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314 was remembered at all, it was probably as the lady who had taught her little friend to honour the King, and admire Sir Thomas Wentworth, as the Lord Deputy then was. Two such friends ought to meet again; and it was the writer’s particular request to Sir Oliver that he would bring Henrietta, when he came to Basing. If it were necessary to enforce her wish by something stronger, she was empowered to do so; but an authoritative command would not be required by an old squire of dames so devoted as Sir Oliver had ever been to his admiring Lady Carlisle. A postscript suggested that it would be prudent to bring no Abigail to such a rendezvous; and Henrietta might therefore depend on due service being provided.

The hours till night were not too many for the alternate reveries and consultations of the travellers. That Sir Oliver should be trusted to any extent was no wonder, but that any bearing the name of Hampden should be admitted to the royal presence perhaps it would be to Lady Carlisle’s presence only. It was not certain, Henrietta observed, that the invitation meant more. Sir Oliver’s way of patting her cheek, and his fond smile, showed Henrietta that he expected nothing short of the highest honour of all.

Sir Oliver was right. The dusk of the May night was still tinged with a glow from the west when the coach drew up before the great flight of steps at Basing House; and it was late enough for Henrietta to suppose that she would be left to herself till the morning: but she was followed into her chamber by Lady Carlisle’s maid, who informed her that her ladyship would expect her to supper in her own dressing-room in half-an-hour, unless she should be too fatigued with her journey. The invitation was of course accepted.

Nothing could exceed the kindness of her reception, or the interest of every word that fell from her entertainer. It was so during the meal; but much more so when it and the servants were dismissed. Lady Carlisle said she knew whom she was speaking to, and how securely she might converse Ah! her little friend looked surprised; but there was nothing very surprising in this.

“I am not so rash,” Lady Carlisle continued, “as to take you into confidence at once because you were a pretty and clever child when we last met. It is because I have heard of you since,—heard such things said of you by so exalted a person,—that I regard you with as much trust and affection as if we had been elder and younger sister all the time.”

This seemed to Henrietta, amidst her keen delight at such a welcome, somewhat extravagant, till a few words more made all clear.

“You had not forgotten me, my dear child?”

Henrietta’s laugh pronounced the notion absurd.

“Well, then, you cannot have forgotten the Lord Deputy, whom you have seen more recently. I was sure he must have impressed himself deeply on your mind. Indeed, no one who has once seen him can ever find the impression of his countenance grow dim: and no one who has heard him discourse fails to feel the thrill of his voice at intervals for ever after.”

Henrietta said to herself that the openness of this admiration showed how harmless it was. Lord Carlisle had been quite right in his lifetime to make himself easy, and let gossips talk. Many a happy friendship must be given up if an opinion was asked of low or foolish people who could not understand such a thing as an honest and self-forgetting enthusiasm. Lady Carlisle went on:

“And he is far from forgetting you, my dear. I have never seen him so interested on so short an acquaintance. I think,” and here she looked smilingly in Henrietta’s face, “you must be happier now than you were then.”

“I am very happy at this moment,” Henrietta fervently declared.

“Thank you, my love! I take that pleasant assurance to myself. But I was thinking of a deeper cause. The Lord Deputy spoke of a somewhat pale and wan cheek, and eyes that told of too many tears. Nay, my love, you must not think hardly of him for speaking thus to me. He knew what was then the weight on your heart; and he was quite won by the loyalty ”

“But, Lady Carlisle,” interrupted Henrietta, “it was not loyalty that made me do it: it was not about loyalty, or the contrary, that we parted. Indeed I cannot allow you to think so.”

“There peeps out your Puritan training, my child. I doubt not there is some nice distinction in your mind, as well as a most religious dread of praise. But it is enough that you and your lover would have been married long ago if he had been as loyal to the King as you.”

Henrietta could not deny this; and she was silent.

“Such sacrifices move great minds deeply,” Lady Carlisle continued, “and the Lord Deputy spoke with strong feeling about you. May I tell him that—Yes, surely I may, now that your eyes are bright again, and your face all health and beauty,—may I tell him that you have found your reward, and are at peace?”

“I do not desire or deserve reward,” sighed Henrietta. “I brought my punishment on myself; and I cannot make a merit of it.”

“Little saint!” cried Lady Carlisle, embracing her. “You will make us all take heed to the honesty of our speech. May I then tell him in all honesty that you have outlived your grief?”

Henrietta was silent; and, when further pressed, said “No.” Her faint tone and the paleness of her face bore witness to the sincerity and the difficulty with which she had replied.

Lady Carlisle was shocked. She said she should never be able to bear the remembrance of her cruelty. Nothing had been further from her thoughts than that an attachment which had ended so could be still too strong for her little heroine’s peace. But the heroic are always placable; and perhaps Henrietta would forgive her.

Nothing was easier, Henrietta said; and she truly felt it. But the conversation did not flow quite so freely afterwards, till a knock at the door of the anti-chamber startled Lady Carlisle out of a