Then she began to read, in her soft, yet rather high voice, which seemed suited only to gentle greetings and adieux, or quavering orders to Henry.
"NIGHT TIME
He glanced as he passed,
And I hope, and I quiver,
I howl and I shudder with pains;
And like a she-tiger
Or overcharged river,
My blood rushes on through my veins."
She stopped suddenly.
"No, no, dear. I won't read this. Wait a minute. I remember now that was the one that was returned because it was too—er——I'll find you another one."
"Oh, do finish that one," said Daphne, "please! Isn't the light too much for your eyes?"
She jumped up quickly and pulled down the blind an inch or two, and then came back, having controlled herself.
Mrs. Foster looked at her rather sharply, and took no notice of what she supposed was emotion.
"Ah, here is something more suited to you, [darling."]