'The uncle.'
'Well, the uncle has been in England, and fraternized with our governor at Peter Brown's; there was a banqueting all round, and his nephew was carried at his chariot wheels. If I am not much mistaken, gold and timber jingled to silver and bullock-hide, and concluded a prospective union in the persons of my nephew and my daughter. I'm sorry. I have long been persuaded that a very small effort on the part of our respected Blunderbore might have redeemed the family fortunes in the person of Polly.'
'How could you think of anything so absurd?' said Alda. 'As if my uncle would consent!'
'If Tom has any sentiment, it is for my father and the name of Underwood,' said Edgar. 'You remember he was sorely disappointed that Felix would not step into my shoes.'
'And very angry and hurt,' said Alda, 'as well he might be.'
'Yes; but that anger proved the vastness of his good intentions. Besides there's something about our old giant—steadiness and breeding, I believe—that uniformly makes Tom knock under to him; and there's a peculiar affinity of good sense between him and Marilda, that ought to have ripened under favourable circumstances.'
'And is he really cut out?' said Alda. 'I don't know how to believe this! How far has it gone?'
'Hanger on and oyster in love,' promptly answered Edgar. 'Honest Polly has the most comical look of anxious coyness on her jolly face, and holds her elbows squarer than ever; and a few paces off stands Montezuma, magnificent and melancholic;' and Edgar assumed the posture.
'Melancholy, no wonder,' said the conscious beauty; 'Edgar, he must be over head and ears in debt.'
'So it struck me; but he must have managed it uncommon quietly, for they call him the Mexican Muff; he's hand and glove with all their holinesses up at Clement's shop, and the wildest orgie he has been detected at was their magic-lantern.'