‘What a clever creature she is!’ I thought. We turned away and followed Mrs Wilson again. I had expected to spend the rest of the day with her, but the moment we reached her apartment, she got out a bottle of her home-made wine and some cake, saying it was time for me to go home. I was much disappointed--the more that the pretty Clara remained behind; but what could I do? I strolled back to Aldwick with my head fuller than ever of fancies new and old. But Mrs Wilson had said nothing of going to see her again, and without an invitation I could not venture to revisit the Hall. In pondering over the events of the day, I gave the man I had met in the wood a full share in my meditations. CHAPTER XI. A TALK WITH MY UNCLE. When I returned home for the Christmas holidays, I told my uncle, amongst other things, all that I have just recorded; for although the affair seemed far away from me now, I felt that he ought to know it. He was greatly pleased with my behaviour in regard to the apple. He did not identify the place, however, until he heard the name of the housekeeper: then I saw a cloud pass over his face. It grew deeper when I told him of my second visit, especially while I described the man I had met in the wood. ‘I have a strange fancy about him, uncle,’ I said. ‘I think he must be the same man that came here one very stormy night--long ago--and wanted to take me away.’ ‘Who told you of that?’ asked my uncle startled. I explained that I had been a listener. ‘You ought not to have listened.’ ‘I know that now; but I did not know then. I woke frightened, and heard the voices.’ ‘What makes you think he was the same man?’ ‘I can’t be sure, you know. But as often as I think of the man I met in the wood, the recollection of that night comes back to me.’ ‘I dare say. What was he like?’ I described him as well as I could. ‘Yes,’ said my uncle, ‘I dare say. He is a dangerous man.’ ‘What did he want with me?’ ‘He wanted to have something to do with your education. He is an old friend--acquaintance I ought to say--of your father’s. I should be sorry you had any intercourse with him. He is a very worldly kind of man. He believes in money and rank and getting on. He believes in nothing else that, I know.’ ‘Then I am sure I shouldn’t like him,’ I said. ‘I am pretty sure you wouldn’t,’ returned my uncle. I had never before heard him speak so severely of any one. But from this time he began to talk to me more as if I had been a grown man. There was a simplicity in his way of looking at things, however, which made him quite intelligible to a boy as yet uncorrupted by false aims or judgments. He took me about with him constantly, and I began to see him as he was, and to honour and love him more than ever.