“I have given him time, have I not?” cried Lord Elmwood: “What can be the meaning of his thus trifling with me?”
Sandford replied, “My Lord, young men are frequently romantic in their notions of love, and think it impossible to have a sincere affection, where their own inclinations do not first point out the choice.”
“If he is in love,” answered Lord Elmwood, “let him take the object, and leave my house and me for ever. Nor under this destiny can he have any claim to pity; for genuine love will make him happy in banishment, in poverty, or in sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich, the fool blest as the wise.” The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood had loved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.
“Your Lordship is talking,” replied Sandford, “of the passion in its most refined and predominant sense; while I may possibly be speaking of a mere phantom, that has led this young man astray.”
“Whatever it be,” returned Lord Elmwood, “let him and his friends weigh the case well, and act for the best—so shall I.”
“His friends, my Lord?—What friends, or what friend has he upon earth but you?”
“Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself give me a proper reason why he cannot?”
“Because there may be friendship without familiarity—and so it is between him and you.”
“That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him in the most familiar terms.”
“To condescend, my Lord, is not to be familiar.”