sob came again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by,
warming a shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers.
"Poor thing, poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my
dear? I'll fetch one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough?
Some sal-volatile? Yes, Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?"

And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively
distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck,
wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again,
saying, "I did not think I was so weak!"

"Dearest mamma," said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty.

"If I have not distressed grandmamma!" said her mother anxiously. "No,
never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and--"

Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the
unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal
days when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a
new thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard
there again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was
altered? But it had been only the first few moments that had
overwhelmed her, and the sound of Mrs. Langford's returning footsteps
recalled her habit of self-control; she thanked her, held out her
quivering hand, drank the sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better,
and asked pardon for having given so much trouble.

"Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you
better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first
time; but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better--Ah! well, I see