The sorrow gave way to a keener anxiety. The calmness of mind which
the great surgeon had prescribed--the placid courage, largely aided by
dulness of imagination, which had enabled poor Sir Timothy to keep
in the very background of his thoughts all apprehensions for the
morrow--where were they?

He repressed with an effort the emotion which threatened to master
him, and forced himself to be calm. When he spoke again his voice
sounded not much less measured and pompous than usual.

"My dear, you are agitating yourself and me. Let us confine ourselves
to the subject in hand."

Lady Mary dropped the unresponsive hand she held so warmly pressed
between her own, and stepped back.

"Ah, forgive me!" she said in clear tones. "It's so difficult to--"

"To--?"

"To be exactly what you wish. To be always on guard. My feelings broke
bounds for once."

"Calm yourself," said Sir Timothy. "And besides, so far as I am
concerned, your pleading for Peter is unnecessary."

"You have forgiven him?" she cried joyfully, yet almost incredulously.

He paused, and then said with solemnity: "I have forgiven him, Mary.
It is not the moment for me to cherish resentment, least of all