“Well, Mr Rainscourt, all is well, I hope; and may I not kiss my daughter, and congratulate her upon being one of the largest heiresses in the kingdom.”
“You may, if you please, madam.”
“May, if I please? Why, is it not so, Mr Rainscourt?” replied the lady, startled at the moody brow of her husband, as he threw himself on the sofa.
Now, Rainscourt would not have so immediately answered the question, but he was determined that his spouse should participate in those pangs of disappointment which swelled his own breast; as a partner of all his joys, she was, of course, fully entitles to an equal proportion of his cares.
“No, madam—it is not so.”
“Surely you are trifling with me, Mr Rainscourt: is not the admiral dead?”
“Yes, madam, and his grandchild is alive.”
“His grandchild!” cried the lady in alto, pallid with vexation and disappointment. “Well, Mr Rainscourt, this is another specimen of your usual prudence and foresight. What man in his senses would not have ascertained such a fact, previous to squandering away his whole property, and leaving his daughter a beggar?”
“I think, madam, if the property has been squandered, as you term it, that you have assisted me in so doing; at all events, the property was my own; for I cannot exactly recollect that you increased it one shilling when I married you.”
“Certainly, not much, Mr Rainscourt, except, indeed, the amount of the bet. I consider that as my marriage portion,” replied the lady with a sneer.