Esther returned with the tea-things, and sat down.

'Now,' she said cosily, 'tell me all about my father.'
'He' - stammered Dick, 'he is a very agreeable companion.'

'I shall begin to think it is more than you are, Mr. Naseby,'
she said, with a laugh. 'I am his daughter, you forget.

Begin at the beginning, and tell me all you have seen of him,
all he said and all you answered. You must have met

somewhere; begin with that.'
So with that he began: how he had found the Admiral painting

in a cafe; how his art so possessed him that he could not
wait till he got home to - well, to dash off his idea; how

(this in reply to a question) his idea consisted of a cock
crowing and two hens eating corn; how he was fond of cocks

and hens; how this did not lead him to neglect more ambitious
forms of art; how he had a picture in his studio of a Greek

subject which was said to be remarkable from several points
of view; how no one had seen it nor knew the precise site of

the studio in which it was being vigorously though secretly
confected; how (in answer to a suggestion) this shyness was

common to the Admiral, Michelangelo, and others; how they
(Dick and Van Tromp) had struck up an acquaintance at once,

and dined together that same night; how he (the Admiral) had
once given money to a beggar; how he spoke with effusion of

his little daughter; how he had once borrowed money to send
her a doll - a trait worthy of Newton, she being then in her

nineteenth year at least; how, if the doll never arrived
(which it appeared it never did), the trait was only more

characteristic of the highest order of creative intellect;
how he was - no, not beautiful - striking, yes, Dick would go

so far, decidedlystriking in appearance; how his boots were
made to lace and his coat was black, not cut-away, a frock;

and so on, and so on by the yard. It was astonishing how few
lies were necessary. After all, people exaggerated the

difficulty of life. A little steering, just a touch of the
rudder now and then, and with a willinglistener there is no

limit to the domain of equivocal speech. Sometimes Miss
M'Glashan made a freezing sojourn in the parlour; and then

the task seemed unaccountably more difficult; but to Esther,
who was all eyes and ears, her face alight with interest, his

stream of language flowed without break or stumble, and his
mind was ever fertile in ingenious evasions and -

What an afternoon it was for Esther!
'Ah!' she said at last, 'it's good to hear all this! My

aunt, you should know, is narrow and too religious; she
cannot understand an artist's life. It does not frighten

me,' she added grandly; 'I am an artist's daughter.'
With that speech, Dick consoled himself for his imposture;

she was not deceived so grossly after all; and then if a
fraud, was not the fraud piety itself? - and what could be

more obligatory than to keep alive in the heart of a daughter
that filial trust and honour which, even although misplaced,

became her like a jewel of the mind? There might be another
thought, a shade of cowardice, a selfish desire to please;

poor Dick was merely human; and what would you have had him
do?

CHAPTER IV - ESTHER ON THE FILIAL RELATION
A MONTH later Dick and Esther met at the stile beside the

cross roads; had there been any one to see them but the birds
and summer insects, it would have been remarked that they met

after a different fashion from the day before. Dick took her
in his arms, and their lips were set together for a long

while. Then he held her at arm's-length, and they looked
straight into each other's eyes.

'Esther!' he said; you should have heard his voice!
'Dick!' said she.

'My darling!'
It was some time before they started for their walk; he kept

an arm about her, and their sides were close together as they
walked; the sun, the birds, the west wind running among the

trees, a pressure, a look, the grasp tightening round a
single finger, these things stood them in lieu of thought and

filled their hearts with joy. The path they were following
led them through a wood of pine-trees carpeted with heather

and blue-berry, and upon this pleasant carpet, Dick, not
without some seriousness, made her sit down.

'Esther!' he began, 'there is something you ought to know.
You know my father is a rich man, and you would think, now

that we love each other, we might marry when we pleased. But
I fear, darling, we may have long to wait, and shall want all

our courage.'
'I have courage for anything,' she said, 'I have all I want;

with you and my father, I am so well off, and waiting is made
so happy, that I could wait a lifetime and not weary.'

He had a sharp pang at the mention of the Admiral. 'Hear me
out,' he continued. 'I ought to have told you this before;

but it is a thought I shrink from; if it were possible, I
should not tell you even now. My poor father and I are

scarce on speaking terms.'
'Your father,' she repeated, turning pale.

'It must sound strange to you; but yet I cannot think I am to
blame,' he said. 'I will tell you how it happened.'

'Oh Dick!' she said, when she had heard him to an end, 'how
brave you are, and how proud. Yet I would not be proud with

a father. I would tell him all.'
'What!' cried Dick, 'go in months after, and brag that I had

meant to thrash the man, and then didn't. And why? Because
my father had made a bigger ass of himself than I supposed.

My dear, that's nonsense.'
She winced at his words and drew away. 'But when that is all

he asks,' she pleaded. 'If he only knew that you had felt
that impulse, it would make him so proud and happy. He would

see you were his own son after all, and had the same thoughts
and the same chivalry of spirit. And then you did yourself

injustice when you spoke just now. It was because the editor
was weak and poor and excused himself, that you repented your

first determination. Had he been a big red man, with
whiskers, you would have beaten him - you know you would - if

Mr. Naseby had been ten times more committed. Do you think,
if you can tell it to me, and I understand at once, that it

would be more difficult to tell it to your own father, or
that he would not be more ready to sympathise with you than I

am? And I love you, Dick; but then he is your father.'
'My dear,' said Dick, desperately, 'you do not understand;

you do not know what it is to be treated with daily want of
comprehension and daily small injustices, through childhood

and boyhood and manhood, until you despair of a hearing,
until the thing rides you like a nightmare, until you almost

hate the sight of the man you love, and who's your father
after all. In short, Esther, you don't know what it is to

have a father, and that's what blinds you.'
'I see,' she said musingly, 'you mean that I am fortunate in

my father. But I am not so fortunate after all; you forget,
I do not know him; it is you who know him; he is already more

your father than mine.' And here she took his hand. Dick's
heart had grown as cold as ice. 'But I am sorry for you,

too,' she continued, 'it must be very sad and lonely.'
'You misunderstand me,' said Dick, chokingly. 'My father is