"Yes. Fulvia—"
Now it was coming. Would he confess to her his love for Ethel?—Ask for help? He glanced round at the door to see if anybody might be there to hear. He had something confidential to say evidently. The pause he made occupied a mere fraction of a second, but Fulvia had time for distinct thought and conjecture, and her heart sank.
"Fulvia, have you thought my father ill lately?"
Then the troubled look was not for Ethel. He was only anxious about Mr. Browning, and in his anxiety, he turned to Fulvia. The throbbing came back, all over her, from head to foot; yet it was in her most natural voice that she answered—
"Padre ill! No. He is nervous about himself, and I fancy he has worries."
"Mr. Carden-Cox spoke to me. He seems to have a notion that things are not right."
"Mr. Carden-Cox! Why, he is always telling padre how well he looks."
"That was not his style to-day. He wanted me to insist on Dr. Duncan, or a London opinion."
"Odd! Mr. Carden-Cox isn't generally a weathercock."
"Hush—don't say any more now. Another time! Here comes Daisy."