Louis's heart glowed, as the Duke thus animatedly delivered himself. "Oh, my Lord," cried he, "why are you thus misapprehended? Or rather, why will that noble spirit give any licence to slander, by stooping to such associates as——" he paused.
"We will not name them!" replied Wharton laughing; "But such things are my toys, or my tools. Did men of our sort keep only with our likes, we should prove but useless animals. The world is a multitude, where every creature must partake the fellowship of poor dependent human nature; or at once claim kindred with the gods by doffing his clay, and ascending post-haste to the regions above!"
The castle bell rang for dinner; and with its last peal, Sir Anthony presented himself at the drawing-room door.—He came haughtily forward. "My Lord Duke, the ladies await your hand to lead them down stairs.—Louis, you are come to your senses, I see, and will follow his Grace."
The manner with which the baronet said this, shewed he rather expected to intimidate his nephew into compliance; than really thought he had made up his mind to obey. Louis answered with firmness, "I cannot, Sir, transgress what I know to be my duty."
Sir Anthony's eyes flashed fire: "That is to say," cried he, "you know it is your duty to obey me!—and you will obey me!—or abide by the consequence." "Nay, Athelstone," interrupted the Duke, "this is shot and bounce with a vengeance! What man, with the spirit of a weazel, but would grub through your very towers, to shew you he despised such threatenings? Open your gates to the uncontrouled egress and regress of your nephew; or my free pinions will spurn them in a moment!" "I am no jailor, Duke Wharton," replied the angry baronet, "But that boy should know his uncle is not to be insulted with impunity. He presumes on my avowed affection for him, to affront my company before my face; and then mocks me with an apology still more galling, by declaring that he must prefer the caprices of a selfish old priest, to all the gratitude he owes an uncle who indulges his every wish; and has already made him heir to this castle and its estates."
"Athelstone! Athelstone!" exclaimed the Duke, "am I to tell you that boy is one exception to Walpole's theory of mankind? You cannot bribe Louis de Montemar to act against his conscience. Open your gates, and let him go."
Sir Anthony looked from the playful remonstrance of the Duke, to the perturbed countenance of his nephew.—"Louis," said he, in a more temperate tone, "You know how this has been wrung from me. Is there no terms to be kept with my affection for you? No middle way between outraging all respect to me, and breaking your extorted promise to this lord of penance?"
"How can I listen, Sir, to such epithets attached to the idea of the most venerable of men?"
"He may indulge the boy's-play!" cried the Duke, "Ill names stick only to such sorry fellows as I."
"Oh, Sir," rejoined Louis, "I have only to represent to my guardian the candour with which the Duke of Wharton has just treated his unhappy prejudice; and I am sure he will instantly permit me to return to the castle."