"I did not think it necessary to introduce him to your notice, Sir Alexander. He has no legal claim upon our protection. He is a natural son of Edward's, whom I educate for the profession out of charity."
"An act of benevolence hardly to be expected from you," said Sir Alexander with a provoking sneer. "I suppose you expect to get the interest for your kindness out of the lad?"
"Why, yes! He has excellent abilities, and might do much for himself, but is too like the father, but with this difference, Edward was good-natured and careless to a fault; this boy is haughty and petulant, with the unmanageable obstinacy and self-will of old Geoffrey. He is not grateful for the many obligations he owes to me, and gives me frequent cause to regret that I ever adopted him into my family."
"When you are tired of him," said Sir Alexander, carelessly, "you may turn him over to me. I am sure I could make something of him."
"You are not in earnest?" in a tone of surprise.
"Never more so."
A long silence ensued. My hand trembled with indignation. Was this Mr. Moncton's pretended friendship? I tried in vain to write. "It is useless," I said mentally. "The deed may go to the devil, and Robert Moncton along with it, for what I care," and I flung the parchment from me. "That man is an infamous liar! I will tell him so to his face."
I was just about to burst into the room, when Sir Alexander resumed the conversation.
"Who was this lad's mother?"
"A young person of the name of Rivers; the only daughter of a poor curate, in Derbyshire. You know my brother's dissipated habits. He enticed the girl from her peaceful home, and grief for her loss brought the old father to his grave. This boy was the sole fruit of the connection. The parents were never married."