At his exclamation, Amy leant forward, and beckoned. Markham came up to the window, and after the greeting on each side, walked along with his hand on the door, as the carriage slowly mounted the steep hill, answering her questions: "How is he?"

"No better. He has been putting on leeches, and made himself so giddy, that yesterday he could hardly stand."

"And they have not relieved him?"

"Not in the least. I am glad you are come, for it has been an absurd way of going on."

"Is he up?"

"Yes; on the sofa in the library."

"Did you give him my note? Does he expect us?"

"No, I went to see about telling him this morning, but found him so low and silent, I thought it was better not. He has not opened a letter this week, and he might have refused to see you, as he did Lord Thorndale.

Besides, I didn"t know how he would take my writing about him, though if you had not written, I believe I should have let Mrs. Henley know by this time."

"There is an escape for him," murmured Charles to his sister.

"We have done the best in our power to receive you" proceeded Markham; "I hope you will find it comfortable, Lady Morville, but--"

"Thank you, I am not afraid," said Amy, smiling a little. Markham"s eye was on the little white bundle in her lap, but he did not speak of it, and went on with explanations about Mrs. Drew and Bolton and the sitting-room, and tea being ready.

Charles saw the great red pile of building rise dark, gloomy, and haunted-looking before them. The house that should have been Amabel"s!

Guy"s own beloved home! How could she bear it? But she was eagerly asking Markham how Philip should be informed of their arrival, and Markham was looking perplexed, and saying, that to drive under the gateway, into the paved court, would make a thundering sound, that he dreaded for Mr. Morville. Could Mr. Charles Edmonstone cross the court on foot? Charles was ready to do so; the carriage stopped, Amabel gave the baby to Anne, saw Arnaud help Charles out; and turning to Markham, said, "I had better go to him at once. Arnaud will show my brother the way."

"The sitting-room, Arnaud" said Markham, and walked on fast with her, while Charles thought how strange to see her thus pa.s.s the threshold of her husband"s house, come thither to relieve and comfort his enemy.

She entered the dark-oak hall. On one side the light shone cheerfully from the sitting-room, the other doors were all shut. Markham hesitated, and stood reluctant.

"Yes, you had better tell him I am here," said she, in the voice, so gentle, that no one perceived its resolution.

Markham knocked at one of the high heavy doors, and softly opened it.

Amabel stood behind it, and looked into the room, more than half dark, without a fire, and very large, gloomy, and cheerless, in the gray autumn twilight, that just enabled her to see the white pillows on the sofa, and Philip"s figure stretched out on it. Markham advanced and stood doubtful for an instant, then in extremity, began--"Hem! Lady Morville is come, and--"

Without further delay she came forward, saying--"How are you, Philip?"

He neither moved nor seemed surprised, he only said, "So you are come to heap more coals on my head."

A thrill of terror came over her, but she did not show it, as she said, "I am sorry to find you so poorly."

It seemed as if before he had taken her presence for a dream; for, entirely roused, he exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise, "Is it you, Amy?" Then sitting up, "Why? When did you come here?"

"Just now. We were afraid you were ill, we heard a bad account of you, so we have taken you by storm: Charles, your G.o.ddaughter, and I, are come to pay you a visit."

"Charles! Charles here?" cried Philip, starting up. "Where is he?"

"Coming in," said Amy; and Philip, intent only on hospitality, hastened into the hall, and met him at the door, gave him his arm and conducted him where the inviting light guided them to the sitting-room. The full brightness of lamp and fire showed the ashy paleness of his face; his hair, rumpled with lying on the sofa, had, on the temples, acquired a noticeable tint of gray, his whole countenance bore traces of terrible suffering; and Amabel thought that even at Recoara she had never seen him look more wretchedly ill.

"How did you come?" he asked. "It was very kind. I hope you will be comfortable."

"We have taken good care of ourselves," said Amy. "I wrote to Mr.

Markham, for I thought you were not well enough to be worried with preparations. We ought to beg your pardon for breaking on you so unceremoniously."

"If any one should be at home here--" said Philip, earnestly;--then interrupting himself, he shaded his eyes from the light, "I don"t know how to make you welcome enough. When did you set off?"

