'I know I have often talked thoughtlessly, I have feared afterwards I might have given you pain.'
'No, no, you never have; you have carried me along with you. I like nothing better than to hear of your ridings, and shootings, and boatings. It is a sort of life.'
Charles had never till now alluded seriously to his infirmity before Guy, and the changing countenance of his auditor showed him to be much affected, as he stood leaning over the end of the sofa, with his speaking eyes earnestly fixed on Charles, who went on:
'And now you are going to Oxford. You will take your place among the men of your day. You will hear and be heard of. You will be somebody. And I!--I know I have what they call talent--I could be something. They think me an idle dog; but where's the good of doing anything? I only know if I was not--not condemned to--to this--this life,' (had it not been for a sort of involuntary respect to the gentle compassion of the softened hazel eyes regarding him so kindly, he would have used the violent expletive that trembled on his lip;) 'if I was not chained down here, Master Philip should not stand alone as the paragon of the family. I've as much mother wit as he.'
'That you have,' said Guy. 'How fast you see the sense of a passage. You could excel very much if you only tried.'
'Tried?' And what am I to gain by it?'
'I don't know that one ought to let talents rust,' said Guy, thoughtfully; 'I suppose it is one's duty not; and surely it is a pity to give up those readings.'
'I shall not get such another fellow dunce as you,' said Charles, 'as I told you when we began, and it would be a mere farce to do it alone. I could not make myself, if I would.'
'Can't you make yourself do what you please?' said Guy, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
'Not a bit, if the other half of me does not like it. I forget it, or put it off, and it comes to nothing. I do declare, though, I would get something to break my mind on, merely as a medical precaution, just to freshen myself up, if I could find any one to do it with. No, nothing in the shape of a tutor, against that I protest.'
'Your sisters,' suggested Guy.
'Hum'! Laura is too intellectual already, and I don't mean to poach on Philip's manor; and if I made little Amy cease to be silly, I should do away with all the comfort I have left me in life. I don't know, though, if she swallowed learning after Mary Ross's pattern, that it need do her much harm.'
Amy came into the room at the moment. 'Amy, here is Guy advising me to take you to read something awfully wise every day, something that will make you as dry as a stick, and as blue--'
'As a gentianella,' said Guy.
'I should not mind being like a gentianella,' said Amy. 'But what dreadful thing were you setting him to do?'
'To make you read all the folios in my uncle's old library,' said Charles. 'All that Margaret has in keeping against Philip has a house of his own.'
'Sancho somebody, and all you talked of when first you came?' said Amy.
'We were talking of the hour's reading that Charlie and I have had together lately,' said Guy.
'I was thinking how Charlie would miss that hour,' said Amy; 'and we shall be very sorry not to have you to listen to.'
'Well, then, Amy, suppose you read with me?'
'Oh, Charlie, thank you! Should you really like it?' cried Amy, colouring with delight. 'I have always thought it would be so very delightful if you would read with me, as James Ross used with Mary, only I was afraid of tiring you with my stupidity. Oh, thank you!'
So it was settled, and Charles declared that he put himself on honour to give a good account of their doings to Guy, that being the only way of making himself steady to his resolution; but he was perfectly determined not to let Philip know anything about the practice he had adopted, since he would by no means allow him to guess that he was following his advice.
Charles had certainly grown very fond of Guy, in spite of his propensity to admire Philip, satisfying himself by maintaining that, after all, Guy only tried to esteem his cousin because he thought it a point of duty, just as children think it right to admire the good boy in a story book; but that he was secretly fretted and chafed by his perfection. No one could deny that there were often occasions when little misunderstandings would arise, and that, but for Philip's coolness and Guy's readiness to apologise they might often have gone further; but at the same time no one could regret these things more than Guy himself, and he was willing and desirous to seek Philip's advice and assistance when needed. In especial, he listened earnestly to the counsel which was bestowed on him about Oxford: and Mrs. Edmonstone was convinced that no one could have more anxiety to do right and avoid temptation. She had many talks with him in her dressing-room, promising to write to him, as did also Charles; and he left Hollywell with universal regrets, most loudly expressed by Charlotte, who would not be comforted without a lock of Bustle's hair, which she would have worn round her neck if she had not been afraid that Laura would tell Philip.
'He goes with excellent intentions,' said Philip, as they watched him from the door.
'I do hope he will do well,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.
'I wish he may,' said Philip; 'the agreeableness of his whole character makes one more anxious. It is very dangerous. His name, his wealth, his sociable, gay disposition, that very attractive manner, all are so many perils, and he has not that natural pleasure in study that would be of itself a preservative from temptation. However, he is honestly anxious to do right, and has excellent principles. I only fear his temper and his want of steadiness. Poor boy, I hope he may do well!'
