Part 100 (2/2)

Amabel's one anxiety was for Philip. For a long time nothing was heard of him at Hollywell, and she began to fear that he might have been less fit to take care of himself than he had persuaded her to believe. When at length tidings reached them, it was through the De Courcys. 'Poor Morville,' wrote Maurice, 'had been carried ash.o.r.e at Corfu, in the stupor of a second attack of fever. He had been in extreme danger for some time, and though now on the mend, was still unable to give any account of himself.'

In effect, it was a relapse of the former disease, chiefly affecting the brain, and his impatience to leave Recoara, and free himself from Arnaud, had been a symptom of its approach, though it fortunately did not absolutely overpower him till after he had embarked for Corfu, and was in the way to be tended with the greatest solicitude. Long after the fever was subdued, and his strength returning, his mind was astray, and even when torturing delusions ceased, and he resumed the perception of surrounding objects, memory and reflection wavered in dizzy confusion, more distressing than either his bodily weakness, or the perpetual pain in his head, which no remedy could relieve.

The first date to which he could afterwards recur, though for more than a week he had apparently been fully himself, was a time when he was sitting in an easy-chair by the window, obliged to avert his heavy eyes from the dazzling waters of the Corcyran bay, where Ulysses' transformed s.h.i.+p gleamed in the suns.h.i.+ne, and the rich purple hills of Albania sloped upwards in the distance. James Thorndale was, as usual, with him, and was explaining that there had been a consultation between the doctor and the colonel, and they had decided that as there was not much chance of restoring his health in that climate in the spring.

'Spring!' he interrupted, with surprise and eagerness, 'Is it spring?'

'Hardly--except that there is no winter here. This is the 8th of January.'

He let his head fall on his hand again, and listened with indifference when told he was to be sent to England at once, under the care of his servant, Bolton, and Mr. Thorndale himself, who was resolved to see him safe in his sister's hands. He made no objection; he had become used to be pa.s.sive, and one place was much the same to him as another; so he merely a.s.sented, without a question about the arrangements. Presently, however, he looked up, and inquired for his letters. Though he had done so before, the request had always been evaded, until now he spoke in a manner which decided his friend on giving him all except one with broad black edges, and Broadstone post-mark; the effect of which, it was thought, might be very injurious to his shattered nerves and spirits.

However, he turned over the other letters without interest, just glancing languidly through them, looked disappointed, and exclaimed--

'None from Hollywell! Has nothing been heard from them? Thorndale, I insist on knowing whether De Courcy has heard anything of Lady Morville.'

'He has heard of her arrival in England.'

'My sister mentions that--more than two months ago--I can hardly believe she has not written, if she was able. She promised, yet how can I expect--' then interrupting himself, he added, authoritatively, 'Thorndale, is there no letter for me? I see there is. Let me have it.'

His friend could not but comply, and had no reason to regret having done so; for after reading it twice, though he sighed deeply, and the tears were in his eyes, he was more calm and less oppressed than he had been at any time since his arrival in Corfu. He was unable to write, but Colonel Deane had undertaken to write to Mrs. Henley to announce his coming; and as the cause of his silence must be known at Hollywell, he resolved to let Amabel's letter wait for a reply till his arrival in England.

It was on a chilly day in February that Mrs. Henley drove to the station to meet her brother, looking forward with a sister's satisfaction to nursing his recovery, and feeling (for she had a heart, after all) as if it was a renewal of the days, which she regarded with a tenderness mixed with contempt, when all was confidence between the brother and sister, the days of nonsense and romance. She hoped that now poor Philip, who had acted hastily on his romance, and ruined his own prospects for her sake in his boyish days, had a chance of having it all made up to him, and reigning at Redclyffe according to her darling wish.

As she anxiously watched the arrival of the train, she recognized Mr. Thorndale, whom she had known in his school-days as Philip's protege--but could that be her brother? It was his height, indeed; but his slow weary step as he crossed the platform, and left the care of his baggage to others, was so unlike his prompt, independent air, that she could hardly believe it to be himself, till, with his friend, he actually advanced to the carriage, and then she saw far deeper traces of illness than she was prepared for. A confusion of words took place; greetings on one hand, and partings on the other, for James Thorndale was going on by the train, and made only a few minutes' halt in which to a.s.sure Mrs. Henley that though the landing and the journey had knocked up his patient to-day, he was much better since leaving Corfu, and to beg Philip to write as soon as possible. The bell rang, he rushed back, and was whirled away.

'Then you are better,' said Mrs. Henley, anxiously surveying her brother. 'You are sadly altered! You must let us take good care of you.'

'Thank you! I knew you would be ready to receive me, though I fear I am not very good company.'

'Say no more, my dearest brother. You know both Dr. Henley and myself have made it our first object that our house should be your home.'

'Thank you.'

'This salubrious air must benefit you,' she added. 'How thin you are!

Are you very much fatigued?'

'Rather,' said Philip, who was leaning back wearily; but the next moment he exclaimed, 'What do you hear from Hollywell?'

'There is no news yet.'

'Do you know how she is? When did you hear of her?'

'About a week ago; when she wrote to inquire for you.'

'She did? What did she say of herself?'

'Nothing particular, poor little thing; I believe she is always on the sofa. My aunt would like nothing so well as making a great fuss about her.'

'Have you any objection to show me her letter?' said Philip, unable to bear hearing Amabel thus spoken of, yet desirous to learn all he could respecting her.

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