‘I could not help it, ‘tis so large.’
‘I believe I didn’t ought to have said it. Don’t tell her I did,’ said Charles; ‘but I couldn’t for the life of me—or what is more to the purpose, for the trouble of it—help putting it. He is too true a knight not to hear that his lady, not exactly smiled, but cried.’
‘He is a true knight,’ said Charlotte, emphatically, as with her best pen, and with infinite satisfaction, she indited the ‘Sir Guy Morville, Bart., Redclyffe Park, Moorworth,’ only wishing she could lengthen out the words infinitely.
‘Do you remember, Charlie, how we sat here the first evening he came, and you took me in about the deadly feud?’
‘It was no take-in,’ said Charles; ‘only the feud is all on one side.’
‘Oh, dear! it has been such a stupid winter without Guy,’ sighed Charlotte; ‘if this won’t make papa forgive him, I don’t know what will.’
‘I wish it would, with all my heart,’ said Charles; ‘but logically, if you understand the word, Charlotte, it does not make much difference to the accusation. It would not exactly be received as exculpatory evidence in a court of justice.’
‘You don’t believe the horrid stories?’
‘I believe that Guy has gamed quite as much as I have myself; but I want to see him cleared beyond the power of Philip to gainsay or disbelieve it. I should like to have such a force of proof as would annihilate Philip, and if I was anything but what I am, I would have it. If you could but lend me a leg for two days, Charlotte.’
‘I wish I could.’