In September, Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars returned from their journey.
Albinia was anxious to see them, for if there was a sense that she
had fallen short of her confident hopes of doing prosperously, there
was also a great desire for their sympathy and advice. But Maurice
had been too long away from his parish to be able to spare another
day, and begged that the Kendals would come to Fairmead. Seeing that
Albinia's heart was set on it, Mr. Kendal allowed himself to be
stirred up to appoint a time for driving her over to spend a long day
at Fairmead.
For her own pleasure and ease of mind, Albinia made a point of taking
Gilbert, and the girls were to spend the day with their grandmother.
'Pretty old Fairmead!' she cried, as the beech-trees rose before her;
and she was turning round every minute to point out to Gilbert some
of the spots of which she had told him, and nodding to the few
scattered children who were not at school, and who looked up with
mouths from ear to ear, and flushed cheeks, as they curtsied to 'Miss
Ferrars.' The 'Miss Ferrars' life seemed long ago.
They came to the little green gate that led to what had been 'home'
for the happiest years of Albinia's life, and from the ivy porch
there was a rush of little Willie and Mary, and close at hand their
mamma, and Maurice emerging from the school. It was very joyous and
natural. But there were two more figures, not youthful, but of
decided style and air, and quiet but fashionable dress, and Albinia
had only time to say quickly to her husband, 'my aunts,' before she
was fondly embraced.
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