He said only, "Come back to me, Annie."
[CHAPTER XXII.]
LIFE LESSONS.
"NOW, remember," said Mr. Rawdon authoritatively, having stepped with Annie into the drawing-room, where he stood pulling on his gloves—"remember, Miss Wilmot, the less you dwell on that thought, and the less you allow your father to dwell on it, the better for him."
"But how can I help—?" sobbed the poor girl, for the moment entirely overcome.
"You must help it. Self-control in this matter is essential for your father's sake. It is not merely a question of talking. He reads every turn of your face, and if he sees you unlike yourself, sad and unhappy, you will act as a perpetual reminder of that which he ought to forget as much as possible."
"I will try hard—indeed I will," said Annie brokenly. "But if—if—"
"No; you are not to indulge in that 'if.' Understand me, Miss Wilmot. Your father is not suffering in the remotest degree from any premonitory symptoms of hydrophobia."
"You are quite—quite sure?"
"Perfectly sure. There is not a sign of anything of the kind about him. Some weeks ago I confess I did feel anxious for a time. He was under great depression, and living in a constant expectation of ill results. You must have remarked his depression. That has all passed off now. I cannot say he has entirely lost the expectation—perhaps I should rather say the distinct sense of what might come. But it is not depression, and it is not fear. I was wrong to use that word. He faces the matter in a wonderfully manly and Christian spirit. I wish he could banish the subject from his mind; but no doubt the present state of his health acts upon him, and lessens the power of self-restraint."