‘We all grow old, you know,’ said Maria, endeavouring to smile, but half strangled by a tear, and looking at that moment as she might have done long ago. ‘You find many changes.’ ‘I hope you find Mr. Pringle pretty well,’ said Albinia, thinking this might be a relief, and accordingly, the kind-hearted captain began, ruefully to describe the sad alterations that time had wrought. Then he explained that he had had little correspondence with home, and had only landed three days since, so that he was ignorant of all Bayford tidings, and began asking after a multitude of old friends and acquaintance. The Kendals thought all would go on the better in their absence, and escaped from the record of deaths and marriages, each observing to the other as they left the house, that there could be little doubt that nurse’s story was true, but both amazed by the effect on Maria, who had never been seen before to sit so long quiet in her chair. Was his wife alive? Albinia thought not, but could not be certain. His presence was evidently happiness to Miss Meadows, but would this last? Would this renewal soothe her, or only make her more restless and unhappy? Albinia found that Sophy’s imagination bad been quicker than her own. Lucy had brought home the great news of the stranger, and she had leapt at once to the conclusion that it must be the hero of nurse’s story, but she had had the resolution to keep the secret from her sister, who was found reproaching her with making mysteries. When Lucy heard that it was Captain Pringle, she was quite provoked. ‘Only Mr. Pringle’s nephew?’ she said, disdainfully. ‘What was the use of making a fuss? I thought it was some one interesting!’ Sophy was able to walk to church in the evening, but was made to go in to rest at the vicarage before returning home. While this was being discussed before the porch, Albinia felt a pressure on her arm, and looking round, saw Maria Meadows. ‘Can you spare me a few moments?’ she said; and Albinia turned aside with her to the flagged terrace path between the churchyard and vicarage garden, in the light of a half-moon. ‘You were so kind this morning,’ began Maria, ‘that I thought--you see it is very awkward--not that I have any idea--but if you would speak to Edmund--I know he is not in the habit--morning visits and--’ ‘Do you wish him to call? He had been thinking of it.’ Maria would have been unbounded in her gratitude, but catching herself up, she disclaimed all personal interest--only she said Edmund knew nothing of anything that had passed--if he did, he would see they would feel-- ‘I think,’ said Albinia, kindly, ‘that we do know that you had some troubles on that score. Old nurse said something to Sophy, but no other creature knows it.’