_Mrs. C._ But mere menial service cannot discharge the least portion of your obligations. As his father alone can you really serve him. _Col. G._ You persist in misunderstanding me. This is not the service I mean. I scorn the fancy. This is only the means, as I told you plainly before, of finding out _how_ I may serve him--of learning what he really needs--or most desires. If I fail in discovering how to recommend myself to him, I shall go back to India, and content myself with leaving him a tolerable fortune. _Mrs. C._ How ever a hair-brained fellow like you, Walter, could have made such a soldier!--Why don't you tell your boy you love him, and have done with it? _Col. G._ I will, as soon as I have proof to back the assertion. _Mrs. C._ I tell you it is rank pride. _Col. G._ It may be pride, sister; but it is the pride of a repentant thief who puts off his confession until he has the money in his hand to prove the genuineness of his sorrow. _Mrs. C._ It never _was_ of any use to argue with _you_, Walter; you know that, or at least I know it. So I give up.--I trust you have got over your prejudice against his profession. It is not my fault. _Col. G._ In truth, I had forgotten the profession--as you call it--in watching the professor. _Mrs. C._ And has it not once occurred to you to ask how he may take such watching? _Col. G._ By the time he is aware of it, he will be ready to understand it. _Mrs. C._ But suppose he should discover you before you have thus established your position? _Col. G._ I must run the risk. _Mrs. C._ Suppose then you should thus find out something he would not have you know? _Col. G._ (_hurriedly_). Do you imagine his servant might know a thing he would hide from his father? _Mrs. C._ I do not, Walter. I can trust him. But he might well resent the espionage of even his father. You cannot get rid of the vile look of the thing. _Col. G._ Again I say, my boy shall be my judge, and my love shall be my plea. In any case I shall have to ask his forgiveness. But there is his key in the lock! Run into the house. _Exit_ MRS. C. _Enter_ GER., _and goes straight to the Psyche_. _Col. G._ Breakfast is waiting, sir. _Ger._ By and by, William. _Col. G._ You haven't been in bed, sir! _Ger._ Well? What of that? _Col. G._ I hope you're not ill, sir. _Ger._ Not in the least: I work all night sometimes.--You can go. (COL. G. _lingers, with a searching gaze at the Psyche_.)--I don't want anything. _Col. G._ Pardon me, sir, but I am sure you are ill. You've done no work since last night. _Ger._ (_with displeasure_). I am quite well, and wish to be alone. _Col. G._ Mayn't I go and fetch a doctor, sir? It is better to take things in time. _Ger._ You are troublesome. (_Exit_ COL. G.)--What can the fellow mean? He looked at me so strangely too! He's officious--that's all, I dare say. A good sort of man, I do think! William!--What is it in the man's face?--(_Enter_ Col G.) Is the breakfast ready?