Chapter 9
'Unfortunately, yes,' said Laura, drawing aside.
'One of my uncle's family parties,' said Philip. 'I wish I had not brought Thorndale. Laura, what is to be done to prevent the t.i.ttering that always takes place when Amy and those Harpers are together?'
'Some game?' said Laura. He signed approval; but she had time to say no more, for her father and mother came down, and some more guests entered.
It was just such a party that continually grew up at Hollywell, for Mr. Edmonstone was so fond of inviting, that his wife never knew in the morning how many would a.s.semble at her table in the evening. But she was used to it, and too good a manager even to be called so. She liked to see her husband enjoy himself in his good-natured, open-hearted way. The change was good for Charles, and thus it did very well, and there were few houses in the neighbourhood more popular than Hollywell.
The guests this evening were Maurice de Courcy, a wild young Irishman, all noise and nonsense, a great favourite with his cousin, Mr.
Edmonstone; two Miss Harpers, daughters of the late clergyman, good-natured, second-rate girls; Dr. Mayerne, Charles's kind old physician, the friend and much-loved counsellor at Hollywell, and the present vicar, Mr. Ross with his daughter Mary.
Mary Ross was the greatest friend that the Miss Edmonstones possessed, though, she being five-and-twenty, they had not arrived at perceiving that they were on the equal terms of youngladyhood.
She had lost her mother early, and had owed a great deal to the kindness of Mrs. Edmonstone, as she grew up among her numerous elder brothers.
She had no girlhood; she was a boy till fourteen, and then a woman, and she was scarcely altered since the epoch of that transition, the same in likings, tastes, and duties. 'Papa' was all the world to her, and pleasing him had much the same meaning now as then; her brothers were like playfellows; her delights were still a lesson in Greek from papa, a school-children's feast, a game at play, a new book. It was only a pity other people did not stand still too. 'Papa,' indeed, had never grown sensibly older since the year of her mother's death: but her brothers were whiskered men, with all the cares of the world, and no holidays; the school-girls went out to service, and were as a last year's brood to an old hen; the very children she had fondled were young ladies, as old, to all intents and purposes, as herself, and here were even Laura and Amy Edmonstone fallen into that bad habit of growing up! though little Amy had still much of the kitten in her composition, and could play as well as Charlotte or Mary herself, when they had the garden to themselves.
Mary took great pains to amuse Charles, always walking to see him in the worst weather, when she thought other visitors likely to fall, and chatting with him as if she was the idlest person in the world, though the quant.i.ty she did at home and in the parish would be too amazing to be recorded. Spirited and decided, without superfluous fears and fineries, she had a firm, robust figure, and a rosy, good-natured face, with a manner that, though perfectly feminine, had in it an air of strength and determination.
Hollywell was a hamlet, two miles from the parish church of East-hill, and Mary had thus seen very little of the Edmonstone's guest, having only been introduced to him after church on Sunday. The pleasure on which Charles chiefly reckoned for that evening was the talking him over with her when the ladies came in from the dining-room. The Miss Harpers, with his sisters, gathered round the piano,
'So you get on well with him?'
'He is one of those people who are never in the way, and yet you never can forgot their presence,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.
'His manners are quite the pink of courtesy,' said Mary.
'Like his grandfather's,' said Mrs. Edmonstone; 'that old-school deference and attention is very chivalrous, and sits prettily and quaintly on his high spirits and animation; I hope it will not wear off.'
'A vain hope,' said Charles. 'At present he is like that German myth, Kaspar Hauser, who lived till twenty in a cellar. It is lucky for mamma that, in his green state, he is courtly instead of bearish.'
'Lucky for you, too, Charlie; he spoils you finely.'
'He has the rare perfection of letting me know my own mind. I never knew what it was to have my own way before.'
'Is that your complaint, Charlie? What next?' said Mary.
'So you think I have my way, do you, Mary? That is all envy, you see, and very much misplaced. Could you guess what a conflict it is every time I am helped up that mountain of a staircase, or the slope of my sofa is altered? Last time Philip stayed here, every step cost an argument, till at last, through sheer exhaustion, I left myself a dead weight on his hands, to be carried up by main strength. And after all, he is such a great, strong fellow, that I am afraid he did not mind it; so next time I _crutched_ myself down alone, and I hope that did provoke him.'
