“That is not all. You must tell him, Lewis, how I have sought for him, and how with a sorrowful heart I deplored my own injustice, from which he cannot have suffered more than I. You may tell him that I forgive him if he feels that there is anything to forgive, in the hope that he will forgive me who need it so much more. You will tell him all this, Lewis?”
“Can you doubt it, uncle?” asked Lewis, evasively.
“No, Lewis, I have perfect confidence in you. You never have deceived me, and you will not begin now; and, Lewis, you must try to atone to Robert, in my stead, for the wrong he has suffered. Never let your affection for me persuade you that it was not a wrong. I would far rather have you think harshly of me, than unjustly of your cousin.”
“I will endeavor to obey you even in that, hard though it be,” said Lewis.
At that moment the quiet of the sick-chamber was broken in by a sharp peal of the door-bell. It was so unusual an occurrence in that solitary household, that it startled both.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE UNBIDDEN GUEST.
I cannot explain why it was, that the unexpected ringing of the bell led to the same thought in the minds of the sick man and his nephew. Sudden fear blanched the face of Lewis; a hopeful look stole over the old man’s face.
“Go, Lewis,” he said. “Perhaps it is Robert.”
“Heaven forbid!” muttered Lewis, as he hastened from the room.
The sound of contending voices struck upon the ear of Lewis Rand, as he hurriedly descended the staircase to the hall. The outer door had been opened, and the servant was endeavoring to impress upon the visitor, in obedience to directions he had received, that there was sickness in the house, and that he could not be admitted.