'She is going on well, I hope?'
'Perfectly well. There is one comfort at least,' said Charles, drawing himself down the last step.
'Dear Amy! And the babe--did you see it?'
'Yes; the little creature was lying by her, and she put her hand on it, and gave one of those smiles that are so terribly like his; but I could not have spoken about it for the world. Such fools we be!' concluded Charles, with an attempt at a smile.
'It is healthy?'
'All a babe ought to be, they say, all that could be expected of it, except the not being of the right sort, and if Amy does not mind that, I don't know who should,' and Charles deposited himself on the sofa, heaving a deep sigh, intended to pass for the conclusion of the exertion.
'Then you think she is not disappointed?'
'Certainly not. The first thing she said when she was told it was a girl, was, 'I am so glad!' and she does seem very happy with it, poor little thing! In fact, mamma thinks she had so little expected that it would go well with herself, or with it, that now it is all like a surprise.'
There was a silence, first broken by Charles saying, 'You must be content with me--I can't send for anyone. Bustle has taken papa and Charlotte for a walk, and Laura is on guard over Amy, for we have made mamma go and lie down. It was high time, after sitting up two nights, and meaning to sit up a third.'
'Has she really--can she bear it?'
'Yes; I am afraid I have trained her in sitting up, and Amy and all of us know that anxiety hurts her more than fatigue. She would only lie awake worrying herself, instead of sitting peaceably by the fire, holding the baby, or watching Amy, and having a quiet cry when she is asleep. For, after all, it is very sad!' Charles was trying to brave his feelings, but did not succeed very well. 'Yesterday morning I was properly frightened. I came into the dressing- room, and found mamma crying so, that I fully believed it was all wrong, but she was just coming to tell us, and was only overcome by thinking of not having him to call first, and how happy he would have been.'
'And the dear Amy herself!'
'I can't tell. She is a wonderful person for keeping herself composed when she ought. I see she has his picture in full view, but she says not a word, except that mamma saw her to-day, when she thought no one was looking, fondling the little thing, and whispering to it--'Guy's baby!' and 'Guy's little messenger!'' Charles gave up the struggle, and fairly cried, but in a moment rallying his usual tone, he went on, half laughing,--'To be sure, what a morsel of a creature it is! It is awful to see anything so small calling itself a specimen of humanity!'
'It is your first acquaintance with infant humanity, I suppose? Pray, did you ever see a baby?'
'Not to look at. In fact, Mary, I consider it a proof of your being a rational woman that you have not asked me whether it is pretty.'
'I thought you no judge of the article.'
'No, it was not to inspect it that Amy sent for me; though after all it was for a business I would almost as soon undertake, a thing I would not do for any other living creature.'
'Then I know what it is. To write some kind message to Captain Morville. Just like the dear Amy!'
'Just like her, and like no one else, except-- Of course my father wrote him an official communication yesterday, very short; but the fact must have made it sweet enough, savage as we all were towards him, as there was no one else to be savage to, unless it might be poor Miss Morville, who is the chief loser by being of the feminine gender,' said Charles, again braving what he was pleased to call sentimentality. 'Well, by and by, my lady wants to know if any one has written to 'poor Philip,' as she will call him, and, by no means contented by hearing papa had, she sends to ask me to come to her when I came in from wheeling in the garden; and receives me with a request that I would write and tell him how well she is, and how glad, and so on. There's a piece of work for me!'
'Luckily you are not quite so savage as you pretend, either to him, or your poor little niece.'
'Whew! I should not care whether she was niece or nephew but for him; at least not much, as long as she comforted Amy; but to see him at Redclyffe, and be obliged to make much of him at the same time, is more than I can very well bear; though I may as well swallow it as best I can, for she will have me do it, as well as on Laura's account. Amy believes, you know, that he will think the inheritance a great misfortune; but that is only a proof that she is more amiable than any one else.'
'I should think he would not rejoice.'