CHAPTER 7
--Pray, good shepherd, what Fair swain is this that dances with your daughter? * * * * * He sings several times faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grow to his tunes.--WINTER'S TALE
It was a glorious day in June, the sky of pure deep dazzling blue, the sunshine glowing with brightness, but with cheerful freshness in the air that took away all sultriness, the sun tending westward in his long day's career, and casting welcome shadows from the tall firs and horse- chestnuts that shaded the lawn. A long rank of haymakers--men and women--proceeded with their rakes, the white shirt-sleeves, straw bonnets, and ruddy faces, radiant in the bath of sunshine, while in the shady end of the field were idler haymakers among the fragrant piles, Charles half lying on the grass, with his back against a tall haycock; Mrs. Edmonstone sitting on another, book in hand; Laura sketching the busy scene, the sun glancing through the chequered shade on her glossy curls; Philip stretched out at full length, hat and neck-tie off, luxuriating in the cool repose after a dusty walk from Broadstone; and a little way off, Amabel and Charlotte pretending to make hay, but really building nests with it, throwing it at each other, and playing as heartily as the heat would allow.
They talked and laughed, the rest were too hot, too busy, or too sleepy for conversation, even Philip being tired into enjoying the "dolce far niente"; and they basked in the fresh breezy heat and perfumy hay with only now and then a word, till a cold, black, damp nose was suddenly thrust into Charles's face, a red tongue began licking him; and at the same moment Charlotte, screaming 'There he is!' raced headlong across the swarths of hay, to meet Guy, who had just ridden into the field. He threw Deloraine's rein to one of the haymakers, and came bounding to meet her, just in time to pick her up as she put her foot into a hidden hole, and fell prostrate.
In another moment he was in the midst of the whole party, who crowded round and welcomed him as if he had been a boy returning from his first half-year's schooling; and never did little school-boy look more holiday-like than he, with all the sunshine of that June day reflected, as it were, in his glittering eyes and glowing face, while Bustle escaping from Charles's caressing arm, danced round, wagging his tail in ecstasy, and claiming his share of the welcome. Then Guy was on the ground by Charles, rejoicing to find him out there, and then, some dropping into their former nests on the hay, some standing round, they talked fast and eagerly in a confusion of sound
that did not subside for the first ten minutes so as to allow anything to be clearly heard. The first distinct sentence was Charlotte's 'Bustle, darling old fellow, you are handsomer than ever!'
'What a delicious day!' next exclaimed Guy, following Philip's example, by throwing off hat and neck-tie.
'A spontaneous tribute to the beauty of the day,' said Charles.
'Really it is so ultra-splendid as to deserve notice!' said Philip, throwing himself completely back, and looking up.
'One cannot help revelling in that deep blue!' said Laura.
'Tomorrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad new year,' hummed Guy.
'Ah you will teach us all now,' said Laura, 'after your grand singing lessons.'
'Do you know what is in store for you, Guy?' said Amy. 'Oh! haven't you heard about Lady Kilcoran's ball?'
'You are to go, Guy,' said Charlotte. 'I am glad I am not. I hate dancing.'
'And I know as much about it as Bustle,' said Guy, catching the dog by his forepaws, and causing him to perform an uncouth dance.
'Never mind, they will soon teach you,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.
'Must I really go?'
'He begins to think it serious,' said Charles.
'Is Philip going?' exclaimed Guy, looking as if he was taken by surprise.
'He is going to say something about dancing being a healthful recreation for young people,' said Charles.
'You'll be disappointed,' said Philip. 'It is much too hot to moralize.'
'Apollo unbends his bow,' exclaimed Charles. 'The captain yields the field.'
'Ah! Captain Morville, I ought to have congratulated you,' said Guy. 'I must come to Broadstone early enough to see you on parade.'
'Come to Broadstone! You aren't still bound to Mr. Lascelles,' said Charles.
'If he has time for me,' said Guy. 'I am too far behind the rest of the world to afford to be idle this vacation.'
'That's right, Guy,' exclaimed Philip, sitting up, and looking full of approval. 'With so much perseverance, you must get on at last. How did you do in collections?'
'Tolerably, thank you.'
'You must be able to enter into the thing now,' proceeded Philip. 'What are you reading?'
'Thucydides.'
'Have you come to Pericles' oration? I must show you some notes that I have on that. Don't you get into the spirit of it now?'
'Up-hill work still,' answered Guy, disentangling some cliders from the silky curls of Bustle's ear.
'Which do you like best--that or the ball?' asked Charles.
'The hay-field best of all,' said Guy, releasing Bustle, and blinding him with a heap of hay.
'Of course!' said Charlotte, 'who would not like hay-making better than that stupid ball?'
'Poor Charlotte!' said Mrs. Edmonstone; commiseration which irritated Charlotte into standing up and protesting,
'Mamma, you know I don't want to go.'
'No more do I, Charlotte,' said her brother, in a mock consoling tone. 'You and I know what is good for us, and despise sublunary vanities.'
'But you will go, Guy,' said Laura; 'Philip is really going.'
'In spite of Lord Kilcoran's folly in going to such an expense as either taking Allonby or giving the ball,' said Charles.
