“Why, as to that,” said Randal, smiling, “I think (forgive me still) that you should not take it too easily; just as I think that you had better not blame him for his very natural and praiseworthy shame in approaching you, so I think, also, that you should do nothing that would tend to diminish that shame,—it is such a check on him. And therefore, if you can contrive to affect to be angry with him for his extravagance, it will do good.”
“You speak like a book, and I’ll try my best.”
“If you threaten, for instance, to take him out of the army, and settle him in the country, it would have a very good effect.”
“What! would he think it so great a punishment to come home and live with his parents?”
“I don’t say that; but he is naturally so fond of London. At his age, and with his large inheritance, that is natural.”
“Inheritance!” said the squire, moodily,—“inheritance! he is not thinking of that, I trust? Zounds, sir, I have as good a life as his own. Inheritance!—to be sure the Casino property is entailed on him; but as for the rest, sir, I am no tenant for life. I could leave the Hazeldean lands to my ploughman, if I chose it. Inheritance; indeed!”
“My dear sir, I did not mean to imply that Frank would entertain the unnatural and monstrous idea of calculating on your death; and all we have to do is to get him to sow his wild oats as soon as possible,—marry and settle down into the country. For it would be a thousand pities if his town habits and tastes grew permanent,—a bad thing for the Hazeldean property, that! And,” added Randal, laughing, “I feel an interest in the old place, since my grandmother comes of the stock. So, just force yourself to seem angry, and grumble a little when you pay the bills.”
“Ah, ah, trust me,” said the squire, doggedly, and with a very altered air. “I am much obliged to you for these hints, my young kinsman.” And his stout hand trembled a little as he extended it to Randal.
Leaving Limmer’s, Randal hastened to Frank’s rooms in St. James’s Street. “My dear fellow,” said he, when he entered, “it is very fortunate that I persuaded you to let me break matters to your father. You might well say he was rather passionate; but I have contrived to soothe him. You need not fear that he will not pay your debts.”
“I never feared that,” said Frank, changing colour; “I only feared his anger. But, indeed, I fear his kindness still more. What a reckless hound I have been! However, it shall be a lesson to me. And my debts once paid, I will turn as economical as yourself.”