"Strange man!" muttered Fielden. "Yes; I must not let one poor youth lose the opportunity offered by your—your—"
"Never mind what; proceed. One poor youth,—in the shop, of course?"
"No; and by his father's side (since you so esteem such vanities) of an ancient family,—a sister of Dr. Mivers married Captain Ardworth."
"Ardworth,—a goodish name; Ardworth of Yorkshire?"
"Yes, of that family. It was, of course, an imprudent marriage, contracted while he was only an ensign. His family did not reject him, Sir Miles."
"Sir, Ardworth is a good squire's family, but the name is Saxon; there is no difference in race between the head of the Ardworths, if he were a duke, and my gardener, John Hodge,—Saxon and Saxon, both. His family did not reject him; go on."
"But he was a younger son in a large family; both himself and his wife have known all the distresses common, they tell me, to the poverty of a soldier who has no resource but his pay. They have a son. Dr. Mivers, though so poor himself, took this boy, for he loved his sister dearly, and meant to bring him up to his own profession. Death frustrated this intention. The boy is high-spirited and deserving."
"Let his education be completed; send him to the University; and I will see that he is put into some career of which his father's family would approve. You need not mention to any one my intentions in this respect, not even to the lad. And now, Mr. Fielden, I have done my duty,—at least, I think so. The longer you honour my house, the more I shall be pleased and grateful; but this topic, allow me most respectfully to say, needs and bears no further comment. Have you seen the last news from the army?"
"The army! Oh, fie, Sir Miles, I must speak one word more. May not my poor Susan have at least the comfort to embrace her sister?"
Sir Miles paused a moment, and struck his crutch-stick thrice firmly on the ground.