“Affectionate cousin and friend,
“PIERCE MARVEL.
“P. S. Mr. Barton, her brother, is the most generous of men, and the cleverest. He is not averse to the match. Sir Plantagenet Mowbray’s son and heir, who is as insolent as his father, may find that a Lincolnshire farmer is not a person to be despised. I have thoughts of selling my farm of Clover-hill, and of going into another way of life; for which, as Mr. Barton said, and Alicia hinted, nay, as I am inclined to believe too, I am much better suited than for farming. Of this more when we meet. Pray set out as soon as you receive this. Alicia has dark eyes, and yet a fair complexion. I am sure you will like her.”
Far from feeling sure that he should like Miss Alicia Barton, Wright was so much alarmed for his cousin, on the perusal of this letter, that he resolved to set out immediately for York, lest the sale of Clover-hill should be concluded before his arrival. A new project and a new love were, indeed, powerful temptations to one of Marvel’s character.
As Goodenough was plodding at his accustomed pace in his morning’s work, he met Wright on horseback, who asked him if he had any commissions that he could execute in York, whither he was going.
“None, thank Heaven!” said Goodenough. “So I see it is as I always knew it would be! Marvel is ‘ticing you into his own ways, and will make you just such another as his self. Ay, you must go to York races! Well, so much the better for me. Much pleasure to you at the races.”
“I am not going to the races; I am going to do Marvel a service.”
“Charity begins at home: that’s my maxim,” replied Goodenough.
“It is quite fitting that charity should begin at home,” said Wright; “but then it should not end at home; for those that help nobody will find none to help them in time of need.”
“Those that help nobody will not be so apt to come to need,” replied Goodenough. “But yonder’s my men standing idle. If I but turn my head, that’s the way of them. Good morrow to you, cousin Wright; I can’t stand argufying here about charity, which won’t plough my ground, nor bring me a jot nearer to the ten thousand pounds’ legacy: so good morrow to you. My service to cousin Marvel.”