CHAPTER XXXIV
'I MUST THINK OF MY CHILD, MIKE'
'Ah! the problem of grief and evil is, and will be always, the greatest enigma of being, only second to the existence of being itself.'—Amiel.
Michael listened in a sort of dream. He was telling himself all the time that his opportunity was come, and that it was incumbent on him not to sleep another night under his cousin's roof until he had made known to him this grievous thing.
As soon as they rose from the table, and Dr. Ross was preparing as usual to follow his wife into the drawing-room until the prayer-bell summoned him into the schoolroom, Michael said, a little more seriously than usual:
'Dr. Ross, would you mind giving me half an hour in the study after prayers? I want your advice about something;' for he wished to secure this quiet time before Audrey returned from her party.
The Doctor was an observant man, in spite of his occasional absence of mind, and he saw at once that something was amiss.
'Shall you be able to do without us this evening, Emmie?' he said, with his usual old-fashioned politeness, that his wife and daughters thought the very model of perfection: 'it is too bad to leave you alone when Audrey is not here to keep you company.'