‘Unblemished!—pshaw!’ cried the miser. ‘You would have cleared the spots from your father’s name much more effectually if you had kept fast hold of the estates, instead of reducing yourself to the condition of a beggar.’
‘Father!’ exclaimed Hilda uneasily—‘father, you speak too strongly—much too strongly.’
‘I am no beggar, sir,’ replied Randulph, with difficulty repressing his anger, ‘nor will I allow such a term to be applied to me by you or any man. Farewell, sir.’ And he would have left the room, if he had not been detained by the imploring looks of Hilda.
RANDULPH CREW INTRODUCED TO BEAU VILLIERS ON THE MALL—ST. JAMES’S PARK
Randulph and his two uncles sallied forth, and, crossing Westminster Bridge, shaped their course towards Saint James’s Park. As they passed the Little Sanctuary, Randulph could not help gazing towards the dungeon-like dwelling which enshrined her who had made so deep an impression upon him. Uncle Abel noticed his look, and partly divining the cause of it, said,
‘Remember what I told you. Disobey me, and you will rue it.’
Randulph would have made some reply, but he was checked by a significant glance from uncle Trussell.
Passing through the Gate House, they entered the park by a small doorway at the end of Prince’s Court. It was now noon, and a warm and genial day. The avenues of trees then extending between this point and Rosamond’s Pond were crowded with persons of both sexes, and of all ranks, summoned forth by the fineness of the weather.
Amused by the scene, Randulph gazed with much curiosity at all presented to his view. Passing by the Decoy, the party skirted the great canal, and leaving Rosamond’s Pond on the left, proceeded towards Buckingham House.
Just at this juncture, uncle Trussell caught sight of a gay party approaching, and exclaimed, in a joyful tone, to his nephew, ‘As I live, we are most fortunate! There is the leader of fashion, Beau Villiers, coming towards us. You shall know him, nephew—you shall know him. The ladies he is walking with are Lady Brabazon and the Honourable Clementina Brabazon—a fine girl, Clementina—a remarkably fine girl; perfect in style and manners—quite a toast among the sparks. The old fellow at her side, Sir Singleton Spinke, was a great beau in his time, though never equal to Villiers, who far surpasses even his prototype, Beau Fielding, in style and taste. You shall know them all.’