"My dear, are you not afraid of catching cold?" said the hesitating voice
of Miss Grey. "Besides, will not the servants think it rather odd, your
sitting here on the staircase? Bless me, my dear, were you crying?"
"No," answered Christian, energetically, "no!" and then belied her
truthfulness by bursting immediately into tears.
Miss Grey was melted at once. "There, now, my dear, take my
smelling-bottle; you will be better soon; it is only a little over-
excitement. But, indeed, you need not mind; our friends--that is,
Henrietta's--for you know I seldom visit--are all very nice people, and
they will pay every respect to my brother's wife. Do not be frightened
at them."
"I was not frightened," replied Mrs. Grey, more inclined to smile than
to be offended at this earnest condolence. "What troubled me was quite
another thing."
"Henrietta. perhaps?" with an uneasy glance up the staircase. "But my
dear, you must not mind Henrietta; she means well. You don't know
how busy she has been all the morning, arranging every thing. 'For,'
says she to me, 'since your brother has married again, we must make
the best of it, and introduce his wife into society, and be very kind to
her.' And I am sure I hope we are,"
"Thank you," said Christian, somewhat haughtily, till touched by the
mild deprecation of that foolish, gentle face, so gentle as half to atone
for its foolishness.
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