“And what did he say?” asked Richard.
“They want to raise his interest on the Yorkshire estate; and he says you won't help him; but that of course is your affair, and I declined, point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go further, it strikes me, as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your manner to me has undergone a slight change.”
“Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you,” said Richard Arden, with a little laugh.
“Oh! yes, Arden, it has, and you must know it, and—pardon me—you must intend it also; and now I want to know what I have done, or how I have hurt you, or who has been telling lies of me?”
“Nothing of all these, that I know of,” said Richard, with a cold little laugh.
“Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation. I must however, remind you, because it concerns my happiness, and possibly other interests dearer to me than my life, too nearly to be trifled with, that you heard all I said respecting your sister with the friendliest approbation and encouragement. You knew as much and as little about me then as you do now. I am not conscious of having said or done anything to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or opinion; and in your manner there is a change, and a very decided change, and I tell you frankly I can't understand it.”
Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard for a moment. He was balancing in his mind whether he should evade or accept the crisis. He preferred the latter.
“Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything by my manner; but, as you know, when there is anything in one's mind it is not always easy to prevent its affecting, as you say, one's manner. I am not sorry you have asked me, because I spoke without reflection the other day. No one should answer, I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a matter, in this world.”
“But you didn't—you spoke only for yourself. You simply promised me your friendship, your kind offices—you said, in fact, all I could have hoped for.”
“Yes, perhaps—yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you see, dear Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking over.”