"Yes, Miss Gurdon looks very white. I am most grateful to you, Major
Gurdon, for the care and attention I have received in this house."
"Then prove it, sir," said the Major sternly.
"I will," said Clive, with not a muscle moving. "I will do so by
releasing your daughter from an engagement which has become irksome and
painful to her."
"What!"
"From any ties which held her to a kind of bankrupt--to a man broken in
health, pocket, and his belief in human nature."
"Mr Clive Reed," began the Major haughtily. "No: Clive, my dear boy,
you are sick and look at things from a jaundiced point of view. Don't
talk nonsense. You will think differently in a week."
"Never," said Clive firmly. "All that, sir, is at an end."
"And pray why?" cried the Major. "When that attachment sprang up we
believed you to be a poor man. Do you suppose Dinah's love for you came
from the idea that you were well-to-do?"
"We will not argue that, sir. Your daughter wishes the engagement to be
broken off."
"Indeed! I'll soon prove that to be false," cried the Major, springing
up.
"No, sir," cried the Doctor; "there has been enough for one day."
But he was too late, for the Major had flung open the door, called
"Dinah," loudly, and her foot was already upon the stairs.
"You want me, father?" she said as she entered, looking wan and thin,
but perfectly quiet and self-contained.
"Yes, my child," cried the Major, taking her hand. "Our patient is
better, and wants to go away for a change."
"Yes, father dear," she said, without glancing at Clive, who kept his
eyes averted; "it would be better as soon as he can bear a journey."
"But he says that you wish the engagement to be at an end."
She bowed her head.
"Yes, dear," she said gently, "it is better so."
"For the present," cried the Doctor quickly.
"For the present that lasts till death," said Clive sternly.
And Dinah in acquiescence bowed her head without uttering sob or sigh,
but to herself--
"It is the end."