"Young ladies in our days seldom commit matrimony with penniless clerks."
This was said with a strong sneer.
"It may be so—and they are right not to involve themselves in misery. I am penniless at present. But that is no reason that I am always to remain so. I am young, healthy, industrious, with a mind willing and able to work—why should I not make a fortune as others have done? As my grandfather, for instance, did before me?"
"This is all true," said he, calmly, "and I admire your spirit, Geoffrey; but, nephew" (this was the first time I ever remember his calling me so), "there are other difficulties in the way of your making a high and wealthy alliance, of which you have no idea."
I know not why—but a sudden tremor seized me as he said this. But mastering my agitation, I begged him to explain his meaning.
"I have long wished to do so," said he, "but you were so violent and unreasonable, that I thought it prudent to defer unpleasant communications until you were older, and better able to take things calmly. You have thought me a hard task-master, Geoffrey—a cruel unfeeling tyrant, and from your earliest childhood have defied my authority and resisted my will; yet you know not half the debt of kindness you owe to me."
I was about to speak. He held up his hand for me to maintain silence; which I did with a very bad grace; and he continued in the same cold methodical way—
"Children are naturally averse to control, and are unable to discern between sternness of manner, and a cold unfeeling hardness of heart; and construe into insults and injuries the necessary restraint imposed upon their actions for their good. Yours, I admit, was a painful situation, which you rendered still more unpleasant by your obstinate and resentful disposition."
"But, uncle!" I exclaimed, unable longer to hold my tongue, "you know I was treated very ill."
"Who treated you so? I am very certain, that Rebecca indulged you, as she never did one of her own children."