Laura laid her head on her shoulder, and cried. It was a great comfort, little as Amy could understand her trouble. Amy kissed her, soothed her caressingly, cried too, and said, in broken sentences, how often they would be together, and how comfortable it was that Charlie was so much better, and Charlotte quite a companion.

"Then you have fixed the day?" whispered Laura, at last.

"The Tuesday in Whitsun-week," returned Amy, resting her forehead on Laura"s shoulder. "They all thought it right."

Laura flung her arms round her, and wept too much to speak.

"Dear, dear Laura!" said Amy, after a time, "it is very kind of you, but--"

"Oh, Amy! you don"t know. You must not think so much better of me than I deserve. It is not only--No, I would not be so selfish, if but--but--"

Never had her self-command so given way.

"Ah! you are unhappy about Philip," said Amy; and Laura, alarmed lest she might have betrayed him, started, and tried to recover herself; but she saw Amy was quite unsuspicious, and the relief from this fright helped her through what her sister was saying,--"Yes, you, who were so fond of him, must be vexed at this unkindness on his part."

"I am sure it is his real wish for your good," murmured Laura.

"I dare say!" said Amy, with displeasure. Then changing her tone, "I beg your pardon, dear Laura, but I don"t think I can quite bear to hear any one but Guy defend him."

"It is very generous."

"Oh, is not it, Laura? and he says he is so grieved to see us turned against Philip, after being so fond of him; he says it makes him feel as if he had supplanted him, and that he is quite thankful to you for taking his part still."

"How shall I bear it?" sighed Laura, to herself.

"I wonder whether he will come?" said Amy, thoughtfully.

"He will," said Laura.

"You think so?" said Amy. "Well, Guy would be glad. Yes. O Laura, if Philip would learn to do Guy justice, I don"t think there would be any more to wish!"

"He will in time," said Laura. "He is too generous not to be won by such generosity as Guy"s; and when all this is forgotten, and all these accusations have been lived down, he will be the warmest of friends."

"Yes," said Amy, as if she wished to be convinced; "but if he would only leave off saying his opinion has never altered, I think I could bring myself to look on him as Guy wants me to do. Good night! dear Laura, and don"t be unhappy. Oh! one thing I must tell you; Guy made Charles promise to do all he could not to let it be a hasty letter. Now, good night!"

Poor Laura, she knew not whether grat.i.tude to Guy was not one of her most painful sensations. She wished much to know what had been said in the letter; but only one sentence transpired, and that was, that Mr.

Edmonstone had never heard it was necessary to apply to a nephew for consent to a daughter"s marriage. It seemed as if it must have been as cutting as Charles could make it; but Laura trusted to Philip"s knowledge of the family, and desire for their good, to make him forgive it, and the expectation of seeing him again at the wedding, cheered her.

Indeed, a hope of still greater consequences began to rise in her mind, after Charles one day said to her, "I think you ought to be much obliged to Guy. This morning, he suddenly exclaimed, "I say, Charlie, I wish you would take care Amy"s fortune is not settled on her so that it can"t be got rid of." I asked how he meant to make ducks and drakes of it; and he explained, that if either of you two did not happen to marry for money, like Amy, it might do you no harm."

"We are very much obliged to him," said Laura, more earnestly than Charles had expected. "Do you know what it is, Charlie?"

"Oh! you want to calculate the amount of your obligation! Somewhere about five thousand pounds, I believe."

Charles watched Laura, and the former idea recurred, as he wondered whether there was any particular meaning in her inquiry.

Meaning, indeed, there was. Laura knew nothing about the value of money; she did not know what Philip had of his own; how far five, or even ten, thousand would go in enabling them to marry, or whether it was available in her father"s lifetime; but she thought this prospect might smooth the way to the avowal of their attachment, as effectually as his promotion; she reckoned on relief from the weary oppression of secrecy, and fully expected that it would all be told in the favourable juncture, when her parents were full of satisfaction in Amy"s marriage. Grat.i.tude to Guy would put an end to all doubt, dislike, and prejudice, and Philip would receive him as a brother.

These hopes supported Laura, and enabled her to take part with more appearance of interest in the consultations and arrangements for the marriage, which were carried on speedily, as the time was short, and Mr.

Edmonstone"s ideas were on a grand scale. It seemed as if he meant to invite all the world, and there were no limits to his views of breakfast, carriages, and splendours. His wife let him run on without contradiction, leaving the plans either to evaporate or condense, as time might prove best. Guy took Amy out walking, and asked what she thought of it.

"Do you dislike it very much?" she said.

"I can hardly tell. Of course, as a general rule, the less parade and nonsense the better; but if your father wishes it, and if people do find enjoyment in that way, it seems hard they should not have all they can out of it."

"Oh, yes; the school children and poor people," said Amy.

"How happy the Ashford children will be, feasting the poor people at Redclyffe! Old Jonas Ledbury will be in high glory."

"To be sure it does not seem like merit to feast one"s poor neighbours rather than the rich. It is so much pleasanter."

