Tor looked at her, and then seated himself at a little distance, wondering what was coming. ‘I shall be honoured by any confidence you can make me, Miss Meredith. Is there anything I can do for you? I am afraid, by your face, that it is not of a very pleasant matter you have to speak.’ ‘No—not very,’ answered Roma, without looking up. And after a pause, she added, ‘It is something about my father.’ Tor guessed at her meaning by the pained look on her face, and said, gently enough: ‘Are you alluding to the state of his health?’ Roma looked up quickly, with startled eyes. ‘Do you know it, too? Is it so apparent as that? Or has he said anything to you?’ ‘No, he has not told me anything; but he had an attack of faintness one day, when he was reaching up for a heavy book of engravings. It passed off almost at once; but it gave me an idea that there was some weakness of the heart. I hope you will not be alarmed at my frankness. It always seems to me that the truth is best spoken out.’ ‘Oh yes—yes!’ cried Roma eagerly. ‘It is such a comfort to be able to speak the truth about anything that is on one’s mind. I have known it for some months; but I have never yet been able to say a word to anyone.’ ‘Have you had advice?’ ‘Yes; it was a doctor who told me; but father does not know, and he must not be told. He is so excitable, and so nervous—you have noticed that, too?’ ‘Well, I have thought he might grow excited if I were to attempt an argument; but then I never do. I am no logician—I don’t think arguing is ever any use. It only means a terrible waste of words, perhaps of temper, and everyone ends by thinking exactly as he did at first.’ Roma looked at him gratefully. ‘It is so good of you always to let father have his own way in everything. I have noticed it, and been so much obliged.’ ‘I was not aware I had done anything to merit your gratitude. I have very much enjoyed the talks I have had with your father.’ ‘I am so glad you have,’ said Roma, unbending more and more, and growing frank now that the ice was broken, and she was assured of her companion’s comprehension and sympathy. ‘You know, there are so few to talk to father here—in Italy we had lots of friends; but, you know,’ and here a spasm of pain crossed her face, ‘he had an accident—he went blind, and I think it has weakened him—his brain as well as his heart. He is so irritable if he is crossed. He cannot bear contradiction. And so—and so—people have been vexed with him, and have gone away, and not come any more; and he seems to have lost all his friends.’ Roma spoke with a good deal of feeling. Indeed, she seemed half afraid she should show too much, and her voice quivered at times, and threatened to break. Tor hastened to her relief.