rdinary times, but every now and then
betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither
brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite
the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them;
self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than
before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more
attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the
drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he
had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid
examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural
liveliness.

As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very
hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so
fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits;
not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the
country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was,
she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any
way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the
winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much
less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own
religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in
no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his
former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings
which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and
professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion
was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever,
but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that
occasion she had expressed.

CHAPTER XIV.

One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been
shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure
of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a
neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and
shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white
neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have
expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the
accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be
that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipi