l the events which had led to his
present position; but though much eased in his mind, and partly
satisfied, the Squire was not yet clear how it all came about. His
countenance was far from having regained that composure, which indeed
the recent course of events in the family had pretty nearly driven out
of his life. His fresh light-coloured morning dress, with all its little
niceties, and the fresh colour which even anxiety could not drive away
from his cheeks, were somehow contradicted in their sentiment of
cheerfulness by the puckers in his forehead and the harassed look of his
face. He sat down in the big leathern chair by the fireplace, and looked
round him with a sigh, and the air of a man who wonders what will be the
next vexation. "I'd like to hear it over again, Frank," said the Squire.
"My mind is not what it used to be; I don't say I ever was clever, like
you young fellows, but I used to understand what was said to me. Now I
seem to require to hear everything twice over; perhaps it is because I
have had myself to say the same things over again a great many times
lately," he added, with a sigh of weariness. Most likely his eye fell on
Gerald as he said so; at all events, the Rector of Wentworth moved sadly
from where he was standing and went to the window, where he was out of
his father's range of vision. Gerald's looks, his movements, every
action of his, seemed somehow to bear a symbolic meaning at this crisis
in his life. He was no longer in any doubt; he had made up his mind. He
looked like a martyr walking to his execution, as he crossed the room;
and the Squire looked after him, and once more breathed out of his
impatient breast a heavy short sigh. Louisa, who had placed herself in
the other great chair at the other side of the forlorn fireplace, from
which, this summer afternoon, there came no cheerful light, put up her
handkerchief to her eyes and began to cry with half-audible sobs--which
circumstances surrounding him were far from being encouraging to Frank
as he entered anew into his own story--a story which he told with many
interruptions. The Squire, who had once "sworn by Frank," had now a
terrible shadow of distrust in his mind. Jack was here on the spot, of
whom the unfortunate father knew more harm than he had ever told, and
the secret dread that he had somehow corrupted his younger brother came
like a cold shadow over Mr Wentworth's mind. He could not slur over any
part of the narrative, but cr