"I suppose," he said, as softly as though he were speaking to himself,
"that I should have known this; I suppose that I should have been
better prepared to hear it. But it is one of those things which men
put off--I mean those men who have children, put off--as they do
making their wills, as something that is in the future and that may be
shirked until it comes. We seem to think that our daughters will live
with us always, just as we expect to live on ourselves until death
comes one day and startles us and finds us unprepared." He took down
his hand and smiled gravely at the younger man with an evident effort,
and said, "I did not mean to speak so gloomily, but you see my point
of view must be different from yours. And she says she loves you, does
she?" he added, gently.

Young Latimer bowed his head and murmured something inarticulately in
reply, and then held his head erect again and waited, still watching
the bishop's face.

"I think she might have told me," said the older man; "but then I
suppose this is the better way. I am young enough to understand that
the old order changes, that the customs of my father's time differ
from those of to-day. And there is no alternative, I suppose," he
said, shaking his head. "I am stopped and told to deliver, and have no
choice. I will get used to it in time," he went on, "but it seems very
hard now. Fathers are selfish, I imagine, but she is all I have."

Young Latimer looked gravely into the fire and wondered how long it
would last. He could just hear the piano from below, and he was
anxious to return to her. And at the same time he was drawn toward the
older man before him, and felt rather guilty, as though he really were