'I am sure he would not,' said Mrs. Edmonstone; 'all he meant was, that a person without a university education cannot tell what the requirements are to which a man must come up in these days.'
'Ah!' said Guy, laughing, 'how I wished Mr. Potts had been there to have enjoyed listening to Philip and Mr. Lascelles discussing some new Lexicon, digging down for roots of words, and quoting passages of obscure Greek poets at such a rate, that if my eyes had been shut I could have thought them two withered old students in spectacles and snuff-coloured coats.'
'Philip was in his element.' said Mrs. Edmonstone, smiling.
'Really,' proceeded Guy, with animation, 'the more I hear and see of Philip, the more I wonder. What a choice collection of books he has--so many of them school prizes, and how beautifully bound!'
'Ah! that is one of Philip's peculiar ways. With all his prudence and his love of books, I believe he would not buy one unless he had a reasonable prospect of being able to dress it handsomely. Did you see the print?'
'Yes that I did. What glorious loveliness! There is nothing that does it justice but the description in the lecture. Oh I forgot, you have not heard it. You must let me read it to you by and by. Those two little angels, what faces they have. Perfect innocence--one full of reasoning, the other of unreasoning adoration!'
'I see it!' suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Edmonstone; 'I see what you are like in one of your looks, not by any means, in all--it is to the larger of those two angels.'
'Very seldom, I should guess,' said Guy; and sinking his voice, as if he was communicating a most painful fact, he added, 'My real likeness is old Sir Hugh's portrait at home. But what were we saying? Oh! about Philip. How nice those stories were of Mrs. Deane's.'
'She is very fond of him.'
'To have won so much esteem and admiration, already from strangers, with no prejudice in his favour.--It must be entirely his own doing; and well it may! Every time one hears of him, something comes out to make him seem more admirable. You are laughing at me, and I own it is presumptuous to praise; but I did not mean to praise, only to admire.'
'I like very much to hear my nephew praised; I was only smiling at your enthusiastic way.'
'I only wonder I am not more enthusiastic,' said Guy. 'I suppose it is his plain good sense that drives away that sort of feeling, for he is as near heroism in the way of self-sacrifice as a man can be in these days.'