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