The heir of redclyffe

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heir of Redclyffe, by Charlotte M Yonge This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Heir of Redclyffe Author: Charlotte M Yonge Release Date: December 31, 2008 [EBook #2505] Last Updated: October 12, 2016 Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE *** Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and David Widger THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE By Charlotte M Yonge CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 CHAPTER 38 CHAPTER 39 CHAPTER 40 CHAPTER 41 CHAPTER 42 CHAPTER 43 CHAPTER 44 CHAPTER 1 In such pursuits if wisdom lies, Who, Laura, can thy taste despise? —GAY The drawing-room of Hollywell House was one of the favoured apartments, where a peculiar air of home seems to reside, whether seen in the middle of summer, all its large windows open to the garden, or, as when our story commences, its bright fire and stands of fragrant green-house plants contrasted with the wintry fog and leafless trees of November There were two persons in the room—a young lady, who sat drawing at the round table, and a youth, lying on a couch near the fire, surrounded with books and newspapers, and a pair of crutches near him Both looked up with a smile of welcome at the entrance of a tall, fine-looking young man, whom each greeted with ‘Good morning, Philip.’ ‘Good morning, Laura Good morning, Charles; I am glad you are downstairs again! How are you to-day?’ ‘No way remarkable, thank you,’ was the answer, somewhat wearily given by Charles ‘You walked?’ said Laura ‘Yes Where’s my uncle? I called at the post-office, and brought a letter for him It has the Moorworth post-mark,’ he added, producing it ‘Where’s that?’ said Charles ‘The post-town to Redclyffe; Sir Guy Morville’s place.’ ‘That old Sir Guy! What can he have to do with my father?’ ‘Did you not know,’ said Philip, ‘that my uncle is to be guardian to the boy— his grandson?’ ‘Eh? No, I did not.’ ‘Yes,’ said Philip; ‘when old Sir Guy made it an especial point that my father should take the guardianship, he only consented on condition that my uncle should be joined with him; so now my uncle is alone in the trust, and I cannot help thinking something must have happened at Redclyffe It is certainly not Sir Guy’s writing.’ ‘It must wait, unless your curiosity will carry you out in search of papa,’ said Charles; ‘he is somewhere about, zealously supplying the place of Jenkins.’ ‘Really, Philip,’ said Laura, ‘there is no telling how much good you have done him by convincing him of Jenkins’ dishonesty To say nothing of the benefit of being no longer cheated, the pleasure of having to overlook the farming is untold.’ Philip smiled, and came to the table where she was drawing ‘Do you know this place?’ said she, looking up in his face ‘Stylehurst itself! What is it taken from?’ ‘From this pencil sketch of your sister’s, which I found in mamma’s scrap book.’ ‘You are making it very like, only the spire is too slender, and that tree—can’t you alter the foliage?—it is an ash.’ ‘Is it? I took it for an elm.’ ‘And surely those trees in the foreground should be greener, to throw back the middle distance That is the peak of South Moor exactly, if it looked further off.’ She began the alterations, while Philip stood watching her progress, a shade of melancholy gathering on his face Suddenly, a voice called ‘Laura! Are you there? Open the door, and you will see.’ On Philip’s opening it, in came a tall camellia; the laughing face, and light, shining curls of the bearer peeping through the dark green leaves ‘Thank you! Oh, is it you, Philip? Oh, don’t take it I must bring my own camellia to show Charlie.’ ‘You make the most of that one flower,’ said Charles ‘Only see how many buds!’ and she placed it by his sofa Is it not a perfect blossom, so pure a white, and so regular! And I am so proud of having beaten mamma and all the gardeners, for not another will be out this fortnight; and this is to go to the horticultural show Sam would hardly trust me to bring it in, though it was my nursing, not his.’ ‘Now, Amy,’ said Philip, when the flower had been duly admired, ‘you must let me put it into the window, for you It is too heavy for you.’ ‘Oh, take care,’ cried Amabel, but too late; for, as he took it from her, the solitary flower struck against Charles’s little table, and was broken off ‘O Amy, I am very sorry What a pity! How did it happen?’ ‘Never mind,’ she answered; ‘it will last a long time in water.’ ‘It was very unlucky—I am very sorry—especially because of the horticultural show.’ ‘Make all your apologies to Sam,’ said Amy, ‘his feelings will be more hurt than mine I dare say my poor flower would have caught cold at the show, and never held up its head again.’ Her tone was gay; but Charles, who saw her face in the glass, betrayed her by saying, ‘Winking away a tear, O Amy!’ ‘I never nursed a dear gazelle!’ quoted Amy, with a merry laugh; and before any more could be said, there entered a middle-aged gentleman, short and slight, with a fresh, weather-beaten, good-natured face, gray whiskers, quick eyes, and a hasty, undecided air in look and movement He greeted Philip heartily, and the letter was given to him ‘Ha! Eh? Let us look Not old Sir Guy’s hand Eh? What can be the matter? What? Dead! This is a sudden thing.’ ‘Dead! Who? Sir Guy Morville?’ ‘Yes, quite suddenly—poor old man.’ Then stepping to the door, he opened it, and called, ‘Mamma; just step here a minute, will you, mamma?’ The summons was obeyed by a tall, handsome lady, and behind her crept, with doubtful steps, as if she knew not how far to venture, a little girl of eleven, her turned-up nose and shrewd face full of curiosity She darted up to Amabel; who, though she shook her head, and held up her finger, smiled, and took the little girl’s hand, listening meanwhile to the announcement, ‘Do you hear this, mamma? Here’s a shocking thing! Sir Guy Morville dead, quite suddenly.’ ‘Indeed! Well, poor man, I suppose no one ever repented or suffered more than he Who writes?’ ‘His grandson—poor boy! I can hardly make out his letter.’ Holding it half a yard from his eyes, so that all could see a few lines of hasty, irregular writing, in a forcible hand, bearing marks of having been penned under great distress and agitation, he read aloud:— ‘“DEAR MR EDMONSTONE,— My dear grandfather died at six this morning He had an attack of apoplexy yesterday evening, and never spoke again, though for a short time he knew me We hope he suffered little Markham will make all arrangements We propose that the funeral should take place on Tuesday; I hope you will be able to come I would write to my cousin, Philip Morville, if I knew his address; but I depend on you for saying all that ought to be said Excuse this illegible letter,—I hardly know what I write ‘“Yours, very sincerely, ‘“Guy Morville.”’ ‘Poor fellow!’ said Philip, ‘he writes with a great deal of proper feeling.’ ‘How very sad for him to be left alone there!’ said Mrs Edmonstone ‘Very sad—very,’ said her husband ‘I must start off to him at once—yes, at once Should you not say so—eh, Philip?’ ‘Certainly I think I had better go with you It would be the correct thing, and I should not like to fail in any token of respect for poor old Sir Guy.’ ‘Of course—of course,’ said Mr Edmonstone; ‘it would be the correct thing I am sure he was always very civil to us, and you are next heir after this boy.’ Little Charlotte made a sort of jump, lifted her eyebrows, and stared at Amabel Philip answered ‘That is not worth a thought; but since he and I are now the only representatives of the two branches of the house of Morville, it shall not be my fault if the enmity is not forgotten.’ ‘Buried in oblivion would sound more magnanimous,’ said Charles; at which Amabel laughed so uncontrollably, that she was forced to hide her head on her little sister’s shoulder Charlotte laughed too, an imprudent proceeding, as it attracted attention Her father smiled, saying, half-reprovingly—‘So you are there, inquisitive pussy-cat?’ And at her mother’s question,—‘Charlotte, what business have you here?’ She stole back to her lessons, looking very small, without the satisfaction of hearing her mother’s compassionate words—‘Poor child!’ ‘How old is he?’ asked Mr Edmonstone, returning to the former subject ‘He is of the same age as Laura—seventeen and a half,’ answered Mrs Edmonstone ‘Don’t you remember my brother saying what a satisfaction it was to see such a noble baby as she was, after such a poor little miserable thing as the one at Redclyffe?’ ‘He is grown into a fine spirited fellow,’ said Philip ‘I suppose we must have him here,’ said Mr Edmonstone Should you not say so—eh, Philip?’ ‘Certainly; I should think it very good for him Indeed, his grandfather’s death has happened at a most favourable time for him The poor old man had such a dread of his going wrong that he kept him—’ ‘I know—as tight as a drum.’ ‘With strictness that I should think very bad for a boy of his impatient temper It would have been a very dangerous experiment to send him at once among the temptations of Oxford, after such discipline and solitude as he has been used to.’ ‘Don’t talk of it,’ interrupted Mr Edmonstone, spreading out his hands in a deprecating manner ‘We must do the best we can with him, for I have got him on my hands till he is five-and-twenty—his grandfather has tied him up till then If we can keep him out of mischief, well and good; if not, it can’t be helped.’ ‘You have him all to yourself,’ said Charles ‘Ay, to my sorrow If your poor father was alive, Philip, I should be free of all care I’ve a pretty deal on my hands,’ he proceeded, looking more important than troubled ‘All that great Redclyffe estate is no sinecure, to say nothing of the youth himself If all the world will come to me, I can’t help it I must go and speak to the men, if I am to be off to Redclyffe tomorrow Will you come, Philip?’ ‘I must go back soon, thank you,’ replied Philip ‘I must see about my leave; only we should first settle when to set off.’ This arranged, Mr Edmonstone hurried away, and Charles began by saying, ‘Isn’t there a ghost at Redclyffe?’ ‘So it is said,’ answered his cousin; ‘though I don’t think it is certain whose it is There is a room called Sir Hugh’s Chamber, over the gateway, but the honour of naming it is undecided between Hugo de Morville, who murdered Thomas a Becket, and his namesake, the first Baronet, who lived in the time of William of Orange, when the quarrel began with our branch of the family Do you know the history of it, aunt?’ ‘It was about some property,’ said Mrs Edmonstone, ‘though I don’t know the rights of it But the Morvilles were always a fiery, violent race, and the enmity once begun between Sir Hugh and his brother, was kept up, generation after generation, in a most unjustifiable way Even I can remember when the Morvilles of Redclyffe used to be spoken of in our family like a sort of ogres.’ ‘Not undeservedly, I should think,’ said Philip ‘This poor old man, who is just dead, ran a strange career Stories of his duels and mad freaks are still extant.’ ‘Poor man! I believe he went all lengths,’ said Mrs Edmonstone ‘What was the true version of that horrible story about his son?’ said Philip ‘Did he strike him?’ ‘Oh, no! it was bad enough without that.’ ‘How?’ asked Laura ‘He was an only child, and lost his mother early He was very ill brought up, and was as impetuous and violent as Sir Guy himself, though with much kindliness and generosity He was only nineteen when he made a runaway worried about Mr Fielder Lord Kilcoran has been writing to ask him to find him a situation.’ ‘That is an article they will be seeking all the rest of their lives,’ said Charles ‘A man is done for when he begins to look for a situation! Yes, those Fielders will be a drag on Philip and Laura for ever; for they don’t quite like to cast them off, feeling as he does that he led to her getting into the scrape, by recommending him; and poor Laura thinking she set the example.’ ‘I wish Eva was away from home,’ said Amy, ‘for Aunt Charlotte’s accounts of her vex Laura so much.’ ‘Ay! trying to eat her cake and have it, expecting to be Mr Fielder’s wife, and reign as the earl’s daughter all the same Poor thing! the day they get the situation will be a sad one for her She does not know what poortith cauld will be like.’ ‘Poor Eva!’ said Amy ‘I dare say she will shine and be all the better for trouble There is much that is so very nice in her.’ ‘Ay, if she has not spoilt it all by this time,—as that creature is doing with your hair! You little monkey, what have you to say to me?’ ‘Only to wish you good night Come, baby, we must go to Anne Good night, Uncle Charles.’ Just as Amabel had borne off her little girl, Mrs Edmonstone and Charlotte came in, after conducting Mrs Henley to her room Charlotte made a face of wonder and dismay, and Mrs Edmonstone asked where Amy was ‘She carried the baby to the nursery just before you came I wish you had seen her The little thing had pulled down her hair and made her look so pretty and like herself.’ ‘How well her spirits keep up! She has been running up and down stairs all day, helping about everything Well! we little thought how things would turn out.’ ‘And that after all Amy would be the home-bird,’ said Charles ‘I don’t feel as if it was wrong to rejoice in having her in this sweet, shady brightness, as she is now.’ ‘Do you know whether she means to go to church to-morrow? I don’t like to ask.’ ‘Nor I.’ ‘I know she does,’ said Charlotte ‘She told me so.’ ‘I hope it will not be too much for her! Dear Amy.’ ‘She would say it was wrong to have our heads fuller of her than of our bride,’ said Charles ‘Poor Laura!’ said Mrs Edmonstone ‘I am glad it is all right at last They have both gone through a great deal.’ ‘And not in vain,’ added Charles ‘Philip is—’ ‘Oh, I say not a word against him!’ cried Mrs Edmonstone ‘He is most excellent; he will be very distinguished,—he will make her very happy Yes.’ ‘In fact,’ said Charles, ‘he is made to be one of the first in this world, and to be first by being above it; and the only reason we are almost discontented is, that we compare him with one who was too good for this world.’ ‘It is not only that.’ ‘Ah! you did not see him at Redclyffe, or you would more than simply forgiving him as a Christian.’ ‘I am very sorry for him.’ ‘That is not quite enough,’ said Charles, smiling, with a mischievous air, though fully in earnest ‘Is it, Charlotte? She must take him home to her mamma’s own heart.’ ‘No, no, that is asking too much, Charlie,’ said Mrs Edmonstone ‘Only one ever was—’ then breaking off—‘and I can never think of Philip as I used to do.’ ‘I like him much better now,’ said Charlotte ‘For my part,’ said Charles, ‘I never liked him—nay, that’s too mild, I could not abide him, I rebelled against him, heart, soul, and taste If it had not been for Guy, his fashion of goodness would have made me into an extract of gall and wormwood, at the very time you admired him, and yet a great deal of it was genuine But it is only now that I have liked him Nay, I look up to him, I think him positively noble and grand, and when I see proofs of his being entirely repentant, I perceive he is a thorough great man If I had not seen one greater, I should follow his young man’s example and take him for my hero model.’ ‘As if you wanted a hero model,’ whispered Charlotte, in a tone between caressing and impertinence ‘I’ve had one!’ returned Charles, also aside ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Edmonstone, going on with her own thoughts, ‘unless there had been a great fund of real goodness, he would never have felt it so deeply Indeed, even when I best liked Philip, I never thought him capable of such repentance as he has shown.’ ‘If mamma wants to like him very much,’ said Charlotte, ‘I think she has only to look at our other company.’ ‘Ay!’ said Charles, ‘we want no more explanation of the tone of the “Thank you,” with which he answered the offer to invite his sister.’ ‘One comfort is, she can’t stay long She has got a committee meeting for the Ladies’ Literary and Scientific Association, and must go home for it the day after to-morrow,’ said Charlotte ‘If you are very good, perhaps she will give you a ticket, Charlotte,’ said her brother, ‘and another for Bustle.’ Mrs Henley was, meanwhile, highly satisfied with the impression she thought she was making on her aunt’s family, especially on Charles and Charlotte The latter she patronized, to her extreme though suppressed indignation, as a clever, promising girl; the former, she discovered to be a very superior young man, a most valuable assistant to her brother in his business, and her self-complacency prevented her from finding out how he was playing her off, whenever neither Philip nor Laura were at hand to be hurt by it She thought Laura a fine-looking person, like her own family, and fit to be an excellent lady of the house; and in spite of the want of fortune, she perceived that her brother’s choice had been far better than if he had married that poor pale little Amabel, go silent and quiet that she never could make a figure anywhere, and had nothing like the substantive character that her brother must have in a wife Could Mrs Henley have looked behind the scenes she would have marvelled ‘One kiss for mamma; and one for papa,’ was Amy’s half-uttered morning greeting, as she lifted from her cot her little one, with cheeks flushed by sleep Morning and evening Amy spoke those words, and was happy in the double kiss that Mary had learnt to connect with them; happy too in holding her up to the picture, and saying ‘papa,’ so that his child might never recollect a time when he had not been a familiar and beloved idea A little play with the merry child, then came Anne to take her away; and with a suppressed sigh, Amabel dressed for the first time without her weeds, which she had promised to leave off on Laura’s wedding-day ‘No, I will not sigh!’ then she thought, ‘it does not put me further from him He would be more glad than any one this day, and so I must show some sign of gladness.’ So she put on such a dress as would be hers for life—black silk, and face cap over her still plain hair, then with real pleasure she put on Charles’s bracelet, and the silver brooch, which she had last worn the evening when the echoes of Recoara had answered Guy’s last chant Soon she was visiting Laura, cheering her, soothing her agitation, helping her to dress in her bridal array, much plainer than Amy’s own had been, for it had been the especial wish of both herself and Philip that their wedding should be as quiet and unlike Guy’s as possible Then Amabel was running down-stairs to see that all was right, thinking the breakfasttable looked dull and forlorn, and calling Charlotte to help her to make it appear a little more festal, with the aid of some flowers Charlotte wondered to see that she had forgotten how she shunned flowers last summer, for there she was flitting from one old familiar plant to another in search of the choicest, arranging little bouquets with her own peculiar grace and taste, and putting them by each person’s place, in readiness to receive them It was as if no one else could smile that morning, except Mr Edmonstone, who was so pleased to see her looking cheerful, in her altered dress, that he kissed her repeatedly, and confidentially told Mrs Henley that his little Amy was a regular darling, the sweetest girl in the world, poor dear, except Laura Mrs Henley, in the richest of all silks, looked magnificent and superior Mrs Edmonstone had tears in her eyes, and attended to every one softly and kindly, without a word; Charlotte was grave, helpful, and thoughtful; Charles watching every one, and intent on making things smooth; Laura looked fixed in the forced composure which she had long ago learnt, and Philip,—it was late before he appeared at all, and when he came down, there was nothing so plainly written on his face as headache It was so severe that the most merciful thing was to send him to lie on the sofa in the dressing-room Amabel said she would fetch him some camphor, and disappeared, while Laura sat still with her forced composure Her father fidgeted, only restrained by her presence from expressing his fears that Philip was too unwell for the marriage to take place to-day, and Charles talked cheerfully of the great improvement in his general health, saying this was but a chance thing, and that on the whole he might be considered as quite restored Mrs Henley listened and answered, but could not comprehend the state of things Breakfast was over, when she heard Amabel speaking to Laura in the ante-room ‘It will go off soon Here is a cup of hot coffee for you to take him I’ll call you when it is time to go.’ Amabel and Charlotte were very busy looking after Laura’s packing up, and putting all that was wanted into the carriage, in which the pair were to set off at once from church, without returning to Hollywell At the last moment she went to warn Philip it was time to go, if he meant to walk to church alone, the best thing for his head ‘It is better,’ said Laura, somewhat comforted ‘Much better for your bathing it, thank you,’ said Philip, rising; then, turning to Amy,—‘Do I wish you good-bye now?’ ‘No, I shall see you at church, unless you don’t like to have my blackness there.’ ‘Would we not have our guardian angel, Laura?’ said Philip ‘You know he would have been there,’ said Amy ‘No one would have been more glad, so thank you for letting me come.’ ‘Thank you for coming,’ said Laura, earnestly ‘It is a comfort.’ They left her, and she stood a few minutes to enjoy the solitude, and to look from the window at her little girl, whom she had sent out with Anne She was just about to open the window to call to her, and make her look up with one of her merry shouts of ‘Mamma!’ when Philip came out at the garden-door, and was crossing the lawn Mary was very fond of him, flattered by the attention of the tallest person in the house, and she stretched her arms, and gave a cry of summons Amabel watched him turn instantly, take her from her nurse, and hold her in a close embrace, whilst her little round arms met round his neck She was unwilling to be restored to Anne, and when he left she looked up in his face, and unprompted, held up to him the primroses and violets in her hand Those flowers were in his coat when Amabel saw him again at church, and she knew that this spontaneous proof of affection from Guy’s little unconscious child was more precious to him than all the kindnesses she could bestow Little space was there for musing, for it was high time to set off for church Mary Ross met the party at the wicket of the churchyard, took Charles on her arm, and by look and sign inquired for Amy ‘Bright outwardly,’ he answered, ‘and I think so inwardly Nothing does her so much good as to represent him Did you wonder to see her?’ ‘No’ said Mary ‘I thought she would come It is the crowning point of his forgiveness.’ ‘Such forgiveness that she has forgotten there is anything to forgive,’ said Charles Philip Morville and Laura Edmonstone stood before Mr Ross It was not such a wedding as the last There was more personal beauty, but no such air of freshness, youth, and peace He was, indeed, a very fine-looking man, his countenance more noble than it had ever been, though pale and not only betraying the present suffering of the throbbing, burning brow, but with the appearance of a care-worn, harassed man, looking more as if his age was fiveand-thirty than eight-and-twenty And she, in her plain white muslin and quiet bonnet, was hardly bridal-looking in dress, and so it was with her face, still beautiful and brilliant in complexion, but with the weight of care permanent on it, and all the shades of feeling concealed by a fixed command of countenance, unable, however, to hide the oppression of dejection and anxiety Yet to the eyes that only beheld the surface, there was nothing but prosperity and happiness in a marriage between a pair who had loved so long and devotedly, and after going through so much for each other’s sake, were united at length, with wealth, honour, and distinction before them His health was reestablished, and the last spring had proved that his talents would place him in such a position as had been the very object of his highest hopes Was not everything here for which the fondest and most aspiring wishes could seek? Yet for the very reason that there was sadness at almost every heart, not one tear was shed Mrs Edmonstone’s thoughts were less engrossed with the bride than with the young slender figure in black, standing in her own drooping way, her head bent down, and the fingers of her right hand clasping tight her wedding-ring, through her white glove The service was over Laura round her mother’s neck in an ardent embrace ‘Your pardon! O, mamma, I see it all now!’ Poor thing! she had too much failed in a daughter’s part to go forth from her home with the clear, loving, hopeful heart her sister had carried from it! Mrs Edmonstone’s kiss was a full answer, however, a kiss unlike what it had been with all her efforts for many and many a month ‘Amy, pray that it may not be visited!’ were the last words breathed to her sister, as they were pressed in each other’s arms Philip scarcely spoke, only met their kindnesses with grateful gestures and looks, and brief replies, and the parting was hastened that he might as soon as possible be at rest His only voluntary speech was as he bade farewell to Amabel,— ‘My sister now!’ ‘And his brother,’ she answered ‘Good-bye!’ As soon as Amabel was alone in the carriage with Charles, she leant back, and gave way to a flood of tears ‘Amy, has it been too much?’ ‘No,’ she said, recovering herself; ‘but I am so glad! It was his chief desire Now everything he wished is fulfilled.’ ‘And you are free of your great charge He has been a considerable care to you, but now he is safe on Laura’s hands, and well and satisfactory; so you have no care but your daughter, and we settle into our home life.’ Amabel smiled ‘Amy, I do wish I was sure you are happy.’ ‘Yes, dear Charlie, indeed I am You are all so very kind to me, and it is a blessing, indeed, that my own dear home can open to take in me and baby You know he liked giving me back to you.’ ‘And it is happiness, not only thinking it ought to be! Don’t let me tease you, Amy, don’t answer if you had rather not.’ ‘Thank you, Charlie, it is happiness It must be when I remember how very happy he used to be, and there can be nothing to spoil it When I see how all the duties of his station worry and perplex Philip, I am glad he was spared from it, and had all his freshness and brightness his whole life It beams out on me more now, and it was such perfect happiness while I had him here, and it is such a pleasure and honour to be called by his name; besides, there is baby Oh! Charlie, I must be happy—I am; do believe it! Indeed, you know I have you and mamma and all too And, Charlie, I think he made you all precious to me over again by the way he loved you all, and sent me back, to you especially Yes, Charlie, you must not fancy I grieve I am very happy, for he is, and all I have is made bright and precious by him.