Each in his southern cave,

The warm winds linger, but to be allowed

One breathing o'er the wave,

One flight across the unquiet sky;

Swift as a vane may turn on high,

The smile of heaven comes on.

So waits the Lord behind the veil,

His light on frenzied cheek, or pale,

To shed when the dark hour is gone.

--LYRA INNOCENTIUM

 

On the afternoon on which Guy expected an answer from Mr. Edmonstone, he walked with his fellow pupil, Harry Graham, to see if there were any letters from him at Dr. Henley's.

 

The servant said Mrs. Henley was at home, and asked them to come in and take their letters. These were lying on a marble table, in the hall; and while the man looked in the drawing-room for his mistress, and sent one of the maids up-stairs in quest of her, Guy hastily took up one, bearing his address, in the well-known hand of Mr. Edmonstone.

 

Young Graham, who had taken up a newspaper, was startled by Guy's loud, sudden exclamation,--'

 

'Ha! What on earth does this mean?'

 

And looking up, saw his face of a burning, glowing red, the features almost convulsed, the large veins in the forehead and temples swollen with the blood that rushed through them, and if ever his eyes flashed with the dark lightning of Sir Hugh's, it was then.

 

'Morville! What's the matter?'

 

'Intolerable!--insulting! Me? What does he mean?' continued Guy, his passion kindling more and more. 'Proofs? I should like to see them! The man is crazy! I to confess! Ha!' as he came towards the end, 'I see it,--I see it. It is Philip, is it, that I have to thank. Meddling coxcomb! I'll make him repent it,' added he, with a grim fierceness of determination. Slandering me to them! And that,'--looking at the words with regard to Amy,--'that passes all. He shall see what it is to insult me!'

 

'What is it? Your guardian out of humour?' asked his companion.

 

'My guardian is a mere weak fool. I don't blame him,--he can't help it; but to see him made a tool of! He twists him round his finger, abuses his weakness to insult--to accuse. But he shall give me an account!'

 

Guy's voice had grown lower and more husky; but though the sound sunk, the force of passion rather increased than diminished; it was like the low distant sweep of the tempest as it whirls away, preparing to return with yet more tremendous might. His colour, too, had faded to paleness, but the veins were still swollen, purple, and throbbing, and there was a stillness about him that made his wrath more than fierce, intense, almost appalling.

 

Harry Graham was dumb with astonishment; but while Guy spoke, Mrs. Henley had come down, and was standing before them, beginning a greeting. The blood rushed back into Guy's cheeks, and, controlling his voice with powerful effort, he said,--

 

'I have had an insulting--an unpleasant letter,' he added, catching himself up. 'You must excuse me;' and he was gone.

 

'What has happened?' exclaimed Mrs. Henley, though, from her brother's letter, as well as from her observations during a long and purposely slow progress, along a railed gallery overhanging the hall, and down a winding staircase, she knew pretty well the whole history of his anger.

 

'I don't know,' said young Graham. 'Some absurd, person interfering between him and his guardian. I should be sorry to be him to fall in his way just now. It must be something properly bad. I never saw a man in such a rage. I think I had better go after him, and see what he has done with himself.'

 

'You don't think,' said Mrs. Henley, detaining him, 'that his guardian could have been finding fault with him with reason?'

 

'Who? Morville? His guardian must have a sharp eye for picking holes, if he can find any in Morville. Not a steadier fellow going,--only too much so.'

 

'Ah!' thought Mrs. Henley, 'these young men always hang together;' and she let him escape without further question. But, when he emerged from the house, Guy was already out of sight, and he could not succeed in finding him.

 

Guy had burst out of the house, feeling as if nothing could relieve him but free air and rapid motion; and on he hurried, fast, faster, conscious alone of the wild, furious tumult of rage and indignation against the maligner of his innocence, who was knowingly ruining him with all that was dearest to him, insulting him by reproaches on his breaking a most sacred, unblemished word, and, what Guy felt scarcely less keenly, forcing kind-hearted Mr. Edmonstone into a persecution so foreign to his nature. The agony of suffering such an accusation, and from such a quarter,--the violent storm of indignation and pride,--wild, undefined ideas of a heavy reckoning,--above all, the dreary thought of Amy denied to him for ever,--all these swept over him, and swayed him by turns, with the dreadful intensity belonging to a nature formed for violent passions, which had broken down, in the sudden shock, all the barriers imposed on them by a long course of self-restraint.

 

On he rushed, reckless whither he went, or what he did, driven forward by the wild impulse of passion, far over moor and hill, up and down, till at last, exhausted at once by the tumult within, and by the violent bodily exertion, a stillness--a suspension of thought and sensation--ensued; and when this passed, he found himself seated on a rock which crowned the summit of one of the hills, his handkerchief loosened, his waistcoat open, his hat thrown off, his temples burning and throbbing with a feeling of distraction, and the agitated beatings of his heart almost stifling his panting breath.

 

'Yes,' he muttered to himself, 'a heavy account shall he pay me for this crowning stroke of a long course of slander and ill-will!............