It was Miss Vandeleur who broke the silence.
"Father," she said, "you speak in anger. Mr. Scrymgeour may have
been mistaken, but he meant well and kindly."
"Thank you for speaking," returned the Dictator. "You remind me of
some other observations which I hold it a point of honour to make
to Mr. Scrymgeour. My brother," he continued, addressing the young
man, "has been foolish enough to give you an allowance; he was
foolish enough and presumptuous enough to propose a match between
you and this young lady. You were exhibited to her two nights ago;
and I rejoice to tell you that she rejected the idea with disgust.
Let me add that I have considerable influence with your father; and
it shall not be my fault if you are not beggared of your allowance
and sent back to your scrivening ere the week be out."
The tones of the old man's voice were, if possible, more wounding
than his language; Francis felt himself exposed to the most cruel,
blighting, and unbearable contempt; his head turned, and he covered
his face with his hands, uttering at the same time a tearless sob
of agony. But Miss Vandeleur once again interfered in his behalf.
"Mr. Scrymgeour," she said, speaking in clear and even tones, "you
must not be concerned at my father's harsh expressions. I felt no
disgust for you; on the contrary, I asked an opportunity to make
your better acquaintance. As for what has passed to-night, believe
me it has filled my mind with both pity and esteem.
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