"Because he has no strict sense of right. He will do what he thinks honourable, which every man judges by his own side-lights. Forgive me, Sûr Imar, for speaking so. You have your own standard, and you keep to it; and it is as much higher than mine, as Kazbek is than a Surrey hill."
"There you are wrong," he answered gently; "the proof is always in the practice. And I am proving myself as selfish, and as thoroughly ungrateful, as if I had always been prosperous. George, you know too well what I mean. Through you alone, and your wonderful"—it would not become me to repeat all he said—"I now have not only my life and my rights, but also a very grand son of my own, whose nature is that of the sweet one I destroyed; and soon he will help me in the work I hope to do. Yet I am so mean and small, that I grudge you the one love of your life, if you insist upon taking her away."
For a moment, as I looked at him, and perceived the sparkle of tears in his eyes, although his voice was clear and firm, it came home to my heart that here was a contest of generosity, wherein it would be ignoble of me not to show some valiance. But a sense of yearning, and perpetual loneliness, and an empty life, coupled with a doubt of my duty to the Power which has ordained true love, proved too much for my nobility.
"If you really think, Sûr Imar," I began with a dismal voice, "if you can reconcile it with your duty as a father to keep your dear child all to yourself—for she has vowed, I may tell you that, fifty times she has pledged herself never to have any one but me—and of course I know that I am poor." This was very mean of me, and I never meant to say it; but love is mean, as well as grand.
"Then let us settle it this way," he answered, with a proud paternal smile: "I have been so long in England that I will follow English usages. Let us leave it to the lady. I will send for Dariel, and she shall choose between us."
"I pray you not. It would be such a pain and trial to her."
As I spoke, he looked at me with a warmth of true affection.
"George, you love her even more than her own father does," he said; "you deserve a decision in your favour. But I doubt whether you will get it. If you do, I resign without conditions. But poverty there need be none, unless you insist upon it. Mr. Stoneman, your brother-in-law, entreats me to accept £10,000 for the valley of St. Winifred. Three railway companies there are, according to his account of it, railing and raving at one another for the possession of that part of Surrey. They all declare that such a line can never pay for making, but they would spend their last shilling upon it, rather than see either of the others there. Mr. Stoneman is in what you call the bench, the chair, the throne of the wealthiest of the three; and if he can make purchase of that track, the rivals will have no chance to pass. I have felt much scruple about accepting so much for land that cost me so little; the justice of the matter is not clear to me as a stranger to the English equity."
"Oh, Sûr Imar," I exclaimed with great surprise, "the largest and noblest of all the Angels, if he got the whip-hand of a Railway Company, would be compelled by self-respect to take it out of them, to their last penny."