"And it is the dearest wish of my heart to see you married to some lady of good birth--one who shall well do the honours of your table. Blandfield must not pass to a collateral branch, Charley; we must have an heir to these broad acres; for I hope the time will come, my boy, when in this very library you will be seated, grey and aged as I am, talking to some fine stalwart son, who, like you, shall possess his dear mother's eyes, ever to bring to remembrance happy days gone by, my boy-- gone by never to return." The old man's voice trembled as he spoke, and the next moment his son's hands were clasped in his, while as eye met eye there was a weak tear glistening in that of the elder, and the lines seemed more deeply cut in his son's fine open countenance. "My dear father!" said the young man softly. "My dear Charley!" said Sir Philip. There was silence for a while as father and son thought of the days of sorrow ten years back, when Blandfield Court was darkened, and steps passed lightly about the fine old mansion, because its lady--loved of all for miles round--had been suddenly called away from the field of labour that she had blessed. And then they looked up to the portrait gazing down at them from the chimneypiece, seeming almost to smile sadly upon them as they watched the skilful limning of the beloved features. A few moments after, a smile dawned upon the old man's quivering lip, as, still retaining his son's hand, he motioned him to take a seat by his side. "My dear Charley," he said at last, "I think you understand my wishes." "My dear father, yes." "And you will try?" "To gratify you?--Yes, yes, of course; but really, father--" "My dear boy, I know--I know what you would say. But look here, Charley--there has always been complete confidence between us; is there--is there anything?" "Any lady in the case? What, any tender _penchant_?" laughed Charley. "My dear father, no. I think I've hardly given a thought to anything but my horses and dogs." "I'm glad of it, Charley, I'm glad of it! And now let's quietly chat it over. Do you know, my dear boy, that you are shutting yourself out from an Eden? Do you not believe in love?" "Well, ye-e-es. I believe that you and my dear mother were most truly happy." "We were, my dear boy, we were. And why should not you be as happy?" "Hem!" ejaculated Charley; and then firmly: "because, sir, I believe that there is not such a woman as my dear mother upon earth." The old gentleman shaded his eyes for a few moments with his disengaged hand. "Frankly again, father," said the young man, "is there a lady in view?" "Well, no, my dear boy, not exactly; but I certainly was talking with Bray over our port last week, when we perhaps did agree that you and Laura seemed cut out for one another; but, my dear boy, don't think I want to play the tyrant and choose for you. They do say, though, that the lady has a leaning your way; and no wonder, Charley, no wonder!"