I have a heavy burden
to bear; do not you--my best and dearest--increase it."
She looked at him keenly; laid her hands upon him, tears gathering in her
eyes. "Tell me what the burden is; tell me, Val! Let me share it."
But Val drew in again at once, alarmed at the request: and contradicted
himself in the most absurd manner.
"There's nothing to share, Anne; nothing to tell."
Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and
mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned
to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children
with more _apparent_ justice.
"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impassioned
tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude."
Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance,
was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing
in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited
her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable
behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one
of his sources of amusement being to take off that estimable old lady's
peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions.
"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him.
"How do you feel?"
"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all
night.
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