“I would do anything for her happiness.”
“I know it. Well you have long been aware, I am sure, that she regards you with the greatest respect and esteem—nay, if I may say it, with affection as well.”
“Ah! affection—affection for me?”
“You know it. If you were her brother she could not have a warmer regard for you. And that is why I have come to you to-day to beg of you to yield to the entreaties of your friends at Barton and pay them a visit. Mary is there, and I hope you will see your way to use your influence with her on behalf of Colonel Gwyn.”
“What! I, madam?”
“Has my suggestion startled you? It should not have done so. I tell you, my friend, there is no one to whom I could go in this way, saving yourself. Indeed, there is no one else who would be worth going to, for no one possesses the influence over her that you have always had. I am convinced, Dr. Goldsmith, that she would listen to your persuasion while turning a deaf ear to that of any one else. You will lend us your influence, will you not, dear friend?”
“I must have time to think—to think. How can I answer you at once in this matter? Ah, you cannot know what my decision means to me.”
He had left his chair once more and was standing against the fireplace looking into the empty grate.
“You are wrong,” she said in a low tone. “You are wrong; I know what is in your thoughts—in your heart. You fear that if Mary were married she would stand on a different footing in respect to you.”
“Ah! a different footing!”