He paused at the gate, and looked back at the wide domain and fine old house. He pitied them, and the simple-hearted, honest tenantry, for being the heritage of such a family, and the possession of one so likely to misuse them, instead of training them into the means of conferring benefits on them, on his country. What would not Philip himself do if those lands were his,--just what was needed to give his talents free scope? and what would it be to see his beautiful Laura their mistress?
CHAPTER 20
The longing for ignoble things,
The strife for triumph more than truth,
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth.--LONGFELLOW
After his week at Thorndale Park, Captain Morville returned to make his farewell visit at Hollywell, before joining his regiment at Cork, whence it was to sail for the Mediterranean. He reckoned much on this visit, for not even Laura herself could fathom the depth of his affection for her, strengthening in the recesses where he so sternly concealed it, and viewing her ever as more faultless since she had been his own. While she was his noble, strong- minded, generous, fond Laura, he could bear with his disappointment in his sister, with the loss of his home, and with the trials that had made him a grave, severe man. She had proved the strength of her mind by the self- command he had taught her, and for which he was especially grateful to her, as it made him safer and more unconstrained, able to venture on more demonstration than in those early days when every look had made her blush and tremble.
Mr. Edmonstone brought the carriage to fetch him from the station, and quickly began,--
'I suppose, as you have not written, you have found nothing out?'
'Nothing.'
'And you could do nothing with him. Eh?'
'No; I could not get a word of explanation, nor break through the fence of pride and reserve. I must do him the justice to say that he bears the best of characters at Oxford; and if there were any debts I could not get at them from the tradesmen.'
'Well, well, say no more about it; he is an ungrateful young dog, and I am sick of it. I only wish I could wash my hands of him altogether. It was mere folly to expect any of that set could ever come to good. There's everything going wrong all at once now; poor little Amy breaking her heart after him, and, worse than all, there's poor Charlie laid up again,' said Mr. Edmonstone, one of the most affectionate people in the world; but his maundering mood making him speak of Charles's illness as if he only regarded it as an additional provocation for himself.
'Charles ill!' exclaimed Philip.
'Yes; another, of those formations in the joint. I hoped and trusted that was all over now; but he is as bad as ever,--has not been able to move for a week, and goodness knows when he will again.'
'Indeed! I am very sorry. Is there as much pain as before?'
'Oh, yes. He has not slept a wink these four nights. Mayerne talks of opium; but he says he won't have it till he has seen you, he is so anxious about this unlucky business. If anything could persuade me to have Guy back again it would be that this eternal fretting after him is so bad for poor Charlie.'
'It is on Amy's account that it is impossible to have him here,' said Philip.
'Ay! He shall never set eyes on Amy again unless all this is cleared up, which it never will be, as I desire mamma to tell her. By the bye, Philip, Amy said something of your having a slip with Charles on the stairs.'
There was very nearly an accident; but I believed he was not hurt. I hope it has nothing to do with this illness?'
'He says it was all his own fault,' said Mr. Edmonstone, 'and that he should have been actually down but for you.'
'But is it really thought it can have caused this attack?'
'I can hardly suppose so; but Thompson fancies there may have been some jar. However, don't distress yourself; I dare say it would have come on all the same.'
Philip did not like to be forgiven by Mr. Edmonstone, and there was something very annoying in having this mischance connected with his name, though without his fault; nor did he wish Charles to have the kind of advantage over him that might be derived from seeming to pass over his share in the misfortune.
When they arrived at Hollywell, it was twilight, but no one was in the drawing-room, generally so cheerful at that time of day; the fire had lately been smothered with coals, and looked gloomy and desolate. Mr. Edmonstone left Philip there, and ran up to see how Charles was, and soon after Laura came in, sprang to his side, and held his hand in both hers.
'You bring no good news?' said she, sadly, as she read the answer in his face. '0! how I wish you had. It would be such a comfort now. You have heard about poor Charlie?'
'Yes; and very sorry I am. But, Laura, is it really thought that accident could have occasioned it?'
'Dr. Mayerne does not think so, only Mr. Thompson talked of remote causes, when Amy mentioned it. I don't believe it did any harm, and Charlie himself says you saved him from falling down-stairs.'
Philip had begun to give Laura his version of the accident, as he had already done to her father, when Mrs. Edmonstone came down, looking harassed and anxious. She told her nephew that Charles was very desirous to see him, and sent him up at once.
There was a fire in the dressing-room, and the door was open into the little room, which was only lighted by a lamp on a small table, where Amy was sitting at work. After shaking hands, she went away, leaving him alone with Charles, who lay in his narrow bed against the wall, fixed in one position, his forehead contracted with pain, his eyelids red and heavy from sleeplessness, his eyes very quick and eager, and his hands and arms thrown restlessly outside the coverings.
'I am very sorry to find you here,' said Philip, coming up to him, and taking, rather than receiving, his hot, limp hand. 'Is the pain very bad?'
'That is a matter of course,' said Charles, in a sharp, quick manner, his voice full of suffering. 'I want to hear what you have been doing at Oxford and St. Mildred's.'
'I am sorry I do not bring the tidings you wish.'
'I did not expect you would. I know you too well; but I want to hear what you have been doing--what he said,' answered Charles, in short, impatient sentences.
'It can be of no use, Charlie. You are not in a state to enter on agitating subjects.'
'I tell you I will hear all,' returned Charles, with increased asperity. 'I know you will say nothing to his advantage that you can help, but still I know you will speak what you think the truth, and I want to judge for myself.'
'You speak as if I was not acting for his good.'
'Palaver!' cried Charles, fully sensible of the advantage his illness gave him. 'I want the facts. Begin at the beginning. Sit down-- there's a chair by you. Now tell me, where did you find him?'
Philip could not set Charles down in his present state, and was obliged to submit to a cross-examination, in which he showed no abatement of his natural acuteness, and, unsparing as he always was, laid himself under no restraint at all. Philip was compelled to give a full history of his researches; and if he had afforded no triumph to Guy, Charles revenged him.
'Pray, what did Guy say when he heard the result of this fine voyage of discovery?'
'I did not see him again.'
'Not see him! not tell him he was so far justified!'
'I had no time--at least I thought not. It would have been useless, for while these mysteries continue, my opinion is unchanged, and there was no benefit in renewing vain disputes.'
'Say no more!' exclaimed Charles. 'You have said all I expected, and more too. I gave you credit for domineering and prejudice, now I see it is malignity.'
As he spoke, Laura entered from the dressing-room, and stood aghast at the words, and then looked imploringly at her cousin. Dr. Mayerne was following her, and Charles called out,--
'Now, doctor, give me as much opium as you please. I only want to be stupefied till the world has turned round, and then you may wake me.'
Philip shook hands with Dr. Mayerne, and, without betraying a shade of annoyance, wished Charles good night;
