lence.
Beatrice was sometimes indeed startled by the want of all idea
of resignation, but she could not believe that any one could feel
otherwise,--least of all Henrietta, who had lost her only parent, and
that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she feel herself good enough to talk
seriously to Henrietta; she considered herself as only sent to sit with
her, so she did not make any attempt to preach the resignation which was
so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had all day been hearing of it, and
rebelling against it, was almost grateful to her. So Henrietta talked
and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the same dreary views of the
future coming over and over again; and Beatrice's only answer was to
agree with all her heart to all that was said of her own dear Aunt Mary,
and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was still left for her
in so many hearts on earth.

The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined
to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the
same discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to
her, and thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a
tolerable meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with
tears, put her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept
quietly down to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the
drawing-room good night, she reflected whether she had done what she
ought for her cousin.

"I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her
head," said she to herself; "for as to the reading, she did not attend
to that. But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself
before I try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be
allowed to be any comfort at all."

Thanks partly to Beatrice's possessing no rightful authority over
Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to
make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But
nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could
not endure to pass "that door," where ever before the fondest welcome
awaited her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred
yesterday, seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of
perverseness--for it really deserved no better name--was that it began
to vex Fred. "But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey,"
said he, "I should really think she must be ill. I