CHAPTER IX. MR. BRADFIELD’S “SMART” RELATIONS.
To have a personal attack made upon her by a lunatic is enough to alarm the most intrepid girl. And Chris, although not a coward, not even given to hysterical attacks over black-beetles, was a good deal frightened by her first experience of Mr. Richard’s violence.
By the time she was safely out of the enclosure, however, she had recovered from her first alarm; and, dropping from a run into a walk, she paused before carrying out her first idea of running indoors to tell her mother what had happened.
Why should she say anything about it to Mrs. Abercarne? Her mother had hardly yet got over her repugnance to staying under the same roof with a lunatic. If her terrors were to be revived by hearing of the adventure that had befallen her daughter, she would make fresh difficulties about staying, and perhaps exhaust Mr. Bradfield’s patience. And Chris, though she could not be blind to the difficulties which Mr. Bradfield’s admiration began to put in the way of their remaining in his house, did not wish to hasten the moment when they must leave it. So she turned away from the house, and sauntered between the bare borders and empty flower-beds, to calm herself a little before returning to her mother’s presence.
“Well, what did I tell you?” said Mr. Bradfield, in an exultant tone. “Are you still as anxious as ever for an interview with our young friend?”
Chris, annoyed with herself, vented her annoyance on him. So she turned to say, snappishly:
“Yes, quite as anxious; and more anxious still that he should be seen by a doctor.”
Mr. Bradfield’s face changed. The sullen frown which, whenever it appeared, made his dark face so very unprepossessing, came over it as he said shortly:
“You presume too much.”