attention, and he asked her anxiously whether anything were the
matter. A sad gesture replied, and perhaps revealed the state of the
case, for he became absolutely silent. Albinia left them together.
She watched anxiously, and hurried after Mr. Kendal into the study,
where his manner showed her not to be unwelcome as the sharer of his
trouble. 'I do not know what to do,' he said, dejectedly. 'I can
make nothing of him. It is all prevarication and sulkiness! I do
not think he felt one word that I said.'

'People often feel more than they show.'

He groaned.

'Will you go to him?' he presently added. 'Perhaps I grew too angry
at last, and I believe he loves you. At least, if he does not, he
must be more unfeeling than I can think him. You do not dislike it,
dearest.'

'O no, no! If I only knew what would be best for him!'

'He may be more unreserved with you,' said Mr. Kendal; and as he was
anxious for her to make the attempt, she moved away, though in
perplexity, and in the revulsion of feeling, with a sort of disgust
towards the boy who had deceived her so long.

She found him seated on a wheelbarrow by the pond, chucking pebbles
into the still black water, and disturbing the duckweed on the
surface. His colour was gone, and his face was dark and moody, and
strove not to relax, as she said, 'O Gilbert, how could you?'