“Oh, I don't mean the truth about—about what you and I have just said, Hosy. She'll never know that, perhaps. Certainly she'll never know it from me. But the rest of it she must know. This has gone far enough. She sha'n't go away from this house misjudgin' you, thinkin' you're a thief, as well as all the rest of it. That she sha'n't do. I shall see to that—now.”
“Hephzy, I forbid you to—”
“You can't forbid me, Hosy. It's my duty, and I've been a silly, wicked old woman and shirked that duty long enough. Now don't worry any more. Go to your room, dearie, and lay down. If you get to sleep so much the better. Though I guess,” with a sigh, “we sha'n't either of us sleep much this night.”
Before I could prevent her she had left the room. I sprang after her, to call her back, to order her not to do the thing she had threatened. But, in the drawing-room, Charlotte, the housemaid, met me with an announcement.
“Doctor Bayliss—Doctor Herbert Bayliss—is here, sir,” she said. “He has called to see you.”
“To see me?” I repeated, trying hard to recover some measure of composure. “To see Miss Frances, you mean.”
“No, sir. He says he wants to see you alone. He's in the hall now, sir.”
He was; I could hear him. Certainly I never wished to see anyone less, but I could not refuse.
“Ask him to come into the study, Charlotte,” said I.
The young doctor found me sitting in the chair by the desk. The long English twilight was almost over and the room was in deep shadow. Charlotte entered and lighted the lamp. I was strongly tempted to order her to desist, but I could scarcely ask my visitor to sit in the dark, however much I might prefer to do so. I compromised by moving to a seat farther from the lamp where my face would be less plainly visible. Then, Bayliss having, on my invitation, also taken a chair, I waited for him to state his business.