Algernon could not complain without making himself ridiculous, and Albinia was too much engaged to keep watch over her son, so that the persecution daily became more intolerable, and barren indications of wrath were so diverting to the little monkey, that the presence of the heads of the family was the sole security from his tricks.  Poor Lucy was the chief sufferer, unable to restrain her brother, and enduring the brunt of her husband’s irritation, with the great disappointment of being unable to make him happy at her home, and fearing every day that he would fulfil his threat of not staying another week in the house with that intolerable child, for the sake of any one’s grandmother.

Tidings came, however, that completely sobered Maurice, and made them unable to think of moving.  It was the first rumour of the charge of Balaklava, with the report that the 25th Lancers were cut to pieces.  In spite of Algernon’s reiteration that telegraphs were lies, all the household would have been glad to lose the sense of existence during the time of suspense.  Albinia’s heart was wrung as she thought of the cold hurried manner of the last farewell, and every look she cast at her husband’s calm melancholy face, seemed to be asking pardon that his son was not safe in India.

Late that evening the maid came hurriedly in with a packet of papers.  ‘A telegraph, ma’am, come express from Hadminster.’

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.