In this edifying way the time was spent till dinner. Amanda declared that she never felt better, that she would certainly get up next day. “And I’ll go to church at the Minster if there is a good anthem,” she said, “and you shall give me your arm, Fred, and everybody will think us a model couple.” This last outburst of amiability was called forth by a delightful piece of scandal about what the newspapers called a very elevated personage, and which Frederick vouched for as authentic. Mrs. Frederick, whose “set” were of those who called the heir to the throne by the name of his principality _tout court_, was altogether conciliated by this delightful communication. Innocent, as Amanda said, paid very little attention. She listened yet did not listen, half pleased that Frederick seemed pleased, half wondering, by an instinct which was more penetrating than reason, that he should be satisfied, and should take so much trouble to keep Amanda in good temper. Innocent was not observant, she was not conscious of any faculty of criticism in her own undeveloped mind; she made no voluntary contrast between Frederick in this fretful sick chamber trying to please, and Frederick at home, contemptuously indifferent to what any one did or said. Only a little vague wonder at him rose in her mind; her sense of Mrs. Frederick’s imperfections was not more distinct than the mere feeling of personal dislike--dislike which was not softened by this sight of her, or by the exacting and selfish demands she made upon everybody. Innocent was born to obey. She did what Miss Vane had told her with the most docile unquestioning readiness, and with the consent of her whole being; and she did also whatever Mrs. Frederick told, but with how different a feeling. That she could have explained the difference to herself, or that she even fully defined and recognized it, I am far from asserting; but the fact that she was conscious of this difference was at least a proof of the expanding of her mental powers. Mrs. Frederick consented that her husband and Innocent should leave her to go to dinner, with reluctance, but she did consent. Before the meal was over, however, they heard loud and repeated knockings on the floor above, signals of her impatience. Frederick was in a state of unusual exhilaration, perhaps excited by finding the weary evening pass less disagreeably than he thought--for Innocent, passive as she was, was yet a shield between him and his coarse father-in-law; and even Amanda’s knocking, as he was out of her reach, did not disturb him. “Come round the garden with me while I smoke my cigar,” he said, “and then you can go to her.”