Another silence followed; after which Guy said, smiling with his natural playfulness, ‘One thing more. You are the lawyer of the family, and I want a legal opinion. I have been making Arnaud write my will. I have wished Miss Wellwood of St. Mildred’s to have some money for a sisterhood she wants to establish. Now, should I leave it to herself or name trustees?’
Philip heard as if a flash of light was blinding him, and he interrupted, with an exclamation:—
‘Tell me one thing! Was that the thousand pounds?’
‘Yes. I was not at liberty to—’
He stopped, for he was unheard. At the first word Philip had sunk on his knees, hiding his face on the bed-clothes, in an agony of self-abasement, before the goodness he had been relentlessly persecuting.
‘It was that?’ he said, in a sort of stifled sob. ‘Oh, can you forgive me?’
He could not look up; but he felt Guy’s hand touch his head, and heard him say, ‘That was done long ago. Even as you pardoned my fierce rage against you, which I trust is forgiven above. It has been repented!’
As he spoke there was a knock at the door, and, with the instinctive dread of being found in his present posture, Philip sprang to his feet. Amabel went to the door, and was told that the physician was down-stairs with two gentlemen; and a card was given her, on which she read the name of an English clergyman.
‘There, again!’ said Guy. ‘Everything comes to me. Now it is all quite right.’
Amabel was to go and speak to them, and Guy would see Mr. Morris, the clergyman, as soon as the physician had made his visit. ‘You must not go down,’ he then said to Philip. ‘You will wait in the sitting-room, won’t you? We shall want you again, you know,’ and his calm brightness was a contrast to Philip’s troubled look. ‘All is clear between us now,’ he added, as Philip turned away.