"I beg ten thousand pardons. I am rough, but truth is rough sometimes."

"It is not for my sake," said the mother, warmly, and with tears in her
eyes, "that I have wished him to be here. If he is dull, can we not fill
the house for him?"

"Fill a thimble, my dear Lady Mary. Percival should have a plunge in the
ocean."

"But he is so young yet,--that horrid London; such temptations,--
fatherless, too!"

"I have no fear of the result if Percival goes now, while his principles
are strong and his imagination is not inflamed; but if we keep him here
much longer against his bent, he will learn to brood and to muse, write
bad poetry perhaps, and think the world withheld from him a thousand
times more delightful than it is. This very dread of temptation will
provoke his curiosity, irritate his fancy, make him imagine the
temptation must be a very delightful thing. For the first time in my
life, ma'am, I have caught him sighing over fashionable novels, and
subscribing to the Southampton Circulating Library. Take my word for it,
it is time that Percival should begin life, and swim without corks."

Lady Mary had a profound confidence in Greville's judgment and affection
for Percival, and, like a sensible woman, she was aware of her own
weakness. She remained silent for a few moments, and then said, with an
effort,--

"You know how hateful London is to me now,--how unfit I am to return to