If not, say I wish them sent down to me; otherwise I will come up to them immediately." The answer to this message was awaited in most awkward silence.
Even Miss Gascoigne seemed to feel that she had gone a bit too far, and busied herself over the tea equipage; while Miss Grey, after one or two deprecating looks at dear Arnold, began knitting nervously at her eternal socks---the only aunt-like duty which, in her meek laziness, she attempted to fulfill toward the children.
For Christian, she sat by the fire, where her husband had placed her, absently taking in the externalities--warm, somber, luxurious--which, in all human probability, was now her home for life.

For life! Did that overpowering sense of the inevitable--so maddening to some, so quieting to others--cause all small things to sink to their natural smallness, and all painful things to touch her less painfully than otherwise they would have been felt?
It might have been.
Barker returned with the information that all the children were fast asleep, but nurse said, "Of course Dr.Grey could come up if he pleased." "Let me go too," begged Christian.

"Little Oliver will look so pretty in his bed." Dr.Grey smiled.

It was a rare thing to be a whole fortnight away from his children, and all the father's heart was in his loving eyes.

"Come away, then," he said, all his cheerful looks returning.