But Dr. Davenal did not satisfy him: not that he had any particular motive for observing reticence on the point. "It is of no consequence. I must have been mistaken," was all he said.
"You will not forbid her to me, sir?" pleaded Mr. Cray.
A spasm of pain passed across the face of Dr. Davenal; the words had called up bitter recollections.
"So long as I live I shall never forbid a marriage to any over whom I hold control," he said, in a tone of subdued anguish; and Mark Cray knew where the sting had pointed, and wished in his good-nature he had not put the question. "I will urge all reflection, caution, prudence in my power to urge; but I will not forbid. Least of all have I a right to do so by Caroline."
The younger man's face lighted up. "Then you will give her to me, Dr. Davenal?"
"I give you no promise," was the doctor's answer. "I must have leisure to reflect on this; it has taken me entirely by surprise. And I must speak to Caroline. There's plenty of time. To marry yet would indeed be premature."
"Premature!" echoed Mr. Cray.
"Premature in the extreme. A man who does not know how to wait for good things, Mark, does not deserve them."
A lady, with a slow walk and pale face, turned in at the front gate. It was patient the first. Dr. Davenal made no observation; he scarcely saw her, so deeply had he plunged into thought. Mr. Cray, who stood closer to the window than a doctor expecting patients generally does stand, smiled and bowed.
"It is Mrs. Scott," he observed, as the knocker sounded. "She looks very ill today."