Mrs. Edmonstone was grieved to see him so hurt at this. It could not have been helped, and if all had been smooth, he never would have thought of it again; but it served to keep up his dignity in his own eyes, and, as he fancied, to defend him from Philip's censure, and he therefore made the most of it, which so pained her that she did not venture to continue her championship of Guy.
'Well, well,' said Mr. Edmonstone, 'the question is what to do next--eh, Philip?' I wish he would have spoken openly. I hate mysteries. I'll write and tell him this won't do; he must be explicit--eh, Philip?'
'We will talk it over by and by,' said Philip.
His aunt understood that it was to be in her absence, and left the room, fearing it would be impossible to prevent Amy from being distressed, though she had no doubt that Guy would be able to prove his innocence of the charges. She found Amy waiting for her in her room.
'Don't, ring, mamma, dear. I'll fasten your dress,' said she; then pausing--'Oh! mamma, I don't know whether I ought to ask, but if you would only tell me if there is nothing gone wrong.'
'I don't believe there is anything really wrong, my dear,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, kissing her, as she saw how her colour first deepened and then faded.
'Oh! no,' said she.
'But there is some mystery about his money-matters, which has vexed your papa.'
'And what has Philip to do with it?'
'I cannot quite tell, my dear. I believe Margaret Henley has heard something, but I do not know the whole.'
'Did you see his letter, mamma? said Amy, in a low, trembling voice.
'Yes, it is just like himself, and absolutely denies the accusations.'
Amy did not say 'then they are false,' but she held up her head.
'Then papa is satisfied?' she said.
'I have no doubt all will be made clear in time,' said her mother; 'but there is still something unexplained, and I am afraid things may not go smoothly just now. I am very sorry, my little Amy, that such a cloud should have come over you, she added, smoothing fondly the long, soft hair, sad at heart to see the cares and griefs of womanhood gathering over her child's bright, young life.
'I said I must learn to bear things!' murmured Amy to herself. 'Only,' and the tears filled her eyes, and she spoke with almost childish simplicity of manner, 'I can't bear them to vex him. I wish Philip would let papa settle it alone. Guy will be angry, and grieved afterwards.'