Part 83 (2/2)

The argument lasted long. Philip by no means approved of Venice, especially after the long loitering at Munich, thinking that in both places there was danger of Guy's being led into mischief by his musical connections. Therefore he did his best, for Amabel's sake, to turn them from their purpose, persuaded in his own mind that the fever was a mere bugbear, raised up by Arnaud; and, perhaps, in his full health and strength, almost regarding illness itself as a foible, far more the dread of it. He argued, therefore, in his most provoking strain, becoming more vexatious as the former annoyance was revived at finding the impossibility of making Guy swerve from his purpose, while additional mists of suspicion arose before him, making him imagine that the whole objection was caused by Guy's dislike to submit to him, and a fit of impatience of which Amy was the victim; nay, that his cousin wanted to escape from his surveillance, and follow the beat of his inclinations; and the whole heap of prejudices and half-refuted accusations resumed their full ascendancy. Never had his manner been more vexatious, though without departing from the coolness which always characterized it; but all the time, Guy, while firm and unmoved in purpose, kept his temper perfectly, and apparently without effort. Even Amabel glowed with indignation, at the a.s.sumption with which he was striving to put her husband down, though she rejoiced to see its entire failure: for some sensible argument, or some gay, lively, good-humoured reply, was the utmost he could elicit. Guy did not seem to be in the least irritated or ruffled by the very behaviour which used to cause him so many struggles. Having once seriously said that he did not think it right to run into danger, without adequate cause, he held his position with so much ease, that he could afford to be playful, and laugh at his own dread of infection, his changeableness, and credulity. Never had temper been more entirely subdued; for surely if he could bear this, he need never fear himself again.

So pa.s.sed the hour; and Amabel was heartily glad when the debate was closed by Arnaud's coming for orders. Guy went with him; Amabel began to collect her goods; and Philip, after a few moments' reflection, spoke in the half-compa.s.sionate, half-patronizing manner with which he used, now and then, to let fall a few crumbs of counsel or commendation for silly little Amy.

'Well, Amy, you yielded very amiably, and that is the only way. You will always find it best to submit.'

He got no further in his intended warning against the dissipations of Venice, for her eyes were fixed on him at first with a look of extreme wonder. Then her face a.s.sumed an expression of dignity, and gently, but gravely, she said, 'I think you forget to whom you are speaking.'

The gentlemanlike instinct made him reply, 'I beg your pardon'--and there he stopped, as much taken by surprise as if a dove had flown in his face. He actually was confused; for in very truth, he had, after a fas.h.i.+on, forgotten that she was Lady Morville, not the cousin Amy with whom Guy's character might be freely discussed. He had often presumed as far with his aunt; but she, though always turning the conversation, had never given him a rebuff. Amabel had not done; and in her soft voice, firmly, though not angrily, she spoke on. 'One thing I wish to say, because we shall never speak on this subject again, and I was always afraid of you before. You have always misunderstood him, I might almost say, chosen to misunderstand him. You have tried his temper more than any one, and never appreciated the struggles that have subdued it. It is not because I am his wife that I say this--indeed I am not sure it becomes me to say it; yet I cannot bear that you should not be told of it, because you think he acts out of enmity to you. You little know how your friends.h.i.+p has been his first desire--how he has striven for it--how, after all you have done and written, he defended you with all his might when those at home were angry--how he sought you out on purpose to try to be real cordial friends'

Philip's face had grown rigid, and chiefly at the words, 'those at home were angry.' 'It is not I that prevent that friends.h.i.+p,' said he: 'it is his own want of openness. My opinion has never changed.'

'No; I know it has never changed' said Amy, in a tone of sorrowful displeasure. 'Whenever it does, you will be sorry you have judged him so harshly.'

She left the room, and Philip held her in higher esteem. He saw there was spirit and substance beneath that soft girlish exterior, and hoped she would better be able to endure the troubles which her precipitate marriage was likely to cause her; but as to her husband, his combined fickleness and obstinacy had only become more apparent than ever--fickleness in forsaking his purpose, obstinacy in adherence to his own will.

Displeased and contemptuous, Philip was not softened by Guy's freedom and openness of manner and desire to help him as far as their roads lay together. He was gracious only to Lady Morville, whom he treated with kindness, intended to show that he was pleased with her for a reproof which became her position well, though it could not hurt him. Perhaps she thought this amiability especially insufferable: for when she arrived at Varenna her chief thought was that here they should be free of him.

'Come, Philip,' said Guy, at that last moment, 'I wish you would think better of it after all, and come with us to Milan.'

'Thank you, my mind is made up.'

'Well, mind you don't catch the fever: for I don't want the trouble of nursing you.'

'Thank you; I hope to require no such services of my friends,' said Philip, with a proud stem air, implying, 'I don't want you.'

'Good-bye, then,' said Guy. Then remembering his promise to Laura, he added, 'I wish we could have seen more of you. They will be glad to hear of you at Hollywell. You have had one warm friend there all along.'

He was touched for a moment by this kind speech, and his tone was less grave and dignified. 'Remember me to them when you write,' he answered, 'and tell Laura she must not wear herself out with her studies.

Good-bye, Amy, I hope you will have a pleasant journey.'

The farewells were exchanged and the carriage drove off. 'Poor little Amy!' said Philip to himself, 'how she is improved. He has a sweet little wife in her. The fates have conspired to crown him with all man can desire, and little marvel if he should abuse his advantages. Poor little Amy! I have less hope than ever, since even her evident wishes could not bend his determination in this trifle; but she is a good little creature, happy in her blindness. May it long continue! It is my uncle and aunt who are to be blamed.'

He set himself to ascend the mountain path, and they looked back, watching the firm vigorous steps with which he climbed the hill side, then stood to wave his hand to Amabel looking a perfect specimen of health and activity.

'Just like himself,' said Amy, drawing so long a breath that Guy smiled, but did not speak.

'Are you much vexed?' said she.

'I don't feel as if I had made the most of my opportunities.'

'Then if you have not, I can tell you who has. What do you think of his beginning to give me a lecture how to behave to you?'

'Did he think you wanted it very much?'

'I don't know: for of course I could not let him go on.'

Guy was so much diverted at the idea of her wanting a lecture on wife-like deportment, that he had no time to be angry at the impertinence, and he made her laugh also by his view that was all force of habit.

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