Part 51 (1/2)

'So the fact is,' said Charles, at length, 'that Guy has asked for his own money, and when in lieu of it he received a letter full of unjust charges, he declared Philip was a meddling c.o.xcomb. I advise you not to justify his opinion.'

Philip disdained to reply, and after a few more of Mr. Edmonstone's exclamations Charles proceeded,

'This is the great sum total.'

'No,' said Philip; 'I have proof of his gambling.'

'What is it?'

'I have shown it to your father, and he is satisfied.'

'Is it not proof enough that he is lost to all sense of propriety, that he should go and speak in that fas.h.i.+on of us, and to Philip's own sister?' cried Mr. Edmonstone. 'What would you have more?'

'That little epithet applied to Captain Morville is hardly, to my mind, proof sufficient that a man is capable of every vice,' said Charles, who, in the pleasure of galling his cousin, did not perceive the harm he did his friend's cause, by recalling the affront which his father, at least, felt most deeply. Mr. Edmonstone grew angry with him for disregarding the insulting term applied to himself; and Charles, who, though improved in many points, still sometimes showed the effects of early habits of disrespect to his father, answered hastily, that no one could wonder at Guy's resenting such suspicions; he deserved no blame at all, and would have been a blockhead to bear it tamely.

This was more than Charles meant, but his temper was fairly roused, and he said much more than was right or judicious, so that his advocacy only injured the cause. He had many representations to make on the injustice of condemning Guy unheard, of not even laying before him the proofs on which the charges were founded, and on the danger of actually driving him into mischief, by shutting the doors of Hollywell against him. 'If you wanted to make him all you say he is, you are taking the very best means.'

Quite true; but Charles had made his father too angry to pay attention.

This stormy discussion continued for nearly two hours, with no effect save inflaming the minds of all parties. At last Mr. Edmonstone was called away; and Charles, rising, declared he should go at that moment, and write to tell Guy that there was one person at least still in his senses.

'You will do as you please,' said Philip.

'Thank you for the permission,' said Charles, proudly.

'It is not to me that your submission is due,' said Philip.

'I'll tell you what, Philip, I submit to my own father readily, but I do not submit to Captain Morville's instrument.'

'We have had enough of unbecoming retorts for one day,' said Philip, quietly, and offering his arm.

Much as Charles disliked it, he was in too great haste not to accept it; and perceiving that there were visitors in the drawing-room, he desired to go up-stairs.

'People who always come when they are not wanted!' he muttered, as he went up, pettish with them as with everything else.

'I do not think you in a fit mood to be advised, Charles,' said Philip; 'but to free my own conscience, let me say this. Take care how you promote this unfortunate attachment.'

'Take care what you say!' exclaimed Charles, flus.h.i.+ng with anger, as he threw himself forward, with an impatient movement, trusting to his crutch rather than retain his cousin's arm; but the crutch slipped, he missed his grasp at the bal.u.s.ters, and would have fallen to the bottom of the flight if Philip had not been close behind. Stretching out his foot, he made a barrier, receiving Charles's weight against his breast, and then, taking him in his arms, carried him up the rest of the way as easily as if he had been a child. The noise brought Amy out of the dressing-room, much frightened, though she did not speak till Charles was deposited on the sofa, and a.s.sured them he was not in the least hurt, but he would hardly thank his cousin for having so dexterously saved him; and Philip, relieved from the fear of his being injured, viewed the adventure as a mere ebullition of ill-temper, and went away.

'A fine helpless log am I,' exclaimed Charles, as he found himself alone with Amy. 'A pretty thing for me to talk of being of any use, when I can't so much as show my anger at an impertinence about my own sister, without being beholden for not breaking my neck to the very piece of presumption that uttered it.'

'Oh, don't speak so' began Amy; and at that moment Philip was close to them, set down the crutch that had been dropped, and went without speaking.

'I don't care who hears,' said Charles; 'I say there is no greater misery in this world than to have the spirit of a man and the limbs of a cripple. I know if I was good for anything, things would not long be in this state. I should be at St. Mildred's by this time, at the bottom of the whole story, and Philip would be taught to eat his words in no time, and make as few wry faces as suited his dignity. But what is the use of talking? This sofa'--and he struck his fist against it--'is my prison, and I am a miserable cripple, and it is mere madness in me to think of being attended to.'

'O Charlie!' cried Amy, caressingly, and much distressed, 'don't talk so. Indeed, I can't bear it! You know it is not so.'

'Do I? Have not I been talking myself hoa.r.s.e, showing up their injustice, saying all a man could say to bring them to reason, and not an inch could I move them. I do believe Philip has driven my father stark mad with these abominable stories of his sister's, which I verily believe she invented herself.'

'O no, she could not. Don't say so.'