“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?”