Aunt Bernstein called him “my dearest child,” and thanked him for his noble, his generous behaviour to dear Maria. What a shock that seizure in church had been to her! A still greater shock that she had lost three hundred only on the Wednesday night to Lady Yarmouth, and was quite a sec. “Why,” said the Baroness, “I had to send Case to London to my agent to get me money to pay—I could not leave Tunbridge in her debt.”
“So Case did go to London?” says Mr. Harry.
“Of course he did: the Baroness de Bernstein can't afford to say she is court d'argent. Canst thou lend me some, child?”
“I can give your ladyship twenty-two pounds,” said Harry, blushing very red: “I have but forty-four left till I get my Virginian remittances. I have bought horses and clothes, and been very extravagant, aunt.”
“And rescued your poor relations in distress, you prodigal good boy. No, child, I do not want thy money. I can give thee some. Here is a note upon my agent for fifty pounds, vaurien! Go and spend it, and be merry! I dare say thy mother will repay me, though she does not love me.” And she looked quite affectionate, and held out a pretty hand, which the youth kissed.
“Your mother did not love me, but your mother's father did once. Mind, sir, you always come to me when you have need of me.”
When bent on exhibiting them, nothing could exceed Beatrix Bernstein's grace or good-humour. “I can't help loving you, child,” she continued, “and yet I am so angry with you that I have scarce the patience to speak to you. So you have actually engaged yourself to poor Maria, who is as old as your mother? What will Madam Esmond say? She may live three hundred years, and you will not have wherewithal to support yourselves.”
“I have ten thousand pounds from my father, of my own, now my poor brother is gone,” said Harry, “that will go some way.”
“Why, the interest will not keep you in card-money.”
“We must give up cards,” says Harry.