"She is under this roof, sir."
"Then I will see her," Philip answered, and rose to his feet.
"Pray sit down, sir—pray sit down," said Mr. Blunting, without stirring from the easy-chair in which he had ensconced himself. He made a gesture with his hand at the same time, which said as plainly as it could, "Calm yourself, young gentleman, and listen to me."
"Pray sit down. Miss Stedman is not very well to-day; indeed she has not been really well, I am sorry to say, for some time past. She does not rise until the afternoon, and of course you cannot go into her bedroom."
"Why not? Come with me if you like. The doctor may go there, I suppose?"
"The doctor goes there professionally, and so does Miss Stedman's spiritual adviser."
"I could do her more good than either of you. How wretchedly lonely she is!"
"My wife comes to sit with Miss Stedman every day."
"What is the matter with her? Tell me the plain truth."
"Most willingly—most happy to reassure you, sir. There is really nothing serious in Miss Stedman's case; the medical men are agreed upon that. She merely suffers from debility, which has been neglected for some time because she did not complain. Now that the ailment is known, it will be combated in every way. Already there is a decided improvement. But in her present state of weakness, agitation of any kind might be most prejudicial—most prejudicial; and therefore I hope you will easily see that I dare not accept the responsibility of permitting an interview between you."