e it, my dear?'

'He told me to take care of him,' said Amabel.

'I cannot feel that he deserves you should worry yourself about him,'
said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'If you knew all--'

'I do know all, mamma,--if you mean about Laura. Surely you must
forgive. Think how he repents. What, have you not had his letter? Then
how did you know?'

'I learned it from Laura herself. Her trouble at his illness revealed
it. Do you say he has written?'

'Yes, mamma; he told Guy all about it, and was very sorry, and wrote
as soon as he was able. Guy sent you a long message. He was so anxious
about it.'

Amabel showed more eagerness to understand the state of the case, than
she had about anything else. She urged that Philip should be spoken to,
as soon as possible, saying the suspense must be grievous, and dwelling
on his repentance. Mrs. Edmonstone promised to speak to papa, and
this satisfied her; but she held her resolution of meeting Philip
that evening, looking on him as a charge left her by her husband, and
conscious that, as she alone understood how deep was his sorrow, she
could make the time spent with her parents less embarrassing.

Her presence always soothed him, and regard for her kept her father
quiet; so that the evening passed off very well. Mrs. Edmonstone waited
on both; and, in Amy's presence, was better able to resume her usual
manner towards her nephew, and he sat wondering at the placidity of
Amy's pale face. Her hair was smoothed back, and she wore a cap,--the
loss of her long shady curls helping to mark the change from the bright
days of her girlhood; but the mournfulness of her countenance did
not mar the purity and serenity that had always been its great
characteristic; and in the faint sweet smile with which she received
a kind word or attention, there was a likeness to that peculiar and
beautiful expression of her husband's, so as, in spite of the great
difference of feature and colouring, to give her a resemblance to him.

All this day had been spent by Mr. Edmonstone in a fret to get away from
Recoara, and his wife was hardly less desirous to leave it than himself,
for she could have no peace or comfort about Amabel, till she had her
safely at home. Still she dreaded proposing the departure, and even more
the departure itself; and, in spite of Mr. Edmonstone's impatience, she
let her alone till she had her mourning; but when, after two days of
hard work, Anne had nearly managed to complete it, she made u