If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. --THE TEMPEST
One of the pleasantest rooms at Hollywell was Mrs. Edmonstone's dressing-room--large and bay-windowed, over the drawing-room, having little of the dressing-room but the name, and a toilet-table with a black and gold japanned glass, and curiously shaped boxes to match; her room opened into it on one side, and Charles's on the other; it was a sort of up-stairs parlour, where she taught Charlotte, cast up accounts, spoke to servants, and wrote notes, and where Charles was usually to be found, when unequal to coming down-stairs. It had an air of great snugness, with its large folding-screen, covered with prints and caricatures of ancient date, its book-shelves, its tables, its peculiarly easy arm-chairs, the great invalid sofa, and the grate, which always lighted up better than any other in the house.
In the bright glow of the fire, with the shutters closed and curtains drawn, lay Charles on his couch, one Monday evening, in a gorgeous dressing-gown of a Chinese pattern, all over pagodas, while little Charlotte sat opposite to him, curled up on a footstool. He was not always very civil to Charlotte; she sometimes came into collision with him, for she, too, was a pet, and had a will of her own, and at other times she could bore him; but just now they had a common interest, and he was gracious.
'It is striking six, so they must soon be here. I wish mamma would let me go down; but I must wait till after dinner.'
'Then, Charlotte, as soon as you come in, hold up your hands, and exclaim, "What a guy!" There will be a compliment!'
'No, Charlie; I promised mamma and Laura that you should get me into no more scrapes.'
'Did you? The next promise you make had better depend upon yourself alone.'
'But Amy said I must be quiet, because poor Sir Guy will be too sorrowful to like a racket; and when Amy tells me to be quiet, I know that I must, indeed.'
'Most true,' said Charles, laughing.
'Do you think you shall like Sir Guy?'
'I shall be able to determine,' said Charles, sententiously, 'when I have seen whether he brushes his hair to the right or left.'
'Philip brushes his to the left.'
'Then undoubtedly Sir Guy will brush his to the right.'
'Is there not some horrid story about those Morvilles of Redclyffe?' asked Charlotte. 'I asked Laura, and she told me not to be curious, so I knew there was something in it; and then I asked Amy, and she said it would be no pleasure to me to know.'