'And yet I fancied you all so happy here, except that I thought Hildred must fret about me at times. Did she, Will?'
'Of course. Everybody was uneasy about you.'
And then I was glad to get away to my father's room. But when I came down Cuthbert would talk of Hildred, and ask questions about her. He seemed to have forgotten the fears he had last night. She had been startled, he said, but it would be all right to-day. And by-and-by he went away to seek her.
The day passed slowly and heavily. My father lay with his eyes half closed, scarcely noticing anything. I did not let Cuthbert see him, for fear of disturbing him, but later in the day, when Hildred and Martha were with him, he heard the strange footstep on the stairs. Cuthbert's step now, soldierly and measured, was very unlike the light quick tread my father used to know. It was no remembrance that made him turn his head on the pillow to listen, and then say to Hildred, 'Who?'
I tried to turn his attention away, but the footstep crossed the room below, and my father repeated, 'Who is it?'
'Cuthbert Franklyn,' Hildred said, quietly.
'Cuthbert!' There was very little surprise in his voice as he repeated the name. 'Cuthbert! Bring him here.'
I went outside the room and called him. I was sorry my father should find out that Cuthbert was there, but I saw in a few minutes that it mattered very little. The small interests of Time, its lights and shadows, were growing faint and dim for the eyes on which Eternity was just about to dawn.
My father held out his hand feebly when Cuthbert stood beside his bed. After a minute he looked up at him again, and murmured a few words, too low for any of us to catch distinctly. I believe they were something about fishing, and that his thoughts were wandering back to when Cuthbert was a boy. He did not need an answer. In a few minutes he was lying quietly as before.
Cuthbert stood for a while at the foot of the bed and then went away.