‘And beyond that you know very little,’ he informed her; ‘it’s not enough, Stephen, believe me.’ There ensued a long silence, she tapping her leg with her whip, he speculating about her. Then he said, but quite gently: ‘I’ve considered this thing—I’ve considered this matter of your education. I want you to have the same education, the same advantages as I’d give to my son—that is as far as possible—’ he added, looking away from Stephen. ‘But I’m not your son, Father,’ she said very slowly, and even as she said it her heart felt heavy—heavy and sad as it had not done for years, not since she was quite a small child. And at this he looked back at her with love in his eyes, love and something that seemed like compassion; and their looks met and mingled and held for a moment, speechless yet somehow expressing their hearts. Her own eyes clouded and she stared at her boots, ashamed of the tears that she felt might flow over. He saw this and went on speaking more quickly, as though anxious to cover her confusion. ‘You’re all the son that I’ve got,’ he told her. ‘You’re brave and strong-limbed, but I want you to be wise—I want you to be wise for your own sake, Stephen, because at the best life requires great wisdom. I want you to learn to make friends of your books; some day you may need them, because—’ He hesitated, ‘because you mayn’t find life at all easy, we none of us do, and books are good friends. I don’t want you to give up your fencing and gymnastics or your riding, but I want you to show moderation. You’ve developed your body, now develop your mind; let your mind and your muscles help, not hinder each other—it can be done, Stephen, I’ve done it myself, and in many respects you’re like me. I’ve brought you up very differently from most girls, you must know that—look at Violet Antrim. I’ve indulged you, I suppose, but I don’t think I’ve spoilt you, because I believe in you absolutely. I believe in myself too, where you’re concerned; I believe in my own sound judgment. But you’ve now got to prove that my judgment’s been sound, we’ve both got to prove it to ourselves and to your mother—she’s been very patient with my unusual methods—I’m going to stand trial now, and she’ll be my judge. Help me, I’m going to need all your help; if you fail then I fail, we shall go down together. But we’re not going to fail, you’re going to work hard when your new governess comes, and when you’re older you’re going to become a fine woman; you must, dear—I love you so much that you can’t disappoint me.’ His voice faltered a little, then he held out his hand: ‘and Stephen, come here—look me straight in the eyes—what is honour, my daughter?’ She looked into his anxious, questioning eyes: ‘You are honour,’ she said quite simply. 5