rested him, carrying her the passages
in books that pleased him, telling her about Redclyffe's affairs, and
giving her his letters from Markham, the steward. His head was full
of his horse, Deloraine, which was coming to him under the charge of a
groom, and the consultations were endless about the means of transport,
Mr. Edmonstone almost as eager about it as he was himself.

He did not so quickly become at home with the younger portion of the
family, but his spirits rose every day. He whistled as he walked in the
garden, and Bustle, instead of pacing soberly behind him, now capered,
nibbled his pockets, and drew him into games of play which Charles and
Amabel were charmed to overlook from the dressing-room window. There was
Guy leaping, bounding, racing, rolling the dog over, tripping him up,
twitching his ears, tickling his feet, catching at his tail, laughing at
Bustle's springs, contortions, and harmless open-mouthed attacks, while
the dog did little less than laugh too, with his intelligent amber eyes,
and black and red mouth. Charles began to find a new interest in his
listless life in the attempt to draw Guy out, and make him give one of
his merry laughs. In this, however, he failed when his wit consisted
in allusions to the novels of the day, of which Guy knew nothing. One
morning he underwent a regular examination, ending in--

'Have you read anything?'

'I am afraid I am very ignorant of modern books.'

'Have you read the ancient ones?' asked Laura.

'I've had nothing else to read.'

'Nothing to read but ancient books!' exclaimed Amabel, with a mixture of
pity and astonishment.

'Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus!' said Guy,
smiling.

'There, Amy,' said Charles, 'if he has the Vicar of Wakefield among his
ancient books, you need not pity him.'

'It is like Philip,' said Laura; 'he was brought up on the old standard
books, instead of his time being frittered away on the host of idle
modern ones.'

'He was free to concentrate his attention on Sir Charles Grandison,'
said Charles.

'How could any one do so?' said Guy. 'How could any one have any
sympathy with such a piece of self-satisfaction?'

'Who could? Eh, Laura?' said Charles.

'I never read it,' said Laura, suspecting malice.

'What is your opinion of perfect heroes?' continued Charles.

'Here comes one,' whispered Amy to her brother, blushing at her piece of
naughtiness, as Philip Morville entered the room.

After t