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, looking at her, as the colour had come into her face, and she looked perfectly lovely with eager, sincere happiness; one of her husband’s sweetest looks reflected on her face; altogether, such a picture of youth, joy, and love, as had not been displayed by the bride that morning ‘Amy, I don’t believe anything could make you long unhappy!’ ‘Nothing but my own fault Nothing else can part me from him,’ she whispered almost to herself ‘Yes; no one else had such a power of making happy,’ said Charles, thoughtfully ‘Amy, I really don’t know whether even you owe as much to your husband as I do You were good for something before, but when I look back on what I was when first he came, I know that his leading, unconscious as it was, brought out the stifled good in me What a wretch I should have been; what a misery to myself and to you all by this time, and now, I verily believe, that since he let in the sunlight from heaven on me, I am better off than if I had as many legs as other people.’ ‘Better off?’ ‘Yes Nobody else lives in such an atmosphere of petting, and has so little to plague them Nobody else has such a “mamma,” to say nothing of silly little Amy, or Charlotte, or Miss Morville And as to being of no use, which I used to pine about—why, when the member for Moorworth governs the country, I mean to govern him.’ ‘I am sure you are of wonderful use to every one,’ said Amabel; ‘neither Philip nor papa could get on without you to do their writing for them Besides, I want you to help me when baby grows older.’ ‘Is that the laudable result of that great book on education I saw you reading the other day?’ said Charles ‘Why don’t you borrow a few hints from Mrs Henley?’ Amy’s clear, playful laugh was just what it used to be ‘It is all settled, then, that you go on with us! Not that I ever thought you were going to do anything so absurd as to set up for yourself, you silly little woman: but it seems to be considered right to come to a formal settlement about such a grand personage as my Lady Morville.’ ‘Yes; it was better to come to an understanding,’ said Amabel ‘It was better that papa should make up his mind to see that I can’t turn into a young lady again You see Charlotte will go out with him and be the Miss Edmonstone for company, and he is so proud of her liveliness and—how pretty she is growing— so that will keep him from being vexed So now you see I can go on my own way, attend to baby, and take Laura’s business about the school, and keep out of the way of company, so that it is very nice and comfortable It is the very thing that Guy wished!’ Amabel’s life is here pretty well shown That of Philip and Laura may be guessed at He was a distinguished man, one of the most honoured and respected in the country, admired for his talents and excellence, and regarded universally as highly prosperous and fortunate, the pride of all who had any connection with him Yet it was a harassed, anxious life, with little of repose or relief; and Laura spent her time between watching him and tending his health, and in the cares and representation befitting her station, with little space for domestic pleasure and home comfort, knowing her children more intimately through her sister’s observation than through her own Perfect and devoted as ever was their love, and they were thought most admirable and happy people There was some wonder at his being a grave, melancholy man, when he had all before him so richly to enjoy, contrary to every probability when he began life Still there was one who never could understand why others should think him stern and severe, and why even his own children should look up to him with love that partook of distant awe and respect, one to whom he never was otherwise than indulgent, nay, almost reverential, in the gentleness of his kindness, and that was Mary Verena Morville THE END End of Project Gutenberg’s The Heir of Redclyffe, by Charlotte M Yonge *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE *** ***** This file should be named 2505-h.htm or 2505-h.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/0/2505/ Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and David Widger Updated editions will replace the previous one the old editions will be renamed Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark Project Gutenberg is a registered 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overhanging the sea, and fine woods crowning them On one of the most inaccessible of these crags there was a hawk’s nest, about half-way down, so that looking from the top of the precipice,