He seemed perplexed. Men are such idiots. In the end he ignored my speech.
“I wanted to see you,” he began, thoughtfully. “I have been to call at the Vicarage; your sister would not let me see your father.”
“I am not surprised at that,” I answered; “you do not realize how ill he is.”
“Have you had a doctor to see him?” he asked.
“No; he will not let me send for one,” I answered. “Yet I know he is in need of medical advice. It is very hard to know what to do for the best.”
“If I may advise you,” he said, slowly, “I should strongly recommend your doing exactly as your father wishes. He knows best what is well for him. Only tell him this from me. Tell him that change will be his best medicine. I heard yesterday that the Bishop wished him to go to Eastminster at once. Let him get an invalid carriage and go there to-morrow. It will be better for him and safer.”
I stopped short, and laid my hand upon his wrist. I tried to make him look at me; but he kept his face turned away.
“You are not thinking of his health only,” I said; “there is something else. I know a good deal, you need not fear. You can speak openly. It is that girl.”
He did not deny it. He looked down at me, and his strong, harsh face was softened in a peculiar manner. I knew that he was very sorry for me, and there was a lump in my throat.