Theodore de Bergerac flushed crimson to the temples. “Do you imagine that this young man would repay my confidence by a clandestine courtship of my daughter, or that she would receive his addresses?” he cried, indignantly. “My dear De Bergerac, far be it from me to imagine anything. I only wish to suggest that it is rather foolish to bring a handsome young man, with a taste for poetry and a love for learning, and a very lovely girl, more or less affected by the same tastes, into such intimate association, unless you wish them to fall in love with each other.” “Yes, I dare say you are right; I dare say I have acted foolishly,” replied the student, thoughtfully. “But I really never looked at the affair in that light; and then I have such perfect confidence in Helen’s purity of mind, and in the soundness of her judgment. I am so fully assured that no such thing as secresy could ever exist where she is concerned. And then, again, as for this young Thorburn, I have watched him closely, and I believe him to be all that is honourable and excellent.” “You have not watched him with the eyes of worldly experience.” “Perhaps not; but I fancy there is an inner light better than a worldly man’s wisdom. I would pledge myself for that young man’s honour and honesty.” “The fact that he is such a paragon will not prevent your daughter from falling in love with him.” “No; it is just possible that she might become attached to him. I know she likes and admires him; but I fancy she only does so on account of his usefulness to me. However, the danger is incurred. I cannot dismiss a faithful coadjutor hurriedly or abruptly; and I am really very much interested in Eustace Thorburn. I believe there is the fire of real genius in all he does; and to my mind real genius must secure ultimate success.” “Surely Chatterton’s was genius?” “Undoubtedly; and Chatterton must have succeeded if he had been patient; but genius without patience is the flame without the oil. I believe there is a bright career before Eustace Thorburn; and if I knew that my daughter and he loved each other, earnestly and truly, I would not be the man to stand between them and say, ‘It shall not be.’” “How much do you know of Mr. Thorburn’s antecedents?” “Not very much. I know that he was educated at a great public school in Belgium, and for the last few years was a tutor in the same school. His mother seems to have been a widow from an early period. She died a few weeks before he came to me. He speaks of her very rarely, but with extreme tenderness. Of his father he never speaks.” “He has no doubt excellent reasons for such reticence. In plain English, my dear De Bergerac, I take it that your young favourite is an adventurer.”