Part 43 (1/2)

Charles and Laura gained little by this kind manoeuvre, for their mother was gone up again to Amy, and they could only make a few conjectures.

Charles nursed his right hand, and asked Laura how hers felt? She looked up from her work, to which she had begun to apply herself diligently, and gazed at him inquiringly, as if to see whether he intended anything.

'For my part,' he added, 'I certainly thought he meant to carry off the hands of some of the family.'

'I suppose we shall soon hear it explained,' said Laura, quietly.

'Soon! If I had an many available legs as you, would I wait for other people's soon?'

'I should think she had rather be left to mamma,' said Laura, going on with her work.

'Then you do think there is something in it?' said Charles, peering up in her face; but he saw he was teasing her, recollected that she had long seemed out of spirits, and forbore to say any more. He was, however, too impatient to remain longer quiet, and presently Laura saw him adjusting his crutches.

'O Charlie! I am sure it will only be troublesome.'

'I am going to my own room,' said Charles, hopping off. 'I presume you don't wish to forbid that.'

His room had a door into the dressing-room, so that it was an excellent place for discovering all from which they did not wish to exclude him, and he did not believe he should be unwelcome; for though he might pretend it was all fun and curiosity, he heartily loved his little Amy.

The tap of his crutches, and the slow motion with which he raised himself from step to step, was heard, and Amy, who was leaning against her mother, started up, exclaiming--

'O mamma, here comes Charlie! May I tell him? I am sure I can't meet him without.'

'I suspect he has guessed it already,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, going to open the door, just as he reached the head of the stairs, and then leaving them.

'Well, Amy,' said he, looking full at her carnation cheeks, 'are you prepared to see me turn lead-coloured, and fall into convulsions, like the sister with the spine complaint?'

'O Charlie! You know it. But how?'

Amy was helping him to the sofa, laid him down, and sat by him on the old footstool; he put his arm round her neck, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

'Well, Amy,' I give you joy, my small woman,' said he, talking the more nonsense because of the fullness in his throat; 'and I hope you give me credit for amazing self-denial in so doing.'

'O Charlie--dear Charlie!' and she kissed him, she could not blush more, poor little thing, for she had already reached her utmost capability of redness--'it is no such thing.'

'No such thing? What has turned you into a turkey-c.o.c.k all at once or what made him nearly squeeze off my unfortunate fingers? No such thing, indeed!'

'I mean--I mean, it is not _that_. We are so very young, and I am so silly.'

'Is that his reason?'

'You must make me so much better and wiser. Oh, if I could but be good enough!'

For that matter, I don't think any one else would be good enough to take care of such a silly little thing. But what is the that, that it is, or is not?'

'Nothing now, only when we are older. At least, you know papa has not heard it.'

'Provided my father gives his consent, as the Irish young lady added to all her responses through the marriage service. But tell me all--all you like, I mean--for you will have lovers' secrets now, Amy.'

Mrs. Edmonstone had, meantime, gone down to Laura. Poor Laura, as soon as her brother had left the room, she allowed the fixed composure of her face to relax into a restless, hara.s.sed, almost miserable expression, and walked up and down with agitated steps.

'O wealth, wealth!'--her lips formed the words, without uttering them--'what cruel differences it makes! All smooth here! Young, not to be trusted, with strange reserves, discreditable connections,--that family,--that fearful temper, showing itself even to her! All will be overlooked! Papa will be delighted, I know he will! And how is it with us? Proved, n.o.ble, superior, owned as such by all, as Philip is, yet, for that want of hateful money, he would be spurned. And, for this--for this--the love that has grown up with our lives must be crushed down and hidden--our life is wearing out in wearying self-watching!'