“Because I removed you to this cottage which I purchased for you, and which is so much nearer to London than was Mrs. Clement’s abode at St. Alban’s. However, my sweet Agnes—compose yourself—cheer up—and wipe away those tears. I cannot bear to see you weep,” he added, his own voice growing tremulous. “Two months or two months and a half will soon glide away; and I shall bring you a number of presents from Paris.”
“You spoil me with your kindness, my dear father,” exclaimed the beautiful girl, throwing her arms about his neck, and embracing him tenderly. “I am afraid that I must cost you a great deal of money—for you are always buying me something new. But then, you are very rich—are you not, dear papa!”
“Thank God, I am—and for your sake!” cried Mr. Vernon, returning her fond caresses. “The time will come, Agnes, when you will learn how powerful a talisman, in respect to happiness, is money. Some of the books which I have selected for you inculcate maxims against avarice, covetousness, and selfishness: while others even go further, and endeavour to prove that a moderate competency is more compatible with true happiness than an immense fortune can possibly be. But I much question whether the authors of those works would not have leapt at the chance of giving the truth of their assertions a fair trial through the medium of experience in respect to the possession of riches. Such books, however, do good; they infuse salutary thoughts into the mind—although the influence thereof must inevitably become subdued, if not altogether destroyed, in proportion as the individual advances in worldly knowledge, and finds worldly interests crowding upon him. Riches, my dearest Agnes, may become a blessing or a curse according to the manner in which the possessor uses them; and by this observation I believe that I shall have opened a new field for the exercise of your reflections and good sense.”
“Oh! you have indeed, my kind father!” exclaimed Agnes. “But—to return to the object of your visit this evening—may I express a hope that the business which calls you to Paris is of no unpleasant nature?”
“By no means, my love,” answered Mr. Vernon, smiling affectionately upon his amiable daughter. “And now I must take my departure—for it is eleven o’clock. You will remark, dear Agnes, the advice I gave you relative to the visits of strangers; for I should be unhappy indeed, if I thought that your artless, unsuspecting character were likely to be the very cause of exposing you to peril.”
“You may depend upon my prudence in future, dear father,” said Agnes; “and I am rejoiced that you have given me such timely warning. Oh! who could have thought that the old man who seemed so deeply affected, and the woman who spoke so tenderly of her deceased husband, could have harboured any sinister design? It is really enough to render one suspicious of everything and everybody in future.”
“No, my dear child—you must not fall into the opposite extreme,” cried Mr. Vernon, hastily. “Because, for instance, a mendicant to whom you give alms should turn out to be an imposter, do not argue therefrom that all destitute persons are rogues. I do not wish distrust and suspicion to take the place of your generous frankness and amiable candour; but I am desirous that, while preserving the artlessness and ingenuousness of your disposition, you should at the same time adopt those precautions which common prudence suggests. And now, my sweet Agnes, embrace me and then retire to your own chamber—for, ere I depart, I have a few instructions to give to Mrs. Gifford, whom you will please to send hither to me.”
The beauteous maiden once more threw her arms round her father’s neck and covered his face with her kisses and her tears: then, having received his blessing—a blessing which he gave from the very bottom of his heart—she reluctantly tore herself away from his arms, and quitted the room.
In a few minutes Mrs. Gifford, the housekeeper, made her appearance. She was a woman of about fifty-six years of age—stout, respectable-looking, and with a countenance in which honesty and good-temper were alike read as plainly as the words in a book.
On entering the parlour, she closed the door carefully behind her; and then her demeanour suddenly became profoundly reverential as she advanced towards the father of her young mistress.