'I don't think it is my business to bring Lord Kilcoran to a sense of his folly,' said Philip. 'I made all my protests to Maurice when first he started the notion, but if his father chose to take the matter up, it is no concern of mine.'
'You will understand, Guy,' said Charles, 'that this ball is specially got up by Maurice for Laura's benefit.'
'Believe as little as you please of that speech, Guy,' said Laura; 'the truth is that Lord Kilcoran is very good-natured, and Eveleen was very much shocked to hear that Amy had never been to any ball, and I to only one, and so it ended in their giving one.'
'When is it to be?'
'On Thursday week,' said Amy. 'I wonder if you will think Eveleen as pretty as we do!'
'She is Laura's great friend, is not she?'
'I like her very much; I have known her all my life, and she has much more depth than those would think who only know her manner.' And Laura looked pleadingly at Philip as she spoke.
'Are there any others of the family at home?' said Guy.
'The two younger girls, Mabel and Helen, and the little boys,' said Amy. 'Lord de Courcy is in Ireland, and all the others are away.'
'Lord de Courcy is the wisest man of the family, and sets his face against absenteeism,' said Philip, 'so he is never visible here.'
'But you aren't going to despise it, I hope, Guy,' said Amy, earnestly; 'it will be so delightful! And what fun we shall have in teaching you to dance!'
Guy stretched himself, and gave a quaint grunt.
'Never mind, Guy,' said Philip, 'very little is required. You may easily pass in the crowd. I never learnt.'
'Your ear will guide you,' said Laura.
'And no one can stay at home, since Mary Ross is going,' said Amy. 'Eveleen was always so fond of her, that she came and forced a promise from her by telling her she should come with mamma, and have no trouble.'
'You have not seen Allonby,' said Laura. 'There are such Vandykes, and among them, such a King Charles!'
'Is not that the picture,' said Charles, 'before which Amy--'
'0 don't, Charlie!'
'Was found dissolved in tears?'
'I could not help it,' murmured Amy, blushing crimson.
'There is all Charles's fate in his face,' said Philip,--'earnest, melancholy, beautiful! It would stir the feelings--were it an unknown portrait. No, Amy, you need not be ashamed of your tears.'
But Amy turned away, doubly ashamed.
'I hope it is not in the ball-room,' said Guy.
'No said Laura, 'it is in the library.'
Charlotte, whose absence had become perceptible from the general quietness, here ran up with two envelopes, which she put into Guy's hands. One contained Lady Kilcoran's genuine card of invitation for Sir Guy Morville, the other Charlotte had scribbled in haste for Mr. Bustle.
This put an end to all rationality. Guy rose with a growl and a roar, and hunted her over half the field, till she was caught, and came back out of breath and screaming, 'We never had such a haymaking!'
'So I think the haymakers will say!' answered her mother, rising to go indoors. 'What ruin of haycocks!'
'Oh, I'll set all that to rights,' said Guy, seizing a hay-fork.
'Stop, stop, take care!' cried Charles. 'I don't want to be built up in the rick, and by and by, when my disconsolate family have had all the ponds dragged for me, Deloraine will be heard to complain that they give him very odd animal food.'
'Who could resist such a piteous appeal!' said Guy, helping him to rise, and conducting him to his wheeled chair. The others followed, and when, shortly after, Laura looked out at her window, she saw Guy, with his coat off, toiling like a real haymaker, to build up the cocks in all their neat fairness and height, whistling meantime the 'Queen of the May,' and now and then singing a line. She watched the old cowman come up, touching his hat, and looking less cross than usual; she saw Guy's ready greeting, and perceived they were comparing the forks and rakes, the pooks and cocks of their counties; and, finally, she beheld her father ride into the field, and Guy spring to meet him.
No one could have so returned to what was in effect a home, unless his time had been properly spent; and, in fact, all that Mr. Edmonstone or Philip could hear of him, was so satisfactory, that Philip pronounced that the first stage of the trial had been passed irreproachably, and Laura felt and looked delighted at this sanction to the high estimation in which she held him.
His own account of himself to Mrs. Edmonstone would not have been equally satisfactory if she had not had something else to check it with. It was given by degrees, and at many different times, chiefly as they walked round the garden in the twilight of the summer evenings, talking over the many subjects mentioned in the letters which had passed constant
ly. It seemed as if there were very few to whom Guy would ever give his confidence; but that once bestowed, it was with hardly any reserve, and that was his great relief and satisfaction to pour out his whole mind, where he was sure of sympathy.
To her, then, he confided how much provoked he was with himself, his 'first term,' he said, 'having only shown him what an intolerable fool he had to keep in order.' By his account, he could do nothing 'without turning his own head, except study, and that stupefied it.' 'Never was there a more idle fellow; he could work himself for a given time, but his sense would not second him; and was it not most absurd in him to take so little pleasure in what was his duty, and enjoy only what was bad for him?'
The Heir of Redclyffe Page 11
