'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 they had been agreeing that no hero ever failed to fall in love with his guardian's beautiful daughter.
'If his guardian had a beautiful daughter,' said Laura, resolved not to be disconcerted.
'Did you ever hear such barefaced fishing for compliments?' said Charles; but Amabel, who did not like her sister to be teased, and was also conscious of having wasted a good deal of time, sat down to practise. Laura returned to her drawing, and Charles, with a yawn, listlessly turned over a newspaper, while his fair delicate features, which would have been handsome but that they were blanched, sharpened, and worn with pain, gradually lost their animated and rather satirical expression, and assumed an air of weariness and discontent.
Charles was at this time nineteen, and for the last ten years had been afflicted with a disease in the hip-joint, which, in spite of the most anxious care, caused him frequent and severe suffering, and had occasioned such a contraction of the limb as to cripple him completely, while his general health was so much affected as to render him an object of constant anxiety. His mother had always been his most devoted and indefatigable nurse, giving up everything for his sake, and watching him night and day. His father attended to his least caprice, and his sisters were, of course, his slaves; so that he was the undisputed sovereign of the whole family.
The two elder girls had been entirely under a governess till a month or two before the opening of our story, when Laura was old enough to be introduced; and the governess departing, the two sisters became Charles's companions in the drawing-room, while Mrs. Edmonstone, who had a peculiar taste and talent for teaching, undertook little Charlotte's lessons herself.
CHAPTER 2
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.--THE TEMPEST
One of the pleasantest rooms at Hollywell was Mrs. Edmonstone's dressing-room--large and bay-windowed, over the drawing-room, having little of the dressing-room but the name, and a toilet-table with a black and gold japanned glass, and curiously shaped boxes to match; her room opened into it on one side, and Charles's on the other; it was a sort of up-stairs parlour, where she taught Charlotte, cast up accounts, spoke to servants, and wrote notes, and where Charles was usually to be found, when unequal to coming down-stairs. It had an air of great snugness, with its large folding-screen, covered with prints and caricatures of ancient date, its book-shelves, its tables, its peculiarly easy arm-chairs, the great invalid sofa, and the grate, which always lighted up better than any other in the house.
In the bright glow of the fire, with the shutters closed and curtains drawn, lay Charles on his couch, one Monday evening, in a gorgeous dressing-gown of a Chinese pattern, all over pagodas, while little Charlotte sat opposite to him, curled up on a footstool. He was not always very civil to Charlotte; she sometimes came into collision with him, for she, too, was a pet, and had a will of her own, and at other times she could bore him; but just now they had a common interest, and he was gracious.
'It is striking six, so they must soon be here. I wish mamma would let me go down; but I must wait till af
ter dinner.'
'Then, Charlotte, as soon as you come in, hold up your hands, and exclaim, "What a guy!" There will be a compliment!'
'No, Charlie; I promised mamma and Laura that you should get me into no more scrapes.'
'Did you? The next promise you make had better depend upon yourself alone.'
'But Amy said I must be quiet, because poor Sir Guy will be too sorrowful to like a racket; and when Amy tells me to be quiet, I know that I must, indeed.'
'Most true,' said Charles, laughing.
'Do you think you shall like Sir Guy?'
'I shall be able to determine,' said Charles, sententiously, 'when I have seen whether he brushes his hair to the right or left.'
'Philip brushes his to the left.'
'Then undoubtedly Sir Guy will brush his to the right.'
'Is there not some horrid story about those Morvilles of Redclyffe?' asked Charlotte. 'I asked Laura, and she told me not to be curious, so I knew there was something in it; and then I asked Amy, and she said it would be no pleasure to me to know.'
'Ah! I would have you prepared.'
'Why, what is it? Oh! dear Charlie! are you really going to tell me?'
'Did you ever hear of a deadly feud?'
'I have read of them in the history of Scotland. They went on hating and killing each other for ever. There was one man who made his enemy's children eat out of a pig-trough, and another who cut off his head.'
'His own?'
'No, his enemy's, and put it on the table, at breakfast, with a piece of bread in its mouth.'
'Very well; whenever Sir Guy serves up Philip's head at breakfast, with a piece of bread in his mouth, let me know.'
Charlotte started up. 'Charles, what do you mean? Such things don't happen now.'
'Nevertheless, there is a deadly feud between the two branches of the house of Morville.'
'But it is very wrong,' said Charlotte, looking frightened.'
'Wrong? Of course it is.'
'Philip won't do anything wrong. But how will they ever get on?'
'Don't you see? It must be our serious endeavour to keep the peace, and prevent occasions of discord.'
'Do you think anything will happen?'
'It is much to be apprehended,' said Charles, solemnly.
At that moment the sound of wheels was heard, and Charlotte flew off to her private post of observation, leaving her brother delighted at having mystified her. She returned on tip-toe. 'Papa and Sir Guy are come, but not Philip; I can't see him anywhere.'
'Ah you have not looked in Sir Guy's great-coat pocket.'
'I wish you would not plague me so! You are not in earnest?'
The pettish inquiring tone was exactly what delighted him. And he continued to tease her in the same style till Laura and Amabel came running in with their report of the stranger.
'He is come!' they cried, with one voice.
'Very gentlemanlike!' said Laura.
'Very pleasant looking,' said Amy. 'Such fine eyes!'
'And so much expression,' said Laura. 'Oh!'
The exclamation, and the start which accompanied it, were caused by hearing her father's voice close to the door, which had been left partly open. 'Here is poor Charles,' it said, 'come in, and see him; get over the first introduction--eh, Guy?' And before he had finished, both he and the guest were in the room, and Charlotte full of mischievous glee at her sister's confusion.
'Well, Charlie, boy, how goes it?' was his father's greeting. 'Better, eh? Sorry not to find you down-stairs; but I have brought Guy to see you.' Then, as Charles sat up and shook hands with Sir Guy, he continued--'A fine chance for you, as I was telling him, to have a companion always at hand: a fine chance? eh, Charlie?'
'I am not so unreasonable as to expect any one to be always at hand,' said Charles, smiling, as he looked up at the frank, open face, and lustrous hazel eyes turned on him with compassion at the sight of his crippled, helpless figure, and with a bright, cordial promise of kindness.
As he spoke, a pattering sound approached, the door was pushed open, and while Sir Guy exclaimed, '0, Bustle! Bustle! I am very sorry,' there suddenly appeared a large beautiful spaniel, with a long silky black and white coat, jetty curled ears, tan spots above his intelligent eyes, and tan legs, fringed with silken waves of hair, but crouching and looking beseeching at meeting no welcome, while Sir Guy seemed much distressed at his intrusion.
'0 you beauty!' cried Charles. 'Come here, you fine fellow.'
Bustle only looked wistfully at his master, and moved nothing but his feather of a tail.
'Ah! I was afraid you would repent of your kindness,' said Sir Guy to Mr. Edmonstone.
'Not at all, not at all!' was the answer; 'mamma never objects to in- door pets, eh, Amy?'
'A tender subject, papa,' said Laura; 'poor Pepper!'
Amy, ashamed of her disposition to cry at the remembrance of the dear departed rough terrier, bent down to hide her glowing face, and held out her hand to the dog, which at last ventured to advance, still creeping with his body curved till his tail was foremost, looking imploringly at his master, as if to entreat his pardon.
'Are you sure you don't dislike it?' inquired Sir Guy, of Charles.
'I? 0 no. Here, you fine creature.'
'Come, then, behave like a rational dog, since you are come,' said Sir Guy; and Bustle, resuming the deportment of a spirited and well-bred spaniel, no longer crouched and curled himself into the shape of a comma, but bounded, wagged his tail, thrust his nose into his master's hand and then proceeded to reconnoitre the rest of the company, paying especial attention to Charles, putting his fore-paws on the sofa, and rearing himself up to contemplate him with a grave, polite curiosity, that was very diverting.
