Bram was thrown into the utmost consternation by this behavior. He had turned to watch the door by which she had made her escape, when Theodore seized him by the arm, and dragged him impatiently towards the outer door. “Come, come,” said he, “don’t trouble your head about her. She’s not been well lately; she’s been out of sorts. I’ve talked of leaving the place, and she doesn’t like the idea. She’ll soon be herself again. Her cousin Chris has been round two or three times since his return from his honeymoon trying to cheer her up. But she won’t be cheered; I suppose she enjoys being miserable sometimes. Most ladies do.” Bram, who had followed Mr. Biron with leaden feet across the farmyard towards the stables, felt that a black cloud had suddenly fallen upon his horizon. The mention of Chris filled him with poignant mistrust, with cruel alarm. He felt that calamity was hanging over them all, and that the terrible look he had seen in Claire’s eyes was prophetic of coming evil. He hardly saw the mare of which Theodore was so proud; hardly heard the babble, airily ostentatious, cheerily condescending, which Claire’s father dinned into his dull ears. He was filled with one thought. These new extravagances of Theodore’s, the look in Claire’s face, were all connected with Chris, and with his renewed visits. Bram felt as if he should go mad. When he reached the office he watched for an opportunity to get speech alone with Christian. But he was unsuccessful. Bram did not even see him until late in the day. Long before that Bram had had an interview with the elder Mr. Cornthwaite, which only confirmed his fears. He had to give an account to the head of the firm of the business he had transacted while away. He had carried it through with great ability, and Mr. Cornthwaite complimented him highly upon the promptitude, judgment, and energy he had shown in a rather difficult matter. “My son Christian was perfectly right,” Mr. Cornthwaite went on, “in recommending me to send you away on this affair, Elshaw. You seem to have an old head upon young shoulders. I only hope he may do half as well on the mission with which he himself is to be entrusted.” Bram looked curious. “Is Mr. Christian going away again so soon, sir?” asked he. Mr. Cornthwaite, whose face bore traces of some unaccustomed anxiety, frowned. “Yes,” he answered shortly. “I am sorry to say that he and his wife don’t yet rub on so well as one could wish together. You see I tell you frankly what the matter is, and you can take what credit you please to yourself for having predicted it. No doubt they will shake down in time, but on all accounts I think it is as well, as there happens to be some business to be done down south, to send him away upon it. He will only be absent a few weeks, and in the meantime any little irritation there may be on both sides will have had time to rub off.” Bram looked blank indeed.