About this time his mother began to have the idea he ought really to marry. His father had been thirty at the time of his wedding with herself, and she had always thought that was starting too late. Twenty-three was a good age, and a sweet, gentle wife of Paul's would be the joy of her declining years--to say nothing of several grandchildren. But when this matter was broached to him first, Paul laughed, and when it became a daily subject of conversation, he almost lost that quick temper of his, which was not quite yet under perfect control.
"I tell you what it is, mother," he said, "if you tease me like this I shall go away on a voyage round the world!"
So the Lady Henrietta subsided into pained silence, and sulked with her adored son for more than a day.
"Paul is so unaccountably changed since his visit abroad," she said to her husband plaintively. "I sometimes wonder, Charles, if we really know all the people he met."
And Sir Charles had replied, "Nonsense! Henrietta--the lad is a man now, and immensely improved; do leave him in peace."
But when he was alone the father had smiled to himself--rather sadly--for he saw a good deal with his shrewd eyes, though he said no words of sympathy to his son. He knew that Paul was suffering still, perhaps as keenly as ever, and he honoured his determination to keep it all from view.
So the old year died, and the new one came--and soon February would be here. Ah! with what passionate anxiety the end of that month was awaited by Paul, only his own heart knew.