Sir Guy was a very striking person, said Philip; I shall not easily forget my visit to Redclyffe four years ago. It was more like a scene in a romance than anything realthe fine old red sandstone house crumbling away in the exposed parts, the arched gateway covered with ivy; the great quadrangle where the sun never shone, and full of echoes; the large hall and black wainscoted rooms, which the candles never would light up. It is a fit place to be haunted.
That poor boy alone there! said Mrs. Edmonstone; I am glad you and your uncle are going to him.
Tell 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 animationall 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 dont 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 harms 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 hawks 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 afterwardsbut climb it he did, and came back with two young hawks, buttoned up inside his jacket.
Theres 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 Guys passion; I am sure I dont 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 saidI 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 Guys 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 Guys 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 wont hear Philips 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 Amys 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!
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 fathers 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 guardians 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 Charless companions in the drawing-room, while Mrs. Edmonstone, who had a peculiar taste and talent for teaching, undertook little Charlottes lessons herself.
CHAPTER 2
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell witht.
One of the pleasantest rooms at Hollywell was Mrs. Edmonstones dressing-roomlarge 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 Charless 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 after 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 enemys children eat out of a pig-trough, and another who cut off his head.
His own?
No, his enemys, and put it on the table, at breakfast, with a piece of bread in its mouth.
Very well; whenever Sir Guy serves up Philips head at breakfast, with a piece of bread in his mouth, let me know.
Charlotte started up. Charles, what do you mean? Such things dont 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 wont do anything wrong. But how will they ever get on?
Dont 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 cant see him anywhere.
Ah you have not looked in Sir Guys 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 fathers 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 introductioneh, Guy? And before he had finished, both he and the guest were in the room, and Charlotte full of mischievous glee at her sisters confusion.