“I would do anything to serve you, Captain Morton, that I would, sir, or swear anything you please: and for that matter, so would Archy.”
“No, no, my friends,” exclaimed Ronald, somewhat inclined to laugh; “I only wish you to swear the truth, nothing else can serve me. However, the time for doing so has not yet arrived. We must get home first.”
“The truth!” muttered Rolf Morton. “Where is that to be found? I doubt that it will serve us anyhow.”
“Well, dear father, all is in God’s hands,” said Ronald, after he had dismissed the old men; “I have always been content and proud to be your son, and to me, therefore, as far as my own feelings are concerned it matters little who was your father, or to what family he belonged, except—ah—I for an instant forgot—others may value family more than I do.” And Ronald told his father of his love for Edda Armytage, and of his belief that his love was returned.
Rolf Morton listened earnestly. He had more knowledge of the world than his son, and he was less accustomed to look on the bright side of things.
He shook his head.
“I doubt not she is all you say, and I am grateful to her mother’s sister for instructing you in your boyhood, but I have little cause to love her race. The old Sir Marcus worked me all the ill he could, and from what I have heard of this son-in-law of his, he is a proud and vain man, not likely to have much regard for the feelings of young lovers’ hearts. But cheer up, Ronald. You have a noble profession, and the way to its highest rank is open to you.”
“But Edda has promised to be mine, and her father could scarcely wish to make her break her word,” answered Ronald, with a simplicity which would have made a man of the world smile.
“I would not damp your spirits, lad; but if you would escape having your hopes stranded, don’t trust too much to promises.”
Ronald thought that his father was taking too desponding a view of matters.