"I never wrote about it like a joke," said Mr. Prosper, almost crying.
"I remember now. It was to your nephew; and of course everybody at the rectory saw it. Of course they were all laughing at you." There was one thing now written in the book of fate, and sealed as certainly as the crack of doom: no shilling of allowance should ever be paid to Harry Annesley. He would go abroad. He said so to himself as he thought of this, and said also that, if he could find a healthy young woman anywhere, he would marry her, sacrificing every idea of his own happiness to his desire of revenge upon his nephew. This, however, was only the passionate feeling of the moment. Matrimony had become altogether so distasteful to him, since he had become intimately acquainted with Miss Thoroughbung, as to make any release in that manner quite impossible to him. "Do you propose to make me any amends?" asked Miss Thoroughbung.
"Money?" said he.
"Yes; money. Why shouldn't you pay me money? I should like to keep three ponies, and to have Miss Tickle's sister to come and live with me."
"I do not know whether you are in earnest, Miss Thoroughbung."
"Quite in earnest, Peter Prosper. But perhaps I had better leave that matter in the hands of Soames & Simpson,—very gentleman-like men,—and they'll be sure to let you know how much you ought to pay. Ten thousand pounds wouldn't be too much, considering the distress to my wounded feelings." Here Miss Thoroughbung put her handkerchief up to her eyes.
There was nothing that he could say. Whether she were laughing at him, as he thought to be most probable, or whether there was some grain of truth in the demand which she made, he found it equally impossible to make any reply. There was nothing that he could say; nor could he absolutely turn her out of the room. But after ten minutes' farther continuation of these amenities, during which it did at last come home to his brain that she was merely laughing at him, he began to think that he might possibly escape, and leave her there in possession of his chamber.
"If you will excuse me, Miss Thoroughbung, I will retire," he said, rising from the sofa.
"Regularly chaffed out of your own den!" she said, laughing.
"I do not like this interchange of wit on subjects that are so serious."