I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed the direction of mine, and he nodded gently.
"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked.
"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. "Eat," he said; "you must be hungry."
I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself drank two glasses.
"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a devil? Have you finished?"
"Yes."
"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end."
"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew left the house during the time I have slept?"
"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here yesterday, you discovered these?"
"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to read."