"A bad sign," thought the old woman. "A bad sign of reason, when the mind of a man of his age is always with the past." She said: "I think it would be much better for you to shut up the Manor and come here. If you take my advice you would most certainly leave that hateful house. It was all very well when you were strong and happy to call parts of your house by horrible names, but when you are ill and weak and nervous you get superstitious, and full of foolish notions about those very things you have been playing with." "Do you know, mother, I would not exchange my Tower of Silence for any castle in England at this moment; no, not for the fee-simple of Yorkshire." The tone, the words, and the awful smile that accompanied them, cowed the spirit of the woman. "My God!" she thought, "this is worse than death. His reason is toppling, toppling." She did not speak, but waited for him to go on. "But, mother, there is another reason for my not selling the Manor." "And what is that, Henry?" "I am thinking of getting married." "Married! Married!" "Yes. Am I so old or so feeble that I should not think of marrying again?" he asked, with a clumsy attempt at a smile as he half uncovered his pallid face. "No," she answered slowly. "Then why are you astonished?" "I did not say I was astonished." "No, mother, but you looked astonished; tell me why? Why were you astonished at the idea of my marrying a second time? Do you know any _reason_ why I should not?" This was a fierce pleasure. It was like stirring up a sleeping lion when there was no chance of escape save through a small door, before reaching which he might, if he awoke, spring upon you, seize you by the back, and batter out your brains with one swing against the bars. It was like mounting a parapet under fire, and standing there thirty seconds, watch in hand, expecting to be struck, and trying to anticipate where. "Reason for your not marrying! No, I know nothing to prevent your marrying." She did care to excite him in his very critical mental condition by reference to the little comfort he had derived from his experience of wedlock. "Well, mother, it is not only that no cause exists why I should not marry, but an absolute necessity--a necessity there is no evading, makes the step inevitable." He had raised his head from his hand and was looking in her face. "You have always had good reasons for your acts," she said, humouring his whim. "And, moreover, it is imperatively necessary I shall marry one particular woman, and no other." "What! in love again already!" exclaimed Mrs. Grey, with a desperate attempt at archness. The attempt failed utterly, and her face wore a look of anxiety and pain. It was now clear her son did not suffer from mere hallucination; this was a break up of the whole intellect.