Sidney was sitting in the corner of a huge fireplace, where a fire was burning cheerfully, and Philip sat down opposite to him. For once his father was absolutely unoccupied, musing with a smile upon his handsome face, as if he was reading all the happy past and the brilliant present in the leaping flames and glowing coals upon the hearth. There was no sign of old age upon him. In fact, he was still in the prime of life; strong, athletic, vigorous, with an air of intellectual keenness and power, which set him high above average men. Philip felt as proud of him as he did of Philip. He looked across at his son with a light in his eyes as undimmed as if he had been himself a boy.
"A man now!" he said, as if he welcomed him across the line that had lain between him and manhood; "a man like myself!"
"Yes, a man!" said Philip abruptly, "with a man's heart and a man's love like yours. Father, I love Phyllis as you love my mother."
Sidney was not prepared to receive the blow so soon and so suddenly; it was struck at him in the very zenith of his happiness. But he had expected it to fall sooner or later, and had laid his plan of action. He hoped that Philip was not yet involved in an engagement, and that it would be possible to temporize, to use such tactics as would set him free from the snare. His face clouded over a little, but he still gazed affectionately in his son's face.
"Of course, you have said nothing to her, as you have not spoken of it to me or your mother," he said.
"There was no need to say anything," answered Philip, stammering. "Why, father, she and I have been brought up for one another! I cannot remember the time when I did not think she would be my wife. Neither she nor I have thought of anyone else."
"Does your mother know this?" inquired his father in measured tones.
"I don't know," he replied; "I suppose not."
"Who, then?" asked Sidney.
"Oh! all of them; every one of them," he said, "except my mother and you. I thought you knew of it till a few weeks ago."