‘But such a match!’ exclaimed Albinia.
‘As to that, a sensible, economical wife will be worth more to him than an expensive one, with however large a fortune. And for the family pride, I am glad the lad has more sense than I feared; he has a full right to please himself, having won the place he has, and he may make his father consent. He wants a wife—nothing else will keep him from running headlong into speculation, for want of something to do. Yes, I see what you are thinking of, my dear, but you know we could not wish her, as you said yourself, never to form another attachment.’
‘But here!’ sighed Albinia, the ground knocked away from under her, yet still clinging to the last possible form of murmur.
‘It will cost us something,’ said Mr. Kendal, ‘but no more than we will cheerfully bear, for the sake of one who has such claims upon us; and it will be amply repaid by having such a pair of friends settled close to us.’
‘Then you will, papa?’ said Sophy.
‘Will do what, my dear?’
‘Treat her as—as you did Lucy, papa.’
‘And with much more pleasure, and far more hope, than when we fitted out poor Lucy,’ said Mr. Kendal.
Sophy thanked him, and said ‘Good-night;’ and the look which accompanied her kiss to her step-mother was a binding over to secrecy and non-interference.
‘Is she gone?’ said Mr. Kendal, who had been musing after his last words. ‘Gone to tell her friend, I suppose? I wanted to ask what this scene was.’