Over and over again he asked himself the question--were these signs of madness, or not? People were rather in the habit of turning white with passion; he himself, to wit, on occasion; and jealousy and dislike of a pretty girl were nothing new. All that was as nothing: but he could not forget that awful look in the eyes, that movement of the hands, that peculiar shiver of the frame; and he believed that she, Charlotte Carleton, was either mad or in danger of becoming so. You see, the doubt had been already implanted in him by Rose Darling; but for that, he might never have so much as glanced at the possibility; and he very seriously pondered the question, whether this fear arose solely from that whispered communication, and had no place in reality.
It is possible the affair altogether might not have continued to trouble him, but for a word dropped by his mother. Mrs. Carleton sat by Sir Isaac that evening in the drawing-room, her low words breathed in the softest whisper. She was trying to learn, so ladylike and candid all the while, what business he and Georgina had had at Hatherton. Isaac made no very particular reply: and indeed there was none to make. A man lived at Hatherton who had been a protégé of the dean's, but he fell into evil habits, ill-treated his poor sick wife, and finally was discarded. It was for this man Georgina had been begging grace of Isaac--that Sir Isaac would take him on, and give him a trial; and it was to see the wife that Georgina went to Hatherton. No great news to tell; and Sir Isaac did not perceive that Mrs. Carleton was anxious to hear it. Presently Sir Isaac rose, went out, and sat down on the terrace; it was a sultry night, and every breath of air was grateful. Mrs. Carleton also went out and sat by him.
"Frederick," whispered Mrs. St. John, in the impulse of the moment, "should you be very much disappointed were Isaac to give Castle Wafer a mistress?"
So his mother had noticed it! "Not if the mistress were suitable."
"He might give it a worse, Frederick; I like her."
Frederick St. John drew in his breath. A worse! Surely, never a worse, if his fears were correct, than she; not though Isaac searched the whole world through. Mrs. St. John looked up at her son.
"You are silent, Frederick. Should you not like her?"
"I think not."
"It is only a suggestion that crossed me; it does seem next door to an impossibility that Isaac should marry, after all. Don't let it make you uncomfortable."
"Nay, mother mine, you mistake me," he said. "None would more heartily welcome the thought of a wife for Isaac, should such be his own desire; but I--I think I should not like the wife to be Mrs. Carleton."