‘There is something to forgive on all hands,’
said Mr. Kendal. ’That meddlesome boy
of mine has caused worse results than we could have
contemplated. I believe it has been a lesson
to him.’
‘I know it has to some one else,’ said
Ulick. ’I wish I could do anything!
It would be the greatest comfort you could give me
to tell me of a thing I could do for Gilbert or any
of you. If you’d send me to find Mr. Cavendish
Dusautoy, and tell him ’twas all my fault, and
bring them back—’
‘Rather too wild a project, thank you,’
said Mr. Kendal, smiling. ’No; the only
thing you could do, would be—if that boy
of mine have not completely forfeited your kindness—’
‘Maurice! Ah! how I have missed the rogue.’
’Poor little fellow, I am afraid he may be a
burthen to himself and every one else. It would
be a great relief if you could be kind enough now
and then to give him the pleasure of a walk.’
Maurice did not attend greatly to papa’s permission
to go out with Mr. O’More. Either it was
clogged with too many conditions of discretion, and
too many reminiscences of the past; or Maurice’s
mind was too much bent on the thought of his brother.
Both children haunted the packing up, entreating
to send out impossible presents. Maurice could
hardly be persuaded out of contributing a perilous-looking
boomerang, which he argued had some sense in it; while
he scoffed at the little Awk, who stood kissing and
almost crying over the china countenance of her favourite
doll, entreating that papa would take dear Miss Jenny
because Gibbie loved her the best of all, and always
put her to sleep on his knees. At last matters
were compromised by Sophy, who roused herself to do
one of the few things for which she had strength,
engrossing them by cutting out in paper an interminable
hunt with horses and dogs adhering together by the
noses and tails, which, when brilliantly painted according
to their united taste, they might safely imagine giving
pleasure to Gilbert, while, at any rate, it would
do no harm in papa’s pocket-book.
The day after Mr. Kendal’s departure, Mrs. Meadows
had another attack, but a fortnight still passed before
the long long task was over and the weary spirit set
free. There had been no real consciousness and
no one could speak of regret; of anything but relief
and thankfulness that release had come at last, when
Albinia had redeemed her pledge and knew she should
no more hear of the dreary ‘very bad night,’
nor be greeted by the low, restless moan. The
long good-night was come, and, on the whole, there
was peace and absence of self-condemnation in looking
back on the past connexion. Forbearance and unselfishness
were recompensed by the calm tenderness with which
she could regard one who at the outset had appeared
likely to cause nothing but frets and misunderstandings.
Had she and Sophy been left to themselves, there would
have been nothing to break upon this frame of mind,
but early the next day arrived Mr. and Mrs. Drury,
upsetting all her arrangements, implying that it had
been presumptuous to exert any authority without relationship.
It did seem hard that the claims of kindred should
be only recollected in order to unsettle her plans,
and offend her unostentatious tastes.
