The Heir of Redclyffe | Page 6

there was much dreadfully violent conduct on each
side. At last, the young man was driven to seek a reconciliation. He
brought his wife to Moorworth, and rode to Redclyffe, to have an
interview with his father. Unhappily, Sir Guy was giving a dinner to the
hunt, and had been drinking. He not only refused to see him, but I am
afraid he used shocking language, and said something about bidding
him go back to his fiddling brother in-law. The son was waiting in the
hall, heard everything, threw himself on his horse, and rushed away in
the dark. His forehead struck against the branch of a tree, and he was
killed on the spot.'
'The poor wife?' asked Amabel, shuddering.

'She died the next day, when this boy was born.'
'Frightful!' said Philip. 'It might well make a reformation in old Sir
Guy.'
'I have heard that nothing could be more awful than the stillness that
fell on that wretched party, even before they knew what had happened--
before Colonel Harewood, who had been called aside by the servants,
could resolve to come and fetch away the father. No wonder Sir Guy
was a changed man from that hour.'
'It was then that he sent for my father,' said Philip.
'But what made him think of doing so?'
'You know Colonel Harewood's house at Stylehurst? Many years ago,
when the St. Mildred's races used to be so much more in fashion, Sir
Guy and Colonel Harewood, and some men of that stamp, took that
house amongst them, and used to spend some time there every year, to
attend to something about the training of the horses. There were some
malpractices of their servants, that did so much harm in the parish, that
my brother was obliged to remonstrate. Sir Guy was very angry at first,
but behaved better at last than any of the others. I suspect he was struck
by my dear brother's bold, uncompromising ways, for he took to him to
a certain degree--and my brother could not help being interested in him,
there seemed to be so much goodness in his nature. I saw him once, and
never did I meet any one who gave me so much the idea of a finished
gentleman. When the poor son was about fourteen, he was with a tutor
in the neighbourhood, and used to be a good deal at Stylehurst, and,
after the unhappy marriage, my brother happened to meet him in
London, heard his story, and tried to bring about a reconciliation.'
'Ha!' said Philip; 'did not they come to Stylehurst? I have a dim
recollection of somebody very tall, and a lady who sung.'
'Yes; your father asked them to stay there, that he might judge of her,
and wrote to Sir Guy that she was a little, gentle, childish thing, capable
of being moulded to anything, and representing the mischief of leaving
them to such society as that of her brother, who was actually
maintaining them. That letter was never answered, but about ten days
or a fortnight after this terrible accident, Colonel Harewood wrote to
entreat my brother to come to Redclyffe, saying poor Sir Guy had
eagerly caught at the mention of his name. Of course he went at once,
and he told me that he never, in all his experience as a clergyman, saw

any one so completely broken down with grief.'
I found a great many of his letters among my father's papers,' said
Philip; 'and it was a very touching one that he wrote to me on my
father's death. Those Redclyffe people certainly have great force of
character.'
'And was it then he settled his property on my uncle?' said Charles.
'Yes,' said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'My brother did not like his doing so, but
he would not be at rest till it was settled. It was in vain to put him in
mind of his grandchild, for he would not believe it could live; and,
indeed, its life hung on a thread. I remember my brother telling me how
he went to Moorworth to see it--for it could not be brought home--in
hopes of bringing, back a report that might cheer its grandfather, but
how he found it so weak and delicate, that he did not dare to try to
make him take interest in it. It was not till the child was two or three
years old, that Sir Guy ventured to let himself grow fond of it.'
'Sir Guy was a very striking person,' said Philip; 'I shall not easily
forget my visit to Redclyffe four years ago. It was more like a scene in
a romance than anything real--the fine old red sandstone house
crumbling away in the exposed parts, the arched gateway covered with
ivy; the great