This man has a strange way of flattering one into acts of—of—what shall I call them?—But, Sir Harry, Mr. Beauchamp must not, I believe, live with us—
Sir Harry hesitated.
I was afraid of opening the wound. I have a request to make to you both, said I. It is this; that Mr. Beauchamp may be permitted to live with me; and attend you, madam, and his father, as a visitor, at your own command. My sister, I believe, will be very soon married to Lord G——.
That is to be certainly so, interrupted the lady?
It is, madam.
But what shall we say, my dear, resumed Sir Harry—Don't fly out again— As to the provision for my son?—Two hundred a year—What is two hundred a year——
Why then let it be three, answered she.
I have a handsome and improvable estate, said I. I have no demands but those of reason upon me. I would not offer a plea for his coming to England, (and I am sure he would not have come, if I had,) without his father's consent: in which, madam, he hoped for yours. You shall not, sir, allow him either the two or three hundred a year. See him with love, with indulgence (he will deserve both;) and think not of any thing else for my Beauchamp.
There is no bearing this, my dear, said Sir Harry; leaning upon his lady's shoulder, as he sat, tears in his eyes—My son is already, as I have heard, greatly obliged to this his true friend—Do you, do you, madam, answer for me, and for yourself.
She was overcome: yet pride had its share with generosity. You are, said she, the Grandison I have heard of: but I will not be under obligations to you—not pecuniary ones, however. No, Sir Harry! Recall your son: I will trust to your love: do for him what you please: let him be independent on this insolent man; [She said this with a smile, that made it obliging;] and if we are to be visitors, friends, neighbours, let it be on an equal foot, and let him have nothing to reproach us with.