Gilbert was past seventeen, and it was time to decide on his
profession. Albinia had virtuously abstained from any hint adverse
to the house of Kendal and Kendal, for she knew it hurt her husband's
feelings to hear any disparagement of the country where he had spent
some of his happiest years. He was fond of his cousins, and knew
that they would give his son a safe and happy home, and he believed
that the climate was exactly what his health needed.
Sophy fired at the idea. Her constant study of the subject and her
vivid imagination had taken the place of memory, which could supply
nothing but the glow of colouring and the dazzling haze which
enveloped all the forms that she would fain believe that she
remembered. She and her father would discuss Indian scenery as if
they had been only absent from it a year, she envied Gilbert his
return thither, but owned that it was the next thing to going
herself, and was already beginning to amass a hoard of English gifts
for the old ayahs and bearers who still lived in her recollection, in
preparation for the visit which on his first holiday her brother must
pay to her birthplace and first home.
Gilbert, however, took no part in this enthusiasm, he made no
opposition, but showed no alacrity; and at last his father asked
Albinia whether she knew of any objection on his part, or any design
which he might be unwilling to put forward. With a beating heart she
avowed her cherished scheme.
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