"Last night I felt gloomy--oppressed. Serious thoughts do intrude themselves sometimes on one's birthday. And I was really ill yesterday. I feel quite a different man today."
Her fears were growing wonderfully calmer. "You are sure, papa?"
"Sure of what? That I am better?--I am sure I feel so. I shall be all right, child, I hope."
"Won't you have advice, papa?" she imploringly said.
"Advice? That's a compliment to myself, young lady. Hallingham would tell you that there's no advice better than Dr. Davenal's own."
"But, papa--I mean different advice. I thought of the clever London doctors. You must have them down to see you."
"Some of the clever London doctors would be glad of the countryman Richard Davenal's advice. Seriously speaking, my dear, though I say it in all modesty, I don't believe there's a man in Europe more skilful than myself."
"But they might suggest remedies that you would not think of. O papa! if there's a necessity, do summon them."
"Be assured of one thing, Sara, and set your mind at rest. Should the necessity arise, I will not fail to seek any one or anything that I think may help me. My life has not of late been a happy one, but I am not quite tired of it; I wish I may live long, not only for your sake, but for--for other interests. There's a double necessity for it now."
"And you will not go out today, papa?"