The Heir of Redclyffe

'No, no, Philip; he is too candid to be wilful.'

'I cannot be of your opinion, when I have seen him rus.h.i.+ng into this acquaintance in spite of the warnings he must have had here--to say nothing of myself.'

'Nay, there I must defend him, though you will think me very unwise; I could not feel that I ought to withhold him from taking some notice of so near a relation.'

Philip did think her so unwise, that he could only reply, gravely--

'We must hope it may produce no evil effects.'

'How?' she exclaimed, much alarmed. 'Have you heard anything against him?'

'You remember, of course, that Guy's father was regularly the victim of this Dixon.'

'Yes, yes; but he has had enough to sober him. Do you know nothing more?' said Mrs. Edmonstone, growing nervously anxious lest she had been doing wrong in her husband's absence.

'I have been inquiring about him from old Redford, and I should judge him to be a most dangerous companion; as, indeed, I could have told from his whole air, which is completely that of a roue.'

'You have seen him, then?'

'Yes. He paid me the compliment of taking me for Sir Guy, and of course made off in dismay when he discovered on whom he had fallen. I have seldom seen a less creditable-looking individual.'

'But what did Mr. Redford say? Did he know of the connection?'

'No; I am happy to say he did not. The fellow has decency enough not to boast of that. Well, Redford did not know much of him personally: he said he had once been much thought of, and had considerable talent and execution, but taste changes, or he has lost something, so that, though he stands tolerably high in his profession, he is not a leader. So much for his musical reputation. As to his character, he is one of those people who are called no one's enemy but their own, exactly the introduction Guy has..h.i.therto happily wanted to every sort of mischief.'

'I think,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, trying to console herself, 'that Guy is too much afraid of small faults to be invited by larger evils. While he punishes himself for an idle word, he is not likely to go wrong in greater matters.'

'Not at present.'

'Is the man in debt or difficulties? Guy heard nothing of that, and I thought it a good sign.'

'I don't suppose he is. He ought not, for he has a fixed salary, besides what he gets by playing at concerts when it is not the London season.

The wasting money on a spendthrift relation would be a far less evil than what I apprehend.'

'I wish I knew what to do! It is very unlucky that your uncle is from home.'

'Very.'

Mrs. Edmonstone was frightened by the sense of responsibility, and was only anxious to catch hold of something to direct her.

'What would you have me do?' she asked, hopelessly.

'Speak seriously to Guy. He must attend to you: he cannot fly out with a woman as he does with me. Show him the evils that must result from such an intimacy. If Dixon was in distress, I would not say a word, for he would be bound to a.s.sist him but as it is, the acquaintance can serve no

'Yes, yes; I will speak to him,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, perfectly appalled.

She promised, but she found the fulfilment difficult, in her dislike of vexing Guy, her fear of saying what was wrong, and a doubt whether the appearance of persecuting Mr. Dixon was not the very way to prevent Guy's own good sense from finding out his true character, so she waited, hoping Mr. Edmonstone might return before Guy went to Oxford, or that he might write decisively.

Mrs. Edmonstone might have known her husband better than to expect him to write decisively when he had neither herself nor Philip at his elbow.

The same post had brought him a letter from Guy, mentioning his meeting with his uncle, and frankly explaining his plans for London; another from Philip, calling on him to use all his authority to prevent this intercourse, and a third from his wife. Bewildered between them, he took them to his sister, who, being as puzzle-headed as himself, and only hearing his involved history of the affair, confused him still more; so he wrote to Philip, saying he was sorry the fellow had turned up, but he would guard against him. He told Guy he was sorry to say that his uncle used to be a sad scamp, and he must take care, or it would be his poor father's story over again; and to Mrs. Edmonstone he wrote that it was very odd that everything always did go wrong when he was away.

He thought these letters a great achievement, but his wife's perplexity was not materially relieved.

After considering a good while, she at length spoke to Guy; but it was not at a happy time, for Philip, despairing of her, had just taken on himself to remonstrate, and had angered him to the verge of an outbreak.

Mrs. Edmonstone, as mildly as she could, urged on him that such intercourse could bring him little satisfaction, and might be very inconvenient; that his uncle was in no distress, and did not require a.s.sistance; and that it was too probable that in seeking him out he might meet with persons who might unsettle his principles,--in short, that he had much better give up the visit to London.

'This is Philip's advice,' said Guy.

'It is; but--'

Guy looked impatient, and she paused.

'You must forgive me,' he said, 'if I follow my own judgment. If Mr.

Edmonstone chose to lay his commands on me, I suppose I must submit; but I cannot see that I am bound to obey Philip.'

'Not to obey, certainly; but his advice--'

'He is prejudiced and unjust,' said Guy.

'I don't believe that my uncle would attempt to lead me into bad company; and surely you would not have me neglect or look coldly on one who was so much attached to my parents. If he is not a gentleman, and is looked down on by the world, it is not for his sister's son to make him conscious of it.'

'I like your feelings, Guy; I can say nothing against it, but that I am much afraid your uncle is not highly principled.'

'You have only Philip's account of him.'

'You are resolved?'

'Yes. I do not like not to take your advice, but I do believe this is my duty. I do not think my determination is made in self-will,' said Guy, thoughtfully; 'I cannot think that I ought to neglect my uncle, because I happen to have been born in a different station, which is all I have heard proved against him,' he added, smiling. 'You will forgive me, will you not, for not following your advice? for really and truly, if you will let me say so, I think you would not have given it if Philip had not been talking to you.'

Mrs. Edmonstone confessed, with a smile, that perhaps it was so; but said she trusted much to Philip's knowledge of the world. Guy agreed to this; though still declaring Philip had no right to set him against his uncle, and there the discussion ended.

Guy went to London. Philip thought him very wilful, and his aunt very weak; and Mr. Edmonstone, on coming home, said it could not be helped, and he wished to hear no more about the matter.

CHAPTER 12

Her playful smile, her buoyance wild, Bespeak the gentle, mirthful child; But in her forehead's broad expanse, Her chastened tones, her thoughtful glance, Is mingled, with the child's light glee, The modest maiden's dignity.

One summer's day, two years after the ball and review, Mary Ross and her father were finis.h.i.+ng their early dinner, when she said,--

'If you don't want me this afternoon, papa, I think I shall walk to Hollywell. You know Eveleen de Courcy is there.'

'No, I did not. What has brought her?'

'As Charles expresses it, she has over-polked herself in London, and is sent here for quiet and country air. I want to call on her, and to ask Sir Guy to give me some idea as to the singing the children should practise for the school-feast?'