‘Nothing so worthy of a stud,’ said Guy, smiling and colouring a little. ‘I was only dreaming over a picture of ruin—
‘The steed is vanish’d from the stall,
No serf is seen in Hassan’s hall,
The lonely spider’s thin grey pall
Waves, slowly widening o’er the wall.’
‘Byron!’ exclaimed Philip. ‘I hope you are not dwelling on him?’
‘Only a volume I found in my room.’
‘Oh, the “Giaour”!’ said Philip. ‘Well, there is no great damage done; but it is bad food for excitable minds. Don’t let it get hold of you.’
‘Very well;’ and there was a cloud, but it cleared in a moment, and, with a few gay words to both, he rode off at a quick pace.
‘Foolish fellow!’ muttered Philip, looking after him.
After some space of silence, Charlotte began in a very grave tone—
‘Philip.’
‘Well?’