Laura still spoke for Guy, and Amy rejoiced; for if her sister had not taken up the defence of the absent, she must, and she felt too strongly to be willing to speak. It seemed too absurd for one feeling himself under such a doom to wrangle about a horse, yet she was somewhat amused by the conviction that if Guy had really wished to annoy Philip he had certainly succeeded.

There was no coming to an agreement. Laura's sense of justice revolted at the notion of Guy's being guilty of petty spite; while Philip, firm in his preconceived idea of his character, and his own knowledge of mankind, was persuaded that he had imputed the true motive, and was displeased at Laura's attempting to argue the point. He could not wait to see any one else, as he was engaged to dine out, and he set off again at his quick, resolute pace.

'He is very unfair!' exclaimed Amy.

'He did not mean to be so,' said Laura; 'and though he is mistaken in imputing such motives, Guy's conduct has certainly been vexatious.'

They were just turning to go in, when they were interrupted by the return of the carriage; and before Charles had been helped up the steps, their father and Guy came in sight. While Guy went to shut up Bustle, who was too wet for the drawing-room, Mr. Edmonstone came up to the others, kicking away the pebbles before him, and fidgeting with his gloves, as he always did when vexed.

'Here's a pretty go!' said he. 'Here is Guy telling me he won't hunt any more!'

'Not hunt!' cried Mrs. Edmonstone and Charles at once; 'and why?'

'Oh! something about its taking his mind from his reading; but that can't be it--impossible, you know; I'd give ten pounds to know what has vexed him. So keen as he was about it last night, and I vow, one of the best riders in the whole field. Giving up that horse, too--I declare it is a perfect sin! I told him he had gone too far, and he said he had left a note with Philip this morning.'

'Yes,' said Laura; Philip has just been here about it. Guy left a card, saying, hunting and reading would not agree.'

'That is an excuse, depend upon it,' said Mr. Edmonstone. 'Something has nettled him, I am sure. It could not be that Gordon, could it, with his hail-fellow-well-met manner? I thought Guy did not half like it the other day, when he rode up with his "Hollo, Morville!" The Morvilles have a touch of pride of their own; eh, mamma?'




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