But he was mistaken. Brought
suddenly and involuntarily to the brink of confession, Arthur shrank
back and felt less disposed towards it than ever. The conversation had
taken a more serious tone than he had intended--it would quite mislead
Irwine--he would imagine there was a deep passion for Hetty, while there
was no such thing. He was conscious of colouring, and was annoyed at his
boyishness.
"Oh no, no danger," he said as indifferently as he could. "I don't know
that I am more liable to irresolution than other people; only there are
little incidents now and then that set one speculating on what might
happen in the future."
Was there a motive at work under this strange reluctance of Arthur's
which had a sort of backstairs influence, not admitted to himself? Our
mental business is carried on much in the same way as the business
of the State: a great deal of hard work is done by agents who are not
acknowledged. In a piece of machinery, too, I believe there is often a
small unnoticeable wheel which has a great deal to do with the motion of
the large obvious ones. Possibly there was some such unrecognized agent
secretly busy in Arthur's mind at this moment--possibly it was the fear
lest he might hereafter find the fact of having made a confession to the
rector a serious annoyance, in case he should NOT be able quite to carry
out his good resolutions? I dare not assert that it was not so.
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