Henry all day long (as he manifestly did), yet never startled her

into reserve.

To show how far affairs had gone with Mr. Henry, I will give some

words of his, uttered (as I have cause not to forget) upon the 26th

of February, 1757. It was unseasonable weather, a cast back into

Winter: windless, bitter cold, the world all white with rime, the

sky low and gray . the sea black and silent like a quarry-hole.

Mr. Henry sat close by the fire, and debated (as was now common

with him) whether "a man" should "do things," whether "interference

was wise," and the like general propositions, which each of us

particularly applied. I was by the window, looking out, when there

passed below me the Master, Mrs. Henry, and Miss Katharine, that

now constant trio. The child was running to and fro, delighted

with the frost; the Master spoke close in the lady's ear with what

seemed (even from so far) a devilish grace of insinuation; and she

on her part looked on the ground like a person lost in listening.

I broke out of my reserve.

"If I were you, Mr. Henry," said I, "I would deal openly with my

lord."

"Mackellar, Mackellar," said he, "you do not see the weakness of my

ground. I can carry no such base thoughts to any one - to my

father least of all; that would be to fall into the bottom of his

scorn. The weakness of my ground," he continued, "lies in myself,

that I am not one who engages love. I have their gratitude, they

all tell me that; I have a rich estate of it! But I am not present

in their minds; they are moved neither to think with me nor to

think for me. There is my loss!" He got to his feet, and trod

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