Philip likewise was full of anxiety, and coming to his room door to listen for intelligence, it was the "e morto" of the passing Italians that first revealed to him the truth. Guy dead, Amy widowed, himself the cause--he who had said he would never be answerable for the death of this young man.
Truly had Guy's threat, that he would make him repent, been fulfilled. He tottered back to his couch, and sank down, in a burst of anguish that swept away all the self-control that had once been his pride. There Amabel found him stretched, face downwards, quivering and convulsed by frightful sobs.
'Don't--don't, Philip,' said she, in her gentle voice. 'Don't cry so terribly!'
Without looking up, he made a gesture with his hand, as if to drive her away. 'Don't come here to reproach me!' he muttered.
'No, no; don't speak so. I want you to hear me; I have something for you from him. If you would only listen, I want to tell you how happy and comfortable it was.' She took a chair and sat down by him, relieved on perceiving that the sobs grew a little less violent.
'It was very peaceful, very happy,' repeated she. 'We ought to be very glad.'
He turned round, and glanced at her for a moment; but he could not bear to see her quiet face. 'You don't know what you say,' he gasped. 'No; take care of yourself, don't trouble yourself for such as me!'
'I must; he desired me,' said Amabel. 'You will be happier, indeed, Philip, if you would only think what glory it is, and that he is all safe, and has won the victory, and will have no more of those hard, hard struggles, and bitter repentance. It has been such a night, that it seems wrong to be sorry.'
'Did you say he spoke of me again?'
'Yes; here is his Prayer-book. Your father gave it to him, and he meant to have told you about it himself, only he could not talk yesterday evening, and could not part with it till--'
Amy broke off by opening the worn purple cover, and showing the name, in the Archdeacon's writing. 'He's very fond of it,' she said; 'it is the one he always uses.' (Alas! she had not learnt to speak of him in the past tense.) Philip held out his hand, but the agony of grief returned the next moment. 'My father, my father! He would have done him justice. If he had lived, this would never have been!'