Part 48 (1/2)

'Morville! What's the matter?'

'Intolerable!--insulting! Me? What does he mean?' continued Guy, his pa.s.sion kindling more and more. 'Proofs? I should like to see them!

The man is crazy! I to confess! Ha!' as he came towards the end, 'I see it,--I see it. It is Philip, is it, that I have to thank. Meddling c.o.xcomb! I'll make him repent it,' added he, with a grim fierceness of determination. Slandering me to them! And that,'--looking at the words with regard to Amy,--'that pa.s.ses all. He shall see what it is to insult me!'

'What is it? Your guardian out of humour?' asked his companion.

'My guardian is a mere weak fool. I don't blame him,--he can't help it; but to see him made a tool of! He twists him round his finger, abuses his weakness to insult--to accuse. But he shall give me an account!'

Guy's voice had grown lower and more husky; but though the sound sunk, the force of pa.s.sion rather increased than diminished; it was like the low distant sweep of the tempest as it whirls away, preparing to return with yet more tremendous might. His colour, too, had faded to paleness, but the veins were still swollen, purple, and throbbing, and there was a stillness about him that made his wrath more than fierce, intense, almost appalling.

Harry Graham was dumb with astonishment; but while Guy spoke, Mrs.

Henley had come down, and was standing before them, beginning a greeting. The blood rushed back into Guy's cheeks, and, controlling his voice with powerful effort, he said,--

'I have had an insulting--an unpleasant letter,' he added, catching himself up. 'You must excuse me;' and he was gone.

'What has happened?' exclaimed Mrs. Henley, though, from her brother's letter, as well as from her observations during a long and purposely slow progress, along a railed gallery overhanging the hall, and down a winding staircase, she knew pretty well the whole history of his anger.

'I don't know,' said young Graham. 'Some absurd, person interfering between him and his guardian. I should be sorry to be him to fall in his way just now. It must be something properly bad. I never saw a man in such a rage. I think I had better go after him, and see what he has done with himself.'

'You don't think,' said Mrs. Henley, detaining him, 'that his guardian could have been finding fault with him with reason?'

'Who? Morville? His guardian must have a sharp eye for picking holes, if he can find any in Morville. Not a steadier fellow going,--only too much so.'

'Ah!' thought Mrs. Henley, 'these young men always hang together;' and she let him escape without further question. But, when he emerged from the house, Guy was already out of sight, and he could not succeed in finding him.

Guy had burst out of the house, feeling as if nothing could relieve him but free air and rapid motion; and on he hurried, fast, faster, conscious alone of the wild, furious tumult of rage and indignation against the maligner of his innocence, who was knowingly ruining him with all that was dearest to him, insulting him by reproaches on his breaking a most sacred, unblemished word, and, what Guy felt scarcely less keenly, forcing kind-hearted Mr. Edmonstone into a persecution so foreign to his nature. The agony of suffering such an accusation, and from such a quarter,--the violent storm of indignation and pride,--wild, undefined ideas of a heavy reckoning,--above all, the dreary thought of Amy denied to him for ever,--all these swept over him, and swayed him by turns, with the dreadful intensity belonging to a nature formed for violent pa.s.sions, which had broken down, in the sudden shock, all the barriers imposed on them by a long course of self-restraint.

On he rushed, reckless whither he went, or what he did, driven forward by the wild impulse of pa.s.sion, far over moor and hill, up and down, till at last, exhausted at once by the tumult within, and by the violent bodily exertion, a stillness--a suspension of thought and sensation--ensued; and when this pa.s.sed, he found himself seated on a rock which crowned the summit of one of the hills, his handkerchief loosened, his waistcoat open, his hat thrown off, his temples burning and throbbing with a feeling of distraction, and the agitated beatings of his heart almost stifling his panting breath.

'Yes,' he muttered to himself, 'a heavy account shall he pay me for this crowning stroke of a long course of slander and ill-will! Have I not seen it? Has not he hated me from the first, misconstrued every word and deed, though I have tried, striven earnestly, to be his friend,--borne, as not another soul would have done, with his impertinent interference and intolerable patronizing airs! But he has seen the last of it!

anything but this might be forgiven; but sowing dissension between me and the Edmonstones--maligning me there. Never! Knowing, too, as he seems to do, how I stand, it is the very ecstasy of malice! Ay! this very night it shall be exposed, and he shall be taught to beware--made to know with whom he has to deal.'

Guy uttered this last with teeth clenched, in an excess of deep, vengeful ire. Never had Morville of the whole line felt more deadly fierceness than held sway over him, as he contemplated his revenge, looked forward with a dire complacency to the punishment he would wreak, not for this offence alone, but for a long course of enmity. He sat, absorbed in the plan of vengeance, perfectly still, for his physical exhaustion was complete; but as the pulsations of his heart grew less wild, his purpose became sterner and more fixed. He devised its execution, planned his sudden journey, saw himself bursting on Philip early next morning, summoning him to answer for his falsehoods. The impulse to action seemed to restore his power over his senses. He looked round, to see where he was, raising his head from his hands.

The sun was setting opposite to him, in a flood of gold,--a ruddy ball, surrounded with its pomp of clouds, on the dazzling sweep of horizon.

That sight recalled him not only to himself, but to his true and better self; the good angel so close to him for the twenty years of his life, had been driven aloof but for a moment, and now, either that, or a still higher and holier power, made the setting sun bring to his mind, almost to his ear, the words,--

Let not the sun go down upon your wrath, Neither give place to the devil.

Guy had what some would call a vivid imagination, others a lively faith.

He shuddered, then, his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped over his brow, he sat, bending forward, with his eyes closed, wrought up in a fearful struggle; while it was to him as if he saw the hereditary demon of the Morvilles watching by his side, to take full possession of him as a rightful prey, unless the battle was fought and won before that red orb had pa.s.sed out of sight. Yes, the besetting fiend of his family--the spirit of defiance and resentment--that was driving him, even now, while realizing its presence, to disregard all thoughts save of the revenge for which he could barter everything--every hope once precious to him.

It was horror at such wickedness that first checked him, and brought him back to the combat. His was not a temper that was satisfied with half measures. He locked his hands more rigidly together, vowing to compel himself, ere he left the spot, to forgive his enemy--forgive him candidly--forgive him, so as never again to have to say, 'I forgive him!' He did not try to think, for reflection only lashed up his sense of the wrong: but, as if there was power in the words alone, he forced his lips to repeat,--

'Forgive us our trespa.s.ses, as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us.'