“You hear that, Harry,” said Mrs. Lindsay; “you see now they are in a league—in a conspiracy against your happiness and mine;—but think of their selfishness and cunning—it is the girl's property they want.”
“Perish the property,” exclaimed Charles indignantly. “I will now mention a fact which I have hitherto never breathed—Alice Goodwin and I were, I may say, betrothed before ever she dreamed of possessing it; and if I held back since that time, I did so from the principles of a man of honor, lest she might imagine that I renewed our intimacy, after the alienation of the families, from mercenary motives.”
“You're a fine fellow, Charley,” said his father; “you're a fine fellow, and you deserve her and her property, if it was ten times what it is.”
“Don't you be disheartened, Harry,” said his mother; “I have a better wife in my eye for you—a wife that will bring you connection, and that is Lord Bilberry's niece.”
“Yes,” said her husband, ironically, “a man with fifty thousand acres of mountain. Faith, Harry, you will be a happy man, and may feed on bilberries all your life; but upon little else, unless you can pick the spare bones of an old maid who has run herself into an asthma in the unsuccessful sport of husband-hunting.”
“She will inherit her uncle's property, Lindsay.”
“Yes, she will inherit the heather and the bilberries. But go in God's name; work out that project; there is nobody here disposed to hinder you. Only I hope you will ask us to the wedding.”
“Mother,” said Woodward, affectionately taking her hand and giving it a significant squeeze; “mother, you must excuse me for what I am about to say”—another squeeze, and a glance which was very well understood—“upon my honor, mother, I must give my verdict for the present”—another squeeze—“against you. You—must be kinder to Charles and Maria, and you must not treat my father with such disrespect and harshness. I wish to become a mediator and pacificator in the family. As for myself, I care not about property; I wish to marry the girl I love. I am not, I trust, a selfish man—God forbid I should; but for the present”—another squeeze—“let me entreat you all to forget this little breeze; urge nothing, precipitate nothing; a little time, perhaps, if we have patience to wait, may restore us all, and everything else we are quarrelling about, to peace and happiness. Charles, I wish to have some conversation with you.”
“Harry,” said Lindsay, “I am glad you have spoken as you did; your words do you credit, and your conduct is manly and honorable.”
“I do believe, indeed,” said his unsuspecting brother, “that the best thing we could all do would be to put ourselves under his guidance; as for my part I am perfectly willing to do so, Harry. After hearing the good sense you have just uttered, I think you are entitled to every confidence from us all.”