“I don’t care whether they dub me a quiz or not,” said Harry, hastily: “what are Darrells, Lardners, or Dartfords to me?”
“They are something to me,” said Sir Ulick.
“Oh! I beg pardon, sir—I didn’t know that—that makes it quite another affair.”
“And, Harry, as you are to meet these young men, I thought it well to try how you could bear to be laughed at—I have tried you in this very conversation, and found you, to my infinite satisfaction, ridicule proof—better than even bullet proof—much better. No danger that a young man of spirit should be bullied out of his opinion and principles, but great danger that he might be laughed out of them—and I rejoice, my dear ward, to see that you are safe from this peril.”
Benevolent pleasure shone in Dr. Cambray’s countenance, when he heard Sir Ulick speak in this manner.
“You will dine with us, Dr. Cambray?” said Sir Ulick. “Harry, you will not forget Castle Hermitage?”
“Forget Castle Hermitage! as if I could, where I spent my happy childhood—that paradise, as it seemed to me the first time—when, a poor little orphan boy, I was brought from my smoky cabin. I remember the day as well as if it were this moment—when you took me by the hand, and led me in, and I clung to you.”
“Cling to me still! cling to me ever,” interrupted Sir Ulick, “and I will never fail you—no, never,” repeated he, grasping Harry’s hand, and looking upon him with an emotion of affection, strongly felt, and therefore strongly expressed.
“To be sure I will,” said Harry.
“And I hope,” added Sir Ulick, recovering the gaiety of his tone, “that at Castle Hermitage a paradise will open for your youth as it opened for your childhood.”