"I will speak to him," said the latter; and, approaching the bed, he bent over the General, and said, in a low voice:
"General Pomeroy, you know that the family physician is often a kind of father-confessor as well. Now I do not wish to intrude upon your private affairs; but from what you have said I perceive that there is something on your mind, and if I can be of any assistance to you I shall be only too happy. Have you any objection to tell me what it is that is troubling you?"
While the doctor spoke the General's eyes were fixed upon Zillah with feverish anxiety. "Tell her," he murmured, "that she must consent at once--at once," he repeated, in a more excited tone.
"Consent to what?"
"To this marriage that I have planned for her. She knows. It is with the son of my old friend, Lord Chetwynde. He is a fine lad, and comes of a good stock. I knew his father before him. I have watched him closely for the last five years. He will take care of her. He will make her a good husband. And I--shall be able to die--in peace. But it must be done--immediately--for he is going--to India."
The General spoke in a very feeble tone, and with frequent pauses.
"And do you wish your daughter to go with him? She is too young to be exposed to the dangers of Indian life."
This idea seemed to strike the General very forcibly. For some minutes he did not answer, and it was with difficulty that he could collect his thoughts. At last he answered, slowly:
"That is true--but she need not accompany him. Let her stay with me--till all is over--then she can go--to Chetwynde. It will be her natural home. She will find in my old friend a second father. She can remain with him--till her husband returns."
A long pause followed. "Besides," he resumed, in a fainter voice, "there are other things. I can not explain--they are private--they concern the affairs of others. But if Zillah were to refuse to marry him--she would lose one-half of her fortune. So you can understand my anxiety. She has not a relative in the world--to whom I could leave her."