The Young Step-Mother; Or, A Chronicle of Mistakes. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ to have lost the power of knowing what she said. She was glad Mrs. Kendal could walk up this morning, since she could not come at night.

      ‘It was not my fault,’ said Albinia, earnestly; ‘Mr. Kendal forbade me. I am sure I wish we had come.’

      The old lady would have said something kind about not reproaching herself, but Miss Meadows interposed with, ‘It was very unlucky, to be sure—Mr. Kendal never failed them before, not that she would wish—but she had always understood that to let young people run about late in the evening by themselves—not that she meant anything, but it was very unfortunate—if she had only been aware—Betty should have come down to walk up with them.’

      Gilbert could not forbear an ashamed smile of intense affront at this reproach to his manliness.

      ‘It was exceedingly unfortunate,’ said Albinia, trying to repress her vexation; ‘but Gilbert must learn to have resolution to guard himself. And now that he is come to ask your forgiveness, will you not grant it to him?’

      ‘Oh, yes, yes, certainly, I forgive him from my heart. Yes, Gilbert, I do, only you must mind and beware—it is a very shocking thing—low company and all that—you’ve made yourself look as ill—and if you knew what a cake Betty had made—almond and citron both—“but it’s for Master Gilbert,” she said, “and I don’t grudge”—and then to think—oh, dear!’

      Albinia tried to express for him some becoming sorrow at having disappointed so much kindness, but she brought Miss Meadows down on her again.

      ‘Oh, yes—she grudged nothing—but she never expected to meet with gratitude—she was quite prepared—’ and she swallowed and almost sobbed, ‘there had been changes. She was ready to make every excuse—she was sure she had done her best—but she understood—she didn’t want to be assured. It always happened so—she knew her homely ways were not what Mrs. Kendal had been used to—and she didn’t wonder—she only hoped the dear children—’ and she was absolutely crying.

      ‘My dear Maria,’ said her mother, soothingly, ‘you have worked yourself into such a state, that you don’t know what you are saying. You must not let Mrs. Kendal think that we don’t know that she is leading the dear children to all that is right and kind towards as.’

      ‘Oh, no, I don’t accuse any one. Only if they like to put me down under their feet and trample on me, they are welcome. That’s all I have to say.’

      Albinia was too much annoyed to be amused, and said, as she rose to take leave, ‘I think it would be better for Gilbert, as well as for ourselves, if we were to say no more till some more cool and reasonable moment.’

      ‘I am as cool as possible,’ said Miss Meadows, convulsively clutching her hand; ‘I’m not excited. Don’t excite yourself, Mrs. Kendal—it is very bad for you. Tell her not, Mamma—oh! no, don’t be excited—I mean nothing—I forgive poor dear Gibbie whatever little matters—I know there was excuse—boys with unsettled homes—but pray don’t go and excite yourself—you see how cool I am—’

      And she pursued Albinia to the garden-gate, recommending her at every step not to be excited, for she was as cool as possible, trembling and stammering all the time, with flushed cheeks, and tears in her eyes.

      ‘I wonder who she thinks is excited?’ exclaimed Albinia, as they finally turned their backs on her.

      It was hardly in human nature to help making the observation, but it was not prudent. Gilbert took licence to laugh, and say, ‘Aunt Maria is beside herself.’

      ‘I never heard anything so absurd or unjust!’ cried Albinia, too much irritated to remember anything but the sympathy of her auditor. ‘If I am to be treated in this manner, I have done striving to please them. Due respect shall be shown, but as to intimacy and confidence—’

      ‘I’m glad you see it so at last!’ cried Gilbert. ‘Aunt Maria has been the plague of my life, and I’m glad I told her a bit of my mind!’

      What was Albinia’s consternation! Her moment’s petulance had undone her morning’s work.

      ‘Gilbert,’ she said, ‘we are both speaking very wrongly. I especially, who ought to have helped you.’

      Spite of all succeeding humility the outburst had been fatal, and argue and plead as she might, she could not restore the boy to anything like the half satisfactory state of penitence in which she had led him from home. The giving way to her worse nature had awakened his, and though he still allowed that she should prepare the way for his confession to his father, all real sense of his outrageous conduct towards his aunt was gone.

      Disheartened and worn out, Albinia did not feel equal even to going to take off her walking things, but sat down in the drawing-room on the sofa, and tried to silence the girls’ questions and chatter, by desiring Lucy to read aloud.

      By-and-by Mr. Kendal was heard returning, and she rose to arrest him in the hall. Her looks began the story, for he exclaimed, ‘My dear Albinia, what is the matter?’

      ‘Oh, Edmund, I have such things to tell you! I have been doing so wrong.’

      She was almost sobbing, and he spoke fondly. ‘No, Albinia, I can hardly believe that. Something has vexed you, and you must take time to compose yourself.’

      He led her up to her own room, tried to soothe her, and would not listen to a word till she should be calm. After lying still for a little while, she thought she had recovered, but the very word ‘Gilbert’ brought such an expression of anxiety and sternness over his brow as overcame her again, and she could not speak without so much emotion that he silenced her; and finding that she could neither leave the subject, nor mention it without violent agitation, he said he would leave her for a little while, and perhaps she might sleep, and then be better able to speak to him. Still she held him, and begged that he would say nothing to Gilbert till he had heard her, and to pacify her he yielded, passed his promise, and quitted her with a kiss.

      CHAPTER VII

      There was a messenger at Fairmead Parsonage by sunrise the next morning, and by twelve o’clock Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars were at Willow Lawn.

      Mr. Kendal’s grave brow and depressed manner did not reassure Winifred as he met her in the hall, although his words were, ‘I hope she is doing well.’

      He said no more, for the drawing-room door was moving to and fro, as if uneasy on the hinges, and as he made a step towards it, it disclosed a lady with black eyes and pinched features, whom he presented as ‘Miss Meadows.’

      ‘Well, now—I think—since more efficient—since I leave Mrs. Kendal to better—only pray tell her—my love and my mother’s—if I could have been of any use—or shall I remain?—could I be of any service, Edmund?—I would not intrude when—but in the house—if I could be of any further use.’

      ‘Of none, thank you,’ said Mr. Kendal, ‘unless you would be kind enough to take home the girls.’

      ‘Oh, papa!’ cried Lucy, I’ve got the keys. You wont be able to get on at all without me. Sophy may go, but I could not be spared.’

      ‘Let it be as you will,’ said Mr. Kendal; ‘I only desire quiet, and that you should not inconvenience Mrs. Ferrars.’

      ‘You will help me, will you not!’ said Winifred, smiling, though she did not augur well from this opening scene. ‘May I go soon to Albinia?’

      ‘Presently, СКАЧАТЬ