He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow, with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could never remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the embrace,--all had revealed to her the fervour of her father’s affection, beyond--far beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one instant that he gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood beside Frederick as soon as his sister-in-law. CHAPTER XIII. The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers from chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and appealing to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though never allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often came to her help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe displeasure of the absent queen, by laying aside Midas’s robes to assist in the arrangements. “That picture is crooked, I am sure!” said Mrs. Langford; and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned Geoffrey from the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon a chair to settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked Uncle Roger. “Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma’am, you are making yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?” “He has ridden over to see the South Farm,” said Mrs. Langford. “Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,--I understand.” “Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?” asked Mrs. Frederick Langford. “They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton Leigh, and I have not seen them since.” “O yes,” said Mr. Roger Langford, “I can tell you what has become of them; they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, and Will with them, after some of their acting affairs.” Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs. Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in dismay. “You don’t mean that Fred was driving?” said her mother. “Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,--surely he knows how!” “O, Roger, what have you done!” said she faintly, as if the exclamation would break from her in spite of herself. “Indeed, mamma,” said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, “I assure you Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was sitting up by Dawson.” “Ay, ay, Mary,” said Uncle Roger, “never fear. Depend upon it, boys do many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with whole bones after all.”