NATHAN conducted his unexpected, and, in truth, unwelcome visitor into his neat and tastefully furnished parlour, and the observant squire was much surprised to see so many evidences of refinement and artistic skill. On the walls, which were papered with a soft-hued pattern, hung a few first-class engravings in broad maple frames; and here and there an original crayon sketch or water-colour painting, betokening considerable talent, was suspended between them. A dark rosewood piano stood on one side, open and with one of Beethoven’s sonatas placed upon the music-holder. On the opposite side stood a couch, on which were placed antimacassars, cushions, &c., in Berlin woolwork. The remainder of the furniture was all in keeping, and all were more or less adorned with the handiwork of female fingers, while books of a high-class character were plentifully strewed on the table and gleamed in the book-case, through whose glass doors, the squire saw literary treasures which he had never associated with the anvil and the forge. Nathan handed his guest a chair, and stood waiting for an explanation of his visit. The squire asked him to be seated, and then said,—
“Nathan Blyth, I can well believe that my visit here is as unwelcome as it is unexpected. Our last interview, however necessary, was as unpleasant for you as it was distasteful to me, and I am willing to own that I had no desire that it should be repeated. I cannot charge myself with having said anything on that occasion that was not as courteous and conciliating as the circumstances would allow, and you must permit me to say that your own attitude and deportment was all that could be desired. You spoke and have acted as a man of honour, and I was compelled to acknowledge to myself that I had to do with a gentleman where I did not expect to find one.”
Nathan bowed, but made no reply.
“To-day,” continued the squire, “though my visit has to do with the same circumstances, I should not wish you to think or hope that my views on the former matter have undergone any change.”
“Pardon me,” said Nathan, “I neither hope so nor think so, and have no wish—indeed I must ask you not to refer to that subject again. My daughter knows her duty as I know mine, and you need be under no apprehension that”——
“Don’t be angry, if you please,” said the squire, in a strangely humble and deprecating voice, for Nathan had spoken with some degree of spirit. “I have no such suspicion. Let me come to the point, Nathan Blyth. My only son is dangerously ill,”—here his voice faltered, and his face assumed a deathly pallor—“and I have a thousand fears for his life. He has had a malignant attack of brain fever, and though, thanks to the skill of Dr. Jephson, the fever has subsided, it has left him at the very door of death.” Again the agonising truth was too much for the speaker, and he laid his white head in his hands in silent grief.
Nathan’s heart was always near his lips; with a swimming in his eyes he said with deep feeling, “From my heart, I’m sorry.”
“Dr. Jephson,” said the squire, recovering his self-command, “declares that medical skill is powerless to do more for him, and he commands me to ask that your daughter, who, he says, is the most effective sick-nurse in the district, will come and help to bring him back to life.”
“My daughter, Squire Fuller? You must know that that is impossible. How can she, how can he, be subjected to a test and trial like this, after all that they have done to show their filial obedience—after all that we have done to keep them apart? It cannot be. Besides, think what would be said by those who are only too ready to impute motives and suspect evil. The fair fame of my girl is dearer to me than life. Mr. Fuller, nobody esteems Master Philip more than I; nobody can pray for his recovery more earnestly than will I. But the thing you ask is quite impossible, and can’t be done.”