You mean this,' said Amy: '"Gleams from a brighter world, too soon
eclipsed or forfeited." I thought it was Philip's, but it is Sir Guy's
writing. How very sad! I should not like to think so. And he was so
merry all the time! This is his, too, I see; this one about riches being
the freight for which the traveller is responsible.'

'There is a great deal of character in them,' said Mary. 'I should not
have wondered at any of us, penniless people, philosophizing in the fox
and grapes style, but, for him, and at his age--'

'He has been brought up so as to make the theory of wisdom come early,'
said Philip, who was nearer than she thought.

'Is that intended for disparagement?' she asked quickly.

I think very highly of him; he has a great deal of sense and right
feeling,' was Philip's sedate answer; and he turned away to say some
last words to Mr. Thorndale.

The Rosses were the last to depart, Mary in cloak and clogs, while Mr.
Edmonstone lamented that it was in vain to offer the carriage; and Mary
laughed, and thanked, and said the walk home with Papa was the greatest
of treats in the frost and star-light.

'Don't I pity you, who always go out to dinner in a carriage!' were her
last words to Laura.

'Well, Guy,' said Charlotte, 'how do you like it?'

'Very much, indeed. It was very pleasant.'

'You are getting into the fairy ring,' said Laura, smiling.

'Ay' he said, smiling too; 'but it does not turn to tinsel. Would it if
I saw more of it?' and he looked at Mrs. Edmonstone.

'It would be no compliment to ourselves to say so,' she answered.

'I suppose tinsel or gold depends on the using,' said he, thoughtfully;
'there are some lumps of solid gold among those papers, I am sure, one,
in particular, about a trifle. May I see that again? I mean--

'Little things
On little wings
Bear little souls to heaven.'

'Oh! that was only a quotation,' said Amy, turning over the definitions
again with him, and laughing at some of the most amusing; while, in the
mean time, Philip went to help Laura, who was putting some books away in
the ante-room.

'Yes, Laura,' he said, 'he has thought, mind, and soul; he is no mere
rattle.'

'No indeed. Who could help seeing his superiority over Maurice?'

'If only he does not pervert his gifts, and if it is not all talk. I
don't like such excess of openness about his feelings; it is too like
talking for talking's sake.'