ove all danger; but
his death was highly probable, and after the momentary shock of the
discovery, Tito let his mind fall back in repose on that confident hope.

They had sat in silence, and in a deepening twilight for many minutes,
when Romola ventured to say--

"Shall I light the lamp, father, and shall we go on?"

"No, my Romola, we will work no more to-night. Tito, come and sit by me
here."

Tito moved from the reading-desk, and seated himself on the other side
of Bardo, close to his left elbow.

"Come nearer to me, figliuola mia," said Bardo again, after a moment's
pause. And Romola seated herself on a low stool and let her arm rest on
her father's right knee, that he might lay his hand on her hair, as he
was fond of doing.

"Tito, I never told you that I had once a son," said Bardo, forgetting
what had fallen from him in the emotion raised by their first interview.
The old man had been deeply shaken, and was forced to pour out his
feelings in spite of pride. "But he left me--he is dead to me. I have
disowned him for ever. He was a ready scholar as you are, but more
fervid and impatient, and yet sometimes rapt and self-absorbed, like a
flame fed by some fitful source; showing a disposition from the very
first to turn away his eyes from the clear lights of reason and
philosophy, and to prostrate himself under the influences of a dim
mysticism which eludes all rules of human duty as it eludes all
argument. And so it ended. We will speak no more of him: he is dead to
me. I wish his face could be blotted from that world of memory in which
the distant seems to grow clearer and the near to fade."

Bardo paused, but neither Romola nor Tito dared to speak--his voice was
too tremulous, the poise of his feelings too doubtful. But he presently
raised his hand and found Tito's shoulder to rest it on, while he went
on speaking, with an effort to be calmer.

"But _you_ have come to me, Tito--not quite too late. I will lose no
time in vain regret. When you are working by my side I seem to have
found a son again."

The old man, preoccupied with the governing interest of his life, was
only thinking of the much-meditated book which had quite thrust into the
background the suggestion, raised by Bernardo del Nero's warning, of a
possible marriage between Tito and Romola. But Tito could not allow the
moment to pass unused.

"Will you let me be always and altogether your son? Will you let me
take care of Romola