LITMIR.BIZ

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us about him,’ said Laura.

      ‘He was the most incongruous thing there,’ said Philip. ‘There was a calm, deep melancholy about the old man added to the grand courtesy which showed he had been what old books call a fine gentleman, that made him suit his house as a hermit does his cell, or a knight his castle; but breaking in on this “penseroso” scene, there was Guy—’

      ‘In what way?’ asked Laura.

      ‘Always in wild spirits, rushing about, playing antics, provoking the solemn echoes with shouting, whooping, singing, whistling. There was something in that whistle of his that always made me angry.’

      ‘How did this suit old Sir Guy?’

      ‘It was curious to see how Guy could rattle on to him, pour out the whole history of his doings, laughing, rubbing his hands, springing about with animation—all with as little answer as if he had been talking to a statue.’

      ‘Do you mean that Sir Guy did not like it?’

      ‘He did in his own way. There was now and then a glance or a nod, to show that he was attending; but it was such slight encouragement, that any less buoyant spirits must have been checked.’

      ‘Did you like him, on the whole?’ asked Laura. ‘I hope he has not this tremendous Morville temper? Oh, you don’t say so. What a grievous thing.’

      ‘He is a fine fellow,’ said Philip; ‘but I did not think Sir Guy managed him well. Poor old man, he was quite wrapped up in him, and only thought how to keep him out of harm’s way. He would never let him be with other boys, and kept him so fettered by rules, so strictly watched, and so sternly called to account, that I cannot think how any boy could stand it.’

      ‘Yet, you say, he told everything freely to his grandfather,’ said Amy.

      ‘Yes,’ added her mother, ‘I was going to say that, as long as that went on, I should think all safe.

      ‘As I said before,’ resumed Philip, ‘he has a great deal of frankness, much of the making of a fine character; but he is a thorough Morville. I remember something that will show you his best and worst sides. You know Redclyffe is a beautiful place, with magnificent cliffs overhanging the sea, and fine woods crowning them. On one of the most inaccessible of these crags there was a hawk’s nest, about half-way down, so that looking from the top of the precipice, we could see the old birds fly in and out. Well, what does Master Guy do, but go down this headlong descent after the nest. How he escaped alive no one could guess; and his grandfather could not bear to look at the place afterwards—but climb it he did, and came back with two young hawks, buttoned up inside his jacket.’

      ‘There’s a regular brick for you!’ cried Charles, delighted.

      ‘His heart was set on training these birds. He turned the library upside down in search of books on falconry, and spent every spare moment on them. At last, a servant left some door open, and they escaped. I shall never forget Guy’s passion; I am sure I don’t exaggerate when I say he was perfectly beside himself with anger.’

      ‘Poor boy!’ said Mrs. Edmonstone.

      ‘Served the rascal right,’ said Charles.

      ‘Nothing had any effect on him till his grandfather came out, and, at the sight of him, he was tamed in an instant, hung his head, came up to his grandfather, and said—“I am very sorry,” Sir Guy answered, “My poor boy!” and there was not another word. I saw Guy no more that day, and all the next he was quiet and subdued. But the most remarkable part of the story is to come. A couple of days afterwards we were walking in the woods, when, at the sound of Guy’s whistle, we heard a flapping and rustling, and beheld, tumbling along, with their clipped wings, these two identical hawks, very glad to be caught. They drew themselves up proudly for him to stroke them, and their yellow eyes looked at him with positive affection.’

      ‘Pretty creatures!’ said Amabel. ‘That is a very nice end to the story.’

      ‘It is not the end,’ said Philip. ‘I was surprised to see Guy so sober, instead of going into one of his usual raptures. He took them home; but the first thing I heard in the morning was, that he was gone to offer them to a farmer, to keep the birds from his fruit.’

      ‘Did he do it of his own accord?’ asked Laura.

      ‘That was just what I wanted to know; but any hint about them brought such a cloud over his face that I thought it would be wanton to irritate him by questions. However, I must be going. Good-bye, Amy, I hope your Camellia will have another blossom before I come back. At least, I shall escape the horticultural meeting.’

      ‘Good-bye,’ said Charles. ‘Put the feud in your pocket till you can bury it in old Sir Guy’s grave, unless you mean to fight it out with his grandson, which would be more romantic and exciting.’

      Philip was gone before he could finish. Mrs. Edmonstone looked annoyed, and Laura said, ‘Charlie, I wish you would not let your spirits carry you away.’

      ‘I wish I had anything else to carry me away!’ was the reply.

      ‘Yes,’ said his mother, looking sadly at him. ‘Your high spirits are a blessing; but why misuse them? If they are given to support you through pain and confinement, why make mischief with them?’

      Charles looked more impatient than abashed, and the compunction seemed chiefly to rest with Amabel.

      ‘Now,’ said Mrs. Edmonstone, ‘I must go and see after my poor little prisoner.’

      ‘Ah!’ said Laura, as she went; ‘it was no kindness in you to encourage Charlotte to stay, Amy, when you know how often that inquisitive temper has got her into scrapes.’

      ‘I suppose so,’ said Amy, regretfully; ‘but I had not the heart to send her away.’

      ‘That is just what Philip says, that you only want bones and sinews in your character to—’

      ‘Come, Laura,’ interrupted Charles, ‘I won’t hear Philip’s criticisms of my sister, I had rather she had no bones at all, than that they stuck out and ran into me. There are plenty of angles already in the world, without sharpening hers.’

      He possessed himself of Amy’s round, plump, childish hand, and spread out over it his still whiter, and very bony fingers, pinching her ‘soft pinky cushions,’ as he called them, ‘not meant for studying anatomy upon.’

      ‘Ah! you two spoil each other sadly,’ said Laura, smiling, as she left the room.

      ‘And what do Philip and Laura do to each other?’ said Charles.

      ‘Improve each other, I suppose,’ said Amabel, in a shy, simple tone, at which Charles laughed heartily.

      ‘I wish I was as sensible as Laura!’ said she, presently, with a sigh.

      ‘Never was a more absurd wish,’ said Charles, tormenting her hand still more, and pulling her curls; ‘unwish it forthwith. Where should I be without silly little Amy? If every one weighed my wit before laughing, I should not often be in disgrace for my high spirits, as they call them.’

      ‘I am so little younger than Laura,’ said Amy, still sadly, though smiling.

      ‘Folly,’ said Charles; ‘you are quite wise enough for your age, while Laura is so prematurely wise, that I am in constant dread that nature will take her revenge by causing her to do something strikingly foolish!’

      ‘Nonsense!’ cried Amy, indignantly. ‘Laura do anything foolish!’

      ‘What I should enjoy,’ proceeded Charles, ‘would be to see her over head and ears in love with this hero, and Philip properly jealous.’

      ‘How can you say such things, Charlie?’

      ‘Why? was there ever a beauty who did not fall in love with her father’s ward?’

      ‘No; but she ought to live alone with her very old father and horribly grim maiden aunt.’

      ‘Very well, Amy, you shall be the maiden, aunt.’ And as Laura returned at that moment, he announced to her that

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