Mrs. Edmonstone came in, and looking round, as if to find some occupation for her guest, at length devised setting him to play at chess with Charles. Charles gave her an amiable look, expressing that neither liked it; but she was pretty well used to doing him good against his will, and trusted to its coming right in time. Charles was a capital chess-player, and seldom found any one who could play well enough to afford him much real sport, but he found Sir Guy more nearly a match than often fell to his lot; it was a bold dashing game, that obliged him to be on his guard, and he was once so taken by surprise as to be absolutely check-mated. His ill-humour evaporated, he was delighted to find an opponent worth playing with, and henceforth there were games almost every morning or evening, though Sir Guy seemed not to care much about them, except for the sake of pleasing him.
When left to himself, Guy spent his time in reading or in walking about the lanes alone. He used to sit in the bay-window of the drawing-room with his book; but sometimes, when they least expected it, the girls would find his quick eyes following them with an air of amused curiosity, as Amabel waited on Charles and her flowers, or Laura drew, wrote letters, and strove to keep down the piles of books and periodicals under which it seemed as if her brother might some day be stifleda vain task, for he was sure to want immediately whatever she put out of his reach.
Laura and Amabel both played and sung, the former remarkably well, and the first time they had any music after the arrival of Sir Guy, his look of delighted attention struck everyone. He ventured nearer, stood by the piano when they practised, and at last joined in with a few notes of so full and melodious a voice, that Laura turned round in surprise, exclaiming, You sing better I than any of us!
He coloured. I beg your pardon, he said, I could not help it; I know nothing of music.
Really! said Laura, smiling incredulously.
I dont even know the notes.
Then you must have a very good ear. Let us try again.
The sisters were again charmed and surprised, and Guy looked gratified, as people do at the discovery of a faculty which they are particularly glad to possess. It was the first time he appeared to brighten, and Laura and her mother agreed that it would do him good to have plenty of music, and to try to train that fine voice. He was beginning to interest them all greatly by his great helpfulness and kindness to Charles, as he learnt the sort of assistance he required, as well as by the silent grief that showed how much attached he must have been to his grandfather.
On the first Sunday, Mrs. Edmonstone coming into the drawing-room at about half-past five, found him sitting alone by the fire, his dog lying at his feet. As he started up, she asked if he had been here in the dark ever since church-time?
I have not wanted light, he answered with a sigh, long, deep, and irrepressible, and as she stirred the fire, the flame revealed to her the traces of tears. She longed to comfort him, and said
This Sunday twilight is a quiet time for thinking.
Yes, he said; how few Sundays ago and there he paused.
Ah! you had so little preparation.
None. That very morning he had done business with Markham, and had never been more clear and collected.
Were you with him when he was taken ill? asked Mrs. Edmonstone, perceiving that it would be a relief to him to talk.
No; it was just before dinner. I had been shooting, and went into the library to tell him where I had been. He was well then, for he spoke, but it was getting dark, and I did not see his face. I dont think I was ten minutes dressing, but when I came down, he had sunk back in his chair. I saw it was not sleepI rangand when Arnaud came, we knew how it was. His, voice became low with strong emotion.
Did he recover his consciousness?
Yes, that was the comfort, said Guy, eagerly. It was after he had been bled that he seemed to wake up. He could not speak or move, but he looked at meorI dont know what I should have done. The last words were almost inaudible from the gush of tears that he vainly struggled to repress, and he was turning away to hide them, when he saw that Mrs. Edmonstones were flowing fast.
You had great reason to be attached to him! said she, as soon as she could speak.
Indeed, indeed I had. And after a long silenceHe was everything to me, everything from the first hour I can recollect. He never let me miss my parents. How he attended to all my pleasures and wishes, how he watched and cared for me, and bore with me, even I can never know.
He spoke in short half sentences of intense feeling, and Mrs. Edmonstone was much moved by such affection in one said to have been treated with an excess of strictness, much compassionating the lonely boy, who had lost every family tie in one.
When the first pain of the sudden parting has passed, said she, you will like to remember the affection which you knew how to value.
If I had but known! said Guy; but there was I, hasty, reckless, disregarding his comfort, rebelling againstO, what would I not give to have those restraints restored!
It is what we all feel in such losses, said Mrs. Edmonstone. There is always much to wish otherwise; but I am sure you can have the happiness of knowing you were his great comfort.
It was what I ought to have been.
She knew that nothing could have been more filial and affectionate than his conduct, and tried to say something of the kind, but he would not listen.
That is worst of all, he said; and you must not trust what they say of me. They would be sure to praise me, if I was anything short of a brute.
A silence ensued, while Mrs. Edmonstone was trying to think of some consolation. Suddenly Guy looked up, and spoke eagerly:
I want to ask somethinga great favourbut you make me venture. You see how I am left aloneyou know how little I can trust myself. Will you take me in handlet me talk to youand tell me if I am wrong, as freely as if I were Charles? I know it is asking a great deal, but you knew my grandfather, and it is in his name.
She held out her hand; and with tears answered
Indeed I will, if I see any occasion.
You will let me trust to you to tell me when I get too vehement? above all, when you see my temper failing? Thank you; you dont know what a relief it is!
But you must not call yourself alone. You are one of us now.
Yes; since you have made that promise, said Guy; and for the first time she saw the full beauty of his smilea sort of sweetness and radiance of which eye and brow partook almost as much as the lips. It alone would have gained her heart.
I must look on you as a kind of nephew, she added, kindly. I used to hear so much of you from my brother.
Oh! cried Guy, lighting up, Archdeacon Morville was always so kind to me. I remember him very well!
Ah! I wish there she paused, and added,tête-à-tête it is not right to wish such thingsand Philip is very like his father.
I am very glad his regiment is so near. I want to know him better.
You knew him at Redclyffe, when he was staying there?
Yes, said Guy, his colour rising; but I was a boy then, and a very foolish, headstrong one. I am glad to meet him again. What a grand-looking person he is!
We are very proud of him, said Mrs. Edmonstone, smiling. I dont think there has been an hours anxiety about him since he was born.