Part 11 (1/2)
”Well, whatever it is,” said the Doctor, ”you have lost it!”
”Are you sure of that?” asked Morris; ”are you sure your daughter will give me up?”
”I mean, of course, you have lost it as far as I am concerned. As for Catherine's giving you up--no, I am not sure of it. But as I shall strongly recommend it, as I have a great fund of respect and affection in my daughter's mind to draw upon, and as she has the sentiment of duty developed in a very high degree, I think it extremely possible.”
Morris Townsend began to smooth his hat again. ”I too have a fund of affection to draw upon!” he observed at last.
The Doctor at this point showed his own first symptoms of irritation.
”Do you mean to defy me?”
”Call it what you please, sir! I mean not to give your daughter up.”
The Doctor shook his head. ”I haven't the least fear of your pining away your life. You are made to enjoy it.”
Morris gave a laugh. ”Your opposition to my marriage is all the more cruel, then! Do you intend to forbid your daughter to see me again?”
”She is past the age at which people are forbidden, and I am not a father in an old-fas.h.i.+oned novel. But I shall strongly urge her to break with you.”
”I don't think she will,” said Morris Townsend.
”Perhaps not. But I shall have done what I could.”
”She has gone too far,” Morris went on.
”To retreat? Then let her stop where she is.”
”Too far to stop, I mean.”
The Doctor looked at him a moment; Morris had his hand on the door.
”There is a great deal of impertinence in your saying it.”
”I will say no more, sir!” Morris answered; and, making his bow, he left the room.
CHAPTER XIII
It may be thought the Doctor was too positive, and Mrs. Almond intimated as much. But, as he said, he had his impression; it seemed to him sufficient, and he had no wish to modify it. He had pa.s.sed his life in estimating people (it was part of the medical trade), and in nineteen cases out of twenty he was right.
”Perhaps Mr. Townsend is the twentieth case,” Mrs. Almond suggested.
”Perhaps he is, though he doesn't look to me at all like a twentieth case. But I will give him the benefit of the doubt, and, to make sure, I will go and talk with Mrs. Montgomery. She will almost certainly tell me I have done right; but it is just possible that she will prove to me that I have made the greatest mistake of my life.
If she does, I will beg Mr. Townsend's pardon. You needn't invite her to meet me, as you kindly proposed; I will write her a frank letter, telling her how matters stand, and asking leave to come and see her.”
”I am afraid the frankness will be chiefly on your side. The poor little woman will stand up for her brother, whatever he may be.”
”Whatever he may be? I doubt that. People are not always so fond of their brothers.”
”Ah,” said Mrs. Almond, ”when it's a question of thirty thousand a year coming into a family--”