick -Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his -opinion was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to -expect. It was impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: -another attack might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be -deferred for weeks or months, or even now it was possible that she might -rally, and return to her usual state of health. - -It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, -probability, that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as -if unsaid; she would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that -brought the least impression of the kind. The only occasion when she -would avow her fears even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and -then how wild and unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and -wretched she would feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute -she would drive off her fears as by force; call up a vision of a -brightly smiling future; think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes -would prevent the approach of the enemy she dreaded. - -Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa, -though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to -sadden her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for -the future, till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his -deep sigh was the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for -much argument, and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, -was easily silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the -patient. Her whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to -"Mary," the friend, the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended -upon with something of the reverent devotedness with which an angel -might be watched and served, were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; -feeling it a privilege each day that she was still permitted to attend -her, and watching for each passing word and expression as a treasure to -be dwelt on in many a subsequent year. - -It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on -marking no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that -her mother was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her -always cheerful, ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and -still with the playfulness which never failed to light up all that -approached her. A flower,--what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her -smile would be! - -It was on the evening of the day after the physician's visit, that -Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering -her mother's spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford -had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the -flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, "Your papa planted a root -of those in my little garden the first summer I was here." - -"Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma." - -"My dear child,"--she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon -her, frightened at the manner--"you must not build upon our favourite -old plan; you must prepare--" - -"O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago; -and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright." - -"Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!" said her mother, taking her -hand. "But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to -you. I want you to make up your mind--" - -Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. "Mamma! mamma! -you must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think -despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!" - -"Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!" - -The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them. - -"No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,--I can't bear it!" she -cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, -which her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend -with. She rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully -followed with her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, -who continued to arrange the things on the table, and make desperate -attempts to regain her composure; but completely failing, caught up her -bonnet, and hurried out of the room. - -"Poor dear child," said Mrs. Frederick Langford, "I wish she was more -prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I -leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man; -but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more -like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear -me--but no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might -give her pain in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I -would say." - -"If I could!" - -"You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now. -Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life: -how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and -his children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how -crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved -chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying. -And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you -remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?" - -"It was after we were gone home." - -"Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so -utterly unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came -with those verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be -forgiven for not being able to follow them. Now I can own with all -my heart the mercy that would not grant my blind wish for death. My -treasure was indeed in heaven, but O! it was not the treasure that was -meant. I was forgetting my mother, and so selfish and untamed was -I, that I was almost forgetting my poor babies! Yes, tell her this, -Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and happiness sprang up all -around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought myself, so much the more -will they for her; and 'at evening time there shall be light.' Tell her -that I look to her for guiding and influencing Fred. She must never -let a week pass without writing to him, and she must have the honoured -office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and grandmother. I -think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are fond of her, -and she seems to suit them." - -"Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have -especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I -have tried to teach Beatrice." - -"Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should -not see her, give her her godmother's love, and tell her that she and -Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I -trust that after thirty-five years' friendship, they will still have as -much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. -I have written her name in one of these books," she added after a short -interval, touching some which were always close to her. "And, Beatrice, -one thing more I had to say," she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and -finding out a place in it. "Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous -man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his -turn, then show him this." She pointed out the verse, "Be as a father to -the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou -be as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy -mother doth." "Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary's last -blessing." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - -On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night's -rest. Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She -thought it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head -turned, the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her. - -Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for -some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. "How is -mamma? Does she want me? Why?" Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it -seemed beyond her power. - -"O, aunt, aunt!" cried she, "what is the matter? What has happened? -Speak to me!" - -"Henrietta," said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, "she bade -you bear up for your brother's sake." - -"But--but--" said Henrietta, breathlessly; "and she--" - -"My dear child, she is at rest." - -Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to -realise what she had heard. - -"Tell me," she said, after a few moments. - -Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. -"It was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very -quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her -face looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt -oppressed, and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning -against my arm, there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we -must only think of her as in perfect peace!" - -Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a -sort of anger, "O, why did you not call me?" - -"There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of -disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late." - -"O, why was I not there? I would--I would--she must have heard me. -I would not have let her go. O, mamma!" cried Henrietta, almost -unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of -ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent -exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but -all she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she -found herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in -some degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as -poor Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs -grew less loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey -thought she could be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, -"Now we must pray that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, -and try to help your brother." - -"Fred, O poor Fred!" and she seemed on the point of another burst of -lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking--"I must go to him; he -has yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are -dressed." - -"O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! -O no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!" A fresh fit of -weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in -great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this -condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go -to poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the -truth. - -"I must leave you, my dear," said she, at last. "Think how your dear -mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who -alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I -hope you will be more composed." - -The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good -preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness -made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey -Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and -hastened down from Henrietta's room with a hurried step. - -She knocked at Fred's door, and was answered by his voice. As she -entered he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, -said, "I know what you are come to tell me." - -"Yes, Fred," said she; "but how?" - -"I was sure of it," said Fred. "I knew I should never see her again; and -there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?" - -"She has been crying very much," said his aunt. - -"Ah! she would never believe it," said Fred. "But after last Sunday--O, -no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any -longer!" - -"We could not wish it for her sake," said his aunt, for the first time -feeling almost overcome. - -"Let me hear how it was," said Frederick, after a pause. - -His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked -quickly, "What did you do? I did not hear you ring." - -"No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I -met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and--and was very -kind--then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and went to -wait for Henrietta's waking." - -Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, "Poor Henrietta! Is she -very much overcome?" - -"So much, that I hardly know how to leave her." - -"Don't stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but -I don't think anything is much good to me." He hid his face as he spoke -thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection. - -"Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred," said she, gently. "Then I will go to -your sister again." - -"Thank you." And she had reached the door when he asked, "When does -Uncle Geoffrey come?" - -"By the four o'clock train," she answered, and moved on. - -Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of -agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister's. -O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the -frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for -a moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; -but then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even -exist under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of -misery seemed chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of -another person he could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in -which he had already done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it -was, did not affect his health as the first anticipation of it had done. -With Henrietta things were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in -a sort of stupor, in which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance -of any person into her room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, -ever increasing in vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was -left to herself, but she could not, or would not, turn where alone -comfort could be found, and repelled, almost as if it was an insult to -her affection, any entreaty that she would even try to be comforted. -Above all, in the perverse-ness of her undisciplined affliction, she -persisted in refusing to see her brother. "She should do him harm," she -said. "No, it was utterly impossible for her to control herself so as -not to do him harm." And thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She -would not touch a morsel of food; she would not consent to leave her bed -when asked to do so, though ten minutes after, in the restlessness -of her misery, she was found walking up and down her room in her -dressing-gown. - -Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr. -Langford, who had loved "Mary" like his own child, did indeed bear -up under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian -submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little -assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share. -Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down -in her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for "poor Mary," or -"dear Frederick," all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then -rising vigorously, saying, "Well, it is His will; it is all for the -best!" and hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make -some arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey's room ready for -him. And in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to -sympathise, or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she -did. In the course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from -Sutton Leigh, and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and -assisting Mrs. Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there -were the two young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only -resting now and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow -far too selfish and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of -Him Who sent it, or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was -gone; and as once the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care -for her mother, so now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration -for Frederick; so that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make -any exertion for his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize -her except Aunt Geoffrey's reading to her; and then it was only that -she was lulled by the sound of the voice, not that the sense reached -her mind. But then, how go on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was -left in his lonely room, to bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? -For though Mr. and Mrs. Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him -many brief kind visits, they all of them had either too much on their -hands, or were unfitted by disposition to be the companions he wanted. -It was only Aunt Geoffrey who could come and sit by him, and tell him -all those precious sayings of his mother in her last days, which in her -subdued low voice renewed that idea of perfect peace and repose which -came with the image of his mother, and seemed to still the otherwise -overpowering thought that she was gone. But in the midst the door would -open, and grandmamma would come in, looking much distressed, with some -such request as this--"Beatrice, if Fred can spare you, would you just -go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was better, and that it was as -well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for one of her dresses, to -send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has set her off crying -to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing with her. I wish -Geoffrey was come!" - -Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one -wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only -person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in -hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield; -and at length Fred's sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage -wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as -their own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden -bursts of lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, -wanted to talk to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only -his father who seemed even to recollect that his wife might want -him more than all. And so she did. Her feelings were very strong and -impetuous by nature, and the loss was one of the greatest she could have -sustained. Nothing save her husband and her child was so near to -her heart as her sister; and worn out as she was by long attendance, -sleepless nights, and this trying day, when all seemed to rest upon her, -she now completely gave way, and was no sooner alone with her husband -and daughter, than her long repressed feelings relieved themselves in -a flood of tears, which, though silent, were completely beyond her own -control. Now that he