She carried her head light and high, but she had a
look of pain. The young man at the bottom of the garden turned and looked
up the path. Perhaps he saw them through the window. Matilda moved into
shadow.
That afternoon their father seemed weak and ill. He was easily exhausted.
The doctor came, and told Matilda that the sick man might die suddenly at
any moment--but then he might not. They must be prepared.
So the day passed, and the next. Hadrian made himself at home. He went
about in the morning in his brownish jersey and his khaki trousers,
collarless, his bare neck showing. He explored the pottery premises, as
if he had some secret purpose in so doing, he talked with Mr. Rockley,
when the sick man had strength. The two girls were always angry when the
two men sat talking together like cronies. Yet it was chiefly a kind of
politics they talked.
On the second day after Hadrian's arrival, Matilda sat with her father in
the evening. She was drawing a picture which she wanted to copy. It was
very still, Hadrian was gone out somewhere, no one knew where, and Emmie
was busy. Mr. Rockley reclined on his bed, looking out in silence over
his evening-sunny garden.
'If anything happens to me, Matilda,' he said, 'you won't sell this
house--you'll stop here--'
Matilda's eyes took their slightly haggard look as she stared at her
father.
'Well, we couldn't do anything else,' she said.
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