The Heir of Redclyffe HTML version
Sure all things wear a heavenly dress,
Which sanctifies their loveliness,
Types of that endless resting day,
When we shall be as changed as they.--HYMN FOR SUNDAY
From that time there was little more cause for anxiety. Philip was, indeed, exceedingly
reduced, unable to turn in bed, to lift his head, or to speak except now and then a feeble
whisper; but the fever was entirely gone, and his excellent constitution began rapidly to
repair its ravages. Day by day, almost hour by hour, he was rallying, spending most of his
time profitably in sleep, and looking very contented in his short intervals of waking.
These became each day rather longer, his voice became stronger, and he made more
remarks and inquiries. His first care, when able to take heed of what did not concern his
immediate comfort, was that Colonel Deane should be written to, as his leave of absence
was expired; but he said not a word about Hollywell, and Amabel therefore hoped her
surmise was right, that his confession had been prompted by a delirious fancy, though
Guy thought something was implied by his silence respecting the very persons of whom
it would have been natural to have talked.
He was very patient of his weakness and dependence, always thankful and willing to be
pleased, and all that had been unpleasant in his manner to Guy was entirely gone. He
liked to be waited on by him, and received his attentions without laborious gratitude, just
in the way partly affectionate, partly matter of course, that was most agreeable; showing
himself considerate of his fatigue, though without any of his old domineering advice.
One evening Guy was writing, when Philip, who had been lying still, as if asleep, asked,
'Are you writing to Hollywell?'
'Yes, to Charlotte; but there is no hurry, it won't go till tomorrow. Have you any
'No, thank you.'
Guy fancied he sighed; and there was a long silence, at the end of which he asked, 'Guy,
have I said anything about Laura?'
'Yes,' said Guy, putting down the pen.
'I thought so; but I could not remember,' said Philip, turning round, and settling himself
for conversation, with much of his ordinary deliberate preparation; 'I hope it was not
when I had no command of myself?'