It appeared as if the force of his anger might be fearful, if once it broke forth without control; yet at the same time he had a gentleness and attention, alike to small and great, which, with his high spirit and good nature, his very sweet voice and pleasant smile, made him a peculiarly winning and engaging person; and few who saw him could help being interested in him.
No wonder he had become in the eyes of the Edmonstones almost a part of their family. Mrs. Edmonstone had assumed a motherly control over him, to which he submitted with a sort of affectionate gratitude.
One day Philip remarked, that he never saw any one so restless as Guy, who could neither talk nor listen without playing with something. Scissors, pencil, paper-knife, or anything that came in his way, was sure to be twisted or tormented; or if nothing else was at hand, he opened and shut his own knife so as to put all the spectators in fear for his fingers.
'Yes,' said Laura, 'I saw how it tortured your eyebrows all the time you were translating Schiller to us. I wondered you were not put out.'
'I consider that to be put out--by which you mean to have the intellect at the mercy of another's folly--is beneath a reasonable creature,' said Philip; 'but that I was annoyed, I do not deny. It is a token of a restless, ill-regulated mind.'
'Restless, perhaps,' said Mrs. Edmonstone 'but not necessarily ill-regulated. I should think it rather a sign that he had no one to tell him of the tricks which mothers generally nip in the bud.'
'I was going to say that I think he fidgets less,' said Laura; 'but I think his chief contortions of the scissors have been when Philip has been here.'
'They have, I believe,' said her mother, I was thinking of giving him a hint.'
'Well, aunt, you are a tamer of savage beasts if you venture on such a subject,' said Philip.
'Do you dare me?' she asked, smiling.
'Why, I don't suppose he would do more than give you one of his lightning glances: but that, I think, is more than you desire.'
'Considerably,' said Mrs. Edmonstone; 'for his sake as much as my own.'
'But,' said Laura, 'mamma has nearly cured him of pawing like a horse in the hall when he is kept waiting. He said he knew it was impatience, and begged her to tell him how to cure it. So she treated him as an old fairy might, and advised him in a grave, mysterious way, always to go and play the "Harmonious Blacksmith," when he found himself getting into "a taking", just as if it was a charm. And he always does it most dutifully.'