The odd fact is that in his near approach to death, and with his
earthly interest dwindling, Sir John had looked matters frankly in the
face, and had been driven to the conclusion--a conclusion impossible to
him in normal health--that he had got no more than he deserved. He
realized that he had acted unworthily, if unconscious at the time of
the unworthiness of what he did; that the weapons with which he had
fought Sir Oliver were not the weapons that become a Gentleman or in
which there is credit to be won. He perceived that he had permitted
his old enmity for the house of Tressilian, swollen by a sense of
injury lately suffered in the matter of the licence to build at
Smithick, to warp his judgment and to persuade him that Sir Oliver was
all he had dubbed him. He realized that jealousy, too, had taken a
hand in the matter. Sir Oliver's exploits upon the seas had brought
him wealth, and with this wealth he was building up once more the
Tressilian sway in those parts, which Ralph Tressilian had so
outrageously diminished, so that he threatened to eclipse the
importance of the Killigrews of Arwenack.

Nevertheless, in the hour of reaction he did not go so far as to admit
that Sir Oliver Tressilian was a fit mate for Rosamund Godolphin. She
and her brother had been placed in his care by their late father, and
he had nobly discharged his tutelage until such time as Peter had come
to full age. His affection for Rosamund was tender as that of a lover,
but tempered by a feeling entirely paternal. He went very near to
worshipping her, and when all was said, when he had cleared his mind of
all dishonest bias, he still found overmuch to dislike in Oliver
Tressilian, and the notion of his becoming Rosamund's husband was
repellent.