Christine: Or Woman's Trials and Triumphs

13. Philip

110 ch a p ter thir teen Philip It was with a light heart that Christine wended her way through the streets of the pretty town, which she must traverse to reach her destination. She walked briskly along, not even tempted by the staring announcement that goods were “selling at cost,” in nearly every store on the principal business street, nor did the cloths hung out, labelled “great bargains,” and giving their prices, even gain from her a second look, for dry goods had very little charms for her. She went steadily on, her eyes a little downcast, and her brain busy in shaping into form a string of rhymes, as she called it, the ideas of which had been vaguely floating through her mind for several days; and it was frequently the case that, in her walks, these wandering thoughts received shape and dress. She had just completed the last verse to her satisfaction, when suddenly a quick footstep was heard behind her, and, in a moment , Philip Armstrong was at her side. He seemed very happy to see her, but she replied to his greeting very coldly. “I am delighted to see you out,” he said, “after your illness. I feared it might prove something serious.”   Christine 111 Christine looked at him in surprise. “My illness!” she repeated. “I have not been at all sick!” “Indeed!” returned Philip. “Your aunt informed me that you were too much indisposed to see me, when I called at her residence last week; but I see it all, Miss Christine. She has an unfounded and unreasonable prejudice against me, and is determined that I shall have no opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance—but you will not be so unjust. You will not be so tyrannized over?” “Mr. Armstrong,” interrupted Christine, “you are quite mistaken . There is no tyranny in the case. My aunt is, indeed, unwilling that I should have any further acquaintance with you, for reasons that you very well know, and I think she is right, and agree with her fully in desiring that we may meet only as strangers. I tell you this frankly, that you may relieve yourself and me from the annoyances that would arise from an opposite course. I might have shunned you without giving any explanation , but I think the straightforward course the better one; and after what I have said, you need not subject yourself to the cool reception which I shall certainly give you if you do not choose to pursue the course I request—to look upon me as a perfect stranger. Good afternoon, and good-bye, Mr. Armstrong ,” she concluded, turning down the street which led to Mrs. Warner’s. “Good-afternoon!” replied Philip, raising his hat; “but not good-bye,” he muttered between his teeth. “Pretty well done for the unsophisticated country-girl,” he soliloquized; “and cold and severe as she was, I like her all the better for it. She looked almost handsome, her eyes were so bright and piercing, as she administered her shower-bath to me. However, thanks to her truthfulness, I see just how the case stands. I have one strong point, her liking for Mrs. Warner, for she is a true friend to me. I will call there this afternoon.” No sooner resolved than done; and Christine had not been seated in Mrs. Warner’s cozy sitting-room more than ten minutes Christine 112 when Mr. Armstrong was announced. Christine’s first feeling was one of indignation, as he entered with easy assurance, bowed to her and raised Mrs. Warner’s hand to his lips. She did not even make the slightest inclination in reply. Philip only cast a sorrowful look at her, and flung himself on a low seat by Mrs. Warner’s side. “I did not know that you had company,” he began, “or I should not have ventured to disturb a tête-à-tête between you and Miss Elliot.” “You know that you are always welcome, Philip,” replied Mrs. Warner; and Christine looked up a little mollified. He had not then come because she was here, in a spirit of bravado, as she had supposed; she had been unjust to him. She did not glance at him, however, and he went on. “You know when I get into one of my dark hours, I always come to my good angel, my dear Mrs. Warner, and to-day I am...