"Oh, father! you do not mean to say that you do not like her?"
But it was not dislike that was expressed in his father's face, as Herbert felt the moment after he had spoken. There was pain there, and solicitude, and disappointment; a look of sorrow at the tidings thus conveyed to him; but nothing that seemed to betoken dislike of any person.
"What is it, sir? Why do you not speak to me? Can it be that you disapprove of my marrying?"
Sir Thomas certainly did disapprove of his son's marrying, but he lacked the courage to say so. Much misery that had hitherto come upon him, and that was about to come on all those whom he loved so well, arose from this lack of courage. He did not dare to tell his son that he advised him for the present to put aside all such hopes. It would have been terrible for him to do so; but he knew that in not doing so he was occasioning sorrow that would be more terrible.
And yet he did not do it. Herbert saw clearly that the project was distasteful to his father,—that project which he had hoped to have seen received with so much delight; but nothing was said to him which tended to make him alter his purpose.
"Do you not like her?" he asked his father, almost piteously.
"Yes, yes; I do like her, we all like her, very much indeed, Herbert."
"Then why—"
"You are so young, my boy, and she is so very young, and—"
"And what?"