"What is in the man's mind?" I asked myself. "Surely he did not come here simply to say this."
"Naturally I did not think my presence would be welcome after our last interview, and——"
"Nothing of the kind," he interrupted, almost eagerly. "I hope you will forgive me for coming so informally, but my wife and I were wondering whether you would come up to-night. Could you? Of course I will send a car for you."
I reflected a few seconds before replying. It is true I had told him in a fit of anger that I should refuse his hospitality in future, but I wondered whether he was not repenting of his action towards Hugh; wondered, too, whether by going I could not bring about a better relationship between them and soften his heart. After all, I owed it to Hugh. But, if the truth must be confessed, there was another reason which made me long to go. I knew it was weakness on my part, knew, too, that I was a madman to encourage such feelings. As I have repeated in this history so many times, with dreary monotony, I had received my death sentence, and as I looked at my face each morning in the glass, and saw it become thinner and thinner, I had no misapprehension about the truth of the doctor's words. Therefore it was worse than madness for me to think about Isabella Lethbridge as I did; and yet—let me repeat it again—I was not in love with her.
"I wish you would come up to-night," urged Josiah Lethbridge. "Ours is a very quiet household."
"Are you giving a dinner-party or anything of that sort?" I asked.
"Oh no, no. I believe Bella is having one or two friends; but nothing in the shape of a dinner-party. Come, will you?"
I wanted to accept his invitation more than words can say, and yet something held me back.
"Have you heard anything about your son's wife?" I asked.
Again the old hard look came into his eyes, and he seemed to be struggling with himself.