CHAPTER XXI.
The quiet little town of Tarningham was more quiet than ever about thehour of twelve each day; for, according to good old primeval habits,noon was the period for feeding. Men ate, beasts ate, and birds ate,and we all know that eating is a silent process. It is the greatestmistake in the world for doctors to tell you to talk while you areeating, or else it is the bitterest sarcasm. They must either meanthat your digestion should be spoiled, or else that you are in thehabit of talking without thinking. But we, will make a sort ofcorollary of it. "Man should not think when he is eating, man shouldnot talk without thinking; _ergo_, man should not talk at his dinner."Therefore the people of Tarningham were wise; for never was there sucha silent town at the hour of twelve o'clock, when they were eating.Doctor Miles could hear his own footfall with the most perfectdistinctness, as he walked along the High-street; and a good broadfoot it was, with a square-toed shoe and a buckle in it.
But Doctor Miles did not attend to the sound of his footfall; he was,indeed, busily thinking of something else, with his eyes bentdown--but not his head--he rarely bent his head--holding it uprightand straight, and a little stiff, by the natural effect of mind onbody. His meditations were very deep, so much so, that it required anextraordinary apparition to rouse him from his reverie. The sight,however, of a human being in the streets of Tarningham a little aftertwelve, was quite enough to produce that effect; and at the distanceof about two hundred yards from the door of the White Hart, he wasstartled by beholding the diminutive form and somewhat contortedperson, of the poor little pot-boy, Billy Lamb, coming towards himwith an empty jug in his hand. Nobody attended to Billy's meals. Hegot them how he could, where he could, and when he could. When all therest were eating, he was sent with a jug of beer here, or a pint ofgin there, and came back to feed upon the cold remnants of what therest had eaten warm, if, indeed, they left him anything; but yet thefat landlord, ostlers, stable-boys, and barmaids, all thought thatBilly was very well off. The landlord thought so, because he declaredhe had taken the boy in from charity; and the ostlers, and thepost-boys, and the barmaids believed it. O, charity! charity! thouperverted and misused term. Since the first words that were uttered byAdam in his garden, down to the moment when one of the world's greatmen declared that language was intended to conceal men's thoughts, noword in the whole dictionary has ever been applied to cover somany sins as thou hast. Thou art the robe of vanity every day;tricking it out in subscription lists, almshouses, hospitals; thouart the cloak of pride and haughtiness, the pretext of every pettytyrant who seeks a slave, the excuse of avarice, and greed, andnarrow-mindedness--ever, ever coupled with a lie! In what human heartart thou ever found pure and unadulterated? The foul-mouthed slandererof a neighbour's fame, who gives a sixpence to a beggar or a pound toan infirmary, is a charitable person. The scoffing sneerer at virtuehe cannot imitate, who flings away money profusely for the solegratification of a loose habit, is called charitable. The hard-heartedman who denies others their rights, or he who cheats his followers oftheir due reward, or he who grinds the faces of his workmen withexcessive toil, or he who is harsh and stern in his own household,fierce and censorious to others, a despot with his wife, a tyrant withhis children, dies, and, in a pompous will, bequeaths a portion of hisill-gotten wealth to build an asylum, and perpetuate his name, and ispraised and honoured as a charitable man.
That boy, forced to labour day and night, without consideration,without comfort, without a kind word, fed upon refuse, palleted onstraw, yet doing more than the whole household altogether, was takenin from charity! Believe it, reader, if you can. For my part, I don'tbelieve a word of it. I am quite sure that worthy Mr. Groomber wantedsomebody particularly, of an active and willing disposition, to carryout the beer, and to attend to all those little matters which Mr.Groomber could not do himself, and which his servants did not chooseto do, and that in taking in Billy Lamb for his own convenience, hepersuaded himself, and tried to persuade the public too, that he wasdoing an act of charity. It is an extraordinary thing to consider howoften in the great tragic farce of the world we are our ownspectators; or, in other words, how continually, when we act a part,we consider ourselves one of the audience, and strive to deceive thatindividual the very first.
