‘I hope not!’ said Philip, as if shaken in his confidence. ‘Any way it is a bad affair. I am very much concerned for Thorndale.’
So sincerely concerned, that his head began to ache in the midst of some writing. He was obliged to leave it to Charles to finish, and go out to walk with Amy.
Amabel came in before him, and began to talk to Charles about his great vexation at his friend’s disappointment.
‘I am almost sorry you threw out that hint about Mr. Fielder,’ said she. ‘Don’t you remember how he was recommended?’
‘Ah! I had forgotten it was Philip’s doing; a bit of his spirit of opposition,’ said Charles. ‘Were not the boys to have gone to Coombe Prior?’
‘Yes’ said Amabel, ‘that is the thing that seems to have made him so unhappy about it. I am sure I hope it is not true,’ she added, considering, ‘for, Charlie, you must know that Guy had an impression against him.’
‘Had he?’ said Charles, anxiously.
‘It was only an impression, nothing he could accuse him of, or mention to Lord Kilcoran. He would have told no one but me, but he had seen something of him at Oxford, and thought him full of conversation, very clever, only not the sort of talk he liked.’ ‘I don’t like that. Charlotte concurs in testifying to his agreeableness; and in the dearth of intellect, I should not wonder at Eva’s taking up with him. He would be a straw to the drowning. It looks dangerous.’
They were very anxious for further intelligence, but received none, except that Philip had a letter from his friend, on which his only comment was a deep sigh, and ‘Poor Thorndale! She little knows what she has thrown away!’ Letters from Kilcoran became rare; Laura scarcely wrote at all to Philip, and though Mrs. Edmonstone wrote as usual, she did not notice the subject; while Charlotte’s gravity and constraint, when she did achieve a letter to Charles, were in such contrast to her usual free and would-be satirical style, that such eyes as her brother’s could hardly fail to see that something was on her mind.
So it went on week after week, Charles and Amabel wondering when they should ever have any notice to go home, and what their family could be doing in Ireland. October had given place to November, and more than a week of November had passed, and here they still were, without anything like real tidings.