He said that himself, so you see he does
not want you,' and she wondered how much that cry of his had been
uttered in despair of his passion and how much in weariness of
Henrietta and himself.
Rose leaned back in her chair and immediately straightened. She was
intolerably tired but she refused to droop. It seemed as though she
were never to be free from secrecy: after her release there had been a
short time of dreary peace and now she had Henrietta's fight to wage
in secret, her burden to carry without a word. And this was worse,
more difficult, for she had less power with which to meet more danger.
Between the candle lights she sent a smile to Henrietta, but the
girl's mouth was petulantly set and it was a relief when Sophia
quavered out, 'She won't be able to go to the Battys' ball! She will
be heart-broken.'
Rose and Henrietta were momentarily united in their common amazement
at the genuineness of this sorrow and to both there was something
comic in the picture of the elderly Caroline, suffering from a chill
and bemoaning the loss of an evening's pleasure. Henrietta cast a look
of scornful surprise at her Aunt Sophia. Was the Battys' ball a matter
for a broken heart? Rose said consolingly, 'It isn't till after
Christmas. Perhaps she will be well enough.'
'And Christmas,' Sophia wailed. 'Henrietta's first Christmas here!
With Caroline upstairs!'
'I don't like Christmas,' Henrietta said. 'It makes me miserable.
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