Albinia liked neither to see nor to think about it, and kept aloof as
much as she could, dividing herself between grandmamma and the
children. On Tuesday morning, during Maurice's lessons, there was a
knock at the sitting-room door. She expected Gilbert, but was
delighted to see her brother.
'I thought you were much too busy to come near us?'
'So I am; I can't stay; so if Kendal be not forthcoming you must give
this fellow a holiday.'
'He is gone to Hadminster, so--'
'Where's Gilbert?' broke in little Maurice.
'He went to his room to dress to go up to parade,' said Mr. Ferrars,
and off rushed the boy without waiting for permission.
Albinia sighed, and said, 'It is a perfect passion.'
'Don't mourn over it. Love is too good a thing to be lamented over,
and this may turn into a blessing.'
'I used to be proud of it.'
'So you shall be still. I am very much pleased with that poor lad.'
She would not raise her eyes, she was weary of hoping for Gilbert,
and his last offence had touched her where she had never been touched
before.
'Whatever faults he has,' Mr. Ferrars said, 'I am much mistaken if
his humility, love, and contrition be not genuine, and what more can
the best have?'
'Sincerity!' said Albinia, hopelessly. 'There's no truth in him!'
'You should discriminate between deliberate self-interested
deception, and failure in truth for want of moral courage.
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