"I have a child, you know, to bring up."

"Ah, yes; that gives a great interest, of course."

"He will inherit a very large fortune, Lord Fawn; too large, I fear, to be
of service to a youth of one-and-twenty; and I must endeavour to fit him
for the possession of it. That is, and always must be, the chief object of
my existence." Then she felt that she had said too much. He was just the
man who would be fool enough to believe her. "Not but what it is hard to
do it. A mother can of course devote herself to her child; but when a
portion of the devotion must be given to the preservation of material
interests there is less of tenderness in it. Don't you think so?"

"No doubt," said Lord Fawn; "no doubt." But he had not followed her, and
was still thinking of his own strategy. "It's a comfort, of course, to
know that one's child is provided for."

"Oh, yes; but they tell me the poor little dear will have forty thousand a
year when he's of age; and when I look at him in his little bed, and press
him in my arms, and think of all that money, I almost wish that his father
had been a poor plain gentleman." Then the handkerchief was put to her
eyes, and Lord Fawn had a moment in which to collect himself.

"Ah! I myself am a poor man, for my rank, I mean."

"A man with your position, Lord Fawn, and your talents and genius for
business, can never be poor."

"My father's property was all Irish, you know."