The face of Smithers was mild, but his tone was stern. It was the warning of a just yet merciful master. All the timid nature of Philips bent in deep subjection before the powerful spirit of this man. He bowed his head in silence.
“Whenever an order comes to you from Smithers & Co. you must obey: if you do not obey instantly whatever it is, it will be at the risk of your life. Do you hear?”
Philips bowed.
“There is only one thing now in which I wish you to do anything. You must send every month a notice directed to Mr. Smithers, Senior, about the health of his daughter. Should any sudden danger impend you must at once communicate it. You understand?”
Philips bowed.
“Once more I must warn you always to remember that I am your master. Fail in one single thing, and you perish. Obey me, and you shall be rewarded. Now go!”
Philips rose, and, more dead than alive, tottered from the room.
When he left Smithers locked the door. He then went to the window and stood looking at Brandon Hall, with his stern face softened into sadness. He hummed low words as he stood there—words which once had been sung far away.
Among them were these, with which the strain ended:
“And the sad memory of our life below
Shall but unite us closer evermore;
No net of thine shall loose
Thee from the eternal bond,
Nor shall Revenge have power
To disunite us there!”