He felt overwhelmed by this sudden and unexpected crisis in his life. He pitied himself and each one of them for being, as it were, called to arms without hint or warning of war. And Lilia—he felt almost as if her holiest feelings were to be outraged. Yet, without troubling the dying man, he could do nothing to protect her.
There was a hush in the sick chamber. Roderick stood leaning against a wardrobe; Mr. Pym remained quietly seated as if he were on the magisterial bench, or in his pew in church. Presently the door opened, and Lilia came in, followed by Mr. Mervyn.
At the sight of him Sir Roderick gave a sort of grunt of satisfaction.
“You know what I want you for,” he said.
Mr. Mervyn’s pale face flushed, and he glanced uneasily round. Then he went up to the bed and laid his hand kindly on Sir Roderick’s.
“Not exactly,” he said, cheerily. “You must tell me, for you said so many things. I do not know which one of them you allude to.”
With evident difficulty, Sir Roderick raised his hand and pointed from Hugh to Lilia.
“Marry them!” he gasped. “Here, now, at once!”
Mr. Mervyn looked helplessly at Hugh.
“What am I to do, Mr. Paull?” he said. “Lilia!”