However that might be, there was Billy Lamb, the pot-boy, just beforeDoctor Miles, with an empty tankard in his hand; and the good doctorno sooner beheld him, than he stopped, and, in a kindly tone, askedhim how the world went with him. Now Doctor Miles was a great man inthe neighbourhood; he had property of his own of not very greatextent, but which rendered the living that he held but an accessory tohis principal means of subsistence. He did not live by the altar, butfor the altar; and there are no such keen drawers of distinctions asthe lower classes. Of this thing all clergymen may be sure, that hewho makes a trade of his profession, who exacts the uttermost pennywhich he has a right to, and something more, who increases burialfees, and makes broad the borders of all his dues, will always be heldin contempt. Of the butcher, the baker, and the grocer, the lowerorders expect such things. The exaction of a farthing on half-a-pound,more than is really just, they know is a part of the privileges of theknife, the oven, and the scales and weights. But with the ministers ofa pure and holy religion, whose grand and fundamental principle ischarity and abnegation of self, they expect a higher and a wider senseof benevolence, a more large and disinterested view of the relationsof a pastor and flock. Thick must be the veil that covers from theeyes of the humble and the needy that greedy and grasping spirit whichtoo frequently, like the ghoul of Eastern fable, preys among thesepulchres of the dead, and takes advantage of the moment ofoverwhelming distress and agony of mind, to urge the coarse claims ofpriestly avarice; claims, but too frequently, untenable in law andalways barbarous, even when not illegal--dues which should be sweptaway for ever, which should no longer exist as a constant source ofheart-burning and complaint between pastor and people, making the onederive a portion of his living by laying a tax most onerous and hardto be borne, either upon the joys or the sorrows of his parishioners,and the others to look upon their teacher as one who sets at defiancethe first principles of the Gospel that he preaches, following"avarice which is idolatry," and forgetting charity, "which covers amultitude of sins."
Luckily, both by position and inclination, Doctor Miles was exemptfrom all such reproaches. His necessities did not force him intomeannesses, and his natural disposition would never have suffered himto fall into them, whatever his circumstances might have been. Oneheard nothing in his parish of enormous charges for a brick grave,swollen surplice-fees, that would make a cholera, a plague, or apestilence so rich a harvest, that the minister who would pray in hisdesk against plague, pestilence, and famine, would be the grossest ofhypocrites. He did not look upon his churchyard as the most valuableand productive part of his glebe, to be manured by the corpses ofhis parishioners, and bear a cent-per-cent crop in monuments andgrave-stones. The consecration of the bishop he did not look upon asfertilising the land for his own enrichment, but contented himselfwith the bare amount of the moderate fee awarded by the law, andneither asked nor received a penny more. Many of the neighbouringclergy called him a weak and prejudiced man, and exclaimed loudlyagainst him for neglecting the interests, or, as they called them,"the rights of the church." But, somehow, his parishioners loved him,though he was rather an austere man, too, and never spared invectiveor exhortation in case of error and misconduct. The secret, perhaps,was, that they were convinced of his disinterestedness. He took fromno man more than was his due; he required of no man more than he hadthe warrant of Scripture for requiring. His private fortune gave himthe means of charity, and to that object all his private fortune wasdevoted. Every one in the neighbourhood knew that Doctor Miles couldhave a finer house, could keep a better table, could maintain asmarter equipage; but, at the same time, they were aware of twothings, first, that his income was not as large as it might have beenhad he chosen to exact the uttermost farthing; and, secondly, that itwas not for the pur
pose of hoarding his money that he did not spend itupon himself.
Thus Doctor Miles, as well may be conceived, was very much reverencedin the neighbourhood; his rebukes were listened to, and sometimestaken to heart; his advice was sought, and sometimes followed; hisopinions were always respected, if his injunctions were not alwaysobeyed; and his severity of manner was very well understood not toimply any real harshness of heart.
The cap was off Billy Lamb's head in a moment, when he approached Dr.Miles; but he did not venture to speak to him till the doctor, aftergazing at him for a moment in a fit of absence, exclaimed, "Ah,William, how goes it with you? and how is your poor mother?"
