"Tell me, Chartley, what has happened to that sweet girl, Iola? She that was bright is dull; she, who was gay, is sad; she, whose cheek was like the rose, is now like a lily bending amongst its green leaves, bowed down with drops of dew."
"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley, leaning his head upon his hand, and bending his eyes upon the table.
"Then, what's the matter with you, my lord?" rejoined Sir William Arden; "for yours is the same case as hers. You are sad where you were gay; you are stupid where you were sharp; you look like a pipped hen instead of a rosy bumpkin."
"Methinks my present situation were enough to account for all this," replied Chartley.
"Come, come. That will not do, my lord," answered his friend. "I have seen you in much worse plight, when we were taken by the brown fellows at Tripoli, and you were then as gay as a lark. Better you should have some one to consult with. Tell me in a word, then. Were you making love to this dear little lady, when you were out with her the whole night in the forest? It was a great temptation, truly. I was half inclined at supper to make an old fool of myself, and say sweet things to pretty Constance, just to console her for the empty babbling of Ned Hungerford."
Chartley still leaned his arm upon the table, and remained in thought. It was not a usual mood with him; for, generally, the first emotions of his heart soonest found utterance; but new passions will produce new conduct. For the first time in his life, he felt inclined to be angry at his acts being inquired into, even by a friend, for the purposes of friendship. But he felt that it was foolish and wrong; and, being a very imperfect creature, after a brief struggle, he went into quite the opposite extreme.
"You are too sharp a questioner, Arden," he said, with a laugh, which had somewhat of his old gaiety in it; "but I'll answer your question manfully. I do not think the name of love ever passed my lips during that whole night."
"Ay, ay," cried the bluff knight; "but talking of love is not making it."
"Perhaps not," answered Chartley; "but, if I did make it, it was without intention. One thing, however, I feel too well, that, if I did not make love, I learned to love; and that is much worse. But it were worse still, Arden, should I have taught her to love too."
"Why so?" asked Sir William Arden, with a start.