“There is no reason why I should wait until to-morrow,” replied Hardcastle, speaking loudly to attract Mr. Warden’s attention, “he has heard the worst now, all that remains to be told is good news.”
“Good news!” exclaimed Mr. Warden, “what good news can there be for me? My wife, my daughter!—Ah! my other Amy, have you heard of her, Hardcastle? Tell me quickly what you know, where is she, living or dead?”
“I have heard of her, I have seen her, I have even spoken with her. Mr. Warden! can you bear good news, the best of news? Your daughter Amy is in this house now, and waiting only for a word from you—” He paused, for Mr. Warden once more risen to his feet, had suddenly staggered and fallen back senseless in his chair.
Now the little doctor took the lead—
“I have obeyed Milord too long, in resting here so tranquilly. You must follow my orders now,” he said, severely and dictatorially.
“Willingly,” replied Lord Hardcastle, as he assisted to remove Mr. Warden to a couch. “I only stipulate one thing, and that is, that when my friend opens his eyes they shall rest first on the being he loves best in the world, his only daughter.”
And they did so rest. Amy crept noiselessly into the room, paler, thinner, graver than in the old days, and kneeling by her father’s side, took his hand in hers.
The movement aroused him. He opened his eyes, and they rested full on her face. Amy controlled herself admirably.
“Papa, dear,” she said, “you must not speak till I give you permission; I am going to turn both doctor and nurse (with a smile at Hardcastle) out of office, and endeavour to cure you myself.”
“I am cured already,” replied Mr. Warden, as he held his daughter tightly clasped in his arms, “you are only just in time, Amy; a few more days’ delay, and you would have been indeed an orphan,” then he checked himself. How much did his daughter know? How should he tell her what she must be told?