"O Amy! dear, dear Amy; I don"t know whether I am glad or sorry!"

"I believe I am both," said Amy.

At that moment Mrs. Edmonstone and Laura hastened in. Then was the time for broken words, tears and smiles, as Amy leant against her mother, who locked her in a close embrace, and gazed on her in a sort of trance, at once of maternal pride and of pain, at giving up her cherished nestling.

Poor Laura! how bitter were her tears, and how forced her smiles,--far unlike the rest!

No one would care to hear the details of the breakfast, and the splendours of the cake; how Charlotte recovered her spirits while distributing the favours: and Lady Eveleen set up a flirtation with Markham, and forced him into wearing one, though he protested, with many a grunt, that she was making a queer fool of him; how often Charles was obliged to hear it had been a pretty wedding; and how well Lord Kilcoran made his speech proposing the health of Sir Guy and Lady Morville. All the time, Laura was active and useful,--feeling as if she was acting a play, sustaining the character of Miss Edmonstone, the bridesmaid at her sister"s happy marriage; while the true Laura, Philip"s Laura, was lonely, dejected, wretched; half fearing for her sister, half jealous of her happiness, forced into pageantry with an aching heart,--with only one wish, that it was over, and that she might be again alone with her burden.

She was glad when her mother rose, and the ladies moved into the drawing-room,--glad to escape from Eveleen"s quick eye, and to avoid Mary"s clear sense,--glad to talk to comparative strangers,--glad of the occupation of going to prepare Amabel for her journey. This lasted a long time,--there was so much to be said, and hearts were so full, and Amy over again explained to Charlotte how to perform all the little services to Charles which she relinquished; while her mother had so many affectionate last words, and every now and then stopped short to look at her little daughter, saying, she did not know if it was not a dream.

At length Amabel was dressed in her purple and white shot silk, her muslin mantle, and white bonnet. Mrs. Edmonstone left her and Laura to have a few words together, and went to the dressing-room. There she found Guy, leaning on the mantelshelf, as he used to do when he brought his troubles to her. He started as she entered.

"Ought I not to be here? he said. "I could not help coming once more.

This room has always been the kernel of my home, my happiness here."

"Indeed, it has been a very great pleasure to have you here."

"You have been very kind to me," he proceeded, in a low, reflecting tone. "You have helped me very much, very often; even when--Do you remember the day I begged you to keep me in order, as if I were Charles?

I did not think then--"

He was silent; and Mrs. Edmonstone little able to find words, smiling, tried to say,--"I little thought how truly and how gladly I should be able to call you my son;" and ended by giving him a mother"s kiss.

"I wish I could tell you half," said Guy,--"half what I feel for the kindness that made a home to one who had no right to any. Coming as a stranger, I found--"

"We found one to love with all our hearts," said Mrs. Edmonstone. "I have often looked back, and seen that you brought a brightness to us all--especially to poor Charles. Yes, it dates from your coming; and I can only wish and trust, Guy, that the same brightness will rest on your own home."

"There must be brightness where she is," said Guy.

"I need not tell you to take care of her," said Mrs. Edmonstone, smiling. "I think I can trust you; but I feel rather as I did when first I sent her and Laura to a party of pleasure by themselves."

Laura at this moment, came in. Alone with Amy, she could not speak, she could only cry; and fearful of distressing her sister, she came away; but here, with Guy, it was worse, for it was unkind not to speak one warm word to him. Yet what could she say! He spoke first--

"Laura, you must get up your looks again, now this turmoil is over.

Don"t do too much mathematics, and wear yourself down to a shadow."

Laura gave her sad, forced smile.

"Will you do one thing for me, Laura? I should like to have one of your perspective views of the inside of the church. Would it be too troublesome to do?"

"Oh, no; I shall be very glad."

"Don"t set about it till you quite like it, and have plenty of time.

Thank you. I shall think it is a proof that you can forgive me for all the pain I am causing you. I am very sorry.

"You are so very kind," said Laura, bursting into tears; and, as her mother was gone, she could not help adding, "but don"t try to comfort me, Guy; don"t blame yourself,--"tisn"t only that,--but I am so very, very unhappy."

"Amy told me you were grieved for Philip. I wish I could help it, Laura.

I want to try to meet him in Switzerland, and, if we can, perhaps it may be set right. At any rate he will be glad to know you see the rights of it."

Laura wept still more; but she could never again lose the sisterly feeling those kind words had awakened. If Philip had but known what he missed!

Charlotte ran in. "Oh, I am glad to find you here, Guy; I wanted to put you in mind of your promise. You must write me the first letter you sign "Your affectionate brother!""

"I won"t forget, Charlotte."

"Guy! Where"s Guy?" called Mr. Edmonstone. "The rain"s going off. You must come down, both of you, or you"ll be too late."

Mrs. Edmonstone hastened to call Amabel. Those moments that she had been alone, Amabel had been kneeling in an earnest supplication that all might be forgiven that she had done amiss in the home of her childhood, that the blessings might be sealed on her and her husband, and that she might go forth from her father"s house in strength sent from above. Her mother summoned her; she rose, came calmly forth, met Guy at the head of the stairs, put her arm in his, and they went down.

Charles was on the sofa in the ante-room, talking fast, and striving for high spirits.

"Amy, woman, you do us credit! Well, write soon, and don"t break your heart for want of me."

There was a confusion of good-byes, and then all came out to the hall door; even Charles, with Charlotte"s arm. One more of those fast-locked embraces between the brother and sister, and Mr. Edmonstone put Amabel into the carriage.

"Good-bye, good-bye, my own dearest little one! Bless you, bless you!

and may you be as happy as a Mayflower! Guy, goodbye. I"ve given you the best I had to give,--and "tis you that are welcome to her. Take care what you do with her, for she"s a precious little jewel! Good-bye, my boy!"

Guy"s face and grasping hand were the reply. As he was about to spring into the carriage, he turned again. "Charlotte, I have shut Bustle up in my room. Will you let him out in half an hour? I"ve explained it all to him, and he will be very good. Good-bye."

"I"ll take care of him. I"ll mention him in every letter."

"And, Markham, mind, if our house is not ready by Michaelmas, we shall be obliged to come and stay with you."

Grunt!

Lastly, as if he could not help it, Guy dashed up the step once more, pressed Charles"s hand, and said, "G.o.d bless you, Charlie!"

In an instant he was beside Amabel, and they drove off,--Amabel leaning forward, and gazing wistfully at her mother and Charles, till she was startled by a long cl.u.s.ter of laburnums, their yellow bloom bent down and heavy with wet, so that the ends dashed against her bonnet, and the crystal drops fell on her lap.

"Why, Amy, the Hollywell flowers are weeping for the loss of you!

She gave a sweet, sunny smile through her tears. At that moment they came beyond the thick embowering shrubs, while full before them was the dark receding cloud, on which the sunbeams were painting a wide-spanned rainbow. The semicircle was perfect, and full before them, like an arch of triumph under which they were to pa.s.s.

"How beautiful!" broke from them both.

"Guy," said the bride, after a few minutes had faded the rainbow, and turned them from its sight, "shall I tell you what I was thinking? I was thinking, that if there is a doom on us, I am not afraid, if it will only bring a rainbow."

"The rainbow will come after, if not with it," said Guy.

CHAPTER 30

She"s a winsome wee thing, She"s a handsome wee thing, She"s a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wifie of mine.

--BURNS