d his annoyance by look or sign.

About a quarter of an hour after, there was a knock at the
dressing-room door. 'Come in,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, looking up from her
letter-writing, and Guy made his appearance, looking very downcast.

'I am come,' he said, 'to ask pardon for the disturbance I made just
now. I was so foolish as to be irritated at Philip's manner, when he was
giving me some good advice, and I am very sorry.'

'What has happened to your lip?' she exclaimed.

He put his handkerchief to it. 'Is it bleeding still? It is a trick
of mine to bite my lip when I am vexed. It seems to help to keep down
words. There! I have given myself a mark of this hateful outbreak.'

He looked very unhappy, more so, Mrs. Edmonstone thought, than the
actual offence required. 'You have only failed in part,' she said. 'It
was a victory to keep down words.'

'The feeling is the _thing_,' said Guy; 'besides, I showed it plainly
enough, without speaking.'

'It is not easy to take advice from one so little your elder,' began
Mrs. Edmonstone, but he interrupted her. 'It was not the advice. That
was very good; I--' but he spoke with an effort,--'I am obliged to
him. It was--no, I won't say what,' he added, his eyes kindling, then
changing in a moment to a sorrowful, resolute tone, 'Yes, but I _will_,
and then I shall make myself thoroughly ashamed. It was his veiled
assumption of superiority, his contempt for all I have been taught.
Just as if he had not every right to despise me, with his talent and
scholarship, after such egregious mistakes as I had made in the morning.
I gave him little reason to think highly of my attainments; but let him
slight me as much as he pleases, he must not slight those who taught me.
It was not Mr. Potts' fault.'

Even the name could not spoil the spirited sound of the speech, and Mrs.
Edmonstone was full of sympathy. 'You must remember,' she said, 'that in
the eyes of a man brought up at public school, nothing compensates for
the want of the regular classical education. I have no doubt it was very
provoking.'

'I don't want to be excused, thank you,' said Guy. 'Oh I am grieved; for
I thought the worst of my temper had been subdued. After all that has
passed--all I felt--I thought it impossible. Is there no hope for--'
He covered his face with his hands, then recovering and turning to Mrs.
Edmonstone, he said, 'It is encroaching too much on your kindness to
come here and trouble you with my confes