selfish man. He likes us to visit him because you are gay and agreeable,
and because I never asked a favour of him in the whole course of our
acquaintance: he likes Ferdinand to visit him because he is a handsome
fine-spirited boy, and his friends congratulate him on having such a
grandson. And so Ferdinand is his _favourite;_ and next year I should
not be surprised were he to give him a pony: and perhaps, if he die, he
will leave him fifty guineas to buy a gold watch.'

'Well, I dare say you are right, Ratcliffe; but still nothing that
you can say will ever persuade me that Ferdinand is not papa's decided
favourite.'

'Well! we shall soon see what this favour is worth,' retorted Sir
Ratcliffe, rather bitterly. 'Regularly every visit for the last three
years your father has asked me what I intended to do with Ferdinand. I
said to him last year more than I thought I ever could say to anyone. I
told him that Ferdinand was now fifteen, and that I wished to get him a
commission; but that I had no influence to get him a commission, and
no money to pay for it if it were offered me. I think that was pretty
plain; and I have been surprised ever since that I ever could have
placed myself in such a degrading position as to say so much.'

'Degrading, my dear Ratcliffe!' said his wife.

'I felt it as such; and such I still feel it.'

At this moment Glastonbury, who was standing at the other end of the
room examining a large folio, and who had evidently been uneasy during
the whole conversation, attempted to quit the room.

'My dear Glastonbury,' said Sir Ratcliffe, with a forced smile, 'you are
alarmed at our domestic broils. Pray, do not leave the room. You know we
have no secrets from you.'

'No, pray do not go, Mr. Glastonbury,' added Lady Armine: 'and if indeed
there be a domestic broil,' and here she rose and kissed her husband,
'at any rate witness our reconciliation.'

Sir Ratcliffe smiled, and returned his wife's embrace with much feeling.

'My own Constance,' he said, 'you are the dearest wife in the world; and
if I ever feel unhappy, believe me it is only because I do not see you
in the position to which you are entitled.'

'I know no fortune to be compared to your love, Ratcliffe; and as for
our child, nothing will ever persuade me that all will not go right, and
that he will not restore the fortunes of the family.'

'Amen!' said Glastonbury, closing the book with a reverberating sound.
'Nor indeed can I bel