In a few moments Harry makes his appearance. "Good-morning, uncle! how are you?" he calls out, his face radiant with happiness.
The old Baron merely nods his head. Without stirring from his arm-chair, without offering his hand to his nephew, without even asking him to sit down, he scans him suspiciously.
With his hand on his sabre, Harry confronts him, somewhat surprised by this strange reception, but nowise inclined to propitiate his uncle by any flattering attentions.
"Do you want anything?"
"No."
"Indeed? You're not short of money, then?
"On the contrary, I have saved some," Harry replies, speaking quite after his uncle's fashion.
"Ah! saved some, have you? Are you growing miserly?--a fine thing at your age! You probably learned it of your financial acquaintances," the old Baron growls.
"I have saved money because I am going to marry, and my betrothed is without means," Harry says, sharply.
"Ah! for a change you want to marry a poor girl! You display a truly edifying fickleness of character. And who is the fair creature to whom you have sacrificed your avarice?"