‘I am afraid you thought me very rude and ungrateful,’ she began, ’but the truth was, I did not think dear mamma would ever bear to live here, my poor dear sister and all; but since that, I have been talking it over with the dear Captain—­thinks that since you are so kind, and dear Edmund—­more than I could ever have dared to expect—­ that I could not do better than just to sound mamma.’

There was still another vicissitude.  Mrs. Meadows would not hear of being thrust on any one, and was certain that Maria had extorted an invitation; she would never be a burden upon any one; young people liked company and amusement, and she was an old woman in every one’s way; she wished she were in her coffin with poor dear Mr. Meadows, who would have settled it all.  Maria fell back into the depths of despair, and all was lugubrious, till Mr. Kendal, in the most tender and gentle manner, expressed his hopes that Mrs. Meadows would consider the matter, telling her that his wife and children would esteem it a great privilege to attend on her, and that he should be very grateful if she would allow them to try to supply Maria’s place.  And Albinia, in her coaxing tone, described the arrangement; how the old furniture should stand in the sitting-room, and how Lucy would attend to her carpet-work, and what nice walks the sunny garden would afford, and how pleasant it would be not to have the long hill between them, till grandmamma forgot all her scruples in the fascination of that sweet face and caressing manner, she owned that poor old Willow Lawn always was like home, and finally promised to come.  Before the evening was over the wedding-day was fixed.

What Sophy briefly termed ‘the fuss about Aunt Maria,’ had been so tedious, that it almost dispelled all poetical ideas of courtship.  If Captain Pringle had been drowned at sea, and Aunt Maria pined herself into her grave, it would have been much more proper and affecting.

Sophy heard of the arrangement without remark, and quietly listened to Albinia’s explanation that she was not to be sent up to the attics, but was to inhabit the spare room, which was large enough to serve her for a sitting-room.  But in the evening Mr. Kendal happened in her absence to take up the book which she had been reading, and did not perceive at once on her entrance that she wanted it.  When he did so, he yielded it with a few kind words of apology, but this vexation had been sufficient to bring down the thunder-cloud which had been lowering since the morning.  There were no signs of clearance the next day; but Albinia had too much upon her hands to watch the symptoms, and was busy making measurements for the furniture in the morning-room when Mr. Kendal came in.

‘I have been thinking,’ he said, ’that it is a pity to disturb this room.  I dare say Mrs. Meadows would prefer that below-stairs.  It used to be her parlour, where she always sat when I first knew the house.’

‘The dining-room?  How could we spare that?’