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,