Her father was very glad to see him, and reproached him for making himself a stranger, while her sisters counted up the days of his absence.
‘There was the time, to be sure, when we met you on Ashen-down, but that was a regular cheat. Laura had you all to herself.’
Laura bent down to feed Bustle, and Philip felt his colour deepening.
Mr. Edmonstone went on to ask him to come and stay at Hollywell for a week, vowing he would take no refusal. ‘A week was out of the question, said Philip; ‘but he could come for two nights.’ Amabel hinted that there was to be a dinner-party on Thursday, thinking it fair to give him warning of what he disliked, but he immediately chose that very day. Again he disconcerted all expectations, when it was time to go out. Mrs. Edmonstone and Charles were going to drive, the young ladies and Guy to walk, but Philip disposed himself to accompany his uncle in a survey of the wheat.
Laura perceived that he would not risk taking another walk with her when they might be observed. It showed implicit trust to leave her to his rival; but she was sorry to find that caution must put an end to the freedom of their intercourse, and would have stayed at home, but that Eveleen was so wild and unguarded that Mrs. Edmonstone did not like her to be without Laura as a check on her, especially when Guy was of the party. There was some comfort in that warm pressure of her hand when she bade Philip good-bye, and on that she lived for a long time. He stood at the window watching them till they were out of sight, then moved towards his aunt, who with her bonnet on, was writing an invitation for Thursday, to Mr. Thorndale.
‘I was thinking,’ said he, in a low voice, ‘if it would not be as well, if you liked, to ask Thorndale here for those two days.’
‘If you think so,’ returned Mrs. Edmonstone, looking at him more inquiringly than he could well bear.
‘You know how he enjoys being here, and I owe them all so much kindness.’
‘Certainly; I will speak to your uncle,’ said she, going in search of him. She presently returned, saying they should be very glad to see Mr. Thorndale, asking him at the same time, in her kind tones of interest, after an old servant for whom he had been spending much thought and pains. The kindness cut him to the heart, for it evidently arose from a perception that he was ill at ease, and his conscience smote him. He answered shortly, and was glad when the carriage came; he lifted Charles into it, and stood with folded arms as they drove away.
‘The air is stormy,’ said Charles, looking back at him.’