Stevens was replaced in his chair, and water thrown in his face to
facilitate his recovery.
Meanwhile, McCloskey had poured himself out a glass of brandy and water,
which he stood sipping as coolly as if everything in the apartment was in a
state of the most perfect composure. The singular terror of her father, and
the boldness and assurance of the intruder, were to Miss Stevens something
inexplicable--she stood looking from one to the other, as though seeking an
explanation, and on observing symptoms of a return to consciousness on the
part of her parent, she turned to McCloskey, and said, appealingly: "You
see how your presence has agitated my father. Pray let me conjure you--go.
Be your errand what it may, I promise you it shall have the earliest
attention. Or," said she, "tell me what it is; perhaps I can see to it--I
attend a great deal to father's business. Pray tell me!"
"No, no!" exclaimed the old man, who had caught the last few words of his
daughter. "No, no--not a syllable! Here, I'm well--I'm well enough. I'll
attend to you. There, there--that will do," he continued, addressing the
servant; "leave the room. And you," he added, turning to his daughter, "do
you go too. I am much better now, and can talk to him. Go! go!" he cried,
impatiently, as he saw evidences of a disposition to linger, on her part;
"if I want you I'll ring.
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