‘I can’t help it,’ said Maria. ‘I do hope it is not wrong; but his very voice has got the old tone in it, as if it were the old lullaby that my poor heart has been beating for all these years.’ Who would have thought of Maria speaking poetically? But her words did indeed seem to be the truth. In spite of the embarrassment of her situation and the flutter of her feelings, she was in a state of composure unexampled. Albinia had just gratified her greatly by a few words on Captain Pringle’s evident good-nature, when a tread came behind them. ‘Ha! you here?’ exclaimed the loud honest voice. ‘We were taking a turn in the moonlight,’ said Albinia. ‘A beautiful night.’ ‘Beautiful! Arthur and I have been a bit of the way home with old Goldsmith. There’s an evergreen, to be sure; and now--are you bound homewards, Maria?’ Maria clung to Albinia’s arm. Perhaps in the days of the last parting, she had been less careful to be with a chaperon. ‘Ah! I forgot,’ said the captain; ‘your way lies the other side of the hill. I had very nearly walked into Willow Lawn this morning, only luckily I bethought me of asking.’ ‘I hope you will yet walk into Willow Lawn,’ said Albinia. ‘Ah! thank you; I should like to see the old place. I dare say it may be transmogrified now, but I think I could find my way blindfold about the old garden. I say, Maria, do you remember that jolly tea-party on the lawn, when the frog made one too many?’ ‘That I do--’ Maria could not utter more, and Albinia said she was afraid he would miss a great deal. ‘I reckoned on that when I came home. Changes everywhere; but after the one great change,’ he added, mournfully, ‘the others tell less. One has the less heart to care for an old tree or an old path.’ Albinia felt sure he could mean only one great change, but they were now at Mrs. Meadows’s door, and Maria wished them good night, giving a most grateful squeeze of the hand to Mrs. Kendal. ‘Where are you bound now?’ asked the captain. ‘Back to the vicarage, to take up my husband and the girls,’ said Albinia, ‘but good night. I am not afraid.’ The captain, however, chose to continue a squire of dames, and walked at her side, presently giving utterance to a sound of commiseration. ‘Ah! well, poor Maria, I never thought to see her so altered. Why, she had the prettiest bloom--I dare say you remember--but, I beg your pardon, somehow I thought you were her _elder_ sister.’ ‘Mr. Kendal’s first wife was,’ said Albinia, pitying the poor man; but Captain Pringle was not a man for awkwardness, and the short whistle with which he received her answer set her off laughing.