this baronet-swain of hers, and let me try what good I can find out in
him, and let me bring myself, if I can, over my prejudices. And then
you, my dear madam, so good and kind a mother as you are, will make an
effort too on your part; for we must see the girl happy, if it is not
out of all sense and reason. And if the man be worthy of her, it is not
his fault that he is a sprig of quality; and we must forgive and forget,
and give our consent, my dear Mrs. Beaumont."

"And would you ever give your consent to her marrying Sir John Hunter?"
cried Mrs. Beaumont, breathless with amazement, and for a moment thrown
off her guard so as to speak quite naturally. The sudden difference in
her tone and manner struck even her unsuspicious companion, and he
attributed it to displeasure at this last hint.

"Why, my very dear good friend's wife, forgive me," said he, "for this
interference, and for, as it seems, opposing your opinion about your
daughter's marriage, which no man has a right to do--but if you ask me
plump whether I could forgive her for marrying Sir John Hunter, I
answer, for I can speak nothing but the truth, I would, if he is a
worthy man."

"I thought," said Mrs. Beaumont, astonished, "you disinherited your own
nephew, because he took a baronet's title against your will."

"Bless you! no, my dear madam--that did displease me, to be sure--but
that was the least cause of displeasure I had. I let the world fancy and
say what they would, rather than bring faults to light.--But no more
about that."

"But did not you take an oath that you would never leave a shilling of