"We thought we should be too many for you," said the archdeacon.
"Too many! O dear, no. I like to have people by me; and as for voices, and noise, and all that, the more the better. But I am weak. I'm weak in my legs. I don't think I shall ever stand again."
"Yes, you will," said the archdeacon.
"We have brought you good news," said Mrs. Grantly.
"Is it not good news that Nelly will be home this week? You can't understand what a joy it is to me. I used to think sometimes, at night, that I should never see her again. That she would come back in time was all I have had to wish for." He was lying on his back, and as he spoke he pressed his withered hands together above the bedclothes. They could not begin immediately to tell him of Mr. Crawley, but as soon as his mind had turned itself away from the thoughts of his absent daughter, Mrs. Grantly again reverted to her news.
"We have come to tell you about Mr. Crawley, papa."
"What about him?"
"He is quite innocent."
"I knew it, my dear. I always said so. Did I not always say so, archdeacon?"
"Indeed you did. I'll give you that credit."