His manner had a baffling quality, but she did not question the sincerity of his words; for she sensed a certain anxiety behind them that thrilled her strangely.
“In that case,” she said, “will you let me stay—and help you?”
He did not answer immediately, and in the brief silence she realized that he was putting strong restraint upon himself. Then: “You will stay,” he said, “if you will deign to do so. As to helping me—as to helping me—” he paused as if at a loss.
Something moved her to fill in the gap. “If you will trust me in the sick-room,” she said, “I think I could be of use. May I not try?”
He drew a hard breath and turned half from her as though he would go away. Roger, standing by and eagerly watching his every movement, prepared to accompany him, and then, realizing his mistake, drooped his head dejectedly and resigned himself to further inactivity.
Arthur spoke with his face averted. “It is not a question of trust, Miss Thorold. It is you yourself that I have to consider. You don’t quite know what you are asking, and it is difficult for me to tell you.”
“You need not mind telling me,” she said.
He made a gesture of impotence. “I’ve got to tell you. That’s the hell of it. If you stay here, you’ve got to understand one thing. My father is suffering from heart-disease, and, as you know, the heart and brain are very closely connected. His brain is affected.”
“I am not surprised at that,” Frances said. “In fact, I had suspected it before.”
He turned upon her with that goaded expression which but for its suffering, might have intimidated her.
“What made you do that? What has he said to you?”
“Oh, nothing very much,” she answered gently. “I have thought him a little vague from time to time. I noticed that he never seemed to regard little Ruth as an actual belonging, for one thing.”
“Go on!” he said grimly. “You have noticed more than that.”
She faced him candidly. “‘Yes, I have. I have noticed a great lack of sympathy between him and his family for which I could not imagine they were to blame.”
She hesitated. “I think I always knew that you were very heavily handicapped in some way,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, damnably. But I won’t attempt to deceive you of all people, so far as I am concerned. I have a brutal temper, and I hate him! I hate him from the bottom of my soul—just as he hates me!”