'Not exactly; but I have no fear that he will not console himself by thinking of the good he will do with it. I have no doubt that he was thoroughly cut up, and I could even go the length of believing that distress of mind helped to bring on the relapse, but it is some time ago. And as to his breaking his heart after the first ten minutes at finding himself what he has all his life desired to be, in a situation where the full influence of his talents may be felt,' said Charles, with a shade of imitation of his measured tones, 'why that, no one but silly little Amy would ever dream of.'
'Well, I dare say you will grow merciful as you write.'
'No, that is not the way to let my indignation ooze out at my fingers' ends. I shall begin by writing to condole with Markham. Poor man! what a state he must be in; all the more pitiable because he evidently had entirely forgotten that there could ever be a creature of the less worthy gender born to the house of Morville; so it will take him quite by surprise. What will he do, and how will he ever forgive Mrs. Ashford, who, I see in the paper, has a son whom nobody wants, as if for the express purpose of insulting Markham's feelings! Well-a-day! I should have liked to have had the sound of Sir Guy Morville still in my ears, and yet I don't know that I could have endured its being applied to a little senseless baby! And, after all, we are the gainers; for it would have been a forlorn thing to have seen Amy go off to reign queen-mother at Redclyffe,--and most notably well would she have reigned, with that clear little head. I vow 'tis a talent thrown away! However, I can't grumble. She is much happier without greatness thrust on her, and for my own part, I have my home-sister all to myself, with no rival but that small woman--and how she will pet her!'
'And how you will! What a spoiling uncle you will be! But now, having heard you reason yourself into philosophy, I'll leave you to write. We were so anxious, that I could not help coming. I am so glad that little one thrives! I should like to leave my love for Amy, if you'll remember it,'
'The rarity of such a message from you may enable me. I was lying here alone, and received the collected love of five Harpers to convey up- stairs, all which I forgot; though in its transit by Arnaud and his French, it had become 'that they made their friendships to my lady and Mrs. Edmonstone.''
Charles had not talked so like himself for months; and Mary felt that Amabel's child, if she had disappointed some expectations, had come like a spring blossom, to cheer Hollywell, after its long winter of sorrow and anxiety. She seemed to have already been received as a messenger to comfort them for the loss, greatest of all to her, poor child, though she would never know how great. Next Mary wondered what kind of letter Charles would indite, and guessed it would be all the kinder for the outpouring he had made to her, the only person with whom he ventured to indulge in a comfortable abuse of Philip, since his good sense taught him that, ending as affairs must, it was the only wise way to make the best of it, with father, mother, and Charlotte, all quite sufficiently disposed to regard Philip with aversion without his help.
Philip was at breakfast with the Henleys, on the following morning, a Sunday,--or rather, sitting at the breakfast-table, when the letters were brought in. Mrs. Henley, pretending to be occupied with her own, had an eager, watchful eye on her brother, as one was placed before him. She knew Mr. Edmonstone's writing, but was restrained from exclaiming by her involuntary deference for her brother. He flushed deep red one moment, then turned deadly pale, his hand, when first he raised it, trembled, but then became firm, as if controlled by the force of his resolution. He broke the black seal, drew out the letter, paused another instant, unfolded it, glanced at it, pushed his chair from the table, and hastened to me door.
'Tell me, tell me, Philip, what is it?' she exclaimed, rising to follow him.
He turned round, threw the letter on the table, and with a sign that forbade her to come with him, left the room.
'Poor fellow! how he feels it! That poor young creature!' said she, catching up the letter for explanation.
'Ha! No! Listen to this, Dr. Henley. Why, he must have read it wrong!'
'Hollywell, March 5th.
'DEAR PHILIP,--I have to announce to you that Lady Morville was safely confined this morning with a daughter. I shall be ready to send all the papers and accounts of the Redclyffe estate to any place you may appoint as soon as she is sufficiently recovered to transact business. Both she and the infant are as well as can be expected.
