You may do
as you choose," he added, turning away.
"I may see him again?"
"Just as you choose."
"Will you forgive me?"
"By no means."
"It will only be for once."
"I don't know what you mean by once. You must either give him up or
continue the acquaintance."
"I wish to explain--to tell him to wait."
"To wait for what?"
"Till you know him better--till you consent."
"Don't tell him any such nonsense as that. I know him well enough,
and I shall never consent."
"But we can wait a long time," said poor Catherine, in a tone which
was meant to express the humblest conciliation, but which had upon
her father's nerves the effect of an iteration not characterised by
tact.
The Doctor answered, however, quietly enough: "Of course you can
wait till I die, if you like." Catherine gave a cry of natural
horror.
"Your engagement will have one delightful effect upon you; it will
make you extremely impatient for that event."
Catherine stood staring, and the Doctor enjoyed the point he had
made. It came to Catherine with the force--or rather with the vague
impressiveness--of a logical axiom which it was not in her province
to controvert; and yet, though it was a scientific truth, she felt
wholly unable to accept it.
"I would rather not marry, if that were true," she said.
"Give me a proof of it, then; for it is beyond a question that by
engaging yourself to Morris Townsend you simply wait for my death.
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