“You denounce my behaviour as cruel towards you,” exclaimed Charles: “but did you not first provoke me, father?—did you not call me harsh names? And if, in return, I complained of what I considered to be the unnatural conduct of my parents toward me——”
“Wherefore thus pertinaciously endeavour to penetrate into those secrets which, for good and salutary reasons, your parents keep concealed from you?” demanded Mr. Hatfield: “for I presume that you allude to the fact of our still desiring that you should pass as our nephew.”
“You have assured me that I am legitimate—that there is no stigma upon my birth,” cried Charles;—“then wherefore not acknowledge me as your son? You claim from me the duty of a son—and yet you deny me the title! And again I must remind you, father, that to an accident alone am I indebted for the knowledge of my birth!”
“I would ask you, Charles,” said Mr. Hatfield, in a serious and impressive tone, “what all this has to do with the proposal of marriage that you made to Lady Frances Ellingham: for it was on this point that our dispute commenced yesterday morning. Am I to suppose that my son, being unwilling to contract an alliance so honourable to him, seeks other grounds whereon to base his design of flying in the face of his parents?—am I to conclude that, being resolved to thwart us in this—our dearest hope, you seize upon another and ignoble pretext to justify your rebellion against us!”
“No—ten thousand times No!” exclaimed the young man, cruelly hurt by these suspicions. “In first place, I do not love Lady Frances Ellingham otherwise than as a brother may love a sister——”
“Because,” interrupted Mr. Hatfield, fixing his eyes sternly upon his son,—“because you have formed some connexion of which you are ashamed——”
“Ah!” cried Charles, starting violently. “Has my father acted the spy upon me?”
“Listen,” said Mr. Hatfield, to whose countenance the indignant blood rushed as his son thus insolently addressed him: but he chose to controul his feelings—and he succeeded: “listen, Charles—and then decide whether you ought to judge me so harshly. Your conduct of yesterday morning towards your mother and myself was of such an extraordinary—unaccountable—distressing nature, that you cannot blame me if I resolved to discover the motives that had actuated you. In this determination I was fixed by your protracted absence throughout the day—your stealthy return in the evening—your short visit to your own chamber—your avoidance of all the inmates of this house—and your hasty and also stealthy departure again. I confess, then, that I followed you last evening——”
“You followed me, father?” repeated Charles, in a low, hoarse, and hollow voice.
“Yes—I followed you to Suffolk Street,” continued Mr. Hatfield, with a firmness and a cool determination of tone and manner which he hoped would overawe the rebellious young man: “and, on inquiry in the neighbourhood, I learnt that at the house which you entered, dwells a very beautiful young lady. Now, I give you my honour, Charles, that I asked no more—was told no more than this one fact. I have no desire to become acquainted with the liaisons of my son:—indeed, I know that young men will be—what shall we call it?—-gay, if you will. All I wished to ascertain was whether there were any grounds for supposing that you had formed a connexion which you may believe to have love for its basis, and which induced you yesterday morning to refuse the fulfilment of your own offer to Lady Frances Ellingham.”