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?'

'I should be inclined to believe his own account of himself,' said she.

'I tell you, 'tis utterly against reason,' said Mr. Edmonstone, angr