“Humph!” said the squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing evident pain, “I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought; but I think he should not have employed a third person to prepare me to forgive him. (Excuse me,—no offence.) And if he wanted a third person, was not there his own mother? What the devil! [firing up] am I a tyrant, a bashaw, that my own son is afraid to speak to me? ‘Gad, I’ll give it him!”
“Pardon me, sir,” said Randal, assuming at once that air of authority which superior intellect so well carries off and excuses, “but I strongly advise you not to express any anger at Frank’s confidence in me. At present I have influence over him. Whatever you may think of his extravagance, I have saved him from many an indiscretion, and many a debt,—a young man will listen to one of his own age so much more readily than even to the kindest friend of graver years. Indeed, sir, I speak for your sake as well as for Frank’s. Let me keep this influence over him; and don’t reproach him for the confidence placed in me. Nay, let him rather think that I have softened any displeasure you might otherwise have felt.”
There seemed so much good sense in what Randal said, and the kindness of it seemed so disinterested, that the squire’s native shrewdness was deceived.
“You are a fine young fellow,” said he, “and I am very much obliged to you. Well, I suppose there is no putting old heads upon young shoulders; and I promise you I’ll not say an angry word to Frank. I dare say, poor boy, he is very much afflicted, and I long to shake hands with him. So, set his mind at ease.”
“Ah, sir,” said Randal, with much apparent emotion, “your son may well love you: and it seems to be a hard matter for so kind a heart as yours to preserve the proper firmness with him.”
“Oh, I can be firm enough,” quoth the squire,—“especially when I don’t see him,—handsome dog that he is: very like his mother—don’t you think so?
“I never saw his mother, sir.”
“‘Gad! Not seen my Harry? No more you have; you must come and pay us a visit. I suppose my half-brother will let you come?”
“To be sure, sir. Will you not call on him while you are in town?”
“Not I. He would think I expected to get something from the Government. Tell him the ministers must go on a little better, if they want my vote for their member. But go, I see you are impatient to tell Frank that all ‘s forgot and forgiven. Come and dine with him here at six, and let him bring his bills in his pocket. Oh, I sha’n’t scold him.”