"In the way of homily?" asked Henry Woodhall, laughing; "come, then, put off your solemnity, Bob, and let us hear what it is."
Thus saying, he threw himself into a chair, and his cousin replied, "Some things I have to say affect myself alone; some affect you and me; some affect you only."
"First, second, and to conclude," said the gay young man. "Why, what is all this? How comes it that my rattle-pated, dissolute, latitudinarian cousin Robert has, all of a sudden, become metamorphosed into a parson? Where are your demmes and your zoundses? Where are your remarkable oaths, and your satin embroidery blasphemy? Why, Robert, you must be in love, or have taken physic, had the cholic, or the heartache. They tell me that powdered unicorn's horn is a sovereign thing for clearing the brain of melancholic humors, and that a few grains of mummy, taken in goat's whey, will purge the liver of black bile. Let me commend them to your consideration."
"All very well laughing, Hal," replied Robert; "but this is no laughing matter, by ----."
"Come, come, there's an oath!" cried his cousin; "the patient is getting better. Well, if we are not to laugh, what are we to cry about?"
"About being made fools of by a raw Cambridge student," replied his cousin, bitterly; "about being cheated, deceived, betrayed--about having all your father's plans and my mother's overthrown--about your losing the hand of a rich and beautiful heiress, and my losing my future wife's heart."
"Well-a-day, well-a-day!" cried Henry Woodhall, "this is a serious matter. But let us hear the particulars. Imprimis, about your future wife's heart; by which, I suppose, you mean the heart, or muscular pin-cushion, of my sister Margaret. But first let me observe, Bob, before you proceed, that Maggy is not quite certainly your future wife. There is many a slip between the cup and the lip, Robert; and that matter is not quite settled yet."
"Quite settled between your father and my mother," replied Robert Woodhall, "and quite settled as far as I am concerned. With regard to Margaret, the matter may be different; for I am certain that this mean, pitiful fellow, Ralph, has been trifling with her affections, and has won them too."
"Awkward for you!" replied his cousin, "and one reason the more for my saying this matter is not settled between you and Maggy. I tell you fairly, Robert, I will have a say in any thing wherein she is concerned, and you shall not have her hand unless between this and then you show yourself more worthy of her."
"How will you prevent it?" asked Robert Woodhall, in a sharp, almost fierce tone.