My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities; But you have found me. --KING HENRY IV
Philip, according to promise, appeared at Hollywell, and a volume of awful justice seemed written on his brow. Charles, though ignorant of its cause, perceived this at a glance, and greeted him thus:-'Enter Don Philip II, the Duke of Alva, alguazils, corregidors, and executioners.'
'Is anything the matter, Philip?' said Amy; a question which took him by surprise, as he could not believe her in ignorance. He was sorry for her, and answered gravely,-'Nothing is amiss with me, thank you, Amy,' She knew he meant that he would tell no more, and would have thought no more about it, but that she saw her mother was very uneasy.
'Did you ask whether there were any letters at the post?' said Charles. 'Guy is using us shamefully--practising self-denial on us, I suppose. Is there no letter from him?'
'There is,' said Philip, reluctantly.
'Well, where is it?'
'It is to your father.'
'Oh!' said Charles, with a disappointed air. 'Are you sure? Depend on it, you overlooked my M. He has owed me a letter this fortnight. Let me see.'
'It is for my uncle,' repeated Philip, as if to put an end to the subject.
'Then he has been so stupid as to forget my second name. Come, give it me. I shall have it sooner or later.'
'I assure you, Charles, it is not for you.'
'Would not any one suppose he had been reading it?' exclaimed Charles.
'Did you know Mary Ross was gone to stay with her brother John?' broke in Mrs. Edmonstone, in a nervous, hurried manner.
'No is she?' replied Philip.
'Yes; his wife is ill.'
The universal feeling was that something was amiss, and mamma was in the secret. Amy looked wistfully at her, but Mrs. Edmonstone only gazed at the window, and so they continued for some minutes, while an uninteresting exchange of question and answer was kept up between her and her nephew until at length the dressing-bell rang, and cleared the room. Mrs. Edmonstone lingered till her son and daughters were gone, and said,-'You have heard from St. Mildred's?'
'Yes,' said Philip, as if he was as little inclined to be communicative to her as to his cousins.
'From Guy, or from Margaret?'
'From Margaret.'
'But you say there is a letter from him?'
'Yes, for my uncle.'
'Does she say nothing more satisfactory?' asked his aunt, her anxiety tortured by his composure. 'Has she learnt no more?'