He was obliged to move to the window, and nervously clutching his arm, she whispered, ‘You’ll excuse it, I know, but don’t mention it—not a word to mamma.’ Mr. Kendal looked at Albinia to gather what could be this dreadful subject, but the next words made it no longer doubtful. ‘Ah, you were away, there’s no use in explaining—but not a word of Sam Pringle. It would only make her uneasy—’ she gasped in a floundering whisper, stopping suddenly short, for at that moment the stranger and his son were entering the garden, so near them, that they might have seen the three pairs of eyes levelled on them, through the wide open end of the unfortunate blind, which was now in the shape of a fan.
Albinia’s cheeks glowed with sympathy, and she longed for the power of helping her, marvelling how a being so nervously restless and devoid of self-command could pass through a scene likely to be so trying. The bell sounded, and the loud hearty tones of a manly voice were heard. Albinia looked to see whether her help were needed, but Miss Meadows’s whole face was brightened, and moving across the room with unusually even steps, she leant on the arm of her mother’s chair, saying, ‘Mamma, it is Captain Pringle. You remember Samuel Pringle? He settled in the Mauritius, you know, and he was at church this morning with his little boy.’
There was something piteous in the searching look of inquiry that Mrs. Meadows cast at her daughter’s face, but Maria had put it aside with an attempt at a smile, as ‘Captain Pringle’ was announced.
He trod hard, and spoke loud, and his curly grizzled hair was thrown back from a bronzed open face, full of broad heartiness, as he walked in with outstretched hand, exclaiming, ‘Well, and how do you do?’ shaking with all his might the hand that Maria held out. ‘And how are you, Mrs. Meadows? You see I could not help coming back to see old friends.’
‘Old friends are always welcome, sir,’ said the old lady, warmly. ‘My son, Mr. Kendal, sir—Mrs. Kendal,’ she added, with a becoming old-fashioned movement of introduction.
‘Very glad to meet you,’ said the captain, extending to each such a hearty shake of the hand, that Albinia suspected he was taking her on trust for Maria’s sister.
‘Your little boy?’ asked Mrs. Meadows.
‘Ay—Arthur, come and make the most of yourself, my man,’ said he, thumping the shy boy on the back to give him courage. ‘I’ve brought him home for his schooling—quite time, you see, though what on earth I’m to do without him—’
The boy looked miserable at the words. ‘Ay, ay,’ continued his father, ‘you’ll do well enough. I’m not afraid for you, master, but that you’ll be happy as your father was before you, when once you have fellows to play with you. Here is Mr. Kendal will tell you so.’
It was an unfortunate appeal, but Mr. Kendal made the best of it, saying that his boy was very happy at his tutor’s.