"You are not to stir outside the grounds of Heathdale for three months at least," he said, decidedly.
"But I must, Sir Herbert. You have no idea how much is at stake," the sick man pleaded.
"You must not. I cannot help how much there is at stake," returned the physician, firmly. "I have had hard work to get you up, even so far, from this nervous prostration and the least excitement or imprudence will cause a dangerous relapse."
And so, with despair at his heart, Sir William was obliged to submit.
He tried to write to Virgie, intending to send the letter to her through the lawyer whom she had employed and whose name had appeared in connection with the papers he had received, but he could not; he found that his brain was too weak to permit of the framing of even a sentence, and he knew that he could never plead his cause successfully in such a state.
He shrank from asking any one else to write for him; his sister he knew was not in sympathy with him, and he would not confide in her.
When his mind had become strong enough to realize what was going on about him, he had one day asked Lady Linton to bring him both documents that had come to him from America.
She obeyed him, making no comment, though her manner betrayed that she knew well enough their character.
He told her to lock them in a certain drawer which no one was ever allowed to open save himself.
She did so in his presence, and earnestly hoped, as the key clicked upon them, that that episode in her brother's life was buried for all time.