"Well, I am glad there is a point on which you can"t even pretend to stand up for him, or I should have thought you crazed with Quixotism.

But I am keeping you when you want to be off to Amy. Never mind Mr.

Ready-to-halt; I shall wait till my father comes back. If you want the letter put off you had better give some hopes of--Oh! he is gone, and disinterested advice it is of mine, for what is to become of me without Amy remains to be proved. Laura, poor thing, looks like Patience on a monument. I wonder whether Philip"s disgrace has anything to do with it.

Hum! If mamma"s old idea was right, the captain has been more like moth and candle than consistent with his prudence, unless he thought it "a toute epreuve". I wonder what came to pa.s.s last autumn, when I was ill, and mamma"s head full of me. He may not intend it, and she may not know it, but I would by no means answer for Cupid"s being guiltless of that hara.s.sed look she has had ever since that ball-going summer. Oh! there go that pretty study, Amy and her true knight. As to Guy, he is more incomprehensible than ever; yet there is no avoiding obeying him, on the principle on which that child in the "Moorland cottage" said she should obey Don Quixote."

So when his father came in, Charles wiled him into deferring the letter till the next day, by giving him an indistinct hope that some notion when the marriage would be, might be arrived at by that time. He consented the more readily, because he was in haste to investigate a complaint that had just been made of the union doctor; but his last words to his wife and son before he went, were--"Of course, they must marry directly, there is nothing on earth to wait for. Live at Redclyffe alone? Not to be thought of. No, I"ll see little Amy my Lady Morville, before Philip goes abroad, if only to show him I am not a man to be dictated to."

Mrs. Edmonstone sighed; but when he was gone, she agreed with Charles that there was nothing to wait for, and that it would be better for Guy to take his wife at once with him, when he settled at Redclyffe. So it must be whenever Amy could make up her mind to it; and thereupon they made plans for future meetings, Charles announcing that the Prince of the Black Isles would become locomotive, and Charlotte forming grand designs upon s.h.a.g Island.

In the meantime, Guy and Amy were walking in the path through the wood, where he began: "I would not have asked you to do anything so unpleasant as reading that letter, but I thought you ought to consider of it."

"It was just like himself! How could he?" said Amy, indignantly.

"I wonder whether he will ever see his own harshness?" said Guy. "It is very strange, that with all his excellence and real kindness, there should be some distortion in his view of all that concerns me. I cannot understand it."

"You must let me call it prejudice, Guy, in spite of your protest. It is a relief to say something against him."

"Amy, don"t be venomous!" said Guy, in a playful tone of reproach.

"Yes; but you know it is not _me_ whom he has been abusing."

"Well," said Guy, musingly, "I suppose it is right there should be this cloud, or it would be too bright for earth. It has been one of my chief wishes to have things straight with Philip, ever since the time he stayed at Redclyffe as a boy. I saw his superiority then; but it fretted me, and I never could make a companion of him. Ever since, I have looked to his approval as one of the best things to be won. It shows his ascendancy of character; yet, do what I will, the mist has gone on thickening between us; and with reason, for I have never been able to give him the confidence he required, and his conduct about my uncle has so tried my patience, that I never have been quite sure whether I ought to avoid him or not."

"And now you are the only person who will speak for him. I don"t wonder papa is provoked with you," said she, pretending to be wilful. "I only hope you don"t want to make me do the same. I could bear anything better than his old saying about your attractive manners and good impulses, and his opinion that has never altered. O Guy, he is the most provoking person in all the world. Don"t try to make me admire him, nor be sorry for him."

"Not when you remember how he was looked on here? and how, without doing anything worthy of blame, nay, from his acting unsparingly, as he thought right, every one has turned against him? even mamma, who used to be so fond of him?"

"Not Laura."

"No, not Laura, and I am thankful to her for it; for all this makes me feel as if I had supplanted him."

"Yes, yes, yes, it is like you; but don"t ask me to feel that yet," said Amy, with tears in her eyes," or I shall be obliged to tell you what you won"t like to hear, about his tone of triumph that terrible time last year. It was so very different, I don"t think I could ever forgive him, if it had not made me so miserable too."

Guy pressed her arm. "Yes; but he thought himself right. He meant to do the kindest thing by you," said he, so entirely without effort, that no one could doubt it came straight from his heart. "So he thinks still, Amy; there is fairness, justice, good sense in his letter, and we must not blind our eyes to it, though there is injustice, at least, harshness. I did fail egregiously in my first trial."

"Fail!"

"In temper."

"Oh!"

"And, Amy, I wanted to ask what you think about the four years he speaks of. Do you think, as he says, my habits might be more fixed, and altogether you might have more confidence?"

