When that young gentleman, full of repentance, had calmly reflected upon his perilous situation, he was filled with alarm, and trembled for the fate which must surely overtake him. He attended the India House as usual, but day by day he became more deathly pale. His limbs seemed to have lost all strength, and he moved to and fro with unsteady gait and aching heart. As often as he approached the huge iron safe where, in a moment of madness, he had cleverly placed a packet of false notes in lieu of those he had lost, in order to lull suspicion for a time, he became dizzy from excitement, and could scarcely stand. Remorse and shame were punishing him more fearfully than actual imprisonment could have done. When the day arrived upon which the India House usually issued a statement of their affairs, he was in a high fever, and, despite all remonstrance from his good old landlady, Dame Worthington, and old Sir Richard Warbeck, he persisted in going to the India House as usual, and even counterfeited gaiety. The accounts soon showed a large deficit, and a buzz of astonishment was heard among all the clerks. The directors of the India House seemed undisturbed, nor did they betray any token of great concern. They smiled as blandly as before, and even joked with the terrified clerks, who were unable to speak, for all of them were implicated in suspicion, and none could imagine on whose head should rightly fall the actual guilt. Each was distrustful of the other. Towards the close of business hours Charley became really ill, but as he had been unwell for several days previous, no remark was passed upon his going home earlier than usual. Excitement caused fever, and the latter superinduced lightness and flightiness of the mind. In truth he was not now sane. When he entered the house, Dame Worthington gazed upon him for a few moments, and then burst into tears. He was unable to walk upstairs, hence the good old dame led him into the snug parlor, and put him to bed there upon the couch, and sent for medical assistance. The whole house was astonished at the sudden and dangerous change in the young man, and when Clara Haylark heard of it, she rushed downstairs in great haste, and proffered her services in any way in which they might prove useful—for Clara had a lurking suspicion that her curls and captivating ways might have had a little something to do with Charley’s sudden indisposition. At least she intimated as much to her mother, in answer to a query; for she solemnly sighed, turned up her eyes with eloquent meaning, and said, “Poor Charles! I’m sure he cannot blame me, mother dear!” and covered her face—the little hypocrite—with a lace-edged handkerchief! For several days Charles remained half demented and in high fever.