'Here comes one,' whispered Amy to her brother, blushing at her piece of naughtiness, as Philip Morville entered the room.
After the first greetings and inquiries after his sister, whom he had been visiting, Laura told him what they had been saying of the advantage of a scanty range of reading.
'True,' said Philip; 'I have often been struck by finding how ignorant people are, even of Shakspeare; and I believe the blame chiefly rests on the cheap rubbish in which Charlie is nearly walled up there.'
'Ay,' said Charles, 'and who haunts that rubbish at the beginning of every month? I suppose to act as pioneer, though whether any one but Laura heeds his warnings, remains to be proved.'
'Laura does heed?' asked Philip, well pleased.
'I made her read me the part of Dombey that hurts women's feelings most, just to see if she would go on--the part about little Paul--and I declare, I shall think the worse of her ever after--she was so stony hearted, that to this day she does not know whether he is dead or alive.'
'I can't quite say I don't know whether he lived or died,' said Laura, 'for I found Amy in a state that alarmed me, crying in the green-house, and I was very glad to find it was nothing worse than little Paul.'
'I wish you would have read it,' said Amy; and looking shyly at Guy, she added--'Won't you?'
'Well done, Amy!' said Charles. 'In the very face of the young man's companion!'
'Philip does not really think it wrong,' said Amy.
'No,' said Philip; 'those books open fields of thought, and as their principles are negative, they are not likely to hurt a person well armed with the truth.'
'Meaning,' said Charles, 'that Guy and Laura have your gracious permission to read Dombey.'
'When Laura has a cold or toothache.'
'And I,' said Guy.
'I am not sure about, the expediency for you,' said Philip 'it would be a pity to begin with Dickens, when there is so much of a higher grade equally new to you. I suppose you do not understand Italian?'
'No,' said Guy, abruptly, and his dark eyebrows contracted.
Philip went on. 'If you did, I should not recommend you the translation of "I promessi Sponsi," one of the most beautiful books in any language. You have it in English, I think, Laura.'
Laura fetched it; Guy, with a constrained 'thank you,' was going to take it up rather as if he was putting a force upon himself, when Philip more quickly took the first volume, and eagerly turned over the pages--I can't stand this,' he said, 'where is the original?'