‘I will leave him with you,’ said Richard.
‘Not alone! If he begins to kick out——’
‘He’s quite quiet now,’ said Richard, closing the door behind him.
Richard was extremely anxious to be present, as he had a sort of right to be, at the conversation between Raphael Craig and Juana. He descended the stairs with such an air of deliberation as he could assume, and stood hesitatingly at the foot. He felt like an interloper, an eavesdropper, one who is not wanted, but, indeed, there was no other place for him to put himself into, unless it might be the kitchen; for the drawing-room lamp was extinguished, and the lamp in the dining-room had not been lighted.
Juana had approached her father, who still sat on the oak chest. She bent slightly towards him, like a figure of retribution, or menace, or sinister prophecy. Richard noticed the little wisps of curls in the nape of her neck. She was still dressed in her riding-habit, but the lengthy skirt had been fastened up by means of a safety-pin. Richard could not be sure whether father or daughter had so much as observed his presence in the hall.
‘I’ll stay where I am,’ he thought. ‘I’m a member of the family now, and it is my business to know all the family secrets.’
For at least thirty seconds Juana uttered no word. Then she said, in a low vibrating voice:
‘Why do you tell me to go, father?’
‘Did I not say to you last year,’ the old man replied, ‘that if you left me you must leave me for ever?’
‘You abide by that?’ the girl demanded.