‘I suppose father has been talking to you,’ she said. ‘I wish he would not. It is one of his fancies, Maud, that your brother is to marry me; but he never will. He does not care for me, nor I for him—in that way.’ ‘But your father said he had spoken about it—Phil, I mean.’ A look of pain crossed Roma’s face. ‘That means, I suppose, that father has spoken to Mr. Debenham—I wish he would not. Your brother is kind, and humours him because agitation is so bad for him. Please do not talk to me any more about it. It is a horrid state of affairs. But you may be quite sure that your brother and I will never marry.’ ‘Would you refuse him if he asked you?’ ‘He never will ask me.’ ‘But suppose he did,’ urged Maud. ‘You know he might, Roma; he likes you very much.’ The girl clasped her hands tightly together, with a look of keen pain upon her face. ‘I suppose then, I should have to say yes, for my father’s sake. I cannot—_cannot_ go against him—not even to save my own life. Some day, Maud, I will try and tell you why. Oh! I hope and trust it may not be, for I must do my father’s bidding.’ Maud was able to give Mr. Meredith the required assurance, and to leave him in a state of placid tranquillity; but she left the house in a dissatisfied frame of mind, and wished that she had never been there. She could not believe that Phil would be so weak as to let Mr. Meredith cajole him into a marriage that he was not anxious to make; and it was very hard upon him to have to humour the old man because it was bad for him to be vexed. Altogether Maud felt annoyed and disturbed—vexed with herself for what she had said to Mr. Meredith, with him for being so foolish and irrational, and with Roma for talking and looking as though marriage with Phil would be the most dreadful thing in the world. She thought things had come to an odd sort of pass, and determined that she would not go to the house again until Phil had come back, and could tell her the true state of the case. For in spite of all that Mr. Meredith had implied, she knew her brother would be frank with her. * * * * * Meantime Tor was travelling rapidly towards Freyburg, at which place he arrived one evening, about twelve hours later than his letter had done. From the hotel he walked straight up to Dr. Schneeberger’s house, and was met by the lively little Gretchen, who welcomed him with volubility and warmth, and was genuinely delighted to see him. But she shook her head in mournful fashion over the helpless state of his poor friend, and lamented its sadness. Such a fine handsome young man—everyone said that who saw the Herr Torwood. Ah, it was what nobody could understand, that he should be struck down like that.