CHAPTER XXXV. A TALK WITH CHARLEY.
The following Monday, in the evening, Charley arrived, in great spirits, more excited indeed than I liked to see him. There was a restlessness in his eye which made me especially anxious, for it raised a doubt whether the appearance of good spirits was not the result merely of resistance to some anxiety. But I hoped my companionship, with the air and exercise of the country, would help to quiet him again. In the late twilight we took a walk together up and down my field.
‘I suppose you let your mother know you were coming, Charley?’ I said.
‘I did not,’ he answered. ‘My father must have nothing to lay to their charge in case he should hear of our meeting.’
‘But he has not forbidden you to go home, has he?’
‘No, certainly. But he as good as told me I was not to go home while he was away. He does not wish me to be there without his presence to counteract my evil influences. He seems to regard my mere proximity as dangerous. I sometimes wonder whether the severity of his religion may not have affected his mind. Almost all madness, you know, turns either upon love or religion.’
‘So I have heard. I doubt it—with men. It may be with women.—But you won’t surprise them? It might startle your mother too much. She is not strong, you say. Hadn’t I better tell Clara Coningham? She can let them know you are here.’
‘It would be better.’
‘What do you say to going there with me to-morrow? I will send my man with a note in the morning.’
He looked a little puzzled and undetermined, but said at length,