"What is the matter, father? Why, you need a doctor. Let me call—"
"No!" came from him like a cry of pain, as he stepped back from her. "You must call no one. Wait a moment. Oh, I’ve got iron in me—but it is cold, Florence—cold. Wait a moment. Wait."
She stood looking at him, wondering, striving to catch some possible forecast of what might follow, but in his face there was no light save the dull hue of agony. Gradually he became calmer, and then he said: "I am going to tell you something; it is my duty."
"But are you strong enough to hear what I have to say?"
"Then I am strong." She moved closer and stood resolutely before him, looking into his eyes.
"Florence, I know your character; I know that your word is too sacred to break, but this is—is an unparalleled case, and you must be put under oath."
"Judge, instead of administering an oath, you ought to take medicine. Why, I never saw you this way before."
She was about to turn away from him, but he took her by the arm. "Look at me. You never saw me this way before. No. In all my experience I have never heard of a man being so situated. I am a novelty of distress. And you must know what my ailment is, but you must take an oath, a sacred oath, not to speak of it to any human being."
"But if it is so awful, why should I know it? Tell it to a physician."
"It is my duty to tell it to one human being, and you are the one."
"Hold up your right hand." She obeyed him. "You swear never to repeat what I tell you."
"And you hope that the Eternal God may frown upon you if you do not keep your oath?"
"Are you going to back out now? Are you afraid?"
"I am not afraid. I hope that the Eternal God may frown upon me if I do not keep my oath."
He took her hand, the hand held high, and said to her, "You will keep your oath. It was disagreeable to take it, but the measure was necessary. And now comes the agonizing part of my duty—and I wish I had died before being compelled to discharge it. Florence, you know that I love you."
"Yes, sir, I know it—could never have doubted it. But why do you speak of it? What has it to do with—"
"Wait. This shall be explained. You must not marry my son."
She stepped back from him and from her clear eyes, always so sympathetic, there came a flash of anger. "You are mad, Judge," she said.