was come, she could, and indeed must, give way; and -the more she attempted to tell him of the peacefulness of her own dear -Mary, the more her tears would stream forth. He saw how it was, and -would not let her even reproach herself for her weakness, or attempt any -longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on her bed, and told her -that he and Queen Bee could manage very well. - -Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had -scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt's death; and new as -affliction was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether -this was her own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother's grief seemed -to her almost more like a dream. - -"Ah, yes," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been -named, "I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before." - -"Very well," said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she -thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta. - -"Go straight up to her," continued her mother; "don't wait to let her -think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do -the same." - -"If I could but do her any good," sighed Beatrice, as she opened the -door and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for -an answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry, -threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around -was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee's heart when she -was thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to -know what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that -occurred to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and -call her by the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was -as yet fit to bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out -to her cousin all her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. -Beatrice was sometimes indeed startled by the want of all idea -of resignation, but she could not believe that any one could feel -otherwise,--least of all Henrietta, who had lost her only parent, and -that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she feel herself good enough to talk -seriously to Henrietta; she considered herself as only sent to sit with -her, so she did not make any attempt to preach the resignation which was -so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had all day been hearing of it, and -rebelling against it, was almost grateful to her. So Henrietta talked -and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the same dreary views of the -future coming over and over again; and Beatrice's only answer was to -agree with all her heart to all that was said of her own dear Aunt Mary, -and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was still left for her -in so many hearts on earth. - -The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined -to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the -same discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to -her, and thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a -tolerable meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with -tears, put her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept -quietly down to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the -drawing-room good night, she reflected whether she had done what she -ought for her cousin. - -"I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her -head," said she to herself; "for as to the reading, she did not attend -to that. But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself -before I try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be -allowed to be any comfort at all." - -Thanks partly to Beatrice's possessing no rightful authority over -Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to -make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But -nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could -not endure to pass "that door," where ever before the fondest welcome -awaited her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred -yesterday, seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of -perverseness--for it really deserved no better name--was that it began -to vex Fred. "But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey," -said he, "I should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything -so strange." - -Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after -leaving Fred's room he knocked at his niece's door. She was sitting by -the fire with a book in her hand, but not reading. - -"Good morning, my dear," said he, taking her languid hand. "I bring you -a message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him." - -She turned away her head. "Poor dear Fred!" said she; "but it is quite -impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and -do him harm." - -"And why cannot you bear it as he does?" said her uncle gravely. "You -do not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the -advantages of health and strength." - -"Oh, no one can feel as I do!" cried Henrietta, with one of her -passionate outbreaks. "O how I loved her!" - -"Fred did not love her less," proceeded her uncle. "And why will you -leave him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister's love that -should be his chief stay?" - -"He does not doubt it," sobbed Henrietta. "He knows me better." - -"Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which -is not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments' painful -emotion?" - -"Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out -of this room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the -house--to go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it." - -"No, your affection for him is not strong enough." - -Henrietta's pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. "You do not -know me, Uncle Geoffrey," said she proudly, and then she almost choked -with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness. - -"I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief -and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which -you will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making -yourself useless." - -Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the -first weapon she could. "Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I -am," said she. - -If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though -if he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would -have repressed even such demonstrations as he made. "Henrietta, this is -too bad! Has she been weakly yielding?--has she been shutting herself up -in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she -should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and -distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to -do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after -she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now, -when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she -has made for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her -resting, you fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your -mother would have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have -no more to say." - -He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the -accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that -she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. "Uncle Geoffrey!" -she cried, "O, uncle--" but he was gone; and forgetting everything else, -she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything -else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, "O uncle, do not -think I meant that!" - -At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. "Henrietta!" -said he, "I am glad to see you downstairs." - -Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then -laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle's arm, said, "Only say you are -not angry with me." - -"No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person," said -he with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her -surprise at finding herself downstairs after all. - -"And you do not imagine me ungrateful?" - -"Not when you are in your right senses." - -"Ungrateful!" exclaimed Mr. Langford. "What is he accusing you of, -Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?" - -"Nothing," said Uncle Geoffrey, "but that Henrietta and I have both been -somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not, -Henrietta?" - -It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing -Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning -her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa's -with very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened -and admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to -receive their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs. - -"You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?" said -grandpapa. - -"No, I was only going to Fred," said she, growing as desirous of seeing -him as she had before been averse to it. - -"Suppose," said Uncle Geoffrey, "that you were to take a turn or two -round the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, -and you will bring Fred in a fresher face." - -"I will fetch your bonnet," said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top -of the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at -seeing her cousin in the hall. - -And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a -shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had -opened the sashed door into the garden. - -It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the -sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft -masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening -with drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. -Henrietta's burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, -she could not help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first -thing she began to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a -warm expression of gratitude towards her. - -Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two -turns in silence; but Henrietta's heart began to fail her when she -thought of going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could -hardly resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, -gave her shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred's door. - -"Is that you?" was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward -to meet her. "Poor Henrietta!" was all he said, as she put her arm round -his neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his -sofa, made her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for -her comfort. She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no -longer, but she reproached herself excessively for having left him to -himself so long, when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to -make some apology. - -"I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred." - -"O, it is of no use to talk about it," said Fred, playing with her long -curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in -times long gone by. "You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you -been out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in." - -"Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And -how are you this morning, Freddy?" - -"O, pretty well I think," said he, sighing, as if he cared little about -the matter. "I wanted to show you this, Henrietta." And he took up a -book where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks -in some other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading -yesterday, and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, -as she could not help feeling herself. - -And here was the first great point gained, though there was still -much for Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been -conscious of her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her -proneness to make all give way to her own feeling of the moment. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - -There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta -shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it -before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there, -partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and -partly from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was -willing to do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day's -neglect: and she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at -least Fred seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her. - -Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much -to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour -of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion, -she had figured to herself her father's funeral, little thinking of the -reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, -than what any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her -perfectly impossible that she should ever have power to go through with -it. - -In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the -prospect gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, -she found the reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing -nothing, observing nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked -along, wrapped in one absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first -words that "broke the stillness of that hour," healing as they were, -seemed but to add certainty to that one thought that "she was gone." But -while the Psalms and the Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression -of grief seemed in some degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and -the words reached her mind; a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who -had wiped away the tears from her mother's eyes, and by Whom the sting -of death had been taken away. Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, -in meek submission, until now her long widowhood was over; and what -better for her could those who most loved her desire, than that she -should safely sleep in the chancel of the Church of her childhood, close -to him whom she had so loved and so mourned, until the time when both -should once more awaken,--the corruptible should put on incorruption, -the mortal should put on immortality, and death be swallowed up in -victory. - -Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears -flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was -enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round -the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against -the expression that it was "in great mercy that the soul of this our -dear sister" was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound -of the earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever -the most loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for -ever,--might she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection -and the Life--might she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive -the blessing to be pronounced to all that love and fear Him. - -It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. -Langford moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before -doing so, she raised her eyes to her father's name, to take leave of him -as it were, as she always did before going out of Church. She met her -Uncle Geoffrey's eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as -she was out of the church, she said almost in a whisper, "Uncle, I don't -wish for him now." - -He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak, -for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might -safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which -was coming upon her. - -They came home--to the home that looked as if it would fain be once more -cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn -stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, -for she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape -veil. She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose -on hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. -Beatrice came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful -how to address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and -looking earnestly in her face, repeated-- - - -"Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To -run untir'd love's blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, -Over the grave their Lord have met." - - -"Yes, Queenie," said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, "it is a very -different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, -you must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time -past, though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness." She kissed her -affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice. - -"Me! me, of all people," she said. "O, Henrietta!" - -"We must talk of it all another time," said Henrietta, "but now it will -not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don't think this like the days -when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee--that time when I -would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly." - -While she spoke, there was something of the "new bracing" visible in -every movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, -which of late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, -that showed how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about -her whole frame. - -"O no, do not stay with me," said Queen Bee, "I am going"--to mamma, she -would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking -to Henrietta. - -"Yes," said Henrietta, understanding her. "And tell her, Bee--for I am -sure I shall never be able to say it to her,--all about our thanks, and -how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her comfort." "If I -had only believed, instead of blinding myself so wilfully!" she almost -whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now ready, she ran -downstairs and entered her brother's room. His countenance bore -traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he looked -anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her hand -into his, and said, "Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go." - -"I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over," said Fred. "I -have been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very -different thing." - -"It will all come to you when you go to Church again," said Henrietta. - -"How little I thought that New Year's Day--!" said Fred. - -"Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer's holidays!" -said Henrietta. "If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; -but it was my determination to come here that seems to have caused -everything, and that is the thought I cannot bear." - -"I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night," said -Fred, "and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with -consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the -horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame -himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not -think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened -now; that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the -results. Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, -to be sure, that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much -disobedience, and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing -came of it, except that I grew more wilful." - -"Yes," said Henrietta, "but I shall always feel as if everything had -been caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again." - -"It was just as much my wish as yours," said Fred. - -"Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you -pleased, and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of -course, to make her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was -always doing, and now I can never make up for it!" - -"O yes," said Fred, "we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how -she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same -as ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to -remember, now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don't you see, -Henrietta, my dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?--that if you did domineer -over her, it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you -must not accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. -He says he does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most -for her comfort, if--" - -"O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!" - -"If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well -again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta. -Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and -attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that -I might have gone on to much worse at school and college." - -"Never, never!" said Henrietta. - -"Not now, I hope," said Fred; "but that was not what I meant to say. No -one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on -either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing, -and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was -convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been -here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa -and grandmamma's sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to -have been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful -that she had come to die in my father's home, after seeing us well -settled here, instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place." - -"How little we guessed it was for that," said Henrietta. "O what were we -doing? But if it made her happy--" - -"Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand," said -Fred. "I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave -of everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle -Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and -the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much -for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already." - -"Home!" said Henrietta, "how determinedly we used to call it so! But O, -that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all -overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot -complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way." - -"The devices and desires of our own hearts!" said Fred. - -"I don't think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own -sake," proceeded Henrietta. "Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to -me, as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again -for me; so that it was all twofold!" Here she hid her face, and her -tears streamed fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that -Fred also was much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute. - -"But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more -than I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still -obeying her. I think at last I may get something of the right sort of -feeling; for I am sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used -to mean when they talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to -read to you?" - -Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford. -Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother's wish, their home; -and there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and -summer, of watching her brother's recovery, which was very slow, but at -the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as -he required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as -quite a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than -she had ever been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to -return to Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the -vacation would bring them all back to Knight Sutton. - -The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great -disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred -would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able -indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume -many of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in -a condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application. -Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as -Alex had numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and -kindness, by silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, -and again and again silently giving up some favourite scheme of -amusement when Fred proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself -almost learned to trust Fred to Alex's care, which was so much less -irritating than her own; and how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is -best shown, when it is related, that neither by word nor look did -she once interrupt the harmony between them, or attempt to obtain the -attention, of which, in fact, she always had as large a share as any -reasonable person could desire. - -How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the -best requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer--a very -adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it--to undertake -little Willy's Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger's knowledge, -had been under Alex's care for the holidays. Willy was a very good -pupil on the whole--better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had -been--and very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such -a test as perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an -insensible manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over -to Henrietta, whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect -quite made up, in grandmamma's eyes, for her very tolerable amount of -acquirements in Latin and Greek. - -By the time care for her brother's health had ceased to be Henrietta's -grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue -his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up -around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful -and valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted -with when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a -granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil -to the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful -to her, as well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and -Charlie, as for the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used -to exercise her taste when Henrietta's wardrobe failed to afford her -sufficient occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, -and demonstrated it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners -gradually acquired the influence over them which Queen Bee had only -exerted over Alex and Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew -less awkward and bearish, without losing their honest downright -good humour and good nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in -attributing the change to her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was -also the friend of the poor women, the teacher and guide of the school -children, and in their eyes and imagination second to no one but Mr. -Franklin. And withal she did not cease to be all that she had ever been -to her brother, if not still more. His heart and soul were for her, and -scarce a joy and sorrow but was shared between them. She was his home, -his everything, and she well fulfilled her mother's parting trust of -being his truest friend and best-loved counsellor. - -Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented -her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! -This was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through -life; and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, -there was linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and -domineering on her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that -spoke only of blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to -her whom she had lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the -steps of Him Who "came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that -sent Him." - -THE END - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. 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