'I am very glad you did not stay. The worst of all would have been that you should have run any risk.'
'There is the carriage,' said Amy. 'Mamma and Charlie have been to Broadstone. They thought they might meet you by the late train.'
Philip's colour rose. He stood up--sat down; then rising once more, leant on the mantel-piece, scarcely knowing how to face either of them--his aunt, with her well-merited displeasure, and Charles, who when he parted with him had accused him so justly--Charles, who had seen through him and had been treated with scorn.
A few moments, and Charles came in, leaning on his mother. They both shook hands, exclaimed at finding Amabel downstairs, and Mrs. Edmonstone asked after Philip's health in her would-be cordial manner. The two ladies then went up-stairs together, and thus ended that conference, in which both parties had shown rare magnanimity, of which they were perfectly unconscious; and perhaps the most remarkable part of all was that Philip quietly gave up the great renunciation and so-called sacrifice, with which he had been feeding his hopes, at the simple bidding of the gentle-spoken Amabel--not even telling her that he resigned it. He kept the possessions which he abhorred, and gave up the renunciation he had longed to make, and in this lay the true sacrifice, the greater because the world would think him the gainer.
When the mother and daughter were gone, the cousins were silent, Philip resting his elbow on the mantel-shelf and his head on his hand, and Charles sitting at the end of the sofa, warming first one hand, then the other, while he looked up to the altered face, and perceived in it grief and humiliation almost as plainly as illness. His keen eyes read that the sorrow was indeed more deeply rooted than he had hitherto believed, and that Amabel's pity had not been wasted; and he was also struck by the change from the great personal strength that used to make nothing of lifting his whole weight.
'I am sorry to see you so pulled down,' said he. 'We must try if we can doctor you better than they did at St. Mildred's. Are you getting on, do you think?'
He had hardly ever spoken to Philip, so entirely without either bitterness or sarcasm, and his manner hardly seemed like that of the same person.
'Thank you, I am growing stronger; but as long as I cannot get rid of this headache, I am good for nothing.'
'You have had a long spell of illness indeed,' said Charles. 'You can't expect to shake off two fevers in no time. Now all the anxiety is over, you will brighten like this house.'