"However, since the poor will be feasted, I don"t think the rich ones will do us much harm."

"I am sure I shall know very little about them," said Amy.

"The realities are so great to us, that they will swallow up the accessories. There must be the church, and all that; and for the rest, Amy, I don"t think I shall find out whether you wear lace or grogram."

"There"s encouragement for me!" said Amy, laughing. "However, what I mean is, that I don"t care about it, if I am not obliged to attend, and give my mind, to those kind of things just then, and that mamma will take care of."

"Is it not a great trouble for her? I forgot that. It was selfish; for we slip out of the fuss, and it all falls on her."

"Yes," said Amy; "but don"t you think it would tease her more to have to persuade papa out of what he likes, and alter every little matter? That would be worry, the rest only exertion; and, do you know, I think," said she, with a rising tear, "that it will be better for her, to keep her from thinking about losing me."

"I see. Very well, we will take the finery quietly. Only one thing, Amy, we will not be put out of,--we will not miss the full holy-day service."

"Oh, yes; that will be the comfort."

"One other thing, Amy. You know I have hardly a friend of my own; but there is one person I should like to ask,--Markham. He has been so kind, and so much attached to me; he loved my father so devotedly, and suffered so much at his death, that it is a pity he should not be made happy; and very happy he will be."

"And there is one person I should like to ask, Guy, if mamma thinks we can do it. I am sure little Marianne ought to be one of my bridesmaids.

Charlotte would take care of her, and it would be very nice to have her."

CHAPTER 28

But no kind influence deign they shower, Till pride be quelled and love be free.

--SCOTT

Kilcoran was about twenty miles from Cork, and Captain Morville was engaged to go and spend a day or two there. Maurice de Courcy drove him thither, wishing all the way for some other companion, since no one ever ventured to smoke a cigar in the proximity of "Morville"; and, besides, Maurice"s conversational powers were obliged to be entirely bestowed on his horse and dog, for the captain, instead of, as usual, devoting himself to suit his talk to his audience, was wrapped in the deepest meditation, now and then taking out a letter and referring to it.

This letter was the reply jointly compounded by Mr. Edmonstone and Charles, and the subject of his consideration was, whether he should accept the invitation to the wedding. Charles had taken care fully to explain how the truth respecting the cheque had come out, and Philip could no longer suspect that it had been a fabrication of Dixon"s; but while Guy persisted in denial of any answer about the thousand pounds, he thought the renewal of the engagement extremely imprudent. He was very sorry for poor little Amy, for her comfort and happiness were, he thought, placed in the utmost jeopardy, with such a hot temper, under the most favourable circ.u.mstances; and there was the further peril, that when the novelty of the life with her at Redclyffe had pa.s.sed off, Guy might seek for excitement in the dissipation to which his uncle had probably already introduced him. In the four years" probation, he saw the only hope of steadying Guy, or of saving Amy, and he was much concerned at the rejection of his advice, entirely for their sakes, for he could not condescend to be affronted at the scornful, satirical tone towards himself, in which Charles"s little spitefulness was so fully apparent.

The wedding was a regular sacrifice, and Amabel was nothing but a victim; but an invitation to Hollywell had a charm for him that he scarcely could resist. To see Laura again, after having parted, as he thought, for so many years, delighted him in antic.i.p.ation; and it would manifest his real interest in his young cousins, and show that he was superior to taking offence at the folly of Charles or his father.

These were his first thoughts and inclinations; his second were, that it was contrary to his principles to sanction so foolish and hasty a marriage by his presence; that he should thus be affording a triumph to Guy, and to one who would use it less moderately--to Charles. It would be more worthy of himself, more consistent with his whole course of conduct, to refuse his presence, instead of going amongst them when they were all infatuated, and unable to listen to sober counsel. If he stayed away now, when Guy should have justified his opinion, they would all own how wisely he had acted, and would see the true dignity which had refused, unlike common minds, to let his complaisance draw him into giving any sanction to what he so strongly disapproved. Laura, too, would pa.s.s through this trying time better if she was not distracted by watching him; she would understand the cause of his absence, and he could trust her to love and comprehend him at a distance, better than he could trust her to hear the marriage-service in his presence without betraying herself. Nor did he wish to hear her again plead for the confession of their engagement; and, supposing any misadventure should lead to its betrayal, what could be more unpleasant than for it to be revealed at such a time, when Charles would so turn it against him, that all his influence and usefulness would be for ever at an end?

Love drew him one way, and consistency another. Captain Morville had never been so much in the condition of Mahomet"s coffin in his life; and he grew more angry with his uncle, Charles, and Guy, for having put him in so unpleasant a predicament. So the self-debate lasted all the way to Kilcoran and he only had two comforts--one, that he had sent the follower who was always amenable to good advice, safe out of the way of Lady Eveleen, to spend his leave of absence at Thorndale--the other, that Maurice de Courcy was, as yet, ignorant of the Hollywell news, and did not torment him by talking about it.