Cranworth would walk over the course!--Where's Mrs. Denbigh gone to? Ihope I've not frightened her away by reminding her of Hector O'Brien, and that awful night, when I do assure you she behaved like a heroine!" As Mr. Benson was showing Mr. Davis out, Ruth opened the study-door, and said, in a very calm, low voice-- "Mr. Benson! will you allow me to speak to Mr. Davis alone?" Mr. Benson immediately consented, thinking that, in all probability, she wished to ask some further questions about Leonard; but as Mr. Davis came into the room, and shut the door, he was struck by her pale, stern face of determination, and awaited her speaking first. "Mr. Davis! I must go and nurse Mr. Bellingham," said she at last, clenching her hands tight together; but no other part of her body moving from its intense stillness. "Mr. Bellingham?" asked he, astonished at the name. "Mr. Donne, I mean," said she hurriedly. "His name was Bellingham." "Oh! I remember hearing he had changed his name for some property. But you must not think of any more such work just now. You are not fit for it. You are looking as white as ashes." "I must go," she repeated. "Nonsense! Here's a man who can pay for the care of the first hospital nurses in London--and I doubt if his life is worth the risk of one of theirs even, much more of yours." "We have no right to weigh human lives against each other." "No! I know we have not. But it's a way we doctors are apt to get into;and, at any rate, it's ridiculous of you to think of such a thing. Just listen to reason." "I can't! I can't!" cried she, with a sharp pain in her voice. "You must let me go, dear Mr. Davis!" said she, now speaking with soft entreaty. "No!" said he, shaking his head authoritatively. "I'll do no such thing." "Listen!" said she, dropping her voice, and going all over the deepest scarlet; "he is Leonard's father! Now! you will let me go!" Mr. Davis was indeed staggered by what she said, and for a moment he did not speak. So she went on-- "You will not tell! You must not tell! No one knows, not even Mr. Benson, who it was. And now--it might do him so much harm to have it known. You will not tell!" "No! I will not tell," replied he. "But, Mrs. Denbigh, you must answer me this one question, which I ask you in all true respect, but which Imust ask, in order to guide both myself and you aright--of course I knew Leonard was illegitimate--in fact, I will give you secret for secret; it was being so myself that first made me sympathise with him, and desire to adopt him. I knew that much of your history; but tell me, do you now care for this man? Answer me truly--do you love him?" For a moment or two she did not speak; her head was bent down; then she raised it up, and looked with clear and honest eyes into his face. "I have been thinking--but I do not know--I cannot tell--I don't think I should love him, if he were well and happy--but you said he was ill--and alone--how can I help caring for him? How can I help caring for him?" repeated she, covering her face with her hands, and the quick hot tears stealing through her fingers. "He is Leonard's father," continued she, looking up at Mr. Davis suddenly. "He need not know--he shall not--that I have ever been near him. If he is like the others, he must be delirious--I will leave him before he comes to himself--but now let me go--I must go." "I wish my tongue had been bitten out before I had named him to you. He would do well enough without you; and, I dare say, if he recognises you, he will only be annoyed." "It is very likely," said Ruth heavily. "Annoyed--why! he may curse you for your unasked-for care of him. I have heard my poor mother--and she was as pretty and delicate a creature as you are--cursed for showing tenderness when it was not wanted. Now, be persuaded by an old man like me, who has seen enough of life to make his heart ache--leave this fine gentleman to his fate. I'll promise you to get him as good a nurse as can be had for money." "No!" said Ruth, with dull persistency--as if she had not attended to his dissuasions; "I must go. I will leave him before he recognises me." "Why, then," said the old surgeon, "if you're so bent upon it, I suppose I must let you. It is but what my mother would have done--poor, heart-broken thing! However, come along, and let us make the best of it. It saves me a deal of trouble, I know; for, if I have you for a right hand, I need not worry myself continually with wondering how he is taken care of. Go get your bonnet, you tender-hearted fool of a woman! Let us get you out of the house without any more scenes or explanations; I'll make all straight with the Bensons." "You will not tell my secret, Mr. Davis," she said abruptly. "No! not I! Does the woman think I had never to keep a secret of the kind before? I only hope he'll lose his election, and never come near the place again. After all," continued he, sighing, "I suppose it is but human nature!"He began recalling the circumstances of his own early life, and dreamily picturing scenes in the grey dying embers of the fire; and he was almost startled when she stood before him, ready equipped, grave, pale, and quiet. "Come along!" said he. "If you're to do any good at all, it must be in these next three days. After that, I'll ensure his life for this bout;and mind! I shall send you home then; for he might know you, and I'll have no excitement to throw him back again, and no sobbing and crying from you.
