“Go home, child,” he said, presently. “I’ve talked too much. Stop, though. What I’ve told you is not to be repeated on any account. I wanted to know what you thought of the right and wrong of the thing—but I’ve taken your breath away. Go home and think about it. Come and see me day after to-morrow—there, I shouldn’t have said that an hour ago—give me a little of that beef tea, please, my dear. I’m hungry—and I’d rather have it from your hand than from Mrs. Deems’s. Thank you.”
He drank eagerly, and she took the cup from him and set it down again.
“She’s a good creature, the nurse,” he said. “A very good creature—a sort of holy scarecrow. I shan’t need her much longer.”
“You really do seem better,” said Katharine, wondering how she could ever have believed that he was dying.
“I’m going to get well this time. I told Routh this morning that I wasn’t going to die. You’ve saved my life. There’s nothing like rage for the action of the heart, I believe. I shall be out next week.”
He began to cough again.
“Go home—go home,” he managed to say, between the short spasms. “I’m talking too much.”
Katharine bent down and kissed his forehead quickly, looked at him affectionately and left the room, for she saw that what he said was true. She closed the door softly and found her way to the stairs. She was in haste to get out into the air and to be alone, for she wished, if possible, to realize the stupendous possibilities of life which the last few minutes had brought into her range of mental vision. It was not a light thing to have been told that she was one day to be among the richest of her very rich acquaintances, after having been brought up in such a penurious fashion.
In the hall she came suddenly upon her father and mother, who were parleying with the butler.
“Here’s Miss Katharine, sir,” said the servant, and he immediately fell back, glad to avoid further discussion with such a very obstinate person as Alexander Junior.