“How kind of him to come so early,” thought Cicely, trying to believe that no thing but kindness was the motive for such prompt fulfilment of his promise. “If he were really uneasy about papa, he would certainly have waited to see me last night,” she said to herself, as she entered the room; but, nevertheless, she looked strangely pale, and the tremor in her voice was not quite imperceptible when Mr. Guildford came forward to meet her. He shook hands somewhat abruptly. Cicely glanced at his face. He too seemed discomposed; he looked worn and tired, as if he had not slept all night. A terror seized Cicely. “Has he come to break it to me? Does he think the very worst?” were the thoughts that flashed through her mind. She felt herself beginning to tremble so much that she sat down on the nearest chair without attempting to speak.
Mr. Guildford did not seem to notice her agitation; he did not look at her, but kept his eyes fixed upon the table beside which he was standing.
“He is afraid of looking at me—he cannot make up his mind how to tell me what he must,” thought Cicely, with a sort of shiver. But the silent waiting at last grew unendurable; she felt that it must be broken.
“It is very kind of you to have come so early,” she began. “I cannot tell you how kind I think it.”
Mr. Guildford turned suddenly. “I came early on purpose,” he said. “I was so afraid of missing you. But how ill you look, Miss Methvyn,” he went on hastily. “Is there anything wrong? You look so dreadfully pale. I am afraid I should not have asked to see you.”
Cicely’s pale lips quivered. “I am quite well,” she whispered. “There is nothing wrong with me. I shall be all right again directly—but, Mr. Guildford, I—I know why you have come this morning I know what you have to tell me. Please don’t hesitate—it is better not. I shall not be silly—you will see.”
She tried to smile, but hardly succeeded. Mr. Guildford looked at her in amazement. “You know why I wanted to see you this morning, Miss Methvyn?” he repeated. “You cannot. It is impossible that—that you should suspect,” he stopped in confusion.
“I have thought him much less well the last few days,” said Cicely. “Of course I cannot judge as you can, but still I almost expected you to tell me you were beginning to lose hope. I knew you would tell me first.”
“Are you speaking about your father?” said Mr. Guildford. “Did you think it was on his account I wanted to see you?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Cicely wonderingly. “Is it not so? Do you not think him much worse?”