‘Aunt Maria will, and mamma will go and say so herself,’ cried Sophy; ‘she will say it was taking walks and carrying baby, and it’s not true. I told the doctor how my back ached long before baby came or she either, and he said that most likely the weakness had been left by the fever. So if it is any one’s mismanagement, it is Aunt Maria’s, and if you wont tell her so, I will.’
‘Gently, Sophy, that would hardly be grateful, after the pains that she has taken with you, and the care she meant to give.’
‘Her care was all worry,’ said Sophy, ‘and it will be very lucky if I don’t tell her so, if she says her provoking things to mamma. But you wont believe them, papa.’
‘Most certainly not.’
‘Yes, you must tell her to be happy again,’ continued Sophy; ‘I cannot bear to see her looking sorrowful! Last night, when she fancied me asleep, she cried—oh! till it made me miserable! And to-day I heard Miss Ferrars say to Mrs. Annesley, that her fine spirits were quite gone. You know it is very silly, for I am the last person in all the world she ought to cry for.’
‘She has an infinite treasure of love,’ said Mr. Kendal, ‘and we have done very little that we should be blessed with it.’
‘There, they are come home!’ exclaimed Sophy, starting up as sounds were heard on the stairs, and almost at the same moment Albinia was in the room, overflowing with contrition, gladness, and anxiety; but something of sweetness in the first hasty greeting made the trust overcome all the rest; and, understanding his uppermost wish, she stepped back to the staircase, and in another second had put Maurice into his arms, blooming and contented, and with a wide-mouthed smile for his papa. Mr. Kendal held him fondly through all the hospitable welcomes of the aunts, and his own explanations; but to Albinia it was all confusion, and almost annoyance, till she could take him upstairs, and tell her own story.
‘I am afraid you have been very much alarmed,’ were his first words.
‘I have done everything wrong from beginning to end,’ said Albinia. ‘Oh, Edmund, I am so glad you are come! Now you will see the doctor, and know whether it was as bad as all the rest to bring her to London.’
‘My dearest, you must calm yourself, and try to explain. You know I understand nothing yet, except from your resolute little advocate downstairs, and your own note, which I could scarcely make out, except that you were in great trouble.’