The Heir of Redclyffe. CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

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СКАЧАТЬ had met Philip and Charlotte, and how they were getting on, he replied—‘A good deal like the print of Dignity and Impudence,’ at the same time throwing back his shoulders, and composing his countenance to imitate Philip’s lofty deportment and sedate expression, and the next moment putting his head on one side with a sharp little nod, and giving a certain espiegle glance of the eye, and knowing twist of one corner of the mouth, just like Charlotte.

      ‘By the by,’ added he, ‘would Philip have been a clergyman if he had gone to Oxford?’

      ‘I don’t know; I don’t think it was settled,’ said Laura, ‘Why?’

      ‘I could never fancy him one’ said Guy. ‘He would not have been what he is now if he had gone to Oxford,’ said Charles. ‘He would have lived with men of the same powers and pursuits with himself, and have found his level.’

      ‘And that would have been a very high one,’ said Guy.

      ‘It would; but there would be all the difference there is between a feudal prince and an Eastern despot. He would know what it is to live with his match.’

      ‘But you don’t attempt to call him conceited!’ cried Guy, with a sort of consternation.

      ‘He is far above that; far too grand,’ said Amy.

      ‘I should as soon think of calling Jupiter conceited,’ said Charles; and Laura did not know how far to be gratified, or otherwise.

      Charles had not over-estimated Philip’s readiness of self adaptation. Charlotte had been very happy with him, talking over the “Lady of the Lake”, which she had just read, and being enlightened, partly to her satisfaction, partly to her disappointment, as to how much was historical. He listened good-naturedly to a fit of rapture, and threw in a few, not too many, discreet words of guidance to the true principles of taste; and next told her about an island, in a pond at Stylehurst, which had been by turns Ellen’s isle and Robinson Crusoe’s. It was at this point in the conversation that Guy came in sight, riding slowly, his reins on his horse’s neck, whistling a slow, melancholy tune, his eyes fixed on the sky, and so lost in musings, that he did not perceive them till Philip arrested him by calling out, ‘That is a very bad plan. No horse is to be trusted in that way, especially such a spirited one.’

      Guy started, and gathered up his reins, owning it was foolish.

      ‘You look only half disenchanted yet,’ said Philip. ‘Has Lascelles put you into what my father’s old gardener used to call a stud?’

      ‘Nothing so worthy of a stud,’ said Guy, smiling and colouring a little. ‘I was only dreaming over a picture of ruin—

      ‘The steed is vanish’d from the stall,

       No serf is seen in Hassan’s hall,

       The lonely spider’s thin grey pall

       Waves, slowly widening o’er the wall.’

      ‘Byron!’ exclaimed Philip. ‘I hope you are not dwelling on him?’

      ‘Only a volume I found in my room.’

      ‘Oh, the “Giaour”!’ said Philip. ‘Well, there is no great damage done; but it is bad food for excitable minds. Don’t let it get hold of you.’

      ‘Very well;’ and there was a cloud, but it cleared in a moment, and, with a few gay words to both, he rode off at a quick pace.

      ‘Foolish fellow!’ muttered Philip, looking after him.

      After some space of silence, Charlotte began in a very grave tone—

      ‘Philip.’

      ‘Well?’

      ‘Philip.’

      Another ‘Well!’ and another long pause.

      ‘Philip, I don’t know whether you’ll be angry with me.’

      ‘Certainly not,’ said Philip, marvelling at what was coming.

      ‘Guy says he does not want to keep up the feud, and I wish you would not.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘The deadly feud!’ said Charlotte.

      ‘What nonsense is this?’ said Philip.

      ‘Surely—Oh Philip, there always was a deadly feud between our ancestors, and the Redclyffe Morvilles, and it was very wrong, and ought not to be kept up now.’

      ‘It is not I that keep it up.’

      ‘Is it not?’ said Charlotte. ‘But I am sure you don’t like Guy. And I can’t think why not, unless it is the deadly feud, for we are all so fond of him. Laura says it is a different house since he came.’

      ‘Hum!’ said Philip. ‘Charlotte, you did well to make me promise not to be angry with you, by which, I presume, you mean displeased. I should like to know what put this notion into your head.’

      ‘Charlie told me,’ almost whispered Charlotte, hanging down her head. ‘And—and—’

      ‘And what? I can’t hear.’

      Charlotte was a good deal frightened; but either from firmness, or from the female propensity to have the last word, or it might be the spirit of mischief, she got out—‘You have made me quite sure of it yourself.’

      She was so alarmed at having said this, that had it not been undignified, she would have run quite away, and never stopped till she came to East-hill. Matters were not mended when Philip said authoritatively, and as if he was not in the least bit annoyed (which was the more vexatious), ‘What do you mean, Charlotte?’

      She had a great mind to cry, by way of getting out of the scrape; but having begun as a counsellor and peacemaker, it would never do to be babyish; and on his repeating the question, she said, in a tone which she could not prevent from being lachrymose, ‘You make Guy almost angry, you tease him, and when people praise him, you answer as if it would not last! And it is very unfair of you,’ concluded she, with almost a sob.

      ‘Charlotte,’ replied Philip, much more kindly than she thought she deserved, after the reproach that seemed to her so dreadfully naughty, ‘you may dismiss all fear of deadly feud, whatever you may mean by it. Charles has been playing tricks on you. You know, my little cousin, that I am a Christian, and we live in the nineteenth century.’

      Charlotte felt as if annihilated at the aspect of her own folly. He resumed—‘You misunderstood me. I do think Guy very agreeable. He is very attentive to Charles, very kind to you, and so attractive, that I don’t wonder you like him. But those who are older than you see that he has faults, and we wish to set him on his guard against them. It may be painful to ourselves, and irritating to him, but depend upon it, it is the proof of friendship. Are you satisfied, my little cousin?’

      She could only say humbly, ‘I beg your pardon.’

      ‘You need not ask pardon. Since you had the notion, it was right to speak, as it was to me, one of your own family. When you СКАЧАТЬ