"Has she, William? Then she is a silly girl for her pains. But it is your fault, I dare say. You have been tormenting her with cross-questions about a vulgar villain that neither of you ought ever again to call to remembrance. Say no more about him or his precious cousin either. Surely we can find more agreeable subjects to talk about than the vicar and his cousin."
"Very likely, mother. But I cannot be easy till I know exactly what it was which caused Helen to leave her mother's house in the manner she did this afternoon. Have I not a right to inquire?—can you blame me for doing so?"
"No, my dear William, I do not. But heavily shall I blame you if you make an extorted confidence the source of quarrel between an officer of rank in his majesty's service and a pettifogging methodist attorney of Wrexhill."
"Is it possible, mother, that you know me so little as to think there can exist the slightest chance of my doing this? Pray do not keep me in this fever for the sake of protecting me from a duel with Mr. Stephen Corbold."
"There you are, hot-head,—your father's own son beyond all question. Now listen then to this infamous story, and take care that you do not renew a sorrow that is past, by improperly resenting it."
After this preface, Lady Harrington ventured to repeat to her son the narrative she had heard from Helen. He listened with very exemplary tranquillity, only occasionally biting his lips, but uttering no single word of any kind till it was concluded. He then said very quietly,—"Let us return to poor Helen, mother.—How admirably has she behaved throughout!"
Lady Harrington looked up into her son's face as if to discover whether his calmness were genuine; but his pocket handkerchief at that moment concealed his features, and, as he walked rapidly towards the house, she could only take it for granted that all was right, and follow him.
Having reached the door of the room where he had left Helen, he opened it, but waited outside till his mother overtook him.
"Go to her, mother," said he, "and confess that you have told me every thing. I would rather you did this than me;—tell her too, that she has behaved gloriously, and, when I think you have put her at her ease about me, I will come to you."
So saying, he passed on, and entered a small parlour that was called his own at the front of the house.