I cannot forget the hermitage, and the grotto, and the wilderness, of which, the moment you mentioned them, I had formed so charming and so excellent a plan. The picture clings to me, as it were; and it grieves me to give it up. But so it must be.
However, as I say, I shall come down more than once: and, for my part, I wonder how these young unthinking people can prefer the dirty streets of London, to all the delights and riches of nature, and of art; which may be said to be waiting for and inviting them, at Wenbourne-Hill.
I am very glad to find, honest Abimelech, that money is so certainly to be had. But you were always intimate with the warm old fellows, that provide themselves plentifully with what you so aptly call the wherewithalls. You have followed their example, and learned to increase your own store. I am glad of it, and am pleased to find you do not forget your first and best friends. I must own, Abimelech, that you have always appeared to me to understand your situation very properly, and to pay respect where it was due. I have seen your proud, upstart stewards carry their heads as high as their masters! Ay, and instead of studying their tempers and humouring them, as it was their duty, have been surly, and always ready with their ifs, and ands, and objections, and advice! As if it were any concern of theirs, what a gentleman shall please to do with his money! But you, Aby, have known how to comport yourself better; of which I believe you have no cause to repent.
As to the entail, as you say, it must be docked. I know no remedy. And since my son is so positive, and determined to stickle for a good bargain, why we must do the best we can.
I was once sorry at his resolving never to marry; but I think that is partly over now; I care little about the matter. My daughter's son will be as much my grandchild as his son would have been; and, as for names, they may easily be changed. I am certain, were any body to ask me which is the wisest, my son or my daughter, I should not stop a moment to consider about that.
Ay, ay! She is my own child! Every body used to tell me, when she was a baby, how like me she was!
She has some of her mother's features too; who, as you well know, Aby, was a very good sort of an excellent kind of a lady, and very much respected: ay, very much. Indeed the greatest fault of Lady St. Ives was that she would not always be of my opinion. But we are none of us perfect. If it were not for that one thing, I really should think my daughter a young lady of more good sense, and good taste, and indeed every thing of that kind, than any young person I was ever acquainted with: but she too is a declared enemy to planning, and improving. It is very strange; and I can only say there is no accounting for these things!