Mrs. Edmonstone came in, and looking round, as if to find some occupation for her guest, at length devised setting him to play at chess with Charles. Charles gave her an amiable look, expressing that neither liked it; but she was pretty well used to doing him good against his will, and trusted to its coming right in time. Charles was a capital chess-player, and seldom found any one who could play well enough to afford him much real sport, but he found Sir Guy more nearly a match than often fell to his lot; it was a bold dashing game, that obliged him to be on his guard, and he was once so taken by surprise as to be absolutely check-mated. His ill-humour evaporated, he was delighted to find an opponent worth playing with, and henceforth there were games almost every morning or evening, though Sir Guy seemed not to care much about them, except for the sake of pleasing him.
When left to himself, Guy spent his time in reading or in walking about the lanes alone. He used to sit in the bay-window of the drawing-room with his book; but sometimes, when they least expected it, the girls would find his quick eyes following them with an air of amused curiosity, as Amabel waited on Charles and her flowers, or Laura drew, wrote letters, and strove to keep down the piles of books and periodicals under which it seemed as if her brother might some day be stifleda vain task, for he was sure to want immediately whatever she put out of his reach.
Laura and Amabel both played and sung, the former remarkably well, and the first time they had any music after the arrival of Sir Guy, his look of delighted attention struck everyone. He ventured nearer, stood by the piano when they practised, and at last joined in with a few notes of so full and melodious a voice, that Laura turned round in surprise, exclaiming, You sing better I than any of us!
He coloured. I beg your pardon, he said, I could not help it; I know nothing of music.
Really! said Laura, smiling incredulously.
I dont even know the notes.
Then you must have a very good ear. Let us try again.
The sisters were again charmed and surprised, and Guy looked gratified, as people do at the discovery of a faculty which they are particularly glad to possess. It was the first time he appeared to brighten, and Laura and her mother agreed that it would do him good to have plenty of music, and to try to train that fine voice. He was beginning to interest them all greatly by his great helpfulness and kindness to Charles, as he learnt the sort of assistance he required, as well as by the silent grief that showed how much attached he must have been to his grandfather.
On the first Sunday, Mrs. Edmonstone coming into the drawing-room at about half-past five, found him sitting alone by the fire, his dog lying at his feet. As he started up, she asked if he had been here in the dark ever since church-time?
I have not wanted light, he answered with a sigh, long, deep, and irrepressible, and as she stirred the fire, the flame revealed to her the traces of tears. She longed to comfort him, and said
This Sunday twilight is a quiet time for thinking.
Yes, he said; how few Sundays ago and there he paused.
Ah! you had so little preparation.
None. That very morning he had done business with Markham, and had never been more clear and collected.
Were you with him when he was taken ill? asked Mrs. Edmonstone, perceiving that it would be a relief to him to talk.
No; it was just before dinner. I had been shooting, and went into the library to tell him where I had been. He was well then, for he spoke, but it was getting dark, and I did not see his face. I dont think I was ten minutes dressing, but when I came down, he had sunk back in his chair. I saw it was not sleepI rangand when Arnaud came, we knew how it was. His, voice became low with strong emotion.
Did he recover his consciousness?
Yes, that was the comfort, said Guy, eagerly. It was after he had been bled that he seemed to wake up. He could not speak or move, but he looked at meorI dont know what I should have done. The last words were almost inaudible from the gush of tears that he vainly struggled to repress, and he was turning away to hide them, when he saw that Mrs. Edmonstones were flowing fast.
You had great reason to be attached to him! said she, as soon as she could speak.
Indeed, indeed I had. And after a long silenceHe was everything to me, everything from the first hour I can recollect. He never let me miss my parents. How he attended to all my pleasures and wishes, how he watched and cared for me, and bore with me, even I can never know.
He spoke in short half sentences of intense feeling, and Mrs. Edmonstone was much moved by such affection in one said to have been treated with an excess of strictness, much compassionating the lonely boy, who had lost every family tie in one.
When the first pain of the sudden parting has passed, said she, you will like to remember the affection which you knew how to value.
