Chapter 16 - Page 2

am her daughter, sir.'

'But when I tell you she expressly desired that you might not be
told--'

'I am not good or patient enough to submit to the prohibition.
Besides, I am sure you are too wise--too experienced to have
promised to keep the secret.'

'Well,' said he, half-smiling, though sadly enough, 'there you
are right. I did not promise. In fact, I fear, the secret will be
known soon enough without my revealing it.'

He paused. Margaret went very white, and compressed her lips a
little more. Otherwise not a feature moved. With the quick
insight into character, without which no medical man can rise to
the eminence of Dr. Donaldson, he saw that she would exact the
full truth; that she would know if one iota was withheld; and
that the withholding would be torture more acute than the
knowledge of it. He spoke two short sentences in a low voice,
watching her all the time; for the pupils of her eyes dilated
into a black horror and the whiteness of her complexion became
livid. He ceased speaking. He waited for that look to go
off,--for her gasping breath to come. Then she said:--

'I thank you most truly, sir, for your confidence. That dread has
haunted me for many weeks. It is a true, real agony. My poor,
poor mother!' her lips began to quiver, and he let her have the
relief of tears, sure of her power of self-control to check them.

A few tears--those were all she shed, before she recollected the
many questions she longed to ask.

'Will there be much suffering?'

He shook his head. 'That we cannot tell. It depends on
constitution; on a thousand things. But the late discoveries of
medical science have given us large power of alleviation.'

'My father!' said Margaret, trembling all over.

'I do not know Mr. Hale. I mean, it is difficult to give advice.
But I should say, bear on, with the knowledge you have forced me
to give you so abruptly, till the fact which I could not
with-hold has become in some degree familiar to you, so that you
may, without too great an effort, be able to give what comfort
you can to your father. Before then,--my visits, which, of
course, I shall repeat from time to time, although I fear I can
do nothing but alleviate,--a thousand little circumstances will
have occurred to awaken his alarm, to deepen it--so that he will
be all the better prepared.--Nay, my dear young lady--nay, my
dear--I saw Mr. Thornton, and I honour your father for the
sacrifice he has made, however mistaken I may believe him to
be.--Well, this once, if it will please you, my dear. Only
remember, when I come again, I come as a friend. And you must
learn to look upon me as such, because seeing each other--getting
to know each other at such