Annie could only look at the doctor imploringly, and Mr. Wilmot's hand drew her back to her former position—except that she sat upright, not leaning against him.
"Now," Mr. Rawdon said, with a glance at Annie and a movement as if to leave the room. But Annie could not stir. The restraining arm around her might be weak, yet it held her fast. Mr. Rawdon had taken one step towards the door, and he paused hesitatingly.
"The fact is, Wilmot, any kind of agitation is bad for you, in the present state of your heart," he said. "Miss Wilmot and I are used to each other. Better let us have our little talk in another room."
"No," said Mr. Wilmot gently. "Here, please. It will distress me less. Annie must be good and calm."
Mr. Rawdon took a chair, by no means with the air of a man convinced.
Then another pause. Mr. Wilmot's eyes were on his child lovingly; and Annie could be seen to draw one or two deep breaths, as if mastering herself with difficulty.
"Yes," she said at length. "Please tell me."
"I will see some one, and arrange for the service this evening." Mr. Rawdon spoke deliberately. "I have already warned your father that he must consent to do less work.
"I am ready," Mr. Wilmot said, in a quiet voice.
"The fact is, Miss Wilmot—the fact is, your father has had lately a severe return of certain troublesome heart symptoms, from which he suffered a good deal about two years ago. You will probably remember."