The Heir of Redclyffe | Page 3

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THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE


CHAPTER 1

In such pursuits if wisdom lies, Who, Laura, can thy taste
despise?--GAY
The drawing-room of Hollywell House was one of the favoured
apartments, where a peculiar air of home seems to reside, whether seen
in the middle of summer, all its large windows open to the garden, or,
as when our story commences, its bright fire and stands of fragrant
green-house plants contrasted with the wintry fog and leafless trees of
November. There were two persons in the room--a young lady, who sat
drawing at the round table, and a youth, lying on a couch near the fire,
surrounded with books and newspapers, and a pair of crutches near him.
Both looked up with a smile of welcome at the entrance of a tall, fine-
looking young man, whom each greeted with 'Good morning, Philip.'
'Good morning, Laura. Good morning, Charles; I am glad you are
downstairs again! How are you to-day?'
'No way remarkable, thank you,' was the answer, somewhat wearily
given by Charles.
'You walked?' said Laura.

'Yes. Where's my uncle? I called at the post-office, and brought a letter
for him. It has the Moorworth post-mark,' he added, producing it.
'Where's that?' said Charles.
'The post-town to Redclyffe; Sir Guy Morville's place.'
'That old Sir Guy! What can he have to do with my father?'
'Did you not know,' said Philip, 'that my uncle is to be guardian to the
boy--his grandson?'
'Eh? No, I did not.'
'Yes,' said Philip; 'when old Sir Guy made it an especial point that my
father should take the guardianship, he only consented on condition
that my uncle should be joined with him; so now my uncle is alone in
the trust, and I cannot help thinking something must have happened at
Redclyffe. It is certainly not Sir Guy's writing.'
'It must wait, unless your curiosity will carry you out in search of papa,'
said Charles; 'he is somewhere about, zealously supplying the place of
Jenkins.'
'Really, Philip,' said Laura, 'there is no telling how much good you have
done him by convincing him of Jenkins' dishonesty. To say nothing of
the benefit of being no longer cheated, the pleasure of having to
overlook the farming is untold.'
Philip smiled, and came to the table where she was drawing. 'Do you
know this place?' said she, looking up in his face.
'Stylehurst itself! What is it taken from?'
'From this pencil sketch of your sister's, which I found in mamma's
scrap book.'
'You are making it