The Heir of Redclyffe | Page 8

a farmer, to keep the birds from his fruit.'
'Did he do it of his own accord?' asked Laura.
'That was just what I wanted to know; but any hint about them brought
such a cloud over his face that I thought it would be wanton to irritate
him by questions. However, I must be going. Good-bye, Amy, I hope
your Camellia will have another blossom before I come back. At least,
I shall escape the horticultural meeting.'
'Good-bye,' said Charles. 'Put the feud in your pocket till you can bury
it in old Sir Guy's grave, unless you mean to fight it out with his
grandson, which would be more romantic and exciting.'
Philip was gone before he could finish. Mrs. Edmonstone looked
annoyed, and Laura said, 'Charlie, I wish you would not let your spirits
carry you away.'
'I wish I had anything else to carry me away!' was the reply.
'Yes,' said his mother, looking sadly at him. 'Your high spirits are a
blessing; but why misuse them? If they are given to support you
through pain and confinement, why make mischief with them?'
Charles looked more impatient than abashed, and the compunction
seemed chiefly to rest with Amabel.
'Now,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, 'I must go and see after my poor little
prisoner.'

'Ah!' said Laura, as she went; 'it was no kindness in you to encourage
Charlotte to stay, Amy, when you know how often that inquisitive
temper has got her into scrapes.'
'I suppose so,' said Amy, regretfully; 'but I had not the heart to send her
away.'
'That is just what Philip says, that you only want bones and sinews in
your character to--'
'Come, Laura,' interrupted Charles, 'I won't hear Philip's criticisms of
my sister, I had rather she had no bones at all, than that they stuck out
and ran into me. There are plenty of angles already in the world,
without sharpening hers.'
He possessed himself of Amy's round, plump, childish hand, and
spread out over it his still whiter, and very bony fingers, pinching her
'soft pinky cushions,' as he called them, 'not meant for studying
anatomy upon.'
'Ah! you two spoil each other sadly,' said Laura, smiling, as she left the
room.
'And what do Philip and Laura do to each other?' said Charles.
'Improve each other, I suppose,' said Amabel, in a shy, simple tone, at
which Charles laughed heartily.
'I wish I was as sensible as Laura!' said she, presently, with a sigh.
'Never was a more absurd wish,' said Charles, tormenting her hand still
more, and pulling her curls; 'unwish it forthwith. Where should I be
without silly little Amy? If every one weighed my wit before laughing,
I should not often be in disgrace for my high spirits, as they call them.'
'I am so little younger than Laura,' said Amy, still sadly, though
smiling.
'Folly,' said Charles; 'you are quite wise enough for your age, while
Laura is so prematurely wise, that I am in constant dread that nature
will take her revenge by causing her to do something strikingly
foolish!'
'Nonsense!' cried Amy, indignantly. 'Laura do anything foolish!'
'What I should enjoy,' proceeded Charles, 'would be to see her over
head and ears in love with this hero, and Philip properly jealous.'
'How can you say such things, Charlie?'
'Why? was there ever a beauty who did not fall in love with her father's
ward?'

'No; but she ought to live alone with her very old father and horribly
grim maiden aunt.'
'Very well, Amy, you shall be the maiden, aunt.' And as Laura returned
at that moment, he announced to her that they had been agreeing that
no hero ever failed to fall in love with his guardian's beautiful daughter.
'If his guardian had a beautiful daughter,' said Laura, resolved not to be
disconcerted.
'Did you ever hear such barefaced fishing for compliments?' said
Charles; but Amabel, who did not like her sister to be teased, and was
also conscious of having wasted a good deal of time, sat down to
practise. Laura returned to her drawing, and Charles, with a yawn,
listlessly turned over a newspaper, while his fair delicate features,
which would have been handsome but that they were blanched,
sharpened, and worn with pain, gradually lost their animated and rather
satirical expression, and assumed an air of weariness and discontent.
Charles was at this time nineteen, and for the last ten years had been
afflicted with a disease in the hip-joint, which, in spite of the most
anxious care, caused him frequent and severe suffering, and had
occasioned such a contraction of the limb as to cripple him completely,
while his general health was so much affected as to render him an
object of constant anxiety. His mother had always been