“You are of far more importance to Sir Lionel than I am,” said she, after a pause which began to be embarrassing. “But what will become of him if—if you are prostrated?”
“I shall not be prostrated,” said Dudleigh.
“I think you will if this state of things continues.”
“Oh, I don't think there is any prospect of my giving up just yet.”
“No. I know your affection for him, and that it would keep you here until—until you could not stay any longer; and it is this which I wish to avoid.”
“It is my duty,” said Dudleigh. “He is one whom I revere more than any other man, and love as a father. Besides, there are other things that bind me to him—his immeasurable wrongs, his matchless patience—wrongs inflicted by one who is my father; and I, as the son, feel it a holy duty, the holiest of all duties, to stand by that bedside and devote myself to him. He is your father, Miss Dalton, but you have never known him as I have known him—the soul of honor, the stainless gentleman, the ideal of chivalry and loyalty and truth. This he is, and for this he lies there, and my wretched father it is who has done this deed. But that father is a father only in name, and I have long ago transferred a son's love and a son's duty to that gentle and noble and injured friend.”
This outburst of feeling came forth from Dudleigh's inmost heart, and was spoken with a passionate fervor which showed how deeply he felt what he said. Every word thrilled through Edith. Bitter self-reproach at that moment came to her, as she thought of her own relations to her father. What Dudleigh's had been she did not know, but she saw that in him her father had found a son. And what had his daughter been to him? Of that she dared not think. Her heart was wrung with sharp anguish at the memories of the past, while at the same time she felt drawn more closely to Dudleigh, who had thus been to him all that she had failed to be. Had she spoken what she thought, she would have thanked and blessed him for those words. But she did not dare to trust herself to speak of that; rather she tried to restrain herself; and when she spoke, it was with a strong effort at this self-control.
“Well,” she said, in a voice which was tremulous in spite of all her efforts, “this shows how dear you must be to him, since he has found such love in you, and so for his sake you must spare yourself. You must not stay here so constantly.”
“Who is there to take my place?” asked Dudleigh, quietly.
“I,” said Edith.