Buckhurst begged him not to be persuaded of any such thing. The instigation of an attorney, he laughing said, was not in law counted the instigation of the devil—at law no man talked of feelings. In matters of property judges did not understand them, whatever figure they might make with a jury in criminal cases—with an eloquent advocate’s hand on his breast.
Alfred let Buckhurst go on with his vain wit and gay rhetoric till he had nothing more to say, knowing that he was hiding consciousness of unhandsome conduct. Sticking firmly to his point, Alfred showed that his client, though gentle, was resolved, and that, unless Buckhurst yielded, law must take its course—that though he should never give any hint, the premises must be inspected, and disgrace and defeat must follow.
Forced to be serious, fretted and hurried, for the half-hour bell before dinner had now rung, and the dean’s stomach began to know canonical hours, he exclaimed, “The upshot of the whole business is, that Mr. Alfred Percy is in love, I understand, with Miss Sophia Leicester, and this fifteen hundred pounds, which he pushes me to the bare wall to relinquish, is eventually, as part of her fortune, to become his. Would it not have been as fair to have stated this at once?”
“No—because it would not have been the truth.”
“No!—You won’t deny that you are in love with Miss Leicester?”
“I am as much in love as man can be with Miss Leicester; but her fortune is nothing to me, for I shall never touch it.”
“Never touch it! Does the aunt—the widow—the cunning widow, refuse consent?”
“Far from it: the aunt is all the aunt of Miss Leicester should be—all the widow of Dr. Leicester ought to be. But her circumstances are not what they ought to be; and by the liberality of a friend, who lends me a house, rent free, and by the resources of my profession, I am better able than Mrs. Leicester is to spare fifteen hundred pounds: therefore, in the recovery of this money I have no personal interest at present. I shall never receive it from her.”
“Noble! Noble!—just what I could have done myself—once! What a contrast!”
Buckhurst laid his head down upon his arms flat on the table, and remained for some moments silent—then, starting upright, “I’ll never claim a penny from her—I’ll give it all up to you! I will, if I sell my band for it, by Jove!”