“My father,” said Charley proudly, “is, in every sense of the word, a gentleman.”
“Then why is not his son?” said Mrs Brandon fiercely.
“Me? Why am not I?” said Charley, in a puzzled voice.
“Yes, sir, you!” exclaimed Mrs Brandon angrily. “Why should not the only son be as the father?”
“Because,” said Charley proudly, once more, “it does not befall that there should be two such men for many generations.”
“It seems so,” said Mrs Brandon bitterly; “but the son might learn something from the father’s acts.”
“Good heavens, madam! what does this mean? What have I done that you should speak to me thus?” cried Charley earnestly.
“What have you done!” exclaimed Mrs Brandon, standing before him with flashing eyes. “You pitiful coward! you base scoundrel! how dare you come before me with your insidious, plausible, professing ways—before me, a mother—the wife of an English gentleman, who would have had you turned out of the house! Silence, sir!” she exclaimed, as Charley rose, now pale, now flashed, and looked her in the face. “You shall hear me out before you quit this room. I say, how dare you come before me here, and parade your interest, and the trouble you are in because she has left the Elms? Do you think I do not know the ways of the world—of the modern English gentleman? You pitiful libertine! If I were a man, my indignation is so hot against you, that I should even so far forget myself as to strike you. Could you find no pleasanter pastime than to insinuate your bold handsome face into the thoughts of that sweet simple-minded country girl—a poor clergyman’s daughter—a pure-hearted lady—to be to her as a blight—to be her curse—to win a heart of so faithful and true a nature, that once it has beaten to the command of love, it would never beat for another? I can find no words for the scorn, the utter contempt, with which you inspire me. But there, I will say no more, lest I forget myself in my hot passion; but I tell you this, she has been here but a few hours, and yet, few as they are, they have been long enough to show me that she is a pearl beyond price—a gem that your libertine fingers would sully. She has won from me a mother’s love, I may say; and wisely trusting to me, she bids me tell you that she will see you no more!”
“She bade you tell me this?” said Charley hoarsely; “and have you poisoned her ears against me thus?”
“Poisoned her ears!” exclaimed Mrs Brandon, forgetting her rôle in her excitement, “poor, innocent, weak child! She believes you to be perfection, and but a few minutes since was imploring me to be gentle with the gay Lothario who has so basely deluded her, though she had the good sense and wisdom to seek another home. What—what!” cried Mrs Brandon, “are you so hardened that you dare smile to my face with your nefarious triumph?”