Eve hung back as Barbara led her to her father’s door. Mr. Coyshe was in there, and though she had said she would take him she did not mean it. She certainly did not want to have to make her decision then. Her face became a little pale, some of the bright colour had gone from it when her temper subsided and she had begun to play at making rabbits. Now more left her cheeks, and she held back as Barbara tried to draw her on. But Barbara was very determined, and though Eve was wayward, she would not take the trouble to be obstinate. ‘I can but say no,’ she said to herself, ‘if the creature does ask me.’ Then she whispered into Barbara’s ear, ‘Bab, I won’t have a scene before all the parish.’ ‘All the parish, dear!’ remonstrated the elder, ‘there is no one there but papa and the doctor; and if the latter means to speak he will ask to have a word with you in private, and you can go into the drawing-room.’ ‘But I don’t want to see him.’ Barbara threw open the door. Mr. Jordan was propped up in his bed on pillows. He was much worse, and a feverish fire burned in his eyes and cheeks. He saw Eve at once and called her to him. Then her ill-humour returned, she pouted and looked away from Mr. Coyshe so as not to see him. He bowed and smiled, and pushed forward extending his hand, but she brushed past with her eyes fixed on her father. She was angry with Barbara for having brought her down. ‘Eve,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘I am very ill. The doctor has warned me that I have been much hurt by what has happened. It was your doing, Eve. You were foolish last night. You forgot what was proper to your station. Your want of consideration is the cause of my being so much worse, and of that scoundrel’s escape.’ ‘O papa, I am very sorry I hurt you, but as for his getting off—I am glad! He had stolen my money, so I have a right to forgive him, and that I do freely.’ ‘Eve!’ exclaimed her father, ‘you do not know what you say. Come nearer to me, child.’ ‘If I am to be scolded, papa,’ said Eve, sullenly, ‘I’d like not to have it done in public.’ She looked round the room, everywhere but at Mr. Coyshe. Her sister watched her anxiously. ‘Eve,’ said the old man, ‘I am very ill and am not likely to be strong again. I cannot be always with you. I am not any more capable to act as your protector, and Barbara has the cares of the house, and lacks the authority to govern and lead you.’ ‘I don’t want any governing and leading, papa,’ said Eve, studying the bed cover. ‘Papa,’ after a moment, ‘whilst you lie in bed, don’t you think all those little tufts on the counterpane look like poplars? I often do, and imagine gardens and walks and pleasure-grounds among them.’ ‘Eve,’ said her father, ‘I am not going to be put off what I have to say by such poor artifices as this. I am going to send you back to Lanherne.’