I have some trifling useless property, madam.

But you have a journey to make back to Wenbourne-Hill, according to
your present intentions.

Do you imagine, madam, I cannot fast for a day?

Oh yes! I doubt it not; for a week, Frank, to effect any great, any
laudable purpose. But I must be plain with you. It is ungenerous of you
to wish to engross all virtue and sensibility. Beside, you have duties
to perform to yourself, which are as pressing as any you owe to
society, because they are to fit you for the social duties. [Hearken to
the angel, Oliver!] It is as much my duty, at present, to afford you
the means which you want, as it was yours to visit the wounded
highwayman, or aid the distressed Peggy. You ought to suffer me to
perform my duties, both for my sake and your own. You ought not to
neglect, while you are in London, to seize on every opportunity which
can tend to enlarge your faculties. You have no common part to act;
and, that you may act it well, you should study the beings with whom
you are to associate. You must not suffer any false feelings to unfit
you for the high offices for the execution of which men like you are
formed. [Didst thou ever hear such honeyed flattery, Oliver?] Something
more--You must accompany us to France.

Madam!--Impossible.

Hear me, Frank. The journey will be of infinite service to you. A mind
like yours cannot visit a kingdom where the manners of the people are
so distinct as those of the French must be from the English, without
receiving great benefit. Your father is rich.