“Oh—she did, did she?” The old man closed his eyes, as though thinking it over. “And she’s generally a peacemaker,” he continued, after a moment. “That’s a sign that she thinks the situation strained, as the politicians say. What’s happened, little girl?”
“I don’t want to tell you all the details. It’s a long story, and wouldn’t interest you. But they got it into their heads that I ought to marry Mr. Wingfield—you know—Archie Wingfield—the beauty—and of course I refused him. That was yesterday afternoon. And then—oh, I don’t know—there was a scene, and papa got angry, and so this morning after he’d gone down town I consulted with my mother and came here. I only wanted you to know—that’s all.”
The old gentleman was silent for some time after she had finished speaking.
“I wish you’d induce Jack to stay here, and announce your marriage under my roof,” he said at last, in a low voice. “I’d like to see it all settled before—Katharine, child, feel my pulse, will you?”
Katharine started a little, and leaned forward quickly, and laid her firm white fingers on the bony wrist.
“Can you find it?” he asked, rather anxiously.
“No—yes—wait a moment—don’t speak!” She held her breath, her eyes fixed upon his grey face as she pressed the point where she thought the pulse should be. “Yes—there it is!” she exclaimed suddenly, in a tone of relief. “It’s all right, uncle Robert, only I couldn’t find it at first. I can feel it quite distinctly now. Does it always go so fast as that?”
“It’s going very fast, isn’t it? I have a little fluttering—at my heart.”
“Shan’t I send for Doctor Routh?” asked Katharine, with renewed anxiety.
“Oh, no—it’s no use.” His voice was growing perceptibly more feeble. “I shall be better presently,” he whispered, and closed his eyes again. Then, as though fearing lest his whisper should frighten her, he made an effort and spoke aloud again. “It often happens,” he said. “Don’t be afraid, little girl.”