‘I suppose then, I should have to say yes, for my father’s sake. I cannot—cannot go against him—not even to save my own life. Some day, Maud, I will try and tell you why. Oh! I hope and trust it may not be, for I must do my father’s bidding.’
Maud was able to give Mr. Meredith the required assurance, and to leave him in a state of placid tranquillity; but she left the house in a dissatisfied frame of mind, and wished that she had never been there. She could not believe that Phil would be so weak as to let Mr. Meredith cajole him into a marriage that he was not anxious to make; and it was very hard upon him to have to humour the old man because it was bad for him to be vexed. Altogether Maud felt annoyed and disturbed—vexed with herself for what she had said to Mr. Meredith, with him for being so foolish and irrational, and with Roma for talking and looking as though marriage with Phil would be the most dreadful thing in the world.
She thought things had come to an odd sort of pass, and determined that she would not go to the house again until Phil had come back, and could tell her the true state of the case. For in spite of all that Mr. Meredith had implied, she knew her brother would be frank with her.
Meantime Tor was travelling rapidly towards Freyburg, at which place he arrived one evening, about twelve hours later than his letter had done.
From the hotel he walked straight up to Dr. Schneeberger’s house, and was met by the lively little Gretchen, who welcomed him with volubility and warmth, and was genuinely delighted to see him.
But she shook her head in mournful fashion over the helpless state of his poor friend, and lamented its sadness. Such a fine handsome young man—everyone said that who saw the Herr Torwood. Ah, it was what nobody could understand, that he should be struck down like that.
Tor asked for the doctor, who quickly appeared, looking just as dried up as ever, but somewhat more anxious and constrained in manner, from which Tor feared he had formed an unfavourable opinion of his friend’s case. But he spoke more hopefully than before, and seemed to have great confidence in the sea voyage. He had taken other opinions, and all had agreed that the experiment should be tried. Once or twice he had fancied he detected some faint return of mental power, but it had never lasted. Still there seemed some probability that the change of air, the movement and the stir, might awaken the dormant faculties.
The little doctor talked rapidly and energetically, and Tor quietly acquiesced in all he said. Then he asked to see his friend, and was taken up to the little clean, bare room that he so well remembered, and which he could fancy he had only quitted yesterday.
Phil lay upon the bed, just as he had done before, his eyes closed, his breath coming somewhat heavily through the parted lips. His hair and beard had grown, and were wild and tangled. Tor was almost glad that the sheet half-concealed the lower part of the face. The brow and eyes and upper part belonged to the familiar face of his chosen friend and companion. Those were Phil’s well-known, well-cut features. He did not care to look below, where the changes induced by illness had given an air of neglect to the once carefully trimmed moustache and smooth-shaven cheeks.