‘Is Roma so very young? I always thought her so wise for her age.’ ‘Roma is twenty-five. She may be wise in some things, I do not deny it; in others, she is innocent as a child.’ ‘Is she?’ ‘Certainly. Have you not observed it for yourself?’ asked Meredith. ‘I don’t know. I have never thought Roma at all childish.’ ‘She is a child in all matters that refer to the heart,’ said Michael Meredith, in his sententious way. ‘A child to love.’ ‘Well, but is it not time——’ began Maud. ‘Not yet—not yet,’ answered Meredith, anticipating her. ‘I hold her sleeping heart in my hand; when I bid, it shall awaken.’ Maud considered this great nonsense. That a girl of Roma’s age should be treated so like a child or a baby was manifestly absurd, and she thought that Mr. Meredith was very foolish and very wrong. If Phil wanted Roma, he ought to be allowed to propose sensibly, as other men did; and be accepted or refused, as they were. What was the use of waiting? Roma was surely old enough to know her own mind. Mr. Meredith was acute enough to read dissatisfaction in her silence, and a few questions brought out the cause. Without the least intention of doing any mischief, she infused her own feelings into Mr. Meredith’s mind, and he began to wonder what was the use of this delay, and to grow fretful and impatient. Maud soothed him down, as she knew well how to do; but Michael Meredith was not easily satisfied that day. ‘You must go and talk to Roma,’ he said. ‘You said she would know her own mind by this time, and would accept or refuse Philip. She shall not refuse him—I will not have it. Go and find out what she feels, and tell her I will not have her do anything foolish. When he asks her, she is to marry him; I have made up my mind, and she must not disappoint me.’ Maud went to seek Roma in her studio. She had no fear that any sane person would reject her idolized Phil; and on the whole, she was not sorry that he had turned his thoughts in her direction. For Maud was sincerely fond of Roma. She had constituted herself a kind of ‘guide, philosopher and friend’ to this lonely girl who led so secluded a life, and so seldom mingled in any kind of society. Maud’s experiences were not very wide, nor her philosophy very deep; still she had a certain share of shrewd worldly wisdom, and a warm, affectionate nature; and Roma had fallen into the way of giving and receiving confidences when Maud came to see her, which would have been impossible to her with any other companion. ‘Now, Roma,’ began Maud, when preliminary matters had been disposed of, ‘I have come to say something, and of course I shall go straight to the point at once. Is Phil in love with you?’ ‘No, certainly not.’ ‘Are you sure?’ asked Maud archly. ‘Perfectly sure,’ answered Roma quietly. Maud looked rather blank. Something in Roma’s manner carried conviction with it.