Brand was moving slowly back and forth, his countenance expressive of inward debate and hesitation. He was asking himself if it would not be the wisest plan to lay his trouble frankly before the physician and ask for his help. But his pride and his confidence in himself drew back from such a step.
No, he told himself, nobody must know. It must be kept in the darkest secrecy—suppose the thing should get out, and into the papers! His heart quaked at the thought. And he could not feel sure what view Dr. Annister would take of the truth—he might forbid the marriage with Mildred. No, he would keep the truth locked in his own breast and fight his battle alone. Well, he was sure of winning. It might take a little time, but he had no doubt of the outcome. Nevertheless, there was some uncertainty in his manner, though his courteous tones were firm enough as he said:
“If you will not take my word—and permit me to say, Dr. Annister, that it has never been doubted before—what more can I say?”
“You can tell me the truth, Felix,” bluntly replied his prospective father-in-law. “I am fond of you, my boy, very fond of you,—I think you know that. I am proud of your genius and I expect to see you become one of the most famous architects of our time. More than anything else in the world I want to see my little girl as happy, as your wife, as her love deserves she should be. But I must tell you frankly, Felix, that I am afraid. I am afraid for you and your future and very much afraid for that of my daughter with you. That’s why I feel I must speak as plainly as I am going to. I wish you would make it easier for me by meeting me half way.”
The architect, still moving about the room with slow restlessness, stopped short and cast a quick, suspicious glance at the physician. The sweat broke out on his forehead as the fear leaped into his heart that Dr. Annister had guessed the truth. He had to grope among his panic thoughts for a moment before he could reply. His voice was a little strained as he said:
“Meet you half way? I don’t know what you mean?”
Dr. Annister leaned back in his chair and sighed. But his searching gray eyes did not leave the other’s face nor fail to take note there of the frequent signs of inner perturbation. Sadly he was saying to himself that everything in Brand’s expression and manner increased his fears and justified his suspicion.
“Well, then,” he said, “let us come straight to the point. A look, an expression, a tell-tale sign that I don’t like has been steadily growing stronger in your face for the last six months. For the physician, and especially for the one who deals as much as I do with the psychological results of misliving, a man’s countenance becomes a veritable table of contents for the book of his life. And your face is beginning to tell me such a story of self-indulgence and sensuality as makes me unwilling to give my daughter to your arms.”