"Oh, quite well," replied the youth, in his peculiarly sweet, lowvoice; "mother's better than she was, though she has never been sowell since poor Mary's death."
"How should she? how should she?" exclaimed Doctor Miles; "thesethings, my man, affect young people but little, old people but little;for young people are full of their own life, and with them thatconsideration supersedes all thoughts connected with death; and oldpeople are so full of the conviction of life's brevity, that thematter of a few years more or less is to them insignificant. It is tothe middle-aged that the death of the young is terrible; it clouds thepast with regrets, and the future with apprehensions. But I want tospeak to your mother, Bill; she must forgive Stephen Gimlet, and tryand help him, and be a comfort to him."
"I wish she would," said the boy, looking down; "I am sure Stephen isnot so bad as people call him, and never would have taken poor Maryaway, if mother had not been so strict."
"I must talk to her," answered Doctor Miles; "but you may tell her, ifyou see her before I do, that Stephen is a changed man, and Sir JohnSlingsby has taken him for a gamekeeper.--Tell her, will you," hecontinued, after a moment's thought, "that the cottage on the moor hasbeen burned down, and the poor little boy, Charley, would have beenburnt in it, because there was no mother, nor other relation of anykind to help him, had it not been for a gentleman who is staying up atthe hall coming by at the time and rescuing the boy from the flames."
"Ah, I am sure that was the gentleman that was down here," exclaimedthe pot-boy; "Captain Hayward they called him; for he was a kind, goodgentleman as ever lived, and gave me enough for mother to putsomething by against the winter."
"That is no reason why he should be walking on the moor," said DoctorMiles, quickly. "However, I must talk to her, for the boy must not beleft alone any more; and we must see what can be done. But now tellme, Bill, what wages do you get?"
"A shilling a week and my victuals," replied the boy, in an unrepiningtone; "it is very kind of Mr. Groomber, I am sure; and I do what I canbut that's not much."
"Humph!" said Doctor Miles, with not the most affirmative tone in theworld; "well, I'll come by and by, and see your mother; can you godown and tell her that I am coming?"
"Oh yes, Sir," replied the boy; "they give me a quarter of an hour toeat my dinner, so I can go very well; but I must go first to Mr.Slattery's, the doctor; for Mrs. Billiter told me to bid him come upquietly to Mr. Wittingham, as if just for a call; for the oldgentleman came home ill last night, and has taken to his bed."
"Mr. Slattery is out," replied Doctor Miles. "I met him on the road;but leave the message, Bill, leave the message, and I will go up andsee Mr. Wittingham myself."
Thus saying, he bade the boy adieu, and walked on to the smart whitegates of Mr. Wittingham's highly-cultivated place, and, passingthrough the garden, rang the bell at the door, which was opened to himby a servant in a straight-cut blue coat, black and yellow stripedwaistcoat, and black plush breeches, with drab gaiters.
In answer to Doctor Miles's inquiry, the servant informed him that Mr.Wittingham was in bed, and could see no one; but the worthy clergymanpressed for admission, saying that his business was of importance. Aconsultation then took place between the man-servant and thehousekeeper, and, after some hesitation, Mrs. Billiter went up to hermaster to inform him of Doctor Miles's visit, with a particularinjunction to impress upon the mind of the sick man that theclergyman's business was of moment. She came down the next minute andbegged the visitor to walk up, with as low a curtsey as her long stiffstays would permit her to make; and, she leading the way, Doctor Milesfollowed with a slow and meditative step.
The room-door was gently unclosed, and the clergyman, entering, fixedhis eyes upon the figure of Mr. Wittingham as he lay in the bed, and asad sight it was. Terrible was the effect that one night of sicknesshad wrought upon him. The long, thin, bony limbs were plainly visiblethrough the bed-clothes, and so far, Mr. Wittingham well, or Mr.Wittingham ill, showed no difference; but there was the face upon thepillow, and there were to be seen traces enough, more of sufferingthan sickness. The features had suddenly grown sharp, and the cheekshollow; the eye was bright and wandering, the brow furrowed, and thehue of the complexion, partly from the light-brown moreen curtain ofthe bed--the most detestable curtains in the world--partly from asleepless, anxious, suffering night, had grown yellow, if notcadaverous. Patches of short-cut gray hair, usually concealed by thewig, were now suffered, by the nightcap, to show themselves upon thetemples. The large front teeth, the high nose and the protuberantchin, were all more prominent than usual; and certainly Mr.Wittingham, in cotton nightcap and clean linen sheets, was not themost prepossessing person that ever the eye rested upon.
Doctor Miles, however, advanced quietly to his bedside, and, sittingdown in a chair, opened the conversation in a kindly tone.
"I am sorry to find you ill, my good friend," he said; "you seemedwell enough last night."
"Ay, ay, that's another thing, doctor," replied the invalid; "but Igot a terrible fright after that, and that has given me quite a turn."
"As to the way you will direct that turn," answered the clergyman,"you will need some good advice, Mr. Wittingham."
"Ay, ay," said the magistrate, somewhat impatiently. "Billiter therehas been boring me for an hour to send for that fellow Slattery; but Idon't think he could do me any good. He is a humbug, as well as themost of those doctors."
"But not more than most," answered Doctor Miles, "which is a greatthing in this part of the country. You may go, Mrs. Billiter; I wishto be alone with Mr. Wittingham."
Mrs. Billiter, who had remained upon the best, the oldest, and mostinvariable excuse, that of putting the room in order, for the purposeof gaining an insight into all that took place, dropped a curtsey, andwithdrew unwillingly.
Mr. Wittingham eyed Doctor Miles with a shrewd, inquiring, but timidglance. It was evident that he would have dispensed, with the doctor'scoming, that he did not half like it, that he wished to know what hecould want, why he came, what was his business, what could be hisobject, and why his manner was so grave and cautious. Heaven knowsthat Mr. Wittingham was not an imaginative man; that he was notsubject to the sports of fancy, and seldom or ever presented to hismind any image of things, past or future, unless it were in a largeparchment-covered volume, in which was inscribed in large letters,upon the last page: "Balance, in favour of Mr. Wittingham, sixty-ninethousand odd hundred pounds." Nevertheless, on this occasion theworthy gentleman's imagination ran restive; for, as a weedy old horse,when people endeavour to whip it into any thing; more than itsordinary pace, turns up its heels, and flings them, into the face ofits driver; so did Mr. Wittingham's fancy at once assert itspredominance over reason, by presenting to him for his choice everypossible sort of business upon which Doctor Miles might, could, would,should, or ought, have come to Tarningham Lodge. He, therefore, sat inhis bed with his nightcap on his head, grinning at him, like Yorick'sskull, with a ghastly smile. Courtesy has its agonies, as well asother things; and the politeness of Mr. Wittingham was agonising.Speak he could not, that was out of the question; but, with a grimcontortion of countenance, he motioned the worthy doctor to a chair,and the other took it with provoking deliberation, concealing, underan air of imperturbable coolness, a certain degree of embarrassment,and a considerable degree of feeling.
To
tell the truth, he much desired that Mr. Wittingham would beginfirst; but he soon saw that there was no hope of such being the case,and his profession had accustomed him to the initiative. Wherefore,after three preliminary hums, he went on to say, "My dear Sir, Ithought it better to come down to you to-day, to speak to you on asomewhat painful subject, but one which had better be grappled with atonce; and that rather in conversation with me, a minister of peace andgoodwill towards men, than with others, who, though equally bound bythe injunctions of the religion which I unworthily teach and theybelieve, have what they consider duties apart, which might interferewith an unlimited exercise of Christian charity."
