Henrietta's Wish; Or, Domineering

She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and who hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour, and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, or to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for was impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his own hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had occasioned the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps in a sort of secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as to form in his eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown himself so unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction she beheld her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height above, and while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to herself, “It will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!”

So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of anything so “boyish,” and had long ago entreated her to be more like a young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her papa and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the surface of the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own security to bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the pitch where consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred.

“How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other.”

“It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an hour!”

“Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted—

“Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that any reason why I should be drowned?”

It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh, nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys.

“What news of Uncle Geoffrey?”

“I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle Roger went to him there.”

“No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred.

“Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most provoking face of wonder and curiosity.

“Presently,” said Fred.

“He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, though it was only rude.

“Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what they pleased.

“His mamma won’t let him,” was Dick’s polite answer. Fred could have knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place he was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in the third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper enough left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling with him, so contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that he had him as his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what she thought of the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., &c.

Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue much longer.

“How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the hedge!” said Henrietta; “and look, these pieces of chalk are almost cased in glass.”

“O I do love such a sight!” said Jessie. “Here is a beautiful bit of stick crusted over.”

“It is a perfect little Giant’s Causeway,” said Henrietta; “do look at these lovely little columns, Fred.”

“Ah!” said Jessie, “Myriads of little salts, or hook’d or shaped like double wedges.—”

She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line, looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered—“O Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!”

It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey’s side, was more than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey was not coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience gave way, and he exclaimed, “Well, I shan’t wait any longer, it is not of the least use.”

“O, Fred, consider!” said his sister.

“That’s right, Freddy,” shouted Carey, “he’ll not come now, I’ll answer for it.”

“You know he promised he would,” pleaded Henrietta.

“Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the sea,” said Fred, “the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not wait any longer.”

“Think of mamma.”

“How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?” exclaimed Fred impatiently, “do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them must needs break with me?”

“I do not suppose there is any danger,” said Henrietta, “but for the sake of poor mamma’s entreaties!”

“Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of my life?” said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to silence his sister and his conscience. “I have submitted to such absurd nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in the sight of everybody; so here goes!”

And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of the pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta turned away her eyes full of tears.

“Never mind, Henrietta,” shouted the good-natured Alexander, “I’ll engage to fish him out if he goes in.”

“It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex,” returned Fred, slightly affronted.

“Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case,” said the naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible, then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction, “Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear.”

Whether Alex smiled at the words “past fear,” or whether Fred only thought he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, “I only wish there was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, Alex.”

“Well, there is one,” said Alex, laughing, “where Carey drowns the travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, so you may try—”

“Don’t, Fred—I beg you won’t!” cried Beatrice.

“O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!” implored Henrietta.

“I shan’t look, I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Jessie, turning away.

Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the middle of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his achievement, a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles stood before them. The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a short run, and slide right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle Roger stood by laughing and saying, “Well done, Geoffrey, you are not quite so heavy as I am.”

Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by the arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice that had all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released from school, “I hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is franked! Where’s Fred?”

Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen Bee’s complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander who had spirit to answer, “We thought you were not coming at all.”

“Indeed!” said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, “Why, Alex, Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises,” a truth to which every one gave a mental assent.

Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of their merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all the other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy more than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her brother’s conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her uncle, wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind to do so, for fear of her mamma’s asking about Fred; and whilst she was still doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding her of the saint’s day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton to which she had so long looked forward. Yet here was another disappointment. The uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. Jessie said she must take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys could do as they pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey’s hand was going with him, but the rest continued their sport, and among them was Fred. He had never disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not have done so now, but as he saw none of his male companions setting off, he fancied that to attend a week-day service in the holidays might be reckoned a girlish proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as soon as his back was turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey’s grave looks that he might be taken to task when no longer protected by the presence of the rest.

He therefore replied with a gruff short “No” to his sister’s anxious question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and vexed at finding himself mistaken after all—at least so far as regarded Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last moment, and now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at full speed after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they reached the village.

Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to Church grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in general look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present case there were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to plead to Uncle Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity towards her poor Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how much he had been teased. This, however, she could not tell him without complaining of his daughter, and in fact it was an additional pain that Queen Bee should have used all her powerful influence in the wrong direction.

It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in such circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put her arm into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that could sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, “My poor Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this time, but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything happening.”

“O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded him.”

“I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did, and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you would not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would go into the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? I could have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no harm done.”

“There is your papa displeased with him.”

“O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred—I should like to make a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever act a charade, Henrietta?”

“Never; I scarcely know what it is.”

“O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told you of fool-hardy, for now we can’t have that, but this evening, O, this evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex! Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant.”

Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and was presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently persuading him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta was not sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All her thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before all her mother’s fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had recovered her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of his Heavenly Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of many a moral tale, was tormenting herself with the expectation of retribution, and dwelling on a fancied figure of her brother lifted senseless out of the water, with closed eyes and dripping hair.