It was to Mrs Kendal from one of her friends at the Horse Guards. She did not know how she found courage to turn her eyes on it, but her shriek was not of sorrow.
‘Major the Honourable F. Ferrars, severely wounded—right arm amputated.’
‘Lieutenant Gilbert Kendal, slightly wounded—contusion, rib broken.’
She saw the light of thankfulness break upon Mr. Kendal’s face, and the next moment flew up to her boy’s bed-side. He started up, half asleep, but crying out, Mamma, where’s Gibbie?’
‘Safe, safe! Maurice dearest, safe; only slightly wounded! Oh, Maurice, God has been very good to us!’
He flung his arms round her neck, as she knelt beside his crib in the dark, and thus Mr. Kendal found the mother and son. As he bent to kiss them, Maurice exclaimed, with a sort of anger, ‘Oh, mamma, why have I got a bullet in my throat?’
Albinia laughed a little hysterically, as if she had the like bullet.
‘It was very kind of Lord H——,’ fervently exclaimed Mr. Kendal; ‘you must write to thank him, Albinia. Gilbert may be considered safe while he is laid up. Perhaps he may be sent home. What should you say to that, Maurice?’
‘Oh! I wouldn’t come home to lose the fun,’ said Maurice. ‘Oh, mamma, let me get up to tell Awkey, and run up to Ulick! Gilbert will be the colonel when I’m a cornet! Oh! I must get up!’
His outspoken childish joy seemed to relieve Albinia’s swelling heart, too full for the expression of thankfulness, and the excitement was too much even for the boy, for he burst into passionate sobs when forbidden to get up and waken his little sister.