I looked then towards the great consulting physician. He was standing with his back to the light—he was a little man, younger looking than Dr. Anderson. His hair was only beginning to turn grey, and was falling away a trifle from his temples, and he was very upright, and very thin, and had keen eyes, the keenest eyes I had ever looked at, small, grey and bright, and those eyes seemed to look through you, as though they were forcing a gimlet into the very secrets of your soul. His face was so peculiar, so intellectual, so sharp and keen, and his glance so vivid, that I became absorbed in looking at it, and forgot for the moment Dr. Anderson. Then I glanced round and found that he had vanished, and I was alone with Dr. Reade.
"Won't you sit down, Miss Wickham?" he said kindly.
I seated myself, and then seeing that his eyes were still on me, my heart began to beat a little more quickly, and I began to feel uncomfortable and anxious, and then I knew that I must brace myself up to listen to something which would be hard to bear.
"I was called in to-day," said Dr. Reade, "to see your mother. I have examined her carefully—Dr. Anderson thinks that it may be best for you Miss Wickham—you seem to be a very brave sort of girl—to know the truth."
"Yes, I should like to know the truth," I answered.
I found these words coming out of my lips slowly, and I found I had difficulty in saying them, and my eyes seemed not to see quite so clearly as usual; and Dr. Reade's keen face seemed to vanish as if behind a mist, but then the mist cleared off, and I remembered that I was father's daughter and that it behoved me to act gallantly if occasion should require, so I got up and went towards the little doctor, and said in a quiet voice—
"You need not mind breaking it to me; I see by your face that you have bad news, but I assure you I am not going to cry nor be hysterical. Please tell me the truth quickly."
"I knew you were a brave girl," he said with admiration, "and I have bad news, your mother's case is——"
"What?" I asked.
"A matter of time," he replied gravely; "she may live for a few months or a year—a year is the outside limit."