Laura, who was settling some things on the table, started back and coloured, then, unable to resist the desire of hearing of him, looked earnestly at her sister.
'He is gone to Corfu,' continued Amabel. 'He only kept Arnaud three days after we were gone, and Arnaud overtook us at Geneva, saying his strength had improved wonderfully. Will you give me my basket? I should like to read you a piece of a note he sent me.'
Laura brought it, and Amabel, holding her hand, looked up at her face, which she vainly tried to keep in order. 'Dearest, I have been very sorry for you, and so has Guy.'
'Amy!' and Laura found herself giving way to her tears, in spite of all her previous exhortations to Charlotte, about self-control; 'my own, own sister!' To have Amy at home was an unspeakable comfort.
'Papa and mamma were both as kind as possible to Philip,' continued Amabel; 'but they could not bear to enter on that. So I told him you had told all, and he was very glad.'
'He was not displeased at my betraying him?' exclaimed Laura. 'Oh, no! he was glad; he said it was a great relief, for he was very anxious about you, Laura. He has been so kind to me,' said Amabel, so earnestly, that Laura received another comfort, that of knowing that her sister's indignation against him had all passed by. 'Now I will read you what he says. You see his writing is quite itself again.'
But Laura observed that Amabel only held towards her the 'Lady Morville' on the outside, keeping the note to herself, and reading, 'I have continued to gain strength since you went; so that there is no further need of detaining Arnaud. I have twice been out of doors, and am convinced that I am equal to the journey; indeed, it is hardly possible for me to endure remaining here any longer.' She read no more, but folded it up, saying, 'I had rather no one saw the rest. He makes himself so unhappy about that unfortunate going to Sondrio, that he says what is only painful to hear. I am glad he is able to join his regiment, for a change will be the best thing for him.'
She laid her head on the pillow as if she had done with the subject, and Laura did not venture to pursue it, but went down to hear her mother's account of her.
Mrs. Edmonstone was feeling it a great comfort to have her son to talk to again, and availed herself of it to tell him of Philip, while Laura was absent, and then to return to speak of Amy on Laura's re-entrance. She said, all through the journey, Amy had been as passive and tranquil as possible, chiefly leaning back in the carriage in silence, excepting that when they finally left the view of the snowy mountains, she gazed after them as long as the least faint cloud-like summit was visible. Still she could not sleep, except that now and then she dozed a little in the carriage, but at night she heard every hour strike in turn, and lay awake through all, nor had she shed one tear since her mother had joined her. Mrs. Edmonstone's anxiety was very great, for she said she knew Amy must pay for that unnatural calmness, and the longer it was before it broke down, the worse it would be for her. However, she was at home, that was one thing to be thankful for, and happen what might, it could not be as distressing as if it had been abroad.