Part 89 (2/2)

'That is a blessing, at least. But does not he want you? I have been keeping you a long time?'

'Thank you, as he is awake, I should like to go back. You are better now.'

'Yes, while I don't move.'

'Don't try. I'll send Arnaud, and as soon as you can, you had better go to bed again.'

Guy was still awake, and able to hear what she had to tell him about Philip.

'Poor fellow!' said he. 'We must try to soften it.'

'Shall I write?' said Amy. 'Mamma will be pleased to hear of his having told you, and they must be sorry for him, when they hear how much the letter cost him.'

'Ah! they will not guess at half his sorrow.'

'I will write to papa, and send it after the other letters, so that he may read it before he hears of Philip's.'

'Poor Laura!' said Guy. 'Could not you write a note to her too? I want her to be told that I am very sorry, if I ever gave her pain by speaking thoughtlessly of him.'

'Nay,' said Amy, smiling, 'you have not much to reproach yourself with in that way. It was I that always abused him.'

'You can never do so again.'

'No, I don't think I can, now I have seen his sorrow.'

Amabel was quite in spirits, as she brought her writing to his bed-side, and read her sentences to him as she composed the letter to her father, while he suggested and approved. It was a treat indeed to have him able to consult with her once more, and he looked so much relieved and so much better, that she felt as if it was the beginning of real improvement, though still his pulse was fast, and the fever, though lessened, was not gone.

The letter was almost as much his as her own, and he ended his dictation thus: 'Say that I am sure that if I get better we may make arrangements for their marriage.'

Then, as Amy was finis.h.i.+ng the letter with her hopes of his amendment, he added, speaking to her, and not dictating--'If not,'--she shrank and s.h.i.+vered, but did not exclaim, for he looked so calm and happy that she did not like to interrupt him--'If not, you know, it will be very easy to put the money matters to rights, whatever may happen.'

CHAPTER 34

Sir, It is your fault I have loved Posthumus; You bred him as my playfellow; and he is A man worth any woman, over-buys me Almost the sum he pays.

--CYMBELINE

The first tidings of Philip's illness arrived at Hollywell one morning at breakfast, and were thus announced by Charles--

'There! So he has been and gone and done it.'

'What? Who? Not Guy?'

'Here has the Captain gone and caught a regular bad fever, in some malaria hole; delirious, and all that sort of thing, and of course our wise brother and sister must needs go and nurse him, by way of a pretty little interlude in their wedding tour!'

Laura's voice alone was unheard in the chorus of inquiry. She sat cold, stiff, and silent, devouring with her ears each reply, that fell like a death-blow, while she was mechanically continuing the occupations of breakfast. When all was told, she hurried to her own room, but the want of sympathy was becoming intolerable. If Amabel had been at home, she must have told her all. There was no one else; and the misery to be endured in silence was dreadful. Her dearest--her whole joy and hope--suffering, dying, and to hear all round her speaking of him with kindness, indeed, but what to her seemed indifference; blaming him for wilfulness, saying he had drawn it on himself,--it seemed to drive her wild. She conjured up pictures of his sufferings, and dreaded Guy's inexperience, the want of medical advice, imagining everything that was terrible. Her idol, to whom her whole soul was devoted, was pa.s.sing from her, and no one pitied her; while the latent consciousness of disobedience debarred her from gaining solace from the only true source.

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