Perhaps Theobald was in a good temper; he may have seen from the paper
that morning that his stocks had been rising; it may have been this or
twenty other things, but whatever it was, he did not scold so much
as Ernest had expected, and, seeing the boy look exhausted and
believing him to be much grieved at the loss of his watch, Theobald
actually prescribed a glass of wine after his dinner, which, strange
to say, did not choke him, but made him see things more cheerfully
than was usual with him.
That night when he said his prayers, he inserted a few paragraphs to
the effect that he might not be discovered, and that things might go
well with Ellen, but he was anxious and ill at ease. His guilty
conscience pointed out to him a score of weak places in his story,
through any one of which detection might even yet easily enter. Next
day and for many days afterwards he fled when no man was pursuing, and
trembled each time he heard his father's voice calling for him. He had
already so many causes of anxiety that he could stand little more, and
in spite of all his endeavours to look cheerful, even his mother could
see that something was preying upon his mind.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297