The youth lifted his heavy and distorted face from his book, and a sneer raised his lip for a moment; but a sudden spasm of pain seizing him, the expression changed, and Vavasour, whose eyes were fixed upon him, hastened to his assistance.
“Throw open the window, Brown, ring the bell, call--”
“Pooh, Father,” cried the boy, with a sharp, angry voice, “I am not going to die yet, nor faint either; but it is all your fault. If you will have those odious, vulgar people here for your own pleasure, at least suffer me, another day, to retire.”
“My son, my son!” said the grieved father, in reproachful anger, “it was my anxiety to give you some trifling enjoyment that brought Brown here: you must be sensible of that!”
“You tease me to death,” grumbled the peevish unfortunate.
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Brown, “shall I leave the bottles here? or do you please that I shall give them to the butler? I see that I am displeasing and troublesome to Mr. Henry; but as my worthy friend and patroness, the late Lady--”
“Go, go, honest Brown!” said Vavasour (who desired every man’s good word), “go, and give the liqueurs to Preston. Mr. Henry is extremely sorry that he is too unwell to see you now; and I--I have the heart of a father for his sufferings.”
Mr. Brown withdrew. “‘Odious and vulgar,’” said he to himself, in a little fury,--for Mr. Brown peculiarly valued himself on his gentility,--“‘odious and vulgar!’ To think of his little lordship uttering such shameful words! However, I will go into the steward’s room, and abuse him there. But, I suppose, I shall get no dinner in this house,--no, not so much as a crust of bread; for while the old gentleman is launching out into such prodigious expenses on a great scale,--making heathenish temples, and spoiling the fine old house with his new picture gallery and nonsense,--he is so close in small matters, that I warrant not a candle-end escapes him; griping and pinching and squeezing with one hand, and scattering money, as if it were dirt, with the other,--and all for that cross, ugly, deformed, little whippersnapper of a son. ‘Odious and vulgar,’ indeed! What shocking language! Mr. Algernon Mordaunt would never have made use of such words, I know. And, bless me, now I think of it, I wonder where that poor gentleman is. The young heir here is not long for this world, I can see; and who knows but what Mr. Algernon may be in great distress; and I am sure, as far as four hundred pounds, or even a thousand, go, I would not mind lending it him, only upon the post-obits of Squire Vavasour and his hopeful. I like doing a kind thing; and Mr. Algernon was always very good to me; and I am sure I don’t care about the security, though I think it will be as sure as sixpence; for the old gentleman must be past sixty, and the young one is the worse life of the two. And when he’s gone, what relation so near as Mr. Algernon? We should help one another; it is but one’s duty: and if he is in great distress he would not mind a handsome premium. Well, nobody can say Morris Brown is not as charitable as the best Christian breathing; and, as the late Lady Waddilove very justly observed, ‘Brown, believe me, a prudent risk is the surest gain!’ I will lose no time in finding the late squire out.”
