“I wish that he had never crossed our path,” he returned, harshly. “You are in love with this man!” He was very angry--as much with himself and Sir Harold as with his daughter--and left the room determined to speak to the baronet. He found him in the summer arbor, reading and smoking as usual, the happy light of contentment in his blue eyes. “Where is Theresa?” he asked. “I have been reading Tennyson’s ‘Maud,’ and I want Theresa to hear it. Much of the beautiful poem seems to be but an echo. I feel that I have known these lines before: “Go not, happy day, From the shining fields; Go not, happy day, Till the maiden yields. Rosy is the west, Rosy is the south, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. When the happy yes Falters from her lips, Pass and blush the news, Over glowing ships; Over blowing seas, Over seas at rest, Pass the happy news, Blush it through the west; Till the red man dance, By his cedar tree, And the red man’s babe Leap beyond the sea. Blush from west to east, Blush from east to west, Till the west is east; Blush it through the west. Rosy is the west, Rosy is the south, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth!” He paused to turn over another page, and Mr. Hamilton spoke: “Sir Harold, this is sufficient evidence to convince me that you cannot--must not remain here longer. Your place is in the great world beyond.” “I am quite happy,” the young baronet replied. “You promised that I should suit my own inclinations.” “Then I must withdraw that promise. Circumstances have arisen that render it imperative.” Sir Harold dropped his cigar, and looked at Mr. Hamilton in surprise. “What is wrong, my friend?” he demanded. “If there are pecuniary troubles, it will not be difficult to obtain money upon the valuables I have about me.” John Hamilton made a deprecatory movement, and sat down opposite his guest. “It is not that, Sir Harold,” he said. “I wish you to leave my humble home for the sake of my dear child. She is young, impressionable, imaginative. She has never been used to the society of young men. She knows nothing of the world. This poetry reading has influenced her young mind, and the most gallant of the old-world knights pale into insignificance when compared with you in her estimation. In short, Sir Harold, she is in love with you, as romantic girls will be with handsome young men.” Sir Harold was surprised. “I had never dreamed of this,” he said. “Poor Theresa!” “Do not pity her; I cannot bear it, but go--go!” “Why should I leave her to unhappiness?” Sir Harold mused. “I love her as a very dear sister. I have never cared for woman in any other way, and Theresa has first claim upon me. Mr. Hamilton,” he added aloud, “why should I throw away the priceless gift of Theresa’s love?”