"Naturally," said Stephen.
His father looked at him in silence for a moment, at the mild pliant figure, the downcast eyes.
"There is, however, one thing for which I have cause—we all have cause—to be grateful to Meynell," he said, with emphasis.
Stephen looked up.
"I understand he refused to sanction your engagement to Hester
Fox-Wilton."
The young man flushed.
"It would be better, I think, father, if we are to talk over these matters quietly—which I understood is the reason you asked me to come here to-day—that you should avoid a tone toward myself and my affairs which can only make frank conversation difficult or impossible between us."
"I have no desire to be offensive," said Barron, checking himself with difficulty, "and I have only your good in view, though you may not believe it. My reason for approving Meynell in the matter is that he was aware—and you were not aware"—he fell into the slow phrasing he always affected on important occasions—"of facts bearing vitally on your proposal; and that in the light of them he acted as any honest man was bound to act."
"What do you mean!" cried Stephen, springing to his feet.
"I mean"—the answer was increasingly deliberate—"that Hester Fox-Wilton—it is very painful to have to go into these things, but it is necessary, I regret to say—is not a Fox-Wilton at all—and has no right whatever to her name!"