‘Papa!’ she said, trembling ever so little, ‘you must let me know what it is. Let us bear it together, dear. Whatever it may be it can’t matter very much if it leaves us two together—and——’
‘Ah! ‘said old Brown, looking at her with a pitying smile.
‘Is it anything——?’ She stopped short, and really found no courage to complete the question.
‘My darling,’ he answered, folding her in his arms, and staring sadly over her shoulder. She felt the hands that embraced her quiver, and she knew he had understood her half-expressed query. This frightened her so much that it gave her boldness.
‘There is something the matter with Phil,’ she said, pushing the old man away, and holding him at arm’s length. ‘Tell me what it is.’
‘My dear,’ he answered, ‘you shouldn’t leap at conclusions in that way.’ But the disclaimer was altogether too feeble to deceive her. Philip was the mysterious cause of her father’s trouble. Her wandering, pained eyes, her parted lips, the terror and inquiry in her face, frightened the old man. ‘No, no,’ he cried, ‘you must not think it too bad. I’m not sure of anything. I don’t suppose it’s at all a matter of consequence. I daresay he’s an old fool. I hope I am.’
These hints and innuendoes were about the last thing in the world to satisfy a girl who had been made anxious about her lover.
‘Tell me,’ she commanded. ‘I have a right to know. What has happened?’ She was no more inclined to be jealous than girls who are in love commonly are. She had, indeed, a native fund of confidence, and her trust in Phil’s loyalty had been of the unquestioning sort, quite profound and settled. Yet for a moment there rose before her mental vision the dim picture of some possible rival, and at the mere hint of this she grew ashamed, and flamed into indignation against herself.
‘Tell me,’ she said; ‘I insist on knowing.’
‘Well, my dear,’ said the old man miserably and reluctantly, I’ve been told that his father hastened his own ruin with dice and cards.’ It was the first time he had mentioned Bommaney senior in his daughter’s hearing for a year. She looked at him with eyes still intent, but somehow milder and less alarmed. ‘Phil,’ the old boy continued, ‘I’m afraid that Phil is travelling in his father’s steps.’