Poor Marjory! all night she had been watching; every sound had made her heart beat. It might be Dr. Cruden; he promised to return—promised to bring her uncle; but the night had worn away; her father, sleeping and waking, had on the whole been more restful, more at ease, than she could have hoped. 'Something has kept him away,' she thought; but fatigue and anxiety, added to disappointment, had for the time quelled much of her dauntless spirit.
'Yours has been a dreary life, my child,' said the old man—old, not by years, but through the ravages of an embittered spirit; 'your youth buried in this gloomy place—no companionship'—
'No companionship!' exclaimed Marjory, nearly letting the medicine fall in her surprise.
More groaning out his feelings than addressing her, the old man continued, 'I have many sins on my head—my greatest—my love for you—drove me to— Alas! what a delusion! I see it now; he was right. I have been cruelly unjust—I have crushed your youth.'
'Who is right? who dares to say so? Cruel! are you not the very life of my heart, my father—my own, own father?' cried Marjory, closely embracing him.
'It has been delusion—strange delusion—fears for your future have driven me hither and thither. Oh, conscience! oh, the wrongs that I have done! Marjory, I implore you, beware of sin; poverty cannot make a hell, sin can. If I had resisted the tempter, I should not have been thus—blighted, cursed!'
Never had Marjory heard words like these from her father's lips. The suspicions she had allowed herself in were faint, compared with these vague confessions. Lost in pain and wonder, she mingled her tears with his, entreating him to be comforted, and to remember how precious to her was his love, how burdensome life would be without it. After a short pause, she said in a gentle tone, 'Father, dear father, have you any secret trouble on your mind? will you hide it from me—from Marjory?'
Sir Valary was long silent; while Marjory fondly smoothed the long white locks that strayed upon his shoulder. 'Perhaps, father, while the world counts you rich, you are poor, or you fear to be so, for my sake.'
Sir Valary laid his hand upon her head as she knelt by his side, but made no reply.
'I hear footsteps,' said Marjory, opening the door.