‘Oh! my dear, very unwell, very. They should not leave me to myself so long, my dear. I thought you would never come back,’ and she began to cry, and say, ‘no one cared for an old woman.’
Albinia assured her that she was not going away, and restrained her own eager and bewildered feelings to tranquillize her, by prosing on in the lengthy manner which always soothed the poor old lady. It was a great penance, in her anxiety to investigate the mysteries that seemed to swarm in the house, but at last she was able to leave the bedside, though not till she had been twice summoned to tea.
Sophy, lividly pale, was presiding with trembling hands; Gilbert, flushed and nervous, waiting on every one, and trying to be lively and at ease, but secret distress was equally traceable in each.
She durst only ask after the children, and heard that her little namesake had been as usual as good and sweet as child could be. And Maurice?
‘He’s a famous fellow, went on capitally,’ said Gilbert.
‘Yes, till yesterday,’ hoarsely gasped Sophy, sincerity wrenching out the protest by force.
‘Ah, what has he been doing to the conservatory?’
‘He let the little marble dog down from the morning-room window with my netting silk; it fell, and made a great hole,’ said Sophy.
‘What, as a form of dawdling at his lessons?’
‘Yes, but he has not been at all tiresome about them except to-day and yesterday.’