Excellent, Doctor Miles; you are keeping the poor man in a state oftorture. Why will you preach, when you are not in the pulpit. ButDoctor Miles was not a prosy man by nature; he was short, brief, andterse in his general conversation, and only preached when he was inembarrassment. That such was evidently the case at present greatlyincreased the evils of Mr. Wittingham's position; and when the doctorwas talking of Christian charity, the sick magistrate was mentallysending him to a place where very little charity of any kind issupposed to be practised--not that we know any thing of the matter;for even in the present day, with steamboats, railroads, and all theappliances of human ingenuity to boot, tourists and travellers havenot pushed their researches quite as far as the place alluded to; or,at all events, have not favoured the world with an account of theirdiscoveries.
After the above proem, Dr. Miles stumbled for a moment or two, andthen recovering himself, continued thus:
"The unfortunate affair which took place last night must doubtlessgive rise to legal inquiries, which will, depend upon it, be pursuedwith great energy and determination; for Captain Hayward, I find,followed the unhappy young man at once; and, if I judge rightly, he isnot one to abandon his object when it is but half-attained."
"Oh, that Captain Hayward, that Captain Hayward!" cried Wittingham,angrily, "he is always meddling with other people's affairs."
"Nay, my dear Sir," answered Dr. Miles; "this was his affair, and theaffair of every body in the room. The ball passed within an inch ofhis friend Mr. Beauchamp's head, and might have been intended forhim--at least, so Captain Hayward might have supposed, had not yourown exclamation at the moment--"
"My exclamation!" cried Mr. Wittingham, with a look of horror, "whatdid I exclaim?"
Doctor Miles did not answer him directly at first, replying merely,"you said enough, Mr. Wittingham, to show who it was, in your opinion,that had fired the shot."
Mr. Wittingham clasped his hands together in an agony of despair andsunk with his head upon the pillow, as if he would fain have hid hisface in the bed-clothes, but Dr. Miles went on kindly to say,
"Moreover, my dear Sir, your exclamation was sufficient to make mefeel for you deeply--to feel for you with sincere compassion, and todesire anxiously to serve and assist you."
Now Mr. Wittingham was not accustomed to be compassionated; he did notlike the thing and he did not like the word; he was a vain man and aproud man, and compassion was a humiliation which he did not like toundergo; but still anxiety and trouble were the strongest, and herepeated two or three times in a quick, sharp voice,
"What did I say? What did I say?"
"You said that it was your son," answered the clergyman, "and variouscorroborative circumstances have transpired which--"
But by this time Mr. Wittingham was in such a state of agitation thatit was evident he would hear nothing further that was said to him atthe moment, and therefore the good doctor stopped short. Themagistrate covered his eyes; he wrung his hands hard together; hegazed forth at the sky; he even wept.
"Then it is all over, all over," he cried, at length, "it is allover," by which he meant that all his dreams of importance, his plansof rural grandeur and justice-of-the-peaceism, his "reverence" on thebench and at the quarter-sessions, his elevation as a countrygentleman, and his oblivion as a small trader, were all frustrated,gone, lost, smothered and destroyed by his son's violent conduct andhis own indiscreet babbling in the moment of fear and grief.
"Ah, Doctor Miles," he said, "it's a sad business, a sad business. Asyou know it all, there is no use of my holding my tongue. Harry did doit; and, indeed, he told me before that he would do it, or somethinglike it; for he came here--here, down into Tarningham, and told me onthe very bench, that if I pushed that business about Mrs. Clifford'scarriage any further it should go worse with me. It was a threat, mydear doctor, and I was not to be deterred from doing my duty by athreat, and so I told him, and immediately took up the man they callWolf, on suspicion--for Sir John had been down here, swearing at mydoor, and what could I do, you know."
