delude themselves into the belief that not
only was such makeshift companionship a solace, but that it actually was
able to replace that other all-satisfying companionship they had lost.
But they knew in their hearts, each of them, that it was not so. And Sir
William realised, more perhaps than Rachel did, that it never could be.
The relation between a father and daughter, when most successful, is
formed of delightful discrepancies and differences, supplementing one
another in the things that are not of each age. It means a protecting
care on the side of the father, an amused tender pride in seeing the
younger creature developing an individuality which, however, is hardly
in the secret soul of the elder one quite realised or believed in. The
experience of the man in such a relation has mainly been derived from
women of his own standing; his judgment of his daughter is apt to be a
good deal guesswork. The daughter, on the other hand, brings to the
relation elements necessarily and absolutely absent on the other side.
If she cares for her father as he does for her, she looks up to him, she
admires him, she accepts from him numberless prejudices and rules about
the government of life, and acts upon them, taking for granted all the
time that he cannot understand her own point of view. And yet, even so
constituted, it can be one of the most beautiful and even satisfying
combinations of affection the world has to show, provided the father has
not known what it is to have the fulness of joy in his companionship
with his wife, in that equal experience, mutual reliance, understanding
of hopes and fears, which is impossible when the understanding is being
interpreted through the imagination only, by one standing on a different
plane of life. Neither Rachel nor her father had realised all this; but
the mother with her acuter sensibilities had known, and had so
deliberately set herself to fulfil her task that they had all these
years been interpreted to one another, as it were, by that other
influence that had surrounded them, that atmosphere through which
everything was seen aright and in its most beautiful aspect. And the
time came when Sir William suddenly grasped with a burning, startling
vividness the fact that his life could not be the same again, that he
must henceforth take it on a lower plane. The day was fine and
bright--too warm, too bright; the hopeful light of spring had given
place to the steady glare of summer. He had