Oh no, said Laura; we had both the honourables.
Not Philip!
No, said Guy; the fidus Achetes was without his pious Aeneas.
Very good, Guy, said Charles, enjoying the laugh.
I could not help thinking of it, said Guy, rather apologising, when I was watching Thorndales manner; it is such an imitation of Philip; looking droller, I think, in his absence, than in his presence. I wonder if he is conscious of it.
It does not suit him at all, said Mrs. Edmonstone; because he has no natural dignity.
A man ought to be six foot one, person and mind, to suit with that grand, sedate, gracious way of Philips, said Guy.
Theres Guys measure of Philips intellect, said Charles, just six foot one inch.
As much more than other peoples twice his height, said Guy.
Who was your neighbour, Laura? asked Amy.
Dr. Mayerne; I was very glad of him, to keep off those hunting friends of Mr. Brownlow, who never ask anything but if one has been to the races, and if one likes balls.
And how did Mrs. Brownlow behave? said Charles.
She is a wonderful woman, said Mrs. Edmonstone, in her quiet way; and Guy with an expression between drollery and simplicity, said, Then there arent many like her.
I hope not, said Mrs. Edmonstone.
Is she really a lady?
Philip commonly calls her that woman, said Charles. He has never got over her one night classing him with his young man and myself, as three of the shyest monkeys she ever came across.
She wont say so of Maurice, said Laura, as they recovered the laugh.
I heard her deluding some young lady by saying he was the eldest son, said Mrs. Edmonstone.
Mamma! cried Amy, could she have thought so?
I put in a gentle hint on Lord de Courcys existence, to which she answered, in her quick way, O ay, I forgot; but then he is the second, and thats the next thing.
If you could but have heard the stories she and Maurice were telling each other! said Guy. He was playing her off, I believe; for whatever she told, he capped it with something more wonderful. Is she really a lady?
By birth, said Mrs. Edmonstone. It is only her high spirits and small judgment that make her so absurd.
How loud she is, too! said Laura. What was all that about horses, Guy?
She was saying she drove two such spirited horses, that all the grooms were afraid of them; and when she wanted to take out her little boy, Mr. Brownlow said You may do as you like my dear, but I wont have my sons neck broken, whatever you do with your own. So Maurice answered by declaring he knew a lady who drove not two, but four-in-hand, and when the leaders turned round and looked her in the face, gave a little nod, and said, Im obliged for your civility.
Oh! I wish I had heard that, cried Laura.
Did you hear her saying she smoked cigars?
Everyone cried out with horror or laughter.
Of course, Maurice told a story of a lady who had a cigar case hanging at her chatelaine, and always took one to refresh her after a ball.
Guy was interrupted by the announcement of his horse, and rode off at once to Mr. Lascelles.
On his return he went straight to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Edmonstone was reading to Charles, and abruptly exclaimed,
I told you wrong. She only said she had smoked one cigar. Then perceiving that he was interrupting, he added, I beg your pardon, and went away.
The next evening, on coming in from a solitary skating, he found the younger party in the drawing-room, Charles entertaining the Miss Harpers with the story of the cigars. He hastily interposed
I told you it was but one.
Ay, tried one, and went on. She was preparing an order for Havannah.
I thought I told you I repeated the conversation incorrectly.
If it is not the letter, it is the spirit, said Charles, vexed at the interference with his sport of amazing the Miss Harpers with outrageous stories of Mrs. Brownlow.
It is just like her, said one of them. I could believe anything of Mrs. Brownlow.
You must not believe this, said Guy, gently. I repeated incorrectly what had better have been forgotten, and I must beg my foolish exaggeration to go no further.
Charles became sullenly silent; Guy stood thoughtful; and Laura and Amabel could not easily sustain the conversation till the visitors took their leave.
Heres a pother! grumbled Charles, as soon as they were gone.
I beg your pardon for spoiling your story, said Guy; but it was my fault, so I was obliged to interfere.
Bosh! said Charles. Who cares whether she smoked one or twenty? She is Mrs. Brownlow still.
The point is, what was truth? said Laura.
Straining at gnats, said Charles.
Little wings? said Guy, glancing at Amabel.
Have it your won way, said Charles, throwing his head back; they must be little souls, indeed that stick at such trash.
Guys brows were contracted with vexation, but Laura looked up very prettily, saying
Never mind him. We must all honour you for doing such an unpleasant thing.
You will recommend him favourably to Philip, growled Charles.
There was no reply, and presently Guy asked whether he would go up to dress? Having no other way of showing his displeasure, he refused, and remained nursing his ill-humour, till he forgot how slight the offence had been, and worked himself into a sort of insane desirehalf mischievous, half revengefulto be as provoking as he could in his turn.
Seldom had he been more contrary, as his old nurse was wont to call it. No one could please him, and Guy was not allowed to do anything for him. Whatever he said was intended to rub on some sore place in Guys mind. His mother and Lauras signs made him worse, for he had the pleasure of teasing them, also; but Guy endured it all with perfect temper, and he grew more cross at his failure; yet, from force of habit, at bed-time, he found himself on the stairs with Guys arm supporting him.
Good night, said Charles; I tried hard to poke up the lion to-night, but I see it wont do.
This plea of trying experiments was neither absolutely true nor false; but it restored Charles to himself, by saving a confession that he had been out of temper, and enabling him to treat with him wonted indifference the expostulations of father, mother, and Laura.
Now that the idea of poking up the lion had once occurred, it became his great occupation to attempt it. He wanted to see some evidence of the fiery temper, and it was a new sport to try to rouse it; one, too, which had the greater relish, as it kept the rest of the family on thorns.
He would argue against his real opinion, talk against his better sense, take the wrong side, and say much that was very far from his true sentiments. Guy could not understand at first, and was quite confounded at some of the views he espoused, till Laura came to his help, greatly irritating her brother by hints that he was not in earnest. Next time she could speak to Guy alone, she told him he must not take all Charles said literally.
I thought he could hardly mean it: but why should he talk so?
I cant excuse him; I know it is very wrong, and at the expense of truth, and it is very disagreeable of himI wish he would not; but he always does what he likes, and it is one of his amusements, so we must bear with him, poor fellow.
From that time Guy seemed to have no trouble in reining in his temper in arguing with Charles, except once, when the lion was fairly roused by something that sounded like a sneer about King Charles I.