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.