‘Yes, lively. It’s the only word I can find with which to describe the change; and I don’t wonder that you exclaim at it, for “lively” is hardly a word that fits Gilbert, is it?’
‘No, indeed! Pray, what shape does the liveliness take?’ asked Magdalen, who appeared almost interested.
‘Oh, I can hardly tell you. A quickness and alertness—I can hardly describe it. He makes jokes sometimes, and laughs at a mere nothing—which is not Gilbert’s way, you know, as a rule. He talks a great deal, too, which is also contrary to his usual habits. He takes my arm if we meet, and altogether there is something odd and changed in his manner.’
‘Perhaps he is in love,’ suggested Magdalen languidly.
Michael shrugged his shoulders, smiling slightly.
‘He may be, but I don’t think it.’ And so the topic dropped, till Michael returned to the town, and during the evening related this supposition of Magdalen’s.
‘I don’t know whether he’s in love or not,’ said the doctor, who, for his part, was certainly not in love with Gilbert; ‘but he was in here to-day to see you, when you were out; and he says your father intends to make his will, and he wants you to know about it.’
‘To make his will? I should have thought he had made it long ago.’
‘So he did, for I was one of the witnesses; but it has to be altered, with all these complications about factories and property to be sold, and such-like.’
‘Oh! well, Gilbert will see to it; he has always managed that kind of thing,’ said Michael carelessly. ‘I don’t see what I have to do with it.’