Two figures stood under the window. Mr. Kendal, who was holding the
little inanimate form in his arms for the doctor to examine, looking up
as she entered, cast on her a look of mute, pleading, despairing agony,
that was as the bitterness of death. She sprang forward herself to
clasp her child, and her husband yielded him in broken-hearted pity,
but at that moment the little limbs moved, the features worked, the
eyes unclosed, and clinging tightly to her, as she strained him to
her bosom, the little fellow proclaimed himself alive by lusty roars,
more welcome than any music. Partly stunned, and far more terrified,
he had been in a sort of swoon, without breath to cry, till recalled
to himself by feeling his mother's arms around him. Every attempt
of Mr. Bowles to ascertain whether he were uninjured produced such
a fresh panic and renewal of screams, that she begged that he might
be left to her. Mr. Kendal took the doctor away, and gradually the
terror subsided, though the long convulsive sobs still quivered up
through the little frame, and as the twilight darkened on her, she
had time to realize the past alarm, and rejoice in trembling over the
treasure still her own.
The opening of the door and the gleaming of a light had nearly
brought on a fresh access of crying, but it was his father who
entered, and Maurice knew the low deep sweetness of his voice, and
was hushed. 'I believe there is no harm done,' Albinia said; and the
smile that she fain would have made reassuring gave way as her eyes
filled with tears, on feeling the trembling of the strong arm that
was put round her, when Mr.
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