‘Ah, that note; I wrote it in one of my impetuous fits. Maurice used to say I ran frantic, and grew irrational, and so I did not know what I was saying to you; and I brought that poor patient girl up here in all the heat, and the journey hurt her so much, that I don’t know how we shall ever get her home again. Oh, Edmund, I am the worst wife and mother in the world; and I undertook it all with such foolish confidence.’
Mr. Kendal liked her impetuous fits as little as her brother did, and was not so much used to them; but he dealt with her in his quiet, straightforward way. ‘You are exaggerating now, Albinia, and I do not wonder at it, for you have had a great deal to startle and to try you. Walking up and down is only heating and agitating you more; sit down here, and let me hear what gave you this alarm.’
The grave affection of his manner restrained her, and his presence soothed the flutter of spirits; though she still devoted herself with a sort of wilfulness to bear all the blame, until he said, ‘This is foolish, Albinia; it is of no use to look at anything but the simple truth. This affection of the spine must be constitutional, and if neglect have aggravated the evil, it must date from a much earlier period than since she has been under your charge. If any one be to blame, it is myself, for the apathy that prevented me from placing the poor things under proper care, but I was hardly then aware that Maria’s solicitude is always in the wrong place.’
‘But everybody declares that it was always visible, and that no one could look at her without seeing that she was crooked.’
‘Apres le coup,’ said Mr. Kendal. ‘I grant you that a person of more experience might perhaps have detected what was amiss sooner than you did, but you have only to regret the ignorance you shared with us all; and you did your utmost according to your judgment.’
‘And a cruel utmost it was,’ said Albinia; ‘it is frightful to think what I inflicted, and she endured in silence, because I had not treated her so that she could bear to speak to me.’
‘That is over now,’ said Mr. Kendal, ‘you have conquered her at last. Pride could not hold out against such sweetness.’
‘It is her generosity,’ said Albinia; ‘I always knew she was the best of them all, if one could but get at her.’
‘What have you done to her? I never heard her say half so much as she voluntarily said to me just now.’
‘Poor dear! I believe the key of her heart was lost when Edmund died, and so all within was starved,’ said Albinia. ‘Yes,’ as his eyes were suddenly raised and fixed on her, ‘I got to that at last. No one has ever understood her, since she lost her brother.’