Phillip Lawson now turned his face toward the couch.
"I never will believe that my child loves such a man as Hubert Tracy," said Mr. Verne, closing his eyelids with sheer exhaustion. "She has been forced into it. Promise me Phillip you will help me examine the matter closely. I am regaining some of my lost strength and will be better able for the task."
"I would like to assist you Mr. Verne, but I am in a delicate position. I cannot see how Miss Verne would be entrapped into a marriage against her own wishes. You know that Mr. Tracy was always on terms of intimacy with your family, and besides he is rather prepossessing, and would in all probability win the favor of any young lady."
"Phillip, you are generous to a fault. You could not say that man is a villain and a scoundrel when you really would have proof of his villany in your possession."
"Heaven forgive me for it," mused Phillip, "it was for her sake that I spoke thus. If she loves Hubert Tracy as I love her, then would I sacrifice every feeling to do it. Would to God I could think as her father does."
The young man sat for a moment buried in deep thought. He was now finding some ground for Marguerite's restraint when in his presence, and he conjured up many imaginary doubts and fears to prove that she loved Hubert Tracy. Even the letters which spoke in glowing terms of such kind attention—did not every circumstance serve as further conviction.
Mr. Verne divined Phillip Lawson's thoughts.
"Phillip, my boy, hear me. I may never rise from off this bed, but I solemnly swear that Hubert Tracy will never place a marriage ring upon Marguerite Verne's finger—never—"
Mr. Verne now grasped Phillip Lawson's hand and held it there, while the latter became suddenly inspired with bright hope.
"This has been too much for you, Mr. Verne," said the young man, soothingly. "But I have more to tell you, Phillip—something that will stagger you."