Mr. Edmonstone brought the carriage to fetch him from the station, and quickly began,—
‘I suppose, as you have not written, you have found nothing out?’
‘Nothing.’
‘And you could do nothing with him. Eh?’
‘No; I could not get a word of explanation, nor break through the fence of pride and reserve. I must do him the justice to say that he bears the best of characters at Oxford; and if there were any debts I could not get at them from the tradesmen.’
‘Well, well, say no more about it; he is an ungrateful young dog, and I am sick of it. I only wish I could wash my hands of him altogether. It was mere folly to expect any of that set could ever come to good. There’s everything going wrong all at once now; poor little Amy breaking her heart after him, and, worse than all, there’s poor Charlie laid up again,’ said Mr. Edmonstone, one of the most affectionate people in the world; but his maundering mood making him speak of Charles’s illness as if he only regarded it as an additional provocation for himself.
‘Charles ill!’ exclaimed Philip.
‘Yes; another, of those formations in the joint. I hoped and trusted that was all over now; but he is as bad as ever,—has not been able to move for a week, and goodness knows when he will again.’
‘Indeed! I am very sorry. Is there as much pain as before?’
‘Oh, yes. He has not slept a wink these four nights. Mayerne talks of opium; but he says he won’t have it till he has seen you, he is so anxious about this unlucky business. If anything could persuade me to have Guy back again it would be that this eternal fretting after him is so bad for poor Charlie.’