“Yes, come what may,” she replied, with another sigh.
“Shall I leave what I have to say for a few weeks, and then talk it over? I can wait.”
“I would rather hear it now,” replied Hazel. “No trouble could be greater than that we have had to bear, and I see you have bad news for us, Mr Geringer.”
“I regret to say I have—very bad news.”
“Tell me,” said Hazel sadly, as she gazed in her visitor’s face.
“It is about the future, my dear child,” he said slowly; and he watched the effect of his words. “You and your brother and sisters have been brought up here quite in luxury.”
“Papa was always most indulgent and kind.”
“Always,” assented Geringer. “There, I will not hesitate—I will not go roundabout to tell you. I only ask you, my dear Hazel, to try and bear with fortitude the terrible news I have to inflict upon you, and to beg that you will not associate it in future with me.”
“I shall always think of you as my father’s most trusted friend. But pray, pray tell me now, and—and—I will try to bear it as I should.”
She was choked now by her sobs, and as Geringer tenderly took one of her hands, she let him retain it while he spoke.