"But I do, indeed. I had seen the wine-cellar built up just before we left for Madeira. It was my father's plan for securing the wine when the house was let. And very well it turned out for the wine, and me too. I had forgotten all about it. Everything had conspired to bring it to my memory, but had just failed of success. I had fallen asleep under all the influences I told you of--influences from the region of my childhood. They operated still when I was asleep, and, all other distracting influences being removed, at length roused in my sleeping brain the memory of what I had seen. In the morning I remembered not my dream only, but the event of which my dream was a reproduction. Still, I was under considerable doubt about the place, and in this I followed the dream only, as near as I could judge. "The admiral kept his word, and interposed no difficulties between Kate and me. Not that, to tell the truth, I was ever very anxious about that rock ahead; but it was very possible that his fastidious honour or pride might have occasioned a considerable interference with our happiness for a time. As it turned out, he could not leave me Culverwood, and I regretted the fact as little as he did himself. His gratitude to me was, however, excessive, assuming occasionally ludicrous outbursts of thankfulness. I do not believe he could have been more grateful if I had saved his ship and its whole crew. For his hospitality was at stake. Kind old man!" Here ended my father's story, with a light sigh, a gaze into the bright coals, a kiss of my mother's hand which he held in his, and another glass of Burgundy. IF I HAD A FATHER. A DRAMA. ACT I. SCENE.--_A Sculptor's studio_. ARTHUR GERVAISE _working at a clay figure and humming a tune. A knock_. _Ger._ Come in. (_Throws a wet cloth over the clay. Enter_ WARREN _by the door communicating with the house_.) Ah, Warren! How do you do? _War._ How are you, Gervaise? I'm delighted to see you once more. I have but just heard of your return. _Ger._ I've been home but a fortnight. I was just thinking of you. _War._ I was certain I should find you at work. _Ger._ You see my work can go on by any light. It is more independent than yours. _War._ I wish it weren't, then. _Ger._ Why? _War._ Because there would be a chance of our getting you out of your den sometimes. _Ger._ Like any other wild beast when the dark falls--eh? _War._ Just so. _Ger._ And where the good? _War._ Why shouldn't you roar a little now and then like other honest lions? _Ger._ I doubt if the roaring lions do much beyond roaring. _War._ And I doubt whether the lion that won't even whisk his tail, will get food enough shoved through his bars to make it worth his while to keep a cage in London. _Ger._ I certainly shall not make use of myself to recommend my work. _War._ What is it now? _Ger._ Oh, nothing!--only a little fancy of my own.