Part 94 (1/2)

'I don't understand such goodness!' he continued. 'As if it were not enough to look to heaven beyond, to have this longing gratified, which I thought I ought to conquer. Oh, Amy! is not that being Fatherly!'

'Yes, indeed.'

'Now after that, and with mamma's coming (for you will have her if I don't see her), I have but one wish unfulfilled.'

'Ah! a clergyman.'

'Yes, but if that is withheld, I must believe it is rightly ordered. We must think of that Sunday at Stylehurst and Christmas-day, and that last time at Munich.'

'Oh, I am so glad we stayed at Munich for that!'

'Those were times, indeed! and many more. Yes; I have been a great deal too much favoured already, and now to be allowed to die just as I should have chosen--'

He broke off to take what Amabel was preparing for him, and she felt his pulse. There was fever still, which probably supplied the place of strength, for he said he was very comfortable, and his eyes were as bright as ever; but the beats were weak and fluttering, and a thrill crossed her that it might be near; but she must attend to him, and could not think.

When it was time for her to go down to breakfast with Philip, Guy said, 'Do you think Philip could come to me to-day? I want much to speak to him.'

'I am sure he could.'

'Then pray ask him to come, if it will not tire him very much.'

Philip had, the last two mornings, risen in time to breakfast with Amabel, in the room adjoining his own; he was still very weak, and attempted no more than crossing the room, and sitting in the balcony to enjoy the evening air. He had felt the heat of the weather severely, and had been a good deal thrown back by his fatigue and agitation the day he wrote the letter, while also anxiety for Guy was r.e.t.a.r.ding his progress, though he only heard the best side of his condition. Besides all this, his repentance both for his conduct with regard to Laura and the hard measure he had dealt to Guy was pressing on him increasingly; and the warm feelings, hardened and soured by early disappointment, regained their force, and grew into a love and admiration that made it still more horrible to perceive that he had acted ungenerously towards his cousin.

When he heard of Guy's desire to see him, he was pleased, said he was quite able to walk up-stairs, had been thinking of offering to help her by sitting with him, and was very glad to hear he was well enough to wish for a visit. She saw she must prepare him for what the conversation was likely to be.

'He is very anxious to see you,' she said. 'He is wis.h.i.+ng to set all in order. And if he does speak about--about dying, will you be so kind as not to contradict him?'

'There is no danger?' cried Philip, startling, with a sort of agony. 'He is no worse? You said the fever was lower.'

'He is rather better, I think; but he wishes so much to have everything arranged, that I am sure it will be better for him to have it off his mind. So, will you bear it, please, Philip?' ended she, with an imploring look, that reminded him of her childhood.

'How do you bear it?' he asked.

'I don't know--I can't vex him.'

Philip said no more, and only asked when he should come.

'In an hour's time, perhaps, or whenever he was ready,' she said, 'for he could rest in the sitting-room before coming in to Guy.'

He found mounting the stairs harder than he had expected, and, with aching knees and gasping breath, at length reached the sitting-room, where Amabel was ready to pity him, and made him rest on the sofa till he had fully recovered. She then conducted him in; and his first glance gave him infinite relief, for he saw far less change than was still apparent in himself. Guy's face was at all times too thin to be capable of losing much of its form, and as he was liable to be very much tanned, the brown, fixed on his face by the suns.h.i.+ne of his journey had not gone off, and a slight flush on his cheeks gave him his ordinary colouring; his beautiful hazel eyes were more brilliant than ever; and though the hand he held out was hot and wasted, Philip could not think him nearly as ill as he had been himself, and was ready to let him talk as he pleased. He was rea.s.sured, too, by his bright smile, and the strength of his voice, as he spoke a few playful words of welcome and congratulation. Amy set a chair, and with a look to remind Philip to be cautious, glided into her own room, leaving the door open, so as to see and hear all that pa.s.sed, for they were not fit to be left absolutely alone together.

Philip sat down; and after a little pause Guy began:

'There were a few things I wanted to say, in case you should be my successor at Redclyffe.'

A horror came over Philip; but he saw Amy writing at her little table, and felt obliged to refrain.

'I don't think of directing you,' said Guy, 'You will make a far better landlord than I; but one or two things I should like.'

'Anything you wis.h.!.+'

'Old Markham. He has old-world notions and prejudices, but his soul is in the family and estate. His heart will be half broken, for me, and if he loses his occupation, he will be miserable. Will you bear with him, and be patient while he lives, even if he is cross and absurd in his objections, and jealous of all that is not me?'