"But what do you think?" said Amy, puzzled.

"I won"t tell you, little innocence--it would only shock you."

"Nothing you _really_ _thought_ about Laura could shock me," said Amy; "I don"t mean what you might say in play."

"Well, then, shall you think me in play or earnest when I say that I think Laura likes Philip very much?"

"In play" said Amy; "for you know that if we had not got our own Charlie to show us what a brother is, we should think of Philip as just the same as a brother."

"A brother! You are pretending to be more simple than you really are, Amy! Don"t you know what I mean?"

"O," said Amy, her cheeks lighting up, "that must be only play, for he has never asked her."

"Ah, but suppose she was in the state just ready to be asked?"

"No, that could never be, for he could never ask her,"

"Why not, little Amy?"

"Because we are cousins, and everything," said Amy, confused. "Don"t talk any more about it, Eva; for though I know it is all play, I don"t like it, and mamma, would not wish me to talk of such things. And don"t you laugh about it, dear Eva, pray; for it only makes every one uncomfortable. Pray!"

Amy had a very persuasive way of saying "pray," and Eveleen thought she must yield to it. Besides, she respected Laura and Captain Morville too much to resolve to laugh at them, whatever she might do when her fear of the Captain made her saucy.

Mrs. Edmonstone thought it best on all accounts to sit in the drawing-room the next morning; but she need not have taken so much pains to chaperon her young ladies, for the gentlemen did not come near them.

Laura was more at ease in manner, though very far from happy, for she was restlessly eager for a talk with Philip; while he was resolved not to seek a private interview, sure that it would excite suspicion, and willing to lose the consciousness of his underhand proceedings.

This was the day of the dinner-party, and Laura"s heart leaped as she calculated that it must fall to Philip"s lot to hand her in to dinner.

She was not mistaken, he did give her his arm; and they found themselves most favourably placed, for Philip"s other neighbour was Mrs. Brownlow, talking at a great rate to Mr. de Courcy, and on Laura"s side was the rather deaf Mr. Hayley, who had quite enough to do to talk to Miss Brownlow. Charles was not at table, and not one suspicious eye could rest on them, yet it was not till the second course was in progress that he said anything which the whole world might not have heard. Something had pa.s.sed about Canterbury, and its distance from Hollywell.

"I can be here often," said Philip.

"I am glad."

"If you can only be guarded,--and I think you are becoming so."

"Is this a time to speak of--? Oh, don"t!"

"It is the only time. No one is attending, and I have something to say to you."

Overpowering her dire confusion, in obedience to him, she looked at the epergne, and listened.

"You have acted prudently. You have checked--" and he indicated Guy--"without producing more than moderate annoyance. You have only to guard your self-possession."

"It is very foolish," she murmured.

"Ordinary women say so, and rest contented with the folly. You can do better things."

There was a thrill of joy at finding him conversing with her as his "own;" it overcame her embarra.s.sment and alarm, and wishes he would not choose such a time for speaking."

"How shall I?" said she.

"Employ yourself. Employ and strengthen your mind!"

"How shall I, and without you?"

"Find something to prevent you from dwelling on the future. That drawing is dreamy work, employing the fingers and leaving the mind free."

"I have been trying to read, but I cannot fix my mind."

"Suppose you take what will demand attention. Mathematics, algebra. I will send you my first book of algebra, and it will help you to work down many useless dreams and anxieties."

"Thank you; pray do; I shall be very glad of it."

"You will find it give a power and stability to your mind, and no longer have to complain of frivolous occupation."

"I don"t feel frivolous now," said Laura, sadly; "I don"t know why it is that everything is so altered, I am really happier, but my light heart is gone."

"You have but now learnt the full powers of your soul, Laura, you have left the world of childhood, with the gay feelings which have no depth."

"I have what is better," she whispered.

"You have, indeed. But those feelings must be regulated, and strengthening the intellect strengthens the governing power."

Philip, with all his sense, was mystifying himself, because he was departing from right, the only true "good sense." His right judgment in all things was becoming obscured, so he talked metaphysical jargon, instead of plain practical truth, and thought he was teaching Laura to strengthen her powers of mind, instead of giving way to dreams, when he was only leading her to stifle meditation, and thus securing her complete submission to himself.

She was happier after this conversation, and better able to pay attention to the guests, nor did she feel guilty when obliged to play and sing in the evening--for she knew he must own that she could do no otherwise.

Lady Eveleen gave, however, its brilliancy to the party. She had something wonderfully winning and fascinating about her, and Philip owned to himself that it took no small resolution on the part of Mr.

Thorndale to keep so steadily aloof from the party in the bay window, where she was reigning like a queen, and inspiring gaiety like a fairy.

She made Guy sing with her; it was the first time he had ever sung, except among themselves, as Mrs. Edmonstone had never known whether he would like to be asked; but Eveleen refused to sing some of the Irish melodies unless he would join her, and without making any difficulty he did so. Mrs. Brownlow professed to be electrified, and Eveleen declaring that she knew she sung like a peac.o.c.k, told Mrs. Brownlow that the thing to hear was Sir Guy singing glees with Laura and Amy. Of course, they were obliged to sing. Mrs. Brownlow was delighted; and as she had considerable knowledge of music, they all grew eager and Philip thought it very foolish of Guy to allow so much of his talent and enthusiasm to display themselves.

When all the people were gone, and the home party had wished each other good-night, Philip lingered in the drawing-room to finish a letter. Guy, after helping Charles up-stairs, came down a few moments after, to fetch something which he had forgotten. Philip looked up,--"You contributed greatly to the entertainment this evening," he said.

Guy coloured, not quite sure that this was not said sarcastically, and provoked with himself for being vexed.

"You think one devoid of the sixth sense has no right to speak," said Philip.

"I can"t expect all to think it, as I do, one of the best things in this world or out of it," said Guy, speaking quickly.

"I know it is so felt by those who understand its secrets," said Philip.

"I would not depreciate it; so you may hear me patiently, Guy. I only meant to warn you, that it is often the means of bringing persons into undesirable intimacies, from which they cannot disentangle themselves as easily as they enter them."

A flush crossed Guy"s cheek, but it pa.s.sed, and he simply said--"I suppose it may. Good-night."

Philip looked after him, and pondered on what it was that had annoyed him--manner, words, or advice. He ascribed it to Guy"s unwillingness to be advised, since he had observed that his counsel was apt to irritate him, though his good sense often led him to follow it. In the present case, Philip thought Mrs. Brownlow and her society by no means desirable for a youth like Guy; and he was quite right.

Philip and his friend went the next morning; and in the afternoon Laura received the book of algebra--a very original first gift from a lover.