‘Yes; I wished it when you were a poor man—I cannot change because you are rich. I wished that you should be Roma’s husband when I had never even seen you, and when my fancy could not but conjure up the portrait of a rough-and-ready traveller, half Englishman, half Yankee. Even then I wanted you for a son, for your father’s sake. Can you wonder that I want it more, now that you have appeared upon the scene a polished English gentleman, full of kindliness, honour, and chivalry? Philip, do not disappoint me; do not break my heart. Do not tell me that my dream of years is but an old man’s foolish fancy, and must be cast on one side, like a discarded garment. Tell me that you will love and cherish my child, my Roma; and that you will be a son to me in my old age.’ Tor made no immediate response, but sat still, feeling the position inconceivably awkward. It was not to him at all that this offer of Roma’s hand was made, but to Philip Debenham; and the girl’s dark Italian beauty was just the kind he admired most, and her quiet, self-contained nature the type which best suited his facile and mercurial temperament. It behoved him to act with caution, so as not to block his friend’s way too much, should he be prepared to accept Meredith’s offer; and it was of great importance not to excite the nervous old man more than was absolutely necessary. At the same time Tor’s loyalty to Maud made him very reluctant to compromise himself. ‘You have taken me by surprise, sir. I am much touched by your expressions towards myself and my father, but you must give me time. I have never thought of your daughter in this light before.’ A look of jealous distrust crossed the blind man’s face. ‘You have not gone and entangled yourself abroad? You have not got a wife in some foreign place?’ Tor’s laugh was hearty enough to drive out all suspicion of distrust. ‘Indeed, no, sir. I have seen too much of such things ever to be tempted. If ever I marry a wife, she will be one whom I am not ashamed to own before all the world.’ ‘Right, boy, right; you are your father’s own son. But tell me—pardon my intrusiveness—have you come home quite heart-whole? Is there no beauty on some southern shore to whom your fancy roves lovingly back—whom you would fain bring to England as your wife?’ Tor answered honestly enough in the negative, and Meredith’s face cleared. ‘You have not been long enough here to have lost your heart. Roma cannot have a rival yet.’ Tor smiled to himself, but his voice was serious enough. ‘Your daughter and my sister Maud are the only two women I have really admired since I came over.’ ‘That is good. Then you are quite fancy-free—your heart is in your own keeping.’