‘I would only give him the opportunity of saying what he can for himself. He may have some explanation.’
‘I’ll admit of no explanation! Passing himself off for steadiness itself; daring to think of my daughter, and all the time going on in this fashion! I hate underhand ways! I’ll have no explanation. He may give up all thoughts of her. I’ll write and tell him so before I’m a day older; nay, before I stir from this room. My little Amy, indeed!’
Philip put no obstacles in the way of this proposal, for he knew that his uncle’s displeasure, though hot at first, was apt to evaporate in exclamations; and he thought it likely that his good nature, his partiality for his ward, his dislike to causing pain to his daughter, and, above all, his wife’s blind confidence in Guy, would, when once at home, so overpower his present indignation as to prevent the salutary strictness which was the only hope of reclaiming Guy. Beside, a letter written under Philip’s inspection was likely to be more guarded, as well as more forcible, than an unassisted composition of his own, as was, indeed, pretty well proved by the commencement of his first attempt.
‘My dear Guy,—I am more surprised than I could have expected at your application.’
Philip read this aloud, so as to mark its absurdity, and he began again.
‘I am greatly astonished, as well as concerned, at your application, which confirms the unpleasant reports—’
‘Why say anything of reports?’ said Philip. ‘Reports are nothing. A man is not forced to defend himself from reports.’
‘Yes,—hum—ha,—the accounts I have received. No. You say there is not to be a word of Mrs. Henley.’
‘Not a word that can lead her to be suspected.’
‘Confirms—confirms—’ sighed Mr. Edmonstone.