'Sir Guy is so kind that I am ashamed,' said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'It seems as if we had brought him for the sole purpose of waiting on Charles.'
'Half his heart is in his horse,' said Charles. 'Never had man such delight in the "brute creation."'
'They have been his chief playfellows,' said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'The chief of his time was spent in wandering in the woods or on the beach, watching them and their ways.'
'I fairly dreamt of that Elysium of his last night,' said Charles: 'a swamp half frozen on a winter's night, full of wild ducks. Here, Charlotte, come and tell Mary the roll of Guy's pets.'
Charlotte began. 'There was the sea-gull, and the hedgehog, and the fox, and the badger, and the jay, and the monkey, that he bought because it was dying, and cured it, only it died the next winter, and a toad, and a raven, and a squirrel, and--'
'That will do, Charlotte.'
'Oh! but Mary has not heard the names of all his dogs. And Mary, he has cured Bustle of hunting my Puss. We held them up to each other, and Puss hissed horribly, but Bustle did not mind it a bit; and the other day, when Charles tried to set him at her, he would not take the least notice.'
'Now, Charlotte,' said Charles, waving his hand, with a provoking mock politeness, 'have the goodness to return to your friends.
Tea over, Laura proposed the game of definitions. 'You know it. Philip,'
said she, 'you taught us.'
'Yes I learnt it of your sisters, Thorndale,' said Philip.
'O pray let us have it. It must be charming!' exclaimed Miss Harper, on this recommendation.
'Definitions!' said Charles, contemptuously. 'Dr. Johnson must be the hand for them.'
'They are just the definitions not to be found in Johnson,' said Mr.
Thorndale. 'Our standing specimen is adversity, which may be differently explained according to your taste, as "a toad with a precious jewel in its head," or "the test of friends.h.i.+p."'
'The spirit of words,' said Guy, looking eager and interested.
'Well, we'll try,' said Charles, 'though I can't say it sounds to me promising. Come, Maurice, define an Irishman.'
'No, no, don't let us be personal,' said Laura; 'I had thought of the word "happiness". We are each to write a definition on a slip of paper, then compare them.'
The game was carried on with great spirit for more than an hour. It was hard to say, which made most fun, Maurice, Charles, or Guy; the last no longer a spectator, but an active contributor to the sport. When the break-up came, Mary and Amabel were standing over the table together, collecting the scattered papers, and observing that it had been very good fun. 'Some so characteristic,' said Amy, 'such as Maurice's definition of happiness,--a row at Dublin.'
'Some were very deep, though,' said Mary; 'if it is not treason, I should like to make out whose that other was of happiness.'
'You mean this,' said Amy: '"Gleams from a brighter world, too soon eclipsed or forfeited." I thought it was Philip's, but it is Sir Guy's writing. How very sad! I should not like to think so. And he was so merry all the time! This is his, too, I see; this one about riches being the freight for which the traveller is responsible.'
'There is a great deal of character in them,' said Mary. 'I should not have wondered at any of us, penniless people, philosophizing in the fox and grapes style, but, for him, and at his age--'
'He has been brought up so as to make the theory of wisdom come early,'
said Philip, who was nearer than she thought.
'Is that intended for disparagement?' she asked quickly.
I think very highly of him; he has a great deal of sense and right feeling,' was Philip's sedate answer; and he turned away to say some last words to Mr. Thorndale.
The Rosses were the last to depart, Mary in cloak and clogs, while Mr.
Edmonstone lamented that it was in vain to offer the carriage; and Mary laughed, and thanked, and said the walk home with Papa was the greatest of treats in the frost and star-light.
'Don't I pity you, who always go out to dinner in a carriage!' were her last words to Laura.
'Well, Guy,' said Charlotte, 'how do you like it?'
'Very much, indeed. It was very pleasant.'
'You are getting into the fairy ring,' said Laura, smiling.
'Ay' he said, smiling too; 'but it does not turn to tinsel. Would it if I saw more of it?' and he looked at Mrs. Edmonstone.