‘I thought you no judge of the article.’
‘No, it was not to inspect it that Amy sent for me; though after all it was for a business I would almost as soon undertake, a thing I would not do for any other living creature.’
‘Then I know what it is. To write some kind message to Captain Morville. Just like the dear Amy!’
‘Just like her, and like no one else, except—Of course my father wrote him an official communication yesterday, very short; but the fact must have made it sweet enough, savage as we all were towards him, as there was no one else to be savage to, unless it might be poor Miss Morville, who is the chief loser by being of the feminine gender,’ said Charles, again braving what he was pleased to call sentimentality. ‘Well, by and by, my lady wants to know if any one has written to “poor Philip,” as she will call him, and, by no means contented by hearing papa had, she sends to ask me to come to her when I came in from wheeling in the garden; and receives me with a request that I would write and tell him how well she is, and how glad, and so on. There’s a piece of work for me!’
‘Luckily you are not quite so savage as you pretend, either to him, or your poor little niece.’
‘Whew! I should not care whether she was niece or nephew but for him; at least not much, as long as she comforted Amy; but to see him at Redclyffe, and be obliged to make much of him at the same time, is more than I can very well bear; though I may as well swallow it as best I can, for she will have me do it, as well as on Laura’s account. Amy believes, you know, that he will think the inheritance a great misfortune; but that is only a proof that she is more amiable than any one else.’
‘I should think he would not rejoice.’
‘Not exactly; but I have no fear that he will not console himself by thinking of the good he will do with it. I have no doubt that he was thoroughly cut up, and I could even go the length of believing that distress of mind helped to bring on the relapse, but it is some time ago. And as to his breaking his heart after the first ten minutes at finding himself what he has all his life desired to be, in a situation where the full influence of his talents may be felt,’ said Charles, with a shade of imitation of his measured tones, ‘why that, no one but silly little Amy would ever dream of.’
‘Well, I dare say you will grow merciful as you write.’
‘No, that is not the way to let my indignation ooze out at my fingers’ ends. I shall begin by writing to condole with Markham. Poor man! what a state he must be in; all the more pitiable because he evidently had entirely forgotten that there could ever be a creature of the less worthy gender born to the house of Morville; so it will take him quite by surprise. What will he do, and how will he ever forgive Mrs. Ashford, who, I see in the paper, has a son whom nobody wants, as if for the express purpose of insulting Markham’s feelings! Well-a-day! I should have liked to have had the sound of Sir Guy Morville still in my ears, and yet I don’t know that I could have endured its being applied to a little senseless baby! And, after all, we are the gainers; for it would have been a forlorn thing to have seen Amy go off to reign queen-mother at Redclyffe,—and most notably well would she have reigned, with that clear little head. I vow ‘tis a talent thrown away! However, I can’t grumble. She is much happier without greatness thrust on her, and for my own part, I have my home-sister all to myself, with no rival but that small woman—and how she will pet her!’