She was too much ashamed of her foolish fancy to say more, and she cooled into candour sufficient to perceive that he was wise in distrusting her tact where her preference was so strong.  But she foresaw that Gilbert would shrink and falter before his father, and that the conference would lead to no discovery of his views, and she was not surprised when her husband told her that he could not understand the boy, and believed that the truth was, that he would like to do nothing at all.  It had ended by Mr. Kendal, in a sort of despair, undertaking to write to his cousin John for a statement of what would be required, after which the decision was to be made.

Meantime Mr. Kendal advised Gilbert to attend to arithmetic and book-keeping, and offered to instruct him in his long-forgotten Hindostanee.  Sophy learnt all these with all her heart, but Gilbert always had a pain in his chest if he sat still at any kind of study!

CHAPTER XV.

Colonel Bury was the most open-hearted old bachelor in the country.  His imagination never could conceive the possibility of everybody not being glad to meet everybody, his house could never be too full, his dinner-parties of ‘a few friends’ overflowed the dining-room, and his ‘nobody’ meant always at least six bodies.  Every season was fertile in occasions of gathering old and young together to be made happy, and little Mary Ferrars, at five years old, had told her mamma that ‘the Colonel’s parties made her quite dissipated.’

One bright summer day, his beaming face appeared at Willow-Lawn with a peremptory invitation.  His nephew and heir had newly married a friend of Albinia’s girlhood, and was about to pay his wedding visit.  Too happy to keep his guests to himself, the Colonel had fixed the next Thursday for a fete, and wanted all the world to come to it—­the Kendals, every one of them—­if they could only sleep there—­but Albinia brought him to confession that he had promised to lodge five people more than the house would hold; and the aunts were at the parsonage, where nobody ventured to crowd their servants.

But there was a moon—­and though Mr. Kendal would not allow that she was the harvest moon, the hospitable Colonel dilated on her as if she had been bed, board, and lodging, and he did not find much difficulty in his persuasions.

Few invitations ever gave more delight; Albinia appreciated a holiday to the utmost, and the whole family was happy at Sophy’s chance of at length seeing Fairmead, and taking part in a little gaiety.  And if Mr. Kendal’s expectations of pleasure were less high, he submitted very well, smiled benignantly at the felicity around him, and was not once seen to shudder.