If I had but known! said Guy; but there was I, hasty, reckless, disregarding his comfort, rebelling againstO, what would I not give to have those restraints restored!
It is what we all feel in such losses, said Mrs. Edmonstone. There is always much to wish otherwise; but I am sure you can have the happiness of knowing you were his great comfort.
It was what I ought to have been.
She knew that nothing could have been more filial and affectionate than his conduct, and tried to say something of the kind, but he would not listen.
That is worst of all, he said; and you must not trust what they say of me. They would be sure to praise me, if I was anything short of a brute.
A silence ensued, while Mrs. Edmonstone was trying to think of some consolation. Suddenly Guy looked up, and spoke eagerly:
I want to ask somethinga great favourbut you make me venture. You see how I am left aloneyou know how little I can trust myself. Will you take me in handlet me talk to youand tell me if I am wrong, as freely as if I were Charles? I know it is asking a great deal, but you knew my grandfather, and it is in his name.
She held out her hand; and with tears answered
Indeed I will, if I see any occasion.
You will let me trust to you to tell me when I get too vehement? above all, when you see my temper failing? Thank you; you dont know what a relief it is!
But you must not call yourself alone. You are one of us now.
Yes; since you have made that promise, said Guy; and for the first time she saw the full beauty of his smilea sort of sweetness and radiance of which eye and brow partook almost as much as the lips. It alone would have gained her heart.
I must look on you as a kind of nephew, she added, kindly. I used to hear so much of you from my brother.
Oh! cried Guy, lighting up, Archdeacon Morville was always so kind to me. I remember him very well!
Ah! I wish there she paused, and added,tête-à-tête it is not right to wish such thingsand Philip is very like his father.
I am very glad his regiment is so near. I want to know him better.
You knew him at Redclyffe, when he was staying there?
Yes, said Guy, his colour rising; but I was a boy then, and a very foolish, headstrong one. I am glad to meet him again. What a grand-looking person he is!
We are very proud of him, said Mrs. Edmonstone, smiling. I dont think there has been an hours anxiety about him since he was born.
You knew him at Redclyffe, when he was staying there?
Yes, said Guy, his colour rising; but I was a boy then, and a very foolish, headstrong one. I am glad to meet him again. What a grand-looking person he is!
We are very proud of him, said Mrs. Edmonstone, smiling. I dont think there has been an hours anxiety about him since he was born.
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of Charless crutches slowly crossing the hall. Guy sprang to help him to his sofa, and then, without speaking, hurried up-stairs.
Mamma, tete-a-tete with the silent one! exclaimed Charles.
I will not tell you all I think of him, said she, leaving the room.
Hum! soliloquised Charles. That means that my lady mother has adopted him, and thinks I should laugh at her, or straightway set up a dislike to him, knowing my contempt for heroes and hero-worship. Its a treat to have Philip out of the way, and if it was but possible to get out of hearing of his perfection, I should have some peace. If I thought this fellow had one spice of the kind, Id never trouble my head about him more; and yet I dont believe he has such a pair of hawks eyes for nothing!
The hawks eyes, as Charles called them, shone brighter from that day forth, and their owner began to show more interest in what passed around. Laura was much amused by a little conversation she held with him one day when a party of their younger neighbours were laughing and talking nonsense round Charless sofa. He was sitting a little way off in silence, and she took advantage of the loud laughing to say:
You think this is not very satisfactory? And as he gave a quick glance of inquiryDont mind saying so. Philip and I often agree that it is a pity spend so much time in laughing at nothingat such nonsense.
It is nonsense?
Listenno dont, it is too silly.
Nonsense must be an excellent thing if it makes people so happy, said Guy thoughtfully. Look at them; they are likenot a picturethat has no lifebut a dreamor, perhaps a scene in a play.
Did you never see anything like it?
Oh, no! All the morning calls I ever saw were formal, every one stiff, and speaking by rote, or talking politics. How glad I used to be to get on horseback again! But to see thesewhy, it is like the shepherds glimpse at the pixies!as one reads a new book, or watches what one only half understandsa rooks parliament, or a gathering of sea-fowl on the Shag Rock.
A rooks parliament?
