‘I think you must do this, dear Edmund,’ she said, between decision and entreaty. ‘She knows that I dislike the man, and may fancy it my doing it she only hears it at second hand. If you speak, there will be no appeal, and besides there are moments when the really nearest should have no go-betweens.’
‘We were not very near without you,’ he said. ‘If it were Sophy, I should know better what to be about.’
‘Sophy would not put you in such a fix.’
‘So I have fancied—’ he paused, smiling, while she waited in eager curiosity, such as made him finish as if ashamed. ‘I have thought our likings much the same. Have you never observed what I mean?’
‘Oh! I never observe anything. I did not find out Maurice and Winifred till he told me. Who do you think it is? I always thought love would be the making of Sophy. I see she is another being. What is your guess, Mr. Hope?’
Mr. Kendal made a face of astonishment at such an improbable guess, and was driven into exclaiming, ‘How could any one help thinking of O’More?’
‘Oh! only too delightful!’ cried Albinia. ‘Why didn’t I think of it—but then his way is so free and cousinly with us all.’
‘There may be nothing in it,’ said Mr. Kendal; ‘and under present circumstances it would hardly be desirable.’
‘If old Mr. Goldsmith acts as he ought,’ continued Albinia, ‘we should never lose our Sophy—and what a son we should have! he has so exactly the bright temper that she needs.’
‘Well, well, that is all in the clouds,’ said Mr. Kendal. ‘I wish the present were equally satisfactory.’