ingratiated himself very closely with a certain Mrs Roby, who had
been Mr Wharton's sister and constant companion, who lived in
Berkeley Street, close round the corner from Manchester Square,
and spent very much of her time with Emily Wharton. They were
together daily, as though Mrs Roby had assumed the part of a
second mother, and Lopez was well aware that Mrs Roby knew of his
love. If there was a real confidence between Mrs Roby and the
old man, the old lawyer knew about it also;--but as to that
Lopez felt that he was in the dark.

The task of speaking to an old father is not unpleasant when the
lover knows that he has been smiled upon, and, in fact, approved
for the last six months. He is going to be patted on the back,
and made much of, and received in the family. He is to be told
that his Mary or his Augusta has been the best daughter in the
world, and will therefore certainly be the best wife, and he
himself will probably on that special occasion be spoken of with
unqualified praise,--and all will be pleasant. But the subject
is one very difficult to broach when no previous light has been
thrown on it. Ferdinand Lopez, however, was not the man to stand
shivering on the brink when a plunge was necessary,--and
therefore he made his plunge. 'Mr Wharton, I have taken the
liberty to call upon you, because I want to speak to you about
your daughter.'

'About my daughter!' The old man's surprise was quite genuine.
Of course when he had given himself a moment to think, he knew
what must be the nature of his visitor's communication. But up
to that moment he had never mixed his daughter and Ferdinand
Lopez in his thoughts together. And now, the idea having come