“My brother's anxieties on my account, Mr. Basset, can scarcely be very poignant, and deserve no particular respect or attention at my hands. I suppose that this morning has concluded all necessary intercourse between us; and if you have satisfied my friend Captain Bubbleton—”
“Perfectly, perfectly. Another cup of tea, if you please. Yes, nothing could be more gratifying than Mr. Basset's conduct; you are merely to sign the receipt for the legacy, and he hands you over one hundred pounds. Isn't that it?”
“Yes, quite correct; my bill for one hundred at three months.”
“That's what I mean. But surely you're not done breakfast; why, Tom, you 've eaten nothing. I have been picking away this half hour, just to encourage you a bit. Well, well! I lunch in Stephen's Green at three; so here goes.”
Mr. Basset now took from his pocket-book some papers, which, having glanced his eye over, he handed to me.
“This is a kind of acknowledgment, Mr. Burke, for the receipt of a legacy to which you could be only entitled on attaining your majority. Here are your indentures to me; and this is my acceptance for one hundred pounds.”
“I am content,” said I, eagerly, as I seized the pen. The thought of my liberty alone filled my mind, and I cared little for the conditions provided I secured that.
Basset proffered his hand. I was in no humor to reject anything that even simulated cordiality; I shook it heartily. Bubbleton followed my example, and having pledged himself to see more of his pleasant acquaintance, thrust his arm through mine and bustled out; adding, in a tone loud enough to be overheard,—
“Made a capital fight of it; told him you were a Defender, a United Irishman, a Peep-o'-day Boy, and all that sort of thing. Devilish glad to get rid of you, even on Miss Nelly's account.”
And so he rattled away without ceasing, until we found ourselves at the George's Street Barracks, my preoccupation of mind preventing my even having remarked what way we came.