"I don"t look on you quite as he does now," said Amy, with a very pretty smile. "Do you think his opinion of you will ever alter?"

"But what do you think? Is there not some reason in what he says?"

"The only use I can see is, that perhaps I should be wiser at twenty-four, and fitter to take care of such a great house; but then you have been always helping me to grow wiser, and I am not much afraid but that you will be patient with me. Indeed, Guy, I don"t know whether it is a thing I ought to say," she added, blushing, "but I think it would be dismal for you to go and live all alone at Redclyffe."

"Honestly, Amy," replied he, after a little pause, "if you feel so, and your father approves, I don"t think it will be better to wait. I know your presence is a safeguard, and if the right motives did not suffice to keep me straight, and I was only apparently so from hopes of you, why then I should be so utterly good for nothing at the bottom, if not on the surface, that you had better have nothing to say to me."

Amy laughed incredulously.

"That being settled," proceeded Guy, "did you hear what your father said as you left the breakfast-room?"

She coloured all over, and there was silence. "What did you answer?"

said she, at length.

"I said, whatever happened, you must not be taken by surprise in having to decide quickly. Do you wish to have time to think? I"ll go in and leave you to consider, if you like."

"I only want to know what you wish," said Amy, not parting with his arm.

"I had rather you did just as suits you best. Of course, you know what my wish must be."

Amy walked on a little way in silence. "Very well," said she, presently, "I think you and mamma had better settle it. The worst"--she had tears in her eyes--"the going away--mamma--Charlie--all that will be as bad at one time as at another." The tears flowed faster. "It had better be as you all like best."

"O Amy! I wonder at myself for daring to ask you to exchange your bright cheerful home for my gloomy old house."

"No, your home," said Amy, softly.

"I used to wonder why it was called gloomy; but it will be so no more when you are there. Yet there is a shadow hanging over it, which makes it sometimes seem too strange that you and it should be brought together."

"I have read somewhere that there is no real gloom but what people raise for themselves."

"True. Gloom is in sin, not sorrow. Yes, there would be no comfort if I were not sure that if aught of grief or pain should come to you through me, it will not, cannot really hurt you, my Amy."

"No, unless by my own fault, and you will help me to meet it. Hark! was that a nightingale?"

"Yes, the first! How beautiful! There--don"t you see it? Look on that hazel, you may see its throat moving. Well!" when they had listened for a long time,--"after all, that creature and the sea will hardly let one speak of gloom, even in this world, to say nothing of other things.

"The sea! I am glad I have never seen it, because now you will show it to me for the first time."

"You will never, can never imagine it, Amy! and he sung,--

"With all tones of waters blending, Glorious is the breaking deep, Glorious, beauteous, without ending, Songs of ocean never sleep."

A silence followed, only broken by the notes of the birds, and presently by the strokes of the great clock. Guy looked at his watch.

"Eleven, Amy! I must go to my reading, or you will have to be very much ashamed of me."

For, after the first few days, Guy had returned to study regularly every day. He said it was a matter of necessity, not at all of merit, for though he did not mean to try for honours, Amy must not marry a plucked man. His whole career at Oxford had been such a struggle with the disadvantages of his education, that all his diligence had, he thought, hardly raised him to a level with his contemporaries. Moreover, courtship was not the best preparation for the schools, so that though he knew he had done his best, he expected no more than to pa.s.s respectably, and told Amy it was very good of her to be contented with a dunce, whereat she laughed merrily. But she knew him too well to try to keep him lingering in the April sunshine, and in they went, Guy to his Greek, and Amy to her mother. Charlotte"s lessons had been in abeyance, or turned over to Laura of late, and Mrs. Edmonstone and her dressing-room were always ready for the confidences of the family, who sought her there in turn--all but one, and that the one whose need was the sorest.

Amy and her mother comforted themselves with a good quiet cry, that was not exactly sorrowful, and came to the conclusion that Guy was the most considerate person in the world, and they would do whatever best suited him and papa. So, when Mr. Edmonstone came home, he was rewarded for putting off the letter by finding every one willing to let the marriage take place whenever he pleased. There were various conferences in the dressing-room, and Guy and Amy both had burning faces when they came down to dinner. Laura beheld them with a throbbing heart, while she mechanically talked to Dr. Mayerne, as if nothing was going on. She was glad there was no singing that evening, for she felt incapable of joining; and when at night Charles and his father talked of sitting up to write to Philip, the misery was such that she had no relief till she had shut herself in her room, to bear or to crush the suffering as best she might.

She was still sitting helpless in her wretchedness when Amy knocked at the door, and came in glowing with blushes and smiles, though her eyelashes were dewy with tears.

"Laura, dearest! if you would not be so very unhappy! I wish I knew what to do for you."