‘That I cannot tell. It may be soon, or may be late—probably not just yet; but it depends upon circumstances I cannot now explain. Some day you shall know all, and in the meantime I must ask you to trust me!’ Roma gave him her hand with her rare sweet smile, as she said: ‘I should be ungrateful indeed, if I did not.’ Tor looked down at her as he stood holding her hand, and said: ‘We shall have to be good friends after this, I think, Roma. Try and feel towards me as if I were your big brother, and I will be a brother to you as far as I know how to play the part. I never had a sister—I mean, practically, until I came back a month or so ago—so that I am new to the part; but I will play it as well as I can. And you must let me help you with your father, so far as lies in my power, and you must not mind deceiving him a little while for his good.’ ‘No, I dare not do otherwise; and I should like to feel that you were a sort of brother to me—Philip.’ She spoke the name with a little hesitation, and he smiled approvingly. ‘That is right. Now I think we understand one another. I must say good-night; and hope to see you early to-morrow, and to hear a good account of your father.’ So Roma went back to her quiet watch beside the sick man; and Tor strode across the dewy park to tell his story to Maud. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. A GUEST FROM ITALY. The next few days passed rather like a dream to Roma. Her father improved slowly but steadily, the tranquil and contented condition of his mind going far towards ensuring his recovery. Tor came in and out very much as a son of the house might do, and Meredith was entirely satisfied. He did not care to talk or discuss the matter of the sudden betrothal with either daughter or son-in-law elect. He remained passively content, and accepted the fact with the calm superiority characteristic of his habit of mind, and the two most deeply concerned were glad that it should be so. Roma grew to watch with interest for Tor’s visits, and a strong liking sprang up between the two so curiously thrown together. There was not a spark of love (in the ordinary sense of the word) in this friendship. Roma and Tor would never grow sentimental over one another under any circumstances, for the strange, subtle unity of spirit, which is the essence of real love, was entirely wanting between them. Mr. Meredith had, by his injudicious treatment of the subject, effectually prevented Roma from feeling anything but aversion for the husband he had selected, until Tor’s quiet kindness had overcome her repugnance; and he had Maud’s image too deeply enshrined within his heart to spare over-much thought or admiration for another woman.