'Amy!' exclaimed Guy.
'I see you are right,' said Charles; 'but tell me your grounds!'
'Padre Cristoforo,' was the answer.
'Fancy little Amy choosing Joan of Arc,' said Eveleen, 'she who is afraid of a tolerable sized grasshopper.'
'I should like to have been Joan's sister, and heard her tell about her visions,' said Amy.
'You would have taught her to believe them,' said Philip.
'Taught her!' cried Guy. 'Surely you take the high view of her.'
'I think,' said Philip, 'that she is a much injured person, as much by her friends as her enemies; but I don't pretend to enter either enthusiastically or philosophically into her character.'
What was it that made Guy's brow contract, as he began to strip the feather of a pen, till, recollecting himself, he threw it from him with a dash, betraying some irritation, and folded his hands.
'Lavender,' read Charlotte.
'What should make any one choose that?' cried Eveleen.
'I know!' said Mrs. Edmonstone, looking up. 'I shall never forget the tufts of lavender round the kitchen garden at Stylehurst.'
Philip smiled. Charlotte proceeded, and Charles saw Laura's colour deepening as she bent over her work.
'"Lavender--steadfastness--Strafford--Cordelia in 'King Lear'--the late war." How funny!' cried Charlotte. 'For hear the next: "Honeysuckle--steadfastness--Lord Strafford--Cordelia--the present time." Why, Laura, you must have copied it from Philip's.'
Laura neither looked nor spoke. Philip could hardly command his countenance as Eveleen laughed, and told him he was much flattered by those becoming blushes. But here Charles broke in,--'Come, make haste, Charlotte, don't be all night about it;' and as Charlotte paused, as if to make some dangerous remark, he caught the paper, and read the next himself. Nothing so startled Philip as this desire to cover their confusion. Laura was only sensible of the relief of having attention drawn from her by the laugh that followed.
'A shamrock--Captain Rock--the tailor that was "blue moulded for want of a bating"--Pat Riotism--the time of Malachy with the collar of gold.'
'Eva!' cried Charlotte.
'Nonsense,' said Eveleen; 'I am glad I know your tastes, Charles. They do you honour.'
'More than yours do, if these are yours,' said Charles, reading them contemptuously; 'Rose--generosity--Charles Edward--Catherine Seyton--the civil wars.'
'You had better not have disowned Charlie's, Lady Eveleen,' said Guy.
'Nay do you think I would put up with such a set as these?' retorted Charles; 'I am not fallen so low as the essence of young ladyism.'