Mr. Benjamin Vernon soon found this London solitude--it was worse than solitude--quite insupportable.
He determined to visit his brother's widow, and left town for Leamington. The brother-in-law felt more than gratified at the cordial welcome that there met him.
His heart responded to their tones of kindness, and the old Indian, in the warmth of his gratitude, thought he had at length discovered a congenial home. He plunged into the extreme of dangerous intimacy; and was soon domiciled in Mrs. Vernon's small mansion. It is absurd what trifles can extinguish friendships, and estrange affection. Mr. Vernon had always had the controul of his hours--loved his hookah, and his after-dinner dose.
His brother's widow was an amiable person, but a great deal too independent, to humour any person's foibles.
She liked activity, and disliked smoking; and was too matter-of-fact in her ideas, to conceive that these indulgences, merely from force of habit, might have now become absolute necessities.
Mrs. Vernon first used arguments; which were listened to very patiently, and as systematically disregarded.
As she thought she knew her ground better, she would occasionally secrete the hookah, and indulge in eloquent discourse, on the injurious effects, and waste of time, that the said hookah entailed.
Nor could the old man enjoy in peace, his evening slumber.
One of his nieces was always ready to shake him by the elbow, and address him with an expostulatory "Oh! dear uncle!" which, though delivered with silvery voice, seemed to him deuced provoking.
For some time, the old Indian good-naturedly acquiesced in these arrangements; and was far too polite at any time to scold, or hazard a scene.