“Fate having exempted me and your lordship from so severe a curse, I have never turned my mind to reflect what I might have done under such an infliction.”
“Or, supposing I had chosen, myself, to indulge in those expensive habits, which would have absorbed my income, and left me unable to do more for you, than many other noblemen in my position do for their sons—do you ever reflect how impossible it would then have been for me to have helped you out of your difficulties?”
“I feel as truly grateful for your self-denial in this respect, as I do in that of my non-begotten brethren.”
Lord Cashel saw that he was laughed at, and he looked angry; but he did not want to quarrel with his son, so he continued:
“Jervis writes me word that it is absolutely necessary that thirty thousand pounds should be paid for you at once; or, that your remaining in London—or, in fact, in the country at all, is quite out of the question.”
“Indeed, my lord, I’m afraid Jervis is right.”
“Thirty thousand pounds! Are you aware what your income is?”
“Why, hardly. I know Jervis takes care that I never see much of it.”
“Do you mean that you don’t receive it?”
“Oh, I do not at all doubt its accurate payment. I mean to say, that I don’t often have the satisfaction of seeing much of it at the right side of my banker’s book.”