“I ought to be the doctor,” he said pleasantly, as he retained the hand. “There’s too much fever here.”
“No doctor will cure that,” she said, with a sad smile. “I only want peace of mind, and then I shall be well; and you have come to bring more bad news.”
“Oh,” said the vicar, carelessly, “I only wanted a bit of a chat with your son.”
“Mr Selwood,” said Mrs Glaire, “don’t please speak to me like that. It is dreadful to me; and makes me feel as if I could not trust and believe in the one man in whom I wish to confide.”
“Then in heaven’s name,” he began, but she interrupted him.
“I have had faith and trust in you, Mr Selwood, from the first day you came.”
“Then you shall continue it,” he said, firmly. “I was reticent because I thought you too ill to bear bad tidings.”
“I can bear all,” she said, softly; “pray tell me the worst.”
“Well,” he said, quietly, “we will not talk of worst, for there is no danger that cannot be warded off.”
“If my son likes?” said Mrs Glaire.