The doctor took no notice of her, but he put his hand on mine.
"You've got to be very brave, my dear," he said. "I'm glad you have come. He is ill, you know; in fact, rather bad; in fact, very bad. Come softly, I'll take you up to his room."
I followed the doctor. We went up to the first floor. The doctor turned the handle of a door. There was a spacious room; within it looked like a hospital ward. Most of the furniture had been removed, the floor was covered with white linen, stretched very tightly over the thick carpet. A narrow bedstead had been drawn out into the centre of the room, the curtains had been removed. There was a table covered with white cloths, on which bottles had been placed. There were two trained nurses moving softly about the room.
A man lay stretched on his back in the centre of the bed. I went quickly up to him.
"Now, show courage, don't give way," said the doctor.
I knelt down by the man and looked into his eyes.
"I said you'd come."
His voice was so low I could scarcely recognise it, but his eyes smiled at me. There never were such blue eyes, there never was anyone in all the world who could smile as sweetly as my father. I knelt by him without speaking one word. The doctor stood behind me without moving. Presently my father raised his voice a trifle.
"Leave us two quite alone," he said.
The doctor and the nurses immediately went out. When there was no one else present my father said: