So ends the day. But what of the morrow? CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. CHECK! "Can I see Mr Dorrien?--Yes, certainly. Show him in here," and the rector, making a hasty note on the margin of his paper, laid aside his pen as Roland was shown into the study. A nervous man, full of the errand on which he had come, might have felt his besetting weakness to a painful extent at the prosaic hour of 10 a.m., here, in this judicial-looking apartment, wherein multitudinous papers disposed about seemed to speak of the more serious side of life, while the shelves of heavily-bound volumes lent a somewhat severe air to the room--and that notwithstanding the real cordiality of his reception; for it is one thing to be on sufficiently intimate terms with a man to justify your dropping in upon him informally for a friendly chat, and quite another to offer yourself as his future son-in-law. But Roland was not of the nervous order. Even had he been, it is probable that experiences of _tete-a-tete_ interviews with a far more formidable personage than Dr Ingelow would have eliminated from this one all its imaginary misgivings, if only by contrast. So after a commonplace remark or two he came straight to the point without difficulty. Quietly, yet attentively, the rector listened to all his visitor had to say, and listening, felt no doubt as to the eligibility of the speaker. Possibly he was not wholly unprepared for the avowal, sooner or later. Anyhow, he showed little or no surprise. It was his wont to receive important matters calmly. "And so I must give up my little Olive?" he said, with a pleasant smile. "However, I suppose the certainty of having to part with them some day or other is one of the disadvantages a man has to labour under if he owns pretty and attractive daughters. But may I ask, Mr Dorrien, whether you have informed your family--your father--of the step you propose to take?" Roland stared. He was considerably taken aback by this question, and, in truth, not a little annoyed. And an unwonted formality about the other's tone tended somewhat to disconcert him. "Well, no--I can't say I have. Naturally, I imagined that you yourself were the first person to be spoken to on the subject. To be candid with you, Dr Ingelow, I have knocked about the world long enough to dispense with the paternal sanction to any undertaking of mine. Moreover, you may possibly be aware that my family and myself are never on very good terms--unfortunately, I admit--but still it is so." The rector did not at once reply. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand thoughtfully stroking his beard, while the other toyed listlessly with one of the buttons of his cassock, and his brows were slightly contracted.