“Stanier, for which I longed, Uncle Philip, doesn’t exist for me any more. How could I weigh it against Colin?”
Colin’s happiness ... nothing could dim that sunshine for his father, and the sunshine was not only of to-day, it was the sunshine that had shone on him and Rosina more than twenty years ago. His heart melted with the love that through Colin reacted on her. Surely she must rejoice at the boy’s happiness to-day! Raymond, to be sure, was the fruit of her body also, but it was through Colin that she lived, he was the memory and the gracious image of her beauty.
Raymond entered, snapping the golden thread.
“You wanted to see me, father,” he said.
Philip had been attempting to drill himself into a sympathetic bearing towards his son, but Raymond’s actual presence here in succession to Colin and Violet, brought sheer helplessness. For the brightness and beam of the others there was this solid self-sufficiency. It seemed as if a crime had been averted in the transference of the girl to another bridegroom. What unnatural union would have been made by this mating of her! His heart sang; it were vain to try to throttle it into silence.
“Yes, Raymond; sit down,” said he, indicating a place on the sofa where he sat.
“Oh, thanks, it doesn’t matter. I’ll stand,” said Raymond.
“I’ve got bad news for you,” said Philip. “You must brace yourself to it.”
“Let’s have it,” said Raymond.
Philip felt his sympathy slipping from him. He wanted chiefly to get it over; there was no use in attempting to lead up to it.