have
been sufficient.'

'You would not say, as Charles does, that the suspicion justified your
anger?'

'No, indeed!' He paused, and spoke again. 'Thank Heaven, it did not last
long; but the insight it gave me into the unsubdued evil about me was a
fearful thing.'

'But you conquered it. They were the unguarded exclamations of the first
shock. Your whole conduct since, especially the interview with Philip,
has shown that your anger has not been abiding, and that you have learnt
to subdue it.'

'It could not abide, for there was no just cause of offence. Of course
such a dreadful outburst warned me to be on my guard; and you know the
very sight of Philip is a warning that there is danger in that way! I
mean,' said Guy, becoming conscious that he had been very severe, 'I
mean that I know of old that I am apt to be worried by his manner, and
that ought to make me doubly cautious.'

Mrs. Edmonstone was struck by the soberer manner in which he spoke
of his faults. He was as ready to take full blame, but without the
vehemence which he used to expend in raving at himself instead of at the
offender. It seemed as if he had brought himself to the tone he used to
desire so earnestly.

'I am very glad to be able to explain all to Philip,' he said.

'I will write as soon as possible. Oh, Mrs. Edmonstone! if you knew what
it is to be brought back to such unhoped-for happiness, to sit here
once more, with you,'--his voice trembled, and the tears were in her
eyes,--'to have seen _her_, to have all overlooked, and return to all I
hoped last year. I want to look at you all, to believe that it is true,'
he finished, smiling.

'You both behaved very well this evening,' said she, laughing, because
she could do so better than anything else at that moment.

'You both!' murmured Guy to himself.

'Ah! little Amy has been very good this winter.'

He answered her with a beautiful expression of his eyes, was silent a
little while, and suddenly exclaimed, in a candid, expostulating tone,
'But now, seriously, don't you think it a very bad thing for her?'

'My dear Guy,' said she, scarcely repressing a disposition to laugh, 'I
told you last summer what I thought of it, and you must settle the rest
with Amy to-morrow. I hear the drawing-room bell, which is a sign I must
send you to bed. Good night!'

'Good night!' repeated Guy, as he held her hand. 'It is so long since I
have had any one to wish me good night! Good night, mamma!'

S