if
so--Oh! he knew the ways of youngsters, especially when they fell into
bad hands: the list of bad titles rumbled on in an underbreath like
cowardly thunder:--well, to cut the matter short, because, if so,
his cheque-book was at my service; didn't I know that, eh? Not being
immediately distressed by debt, I did not exhibit the gush of gratitude,
and my sedate 'Thank you, sir,' confused his appeal for some sentimental
show of affection.

I am sure the poor old man suffered pangs of jealousy; I could even at
times see into his breast and pity him. He wanted little more than to
be managed; but a youth when he perceives absurdity in opposition to him
chafes at it as much as if he were unaware that it is laughable. Had the
squire talked to me in those days seriously and fairly of my father's
character, I should have abandoned my system of defence to plead for
him as before a judge. By that time I had gained the knowledge that my
father was totally of a different construction from other men. I wished
the squire to own simply to his loveable nature. I could have told him
women did. Without citing my dear aunt Dorothy, or so humble a creature
as the devoted Mrs. Waddy, he had sincere friends among women, who
esteemed him, and were staunch adherents to his cause; and if the widow
of the City knight, Lady Sampleman, aimed openly at being something
more, she was not the less his friend. Nor was it only his powerful
animation, generosity, and grace that won them.

There occurred when I was a little past twenty, already much in
his confidence, one of those strange crucial events which try a man
publicly, and bring out whatever can be said for and against him. A
young Welsh heiress fell in love with him. She was, I think, seven or
eight months younger than myself, a handsome, intelligent, high-spirited
girl, rather wanting in polish, and perhaps in the protecting sense of
decorum. She was well-born, of course--she was Welsh. She was really
well-bred too, though somewhat brusque. The young lady fell hopelessly
in love with my father at Bath. She gave out that he was not to be for
one moment accused of having encouraged her by secret addresses. It
was her unsolicited avowal--thought by my aunt Dorothy immodest, not by
me--that she preferred him to all living men. Her name was Anna Penrhys.
The squire one morning received a letter from her family, requesting him
to furnish them with information as to the antecedents of a gentleman