The people at home call it a rooks parliament when a whole cloud of rooks settle on some bare, wide common, and sit there as if they were consulting, not feeding, only stalking about, with drooping wings, and solemn, black cloaks.
You have found a flattering simile, said Laura, as you know that rooks never open their mouths without cause.
Guy had never heard the riddle, but he caught the pun instantly, and the clear merry sound of his hearty laugh surprised Charles, who instantly noted it as another proof that was some life in him.
Indeed, each day began to make it evident that he had, on the whole, rather a superabundance of animation than otherwise. He was quite confidential with Mrs. Edmonstone, on whom he used to lavish, with boyish eagerness, all that interested him, carrying her the passages in books that pleased him, telling her about Redclyffes affairs, and giving her his letters from Markham, the steward. His head was full of his horse, Deloraine, which was coming to him under the charge of a groom, and the consultations were endless about the means of transport, Mr. Edmonstone almost as eager about it as he was himself.
He did not so quickly become at home with the younger portion of the family, but his spirits rose every day. He whistled as he walked in the garden, and Bustle, instead of pacing soberly behind him, now capered, nibbled his pockets, and drew him into games of play which Charles and Amabel were charmed to overlook from the dressing-room window. There was Guy leaping, bounding, racing, rolling the dog over, tripping him up, twitching his ears, tickling his feet, catching at his tail, laughing at Bustles springs, contortions, and harmless open-mouthed attacks, while the dog did little less than laugh too, with his intelligent amber eyes, and black and red mouth. Charles began to find a new interest in his listless life in the attempt to draw Guy out, and make him give one of his merry laughs. In this, however, he failed when his wit consisted in allusions to the novels of the day, of which Guy knew nothing. One morning he underwent a regular examination, ending in
Have you read anything?
I am afraid I am very ignorant of modern books.
Have you read the ancient ones? asked Laura.
Ive had nothing else to read.
Nothing to read but ancient books! exclaimed Amabel, with a mixture of pity and astonishment.
Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus! said Guy, smiling.
There, Amy, said Charles, if he has the Vicar of Wakefield among his ancient books, you need not pity him.
It is like Philip, said Laura; he was brought up on the old standard books, instead of his time being frittered away on the host of idle modern ones.
He was free to concentrate his attention on Sir Charles Grandison, said Charles.
How could any one do so? said Guy. How could any one have any sympathy with such a piece of self-satisfaction?
Who could? Eh, Laura? said Charles.
I never read it, said Laura, suspecting malice.
What is your opinion of perfect heroes? continued Charles.
Here comes one, whispered Amy to her brother, blushing at her piece of naughtiness, as Philip Morville entered the room.
After the first greetings and inquiries after his sister, whom he had been visiting, Laura told him what they had been saying of the advantage of a scanty range of reading.
True, said Philip; I have often been struck by finding how ignorant people are, even of Shakspeare; and I believe the blame chiefly rests on the cheap rubbish in which Charlie is nearly walled up there.
Ay, said Charles, and who haunts that rubbish at the beginning of every month? I suppose to act as pioneer, though whether any one but Laura heeds his warnings, remains to be proved.
Laura does heed? asked Philip, well pleased.
I made her read me the part of Dombey that hurts womens feelings most, just to see if she would go onthe part about little Pauland I declare, I shall think the worse of her ever aftershe was so stony hearted, that to this day she does not know whether he is dead or alive.
I cant quite say I dont know whether he lived or died, said Laura, for I found Amy in a state that alarmed me, crying in the green-house, and I was very glad to find it was nothing worse than little Paul.
I wish you would have read it, said Amy; and looking shyly at Guy, she addedWont you?
Well done, Amy! said Charles. In the very face of the young mans companion!
Philip does not really think it wrong, said Amy.
No, said Philip; those books open fields of thought, and as their principles are negative, they are not likely to hurt a person well armed with the truth.
Meaning, said Charles, that Guy and Laura have your gracious permission to read Dombey.
When Laura has a cold or toothache.
And I, said Guy.
I am not sure about, the expediency for you, said Philip it would be a pity to begin with Dickens, when there is so much of a higher grade equally new to you. I suppose you do not understand Italian?