'Well, old fellow,' said Charles, 'did you ever see the like of such a dressing-gown? Are you satisfied? Give me your paw, and let us swear an eternal friendship.'
'I am quite glad to see a dog in the house again,' said Laura, and, after a few more compliments, Bustle and his master followed Mr. Edmonstone out of the room.
'One of my father's well-judged proceedings,' murmured Charles. 'That poor fellow had rather have gone a dozen, miles further than have been lugged in here. Really, if papa chooses to inflict such dressing-gowns on me, he should give me notice before he brings men and dogs to make me their laughing-stock!'
'An unlucky moment,' said Laura. 'Will my cheeks ever cool?'
'Perhaps he did not hear,' said Amabel, consolingly.
'You did not ask about Philip?' said Charlotte, with great earnestness.
'He is staying at Thorndale, and then going to St. Mildred's,' said Laura.
'I hope you are relieved,' said her brother; and she looked in doubt whether she ought to laugh.
'And what do you think of Sir Guy?'
'May he only be worthy of his dog!' replied Charles.
'Ah!' said Laura, 'many men are neither worthy of their wives, nor of their dogs.'
'Dr. Henley, I suppose, is the foundation of that aphorism,' said Charles.
'If Margaret Morville could marry him, she could hardly be too worthy,' said Laura. 'Think of throwing away Philip's whole soul!'
'0 Laura, she could not lose that,' said Amabel.
Laura looked as if she knew more; but at that moment, both her father and mother entered, the former rubbing his hands, as he always did when much pleased, and sending his voice before him, as he exclaimed, 'Well, Charlie, well, young ladies, is not he a fine fellow--eh?'
'Rather under-sized,' said Charles.
'Eh? He'll grow. He is not eighteen, you know; plenty of time; a very good height; you can't expect every one to be as tall as Philip; but he's a capital fellow. And how have you been?--any pain?'
'Hem--rather,' said Charles, shortly, for he hated answering kind inquiries, when out of humour.
'Ah, that's a pity; I was sorry not to find you in the drawing-room, but I thought you would have liked just to see him,' said Mr. Edmonstone, disappointed, and apologizin
g.
'I had rather have had some notice of your intention,' said Charles, 'I would have made myself fit to be seen.'
'I am sorry. I thought you would have liked his coming,' said poor Mr. Edmonstone, only half conscious of his offence; 'but I see you are not well this evening.'
Worse and worse, for it was equivalent to openly telling Charles he was out of humour; and seeing, as he did, his mother's motive, he was still further annoyed when she hastily interposed a question about Sir Guy.
'You should only hear them talk about him at Redclyffe,' said Mr Edmonstone. 'No one was ever equal to him, according to them. Every one said the same--clergyman, old Markham, all of them. Such attention to his grandfather, such proper feeling, so good-natured, not a bit of pride--it is my firm belief that he will make up for all his family before him.'
Charles set up his eyebrows sarcastically.
'How does he get on with Philip?' inquired Laura.
'Excellently. Just what could be wished. Philip is delighted with him; and I have been telling Guy all the way home what a capital friend he will be, and he is quite inclined to look up to him.' Charles made an exaggerated gesture of astonishment, unseen by his father. 'I told him to bring his dog. He would have left it, but they seemed so fond of each other, I thought it was a pity to part them, and that I could promise it should be welcome here; eh, mamma?'
'Certainly. I am very glad you brought it.'
'We are to have his horse and man in a little while. A beautiful chestnut--anything to raise his spirits. He is terribly cut up about his grandfather.
It was now time to go down to dinner; and after Charles had made faces of weariness and disgust at all the viands proposed to him by his mother, almost imploring him to like them, and had at last ungraciously given her leave to send what he could not quite say he disliked, he was left to carry on his teasing of Charlotte, and his grumbling over the dinner, for about the space of an hour, when Amabel came back to him, and Charlotte went down.
The Heir of Redclyffe Page 2