“I am sorry to hear that you have not been well, sir,” she answered.
“No, Joan, I have not; there never was a man further from health or much nearer to death than I am at this moment, and that is why I have sent for you, since what I have to say cannot be put off any longer. But you do not look very well yourself, Joan.”
“I feel quite strong, thank you, sir. You know I had a bad illness, for you very kindly came to see me, and it has taken me a while to recover.”
“I hear that you are married, Joan, although you are not living with your husband, Samuel Rock. It would, perhaps, have been well if you had consulted me before taking such a step, but you have a right to manage your own affairs. I trust that you are happy; though, if so, I do not understand why you keep away.” And he looked at her anxiously.
“I am as happy as I ever shall be, sir, and I go to live with Mr. Rock to-morrow: till now I have been detained in town by business.”
“You know that my daughter is married to Sir Henry Graves,” he went on after a pause, again searching her face with his eyes. “They return home to-night or to-morrow; and not too soon if they wish to see me alive, though they know nothing of that, for I have told them little of my state of health.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered imperturbably, though her hands shook as she spoke. “But I suppose that you did not send for me to tell me that, sir.”
“No, Joan, no. Is the door shut? I sent for you— O my God, that I should have to say it! to throw myself upon your mercy, since I dare not die and face the Judgment-seat till I have told you all the truth. Listen to me—” and his voice fell to a piercing whisper—“Joan, you are my daughter!”
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH.
“Your daughter!” she said, rising in her astonishment, “you must be mad! If I were your daughter, could you have lied to me as you did, and treated me as you have done?”