"Well, Charles Reding," he said, "I think we know each other well enough for you to have given me a hint of what was going on as regards you."
Charles said he had written to him only the evening before.
"Ah, when there was not time to answer your letter," said Mr. Malcolm.
Charles said he wished to spare so kind a friend ... he bungled, and could not finish his sentence.
"A friend, who, of course, could give no advice," said Mr. Malcolm drily. Presently he said, "Were those people some of your new friends who were calling on you? they have kept me in the shop this three-quarters of an hour; and the fellow who has just come down nearly threw me over the baluster."
"Oh no, sir, I know nothing of them; they were the most unwelcome of intruders."
"As some one else seems to be," said Mr. Malcolm.
Charles was very much hurt; the more so, because he had nothing to say; he kept silence.
"Well, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm, not looking at him, "I have known you from this high; more, from a child in arms. A frank, open boy you were; I don't know what has spoiled you. These Jesuits, perhaps.... It was not so in your father's lifetime."
"My dear sir," said Charles, "it pierces me to the heart to hear you talk so. You have indeed always been most kind to me. If I have erred, it has been an error of judgment; and I am very sorry for it, and hope you will forgive it. I acted for the best; but I have been, as you must feel, in a most trying situation. My mother has known what I was contemplating this year past."