"Yesterday afternoon," said Charles; "we slept in London, and came on to-day."

"Have you dined?" said Philip, looking perplexed to know where the dinner could come from.

"Yes; at K----, thank you."

"What will you have? I"ll ring for Mrs. Drew."

"No, thank you; don"t tease yourself. Mrs. Drew will take care of us.

Never mind; but how bad your head is!" said Amabel, as he sat down on the sofa, leaning his elbow on his knee, and pressing his hand very hard on his forehead. "You must lie down and keep quiet, and never mind us.

We only want a little tea. I am just going to take off my bonnet, and see what they have done with baby, and then I"ll come down. Pray lie still till then. Mind he does, Charlie."

They thought she was gone; but the next moment there she was with the two pillows from the library sofa, putting them under Philip"s head, and making him comfortable; while he, overpowered by a fresh access of headache, had neither will nor power to object. She rang, asked for Mrs.

Drew, and went.

Philip lay, with closed eyes, as if in severe pain: and Charles, afraid to disturb him, sat feeling as if it was a dream. That he, with Amy and her child, should be in Guy"s home, so differently from their old plans, so very differently from the way she should have arrived. He looked round the room, and everywhere knew what Guy"s taste had prepared for his bride--piano, books, prints, similarities to Hollywell, all with a fresh new bridal effect, inexpressibly melancholy. They brought a thought of the bright eye, sweet voice, light step, and merry whistle; and as he said to himself "gone for ever," he could have hated Philip, but for the sight of his haggard features, gray hairs, and the deep lines which, at seven-and-twenty, sorrow had traced on his brow. At length Philip turned and looked up.

"Charles," he said, "I trust you have not let her run any risk."

"No: we got Dr. Mayerne"s permission."

"It is like all the rest," said Philip, closing his eyes again.

Presently he asked: "How did you know I was not well?"

"Markham said something in a business letter that alarmed Amy. She wrote to inquire, and on his second letter we thought we had better come and see after you ourselves."

No more was said till Amabel returned. She had made some stay up-stairs, talking to Mrs. Drew, who was bewildered between surprise, joy, and grief; looking to see that all was comfortable in Charles"s room, making arrangements for the child, and at last relieving herself by a short s.p.a.ce of calm, to feel where she was, realize that this was Redclyffe, and whisper to her little girl that it was her father"s own home. She knew it was the room he had destined for her; she tried, dark as it was, to see the view of which he had told her, and looked up, over the mantel-piece, at Muller"s engraving of St. John. Perhaps that was the hardest time of all her trial, and she felt as if, without his child in her arms, she could never have held up under the sense of desolation that came over her, left behind, while he was in his true home. Left, she told herself, to finish the task he had begun, and to become fit to follow him. Was she not in the midst of fulfilling his last charge, that Philip should be taken, care of? It was no time for giving way, and here was his own little messenger of comfort looking up with her sleepy eyes to tell her so. Down she must go, and put off "thinking herself into happiness" till the peaceful time of rest; and presently she softly re-entered the sitting-room, bringing to both its inmates in her very presence such solace as she little guessed, in her straightforward desire to nurse Philip, and take care Charles was not made uncomfortable.

That stately house had probably never, since its foundation, seen anything so home-like as Amabel making tea and waiting on her two companions; both she and Charles pleasing each other by enjoying the meal, and Philip giving his cup to be filled again and again, and wondering why one person"s tea should taste so unlike another"s.

He was not equal to conversation, and Charles and Amabel were both tired, so that tea was scarcely over before they parted for the night; and Amy, frightened at the bright and slipperiness of the dark-oak stairs, could not be at peace till she had seen Arnaud help Charles safely up them, and made him promise not to come down without a.s.sistance in the morning.

She was in the sitting-room soon after nine next morning, and found breakfast on one table, and Charles writing a letter on the other.

"Well," said he, as she kissed him, "all right with you and little miss?"

"Quite, thank you. And are you rested?"

"Slept like a top; and what did you do? Did you sleep like a sensible woman?"

"Pretty well, and baby was very good. Have you heard anything of Philip?"

"Bolton thinks him rather better, and says he is getting up."