Pray, Sir, keep your seat.
I took a chair, and placed myself by him. He did not seem in the least embarrassed, but gravely and modestly demanded to what it was that he owed the honour of a visit from a lady of my appearance; for, said he, affluence and prosperity seldom seek the dwellings of the wretched.
I informed him, that, having met with his daughter by accident, she had given me a melancholy account of his situation, and that I wished to hear the particulars from his own mouth. He made an apology for the length of his story; but said, if I had patience, he would relate it. I told him, I had come for that purpose.
He then repeated to me every particular, as I had before heard them from his daughter, enlarging on certain passages, which she had but slightly touched upon. He shewed me copies of his two letters to Mr Ware, and that gentleman’s answer to the first, as also the old servant’s letter to his daughter, which convinced me of the truth of every thing he had said.
I asked Mr Price, what Mr Ware’s demand on him might amount to?
He said, four hundred pounds, which was what he had received from him, since his father’s death.
Take courage, Sir, said I, you shall not long remain here.
Ah! Madam, cried he, may God be the rewarder of your goodness! but my enemy is a hardened man; he is not to be influenced by honour or virtue.
I perceived by this that the poor gentleman had no thought of my paying his debt, but supposed I would endeavour to soften Mr Ware on his account. Have a little patience, said I, and we will try what is to be done.
I requested he would give me Mr Ware’s letter, wherein he promised to make good his first proposal, if he would consent to yield up his daughter to him.