So he ate his breakfast, and then returned to Sir Thomas.
"Father," said he, as soon as he had got into the arm-chair, in which it was his custom to sit when talking with Sir Thomas, "I hope what I am going to tell you will give you pleasure.

I have proposed to a young lady, and she has--accepted me." "You have proposed, and have been accepted!" "Yes, father." "And the young lady-- ?" "Is Lady Clara Desmond.

I hope you will say that you approve of it.
She has no fortune, as we all know, but that will hardly matter to me; and I think you will allow that in every other respect she is--" Perfect, Herbert would have said, had he dared to express his true meaning.

But he paused for a moment to look for a less triumphant word; and then paused again, and left his sentence incomplete, when he saw the expression of his father's face.
"Oh, father! you do not mean to say that you do not like her ?" But it was not dislike that was expressed in his father's face, as Herbert felt the moment after he had spoken.

There was pain there, and solicitude, and disappointment; a look of sorrow at the tidings thus conveyed to him; but nothing that seemed to betoken dislike of any person.
"What is it, sir?
Why do you not speak to me?
Can it be that you disapprove of my marrying ?" Sir Thomas certainly did disapprove of his son's marrying, but he lacked the courage to say so.