'
Henrietta was learning to sing, and in defiance of Charles Batty's
prophecy, she neither squeaked nor gurgled. She piped with a pretty
simplicity and with an enjoyment which made her forget herself. Yet
she looked charming, standing in the candle-light beside the shining
grand piano on which Aunt Rose accompanied her, and to-night she felt
they were united in more than the music: they were friends, they were
fellow-sufferers, and long after Henrietta had tired of singing, Rose
went on playing, mournfully, as it seemed to Henrietta, consoling
herself with sweet sounds. Sophia sat before her embroidery frame,
slowly pushing her needle in and out; Caroline read a novel with
avidity and an occasional pause for chuckles, and when Rose at length
dropped her hands on her knees and remained motionless, staring at the
keys, Henrietta startled her aunts by saying firmly, 'I am just going
to enjoy life.'
Rose raised her head and her enigmatic smile widened a little.
Caroline exclaimed, 'Good gracious! Why not?' Sophia said gently,
'That is what we wish.'
Henrietta stiffened herself for questions which did not come. Nobody
expressed a desire to know what had caused this solemn declaration:
Caroline went on reading, Sophia embroidering; Rose retired to bed.
Henrietta was not daunted by this indifference. She persisted in her
determination; she cast off all thoughts of ministering like an angel,
or revenging like a demon; she enjoyed the gaieties with which the
youth of Radstowe amused itself during the summer months; she
accompanied her aunts to garden parties, ate ices, had her fortune
told in tents, flirted mildly and endured Charles Batty's peculiar
half-apprehensive tyranny.
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