if you persist in setting me the example. And now, if you like to go on,
pray do--I'm ready to hear you.' While I was speaking, he stared at
me in a state of helpless astonishment; when I had done, he began to
bluster again--but it was a pompous, dignified, parliamentary sort of
bluster, now, ending in his pulling your unlucky marriage-certificate
out of his pocket, asserting for the fiftieth time, that the girl was
innocent, and declaring that he'd make you acknowledge her, if he went
before a magistrate to do it. That's what he said when you saw him, I
suppose?"
"Yes: almost word for word."
"I had my answer ready for him, before he could put the certificate back
in his pocket. 'Now, Mr. Sherwin,' I said, 'have the goodness to listen
to me. My father has certain family prejudices and nervous delicacies,
which I do not inherit from him, and which I mean to take good care to
prevent you from working on. At the same time, I beg you to understand
that I have come here without his knowledge. I am not my father's
ambassador, but my brother's--who is unfit to deal with you, himself;
because he is not half hard-hearted, or half worldly enough. As my
brother's envoy, therefore, and out of consideration for my father's
peculiar feelings, I now offer you, from my own resources, a certain
annual sum of money, far more than sufficient for all your daughter's
expenses--a sum payable quarterly, on condition that neither you nor she
shall molest us; that you shall never make use of our name anywhere;
and that the fact of my brother's marriage (hitherto preserved a secret)
shall for the future be consigned to oblivion. _We_ keep our opinion of
your daughter's guilt--_you_ keep your opinion of her innocence. _We_
have silence to buy, and _you_ have silence to sell, once a quarter; and
if either of us break our conditions, we both have our remedy--_your's_
the easy remedy, _our's_ the difficult. This arrangement--a very unfair
and dangerous for us; a very advantageous and safe one for you--I
understand that you finally refuse?' 'Sir,' says he, solemnly, 'I should
be unworthy the name of a father--' 'Thank you'--I remarked, feeling
that he was falling back on paternal sentiment--'thank you; I quite
understand. We will get on, if you please, to the reverse side of the
question.'"
"The reverse side! What reverse side, Ralph? What could you possibly say
more?"
"You shall hear. 'Being, on your part, thoroughly determined,' I said,
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