“Always,” Victor assented, gravely.  With a shrug he added:  “It is nothing; for myself, I am used to it, I do not greatly care.  But for you—­that is another matter altogether.  I have a great fear for you, my child.  That, indeed, is why I never tried to find you till yesterday—­believing, as I mistakenly did, you were in good hands, well cared for, happy—­lest my enemies seek to strike at me through you.  But when I saw that unfortunate advertisement I dared delay not another hour about bringing you within the compass of my protection.  Even now, untiring as my care for you shall ever be, I know my enemies will be as tireless in endeavours to rob me of you.  You will be followed, hounded, importuned, lied to, threatened—­all without rest.  If they cannot take you from me bodily, they will seek to poison your mind against me.  Therefore, rather than keep you practically a prisoner in your home, I feel obliged to require a promise of you.”

Deeply stirred by the melancholy gravity that informed his pose, the girl protested earnestly:  “Anything—­I will promise anything, rather than be an anxiety to one who is so kind.”

“Kind?  To my own daughter?” Victor smiled sadly.  “But I love you, little Sofia.  Nor is it much that I must ask of you:  merely that you never go out alone, but only in the company of Mrs. Waring or Mr. Karslake or, preferably, both.”

“Oh, I promise that—­”

“But there is more:  If by any accident you should ever find yourself left alone in public, do not let strangers speak to you, refuse to listen to them.”

“I promise.”

“And finally:  If anybody should ever seek to turn you against me, come to me instantly and tell me about it.”

“But naturally I would do that, father.”

“Good.  I rely upon your discretion and loyalty.  At another time I will explain matters in more detail.  For the present—­enough of an unpleasant subject.  You have a busy day before you.  At my request Mrs. Waring has arranged to have various tradespeople wait upon you this morning to take your orders for the beginnings of a wardrobe.  If you can find something ready-made to wear you will want, no doubt, to spend the afternoon shopping.  A car will be at your disposal, and I give you carte blanche.  I wish you never to know an unsatisfied need or desire.  Still, I am selfish enough to reserve for myself the happiness of selecting your jewels.”

“Oh!” Sofia cried, breathlessly.  Victor was holding his arms open; and how should she deny him?  “You are too good to me,” she murmured.  “How can I ever show my gratitude?”

Holding her close, Victor smiled a singular smile.

“Some day I may tell you.  But to-day—­no more.  I am much preoccupied with affairs; but Mrs. Waring will take care of you till evening, when I promise myself the pleasure of dining with you both.”

At the sound of a knock he put Sofia gently from him, and said in a strong voice: