Chapter XIII. Awaking from the Trance - Page 2

looked surprised for an instant, and then I could see that his habit' of judging for himself came into play.

'Watching by me! How do you mean? Why watching by me?' His eye had now lit on his heavily bandaged wrist. He went on in a different tone; less aggressive, more genial, as of one accepting facts:

'Are you a doctor?' I felt myself almost smiling as I answered; the relief from the long pressure of anxiety regarding his life was beginning to tell:

'No, sir!'

'Then why are you here? If you are not a doctor, what are you?' His tone was again more dictatorial. Thought is quick; the whole train of reasoning on which my answer must be based flooded through my brain before the words could leave my lips. Margaret! I must think of Margaret! This was her father, who as yet knew nothing of me; even of my very existence. He would be naturally curious, if not anxious, to know why I amongst men had been chosen as his daughter's friend on the occasion of his illness. Fathers are naturally a little jealous in such matters as a daughter's choice, and in the undeclared state of my love for Margaret I must do nothing which could ultimately embarrass her.

'I am a Barrister. It is not, however, in that capacity I am here; but simply as a friend of your daughter. It was probably her knowledge of my being a lawyer which first determined her to ask me to come when she thought you had been murdered. Afterwards she was good enough to consider me to be a friend, and to allow me to remain in accordance with your expressed wish that someone should remain to watch.'

Mr. Trelawny was manifestly a man of quick thought, and of few words. He gazed at me keenly as I spoke, and his piercing eyes seemed to read my thought. To my relief he said no more on the subject just then, seeming to accept my words in simple faith. There was evidently in his own mind some cause for the acceptance deeper than my own knowledge. His eyes flashed, and there was an unconscious movement of the mouth--it could hardly be called a twitch--which betokened satisfaction. He was following out some train of reasoning in his own mind. Suddenly he said: 'She thought I had been murdered! Was that last night?' 'No! Four days ago.' He seemed surprised. Whilst he had been speaking the first time he had sat up in bed; now he made a movement as though he would jump out. With an effort, however, he restrained himself; leaning back on his pillows he said quietly:

'Tell me all about it! All you know! Every detail! Omit nothing! But stay; first lock the door! I want to know, before I see anyone, exactly how things stand.'

Somehow his last words made my heart leap. 'Anyone!' He evidently accepted me, then, as an exception. In my present state of feeling for his daughter, this was a comforting thought I felt exultant as I went over to the door and softly turned the key. When I came back I found him sitting up again. He said: 'Go