"I'm not sure that I've done right, Burgo, in pressing you to stay," he said; "she won't approve of it--I'm certain she won't approve of it."
"I presume, uncle, that you are master in your own house," said Burgo, with a touch of sternness in his voice.
The old man looked at him for a moment or two in silence. Then he said: "I used to be master in my own house, wasn't I, my boy?"
"No man more so, sir."
"Ah I well, I'm not now. How it's all come about would take too long to tell. Indeed, I'm by no means sure that I'm clear about it myself. It's all due to my breakdown in health, I suppose. I'm not like the same man I used to be. The days come and go, I hardly know how, nor do I greatly care. Giulia has relieved me of all worry and responsibility; she has taken everything into her own hands." Then, after a momentary pause, he added: "And to-day I'm a cipher in my own house."
His chin sank forward on his breast, and for a minute or two he seemed lost in thought. Then, lifting his head, and speaking with an echo of his old energy, he said: "But whether Giulia approves of your being here or no, you must stay, Burgo--you have promised me that."
"As I have said already, not till you bid me go will I budge an inch."
"But the worst of it is that I'm by no means sure of myself from one hour to another. Such is her influence over me that she seems able to make me say and do whatever she chooses. It's a shameful confession for a man to make, but it's the truth. As I remarked before, she's the most devoted of nurses, the most affectionate of wives; and yet, for all that, there are occasions when, for some inscrutable reason, my soul rises in revolt against her. Sometimes, when I wake up in the dark hours, and see her by the dim light of the night-lamp standing by my bedside, and holding in her hand the potion she has mixed for me, a chill horror comes over me--an unreasoning dread of I know not what. It is as though I had just succeeded in breaking the fetters of some dreadful nightmare, but still felt its influence upon me. Happily for me, such moments come but seldom. When I look up into Giulia's beautiful eyes the nightmare feeling leaves me, I swallow my draught, and sink back on my pillows, feeling profoundly grateful that I am blessed with so loving a wife. Ah! that must be the barouche."
Burgo rose, crossed to the window, and looked out. "It is her ladyship," he said quietly.
"Quick--give me a little more of that cordial before she comes upstairs," said Sir Everard.