Left alone, Chetwynd revolved what the butler had told him; and on considering the matter, he came to the conclusion he had previously arrived at—that there was nothing whatever to justify the old man's suspicions.
“I cannot imagine how he has got such a notion into his head,” he thought; “but, according to his own account, he has not a shadow of proof to support the charge. Besides, setting all else aside, there is no motive for such a crime. She could not wish to get rid of my father. Perhaps she might desire to come into the property, but, even if she were bad enough to do it, she would never run such a frightful risk. No, no, the supposition is absurd and monstrous!”
At this moment the very person of whom he was thinking came in, and closed the door.
In her hand she had a small lamp, but she set it down.
She looked very pale, but her manner was perfectly composed, though there was a slight quivering of the lip.
Chetwynd arose, and regarded her in astonishment.
“You need not be alarmed at my appearance,” she said. “I have no unfriendly intentions towards you. I heard you were still here, and came to speak to you. I am anxious to prevent further unpleasantness. You are acting very foolishly. Why should you quarrel with me? Whatever you may think, I mean you well.”
By this time Chetwynd had recovered from his surprise, and, regarding her sternly, said:
“I have no desire to hold any conversation with you, madam; but my conduct requires explanation. I was about to depart, but have been induced to remain for various reasons. I have learnt matters that have determined me to see my father again.”
The latter words were pronounced with great significance, but did not seem to produce any impression upon Mrs. Calverley.