o see the cares and griefs of womanhood gathering
over her child's bright, young life.

'I said I must learn to bear things!' murmured Amy to herself. 'Only,'
and the tears filled her eyes, and she spoke with almost childish
simplicity of manner, 'I can't bear them to vex him. I wish Philip would
let papa settle it alone. Guy will be angry, and grieved afterwards.'

They were interrupted by the dinner-bell, but Amy ran into her own room
for one moment.

'I said I would learn to bear,' said she to herself, 'or I shall never
be fit for him. Yes, I will, even though it is the thinking he is
unhappy. He said I must be his Verena; I know what that means; I ought
not to be uneasy, for he will bear it beautifully, and say he is glad of
it afterwards. And I will try not to seem cross to Philip.'

Mr. Edmonstone was fidgety and ill at ease, found fault with the dinner,
and was pettish with his wife. Mrs. Edmonstone set Philip off
upon politics, which lasted till the ladies could escape into the
drawing-room. In another minute Philip brought in Charles, set him down,
and departed. Amy, who was standing by the window, resting her forehead
against the glass, and gazing into the darkness, turned round hastily,
and left the room, but in passing her brother, she put her hand into
his, and received a kind pressure. Her mother followed her, and the
other three all began to wonder. Charles said he had regularly been
turned out of the dining-room by Philip, who announced that he wanted to
speak to his uncle, and carried him off.

They conjectured, and were indignant at each other's conjectures, till
their mother returned, and gave them as much information as she could;
but this only made them very anxious. Charles was certain that Mrs.
Henley had laid a cockatrice egg, and Philip was hatching it; and Laura
could not trust herself to defend Philip, lest she should do it too
vehemently. They could all agree in desire to know the truth, in hope
that Guy was not culpable, and, above all, in feeling for Amy; but by
tacit consent they were silent on the three shades of opinion in their
minds. Laura was confident that Philip was acting for the best; Mrs.
Edmonstone thought he might be mistaken in his premises, but desirous of
Guy's real good; and Charles, though sure he would allege nothing which
he did not believe to be true, also thought him ready to draw the worst
conclusions from small grounds, and to take pleasure in driving Mr.
Edmons