Mr. Trevannion listened, but vaguely. Keir's remarks scarcely seemed to the point.
"Obstinate!" he repeated. "Yes, but that doesn't explain things. There was no question of giving in. They had had no quarrel. Daisy was perfectly happy. The only thing she can say on looking back over the last week or two closely, is that Arthur had seemed depressed now and then, and when she taxed him with it he evaded a reply. You don't think, Philip, that there is anything of that kind—melancholia, you know—in his family?"
"Bless you, no, my dear sir. He comes of the healthiest stock possible. People one knows all about for generations. No, no, it's nothing of that kind," Keir replied. "And—what man ever had such happy prospects?"
"Then what in heaven's name is it?" said Mr. Trevannion, bringing his hand down violently on the table beside which they were sitting. "Can you get it out of him, if you can do nothing else for us, Philip? It is our right to know; it is—it is due to my child, it is——" he stopped, his face working with emotion. "He won't see her, you know," he added disconnectedly.
"I will try," said Philip. "It is indeed the least I can do. If—if I could get him to see her—Daisy; surely that would be the best chance."
Mr. Trevannion looked at him sharply, scrutinisingly.
"You—you are satisfied then—entirely satisfied that there is nothing we need dread her being mixed up in, so to say? Nothing wrong—nothing to shock a girl like her? You see," half apologetically, "his refusing to see her makes one afraid——"
"I am as sure of him as of myself—surer," said Philip earnestly. "There is nothing in his past to explain it—nothing."
"An early secret marriage; a wife he thought dead turning up again," suggested the father. "It sounds absurd, sensational—but after all—there must be some reason."
"Not that," said Keir, getting up as he spoke. "Well then, I will see him first thing in the morning, and communicate with you as soon as possible after I have done so. You will tell Mrs. Trevannion and—and Daisy that I will do my best?"