Now Doctor Miles had seen a great deal of the world, and, though agood and benevolent man, and one not at all inclined to think theworst of one of his fellow-creatures, yet he could not help seeingthat there was a great deal of weakness and eagerness to shuffle anyburden from himself in Mr. Wittingham's reply. There are certain sortsof knowledge which force themselves upon our understanding, whether wewill or not, and amongst these is discrimination of human character.People, long accustomed to the world, find great difficulty even inbelieving a practised liar, however much they may wish to do so oncertain points. They see through, in spite of themselves, all thelittle petty artifices with which self hides itself from self, andstill more clearly through the mean policy by which the mean manstrives to conceal his meanness from the eyes of his fellow-creatures.Whether it be the pitiful man, in any of the common walks of life,exacting more than his due, and striving to hide his greed under theveil of liberality and disinterestedness, whether it be the candidate,on the canvass or on the hustings, escaping from the explanation ofhis intentions upon the plea of independence and free judgment, orwhether it be the minister of the crown evading the fulfilment ofobligations, or shrinking from the recognition of support by all thethousand subterfuges in the vast dictionary of political dishonesty,the man learned in the world's ways, however willing to be duped,cannot believe and confide, cannot admire and respect. The case withMr. Wittingham was a very simple one. Doctor Miles saw and understoodthe whole process of his mind in a moment; but he was sorry for theman; he felt what agony it must be to have such a son, and he hastenedas far as possible to relieve him.
"I think, my dear Sir," he said, "that you have made some mistakes inthis matter; I do not presume to interfere with any man's domesticarrangements, but I will candidly acknowledge that I have thought, inwatching the progress of your son's education, that it was not likelyto result in good to his character--nay, hear me out, for I am onlymaking this observation as a sort of excuse, not so much for him, asfor the advice I am going to give you, which can only be justified bya belief that the young man is not so depraved by nature as bycircumstances."
They were hard words, very hard words, that Doctor Miles uttered, butthere was a stern impressiveness in his manner which overawed Mr.Wittingham, kept down his vanity from revolting against the impliedaccusation, and prevented him from even writhing openly at the plainterms in which his son's conduct was stigmatised.
"Under these circumstances," continued Doctor Miles, "I think it muchbetter that you send your son out of the country as fast as possible,afford him such means as will enable him to live in respectability,without indulging in vice; warn him seriously of the end to which hispresent courses will lead him, and give him to understand that if heabandons them, and shows an inclination to become a good and usefulmember of society, the faults of his youth may be forgotten, and theirpunishment be remitted. On the latter point, I think I may say that,should he at once quit the country, no further steps against him willbe taken. You know very well that Sir John Slingsby, though hot andirascible, is a kind and good-natured man at heart."
"Sir John Slingsby! Sir John Slingsby!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham,bustling up with an air of relief, as if something had suddenly turneda screw or opened a safety-valve, and delivered him from the highpressure of Doctor Miles's grave and weighty ma
nner, "Sir JohnSlingsby, Sir, dare do nothing against me or mine; for there is abalance against him. He may talk, and he may bully and crack hisjokes.--I have submitted to all that a great deal too long, withoutrequiring a settlement of the account; and there's five thousandpounds against him I can tell you, which he will find it a difficultmatter to pay, I have a notion--ah, ah, Doctor Miles, I know what I amabout. Five thousand pounds are five thousand pounds, Doctor Miles,and I know all the situation of Sir John's affairs, too; so he hadbetter not meddle with me, he had better not enrage me; for he willrisk less in letting all this foolish business pass off quietlywithout inquiry, than producing inquiry into his own affairs in thecounty. A good jolly gentleman I don't mean to say he is not; but Ican tell you he is tottering on the verge of ruin, and I don't want toforce him over unless he drives me: and so he had better not, that'sall."
Doctor Miles had gazed at him as he spoke with a keen, subacid look,and in some degree even of amusement, and this calm, supercilious lookgreatly annoyed and embarrassed Mr. Wittingham towards the end of histirade. It was evident that Doctor Miles was not in the least takenunprepared, that the intimation of Sir John Slingsby's position inworldly affairs neither surprised nor disappointed him in the least;and when Mr. Wittingham at length stopped in some embarrassment, hisreply tended still further to puzzle and confound the worthymagistrate for he merely said,
"Perhaps so, Mr. Wittingham, but I do not think Sir John Slingsby'specuniary circumstances will at all prevent him from performing hispublic duties. If he has reason to believe that your son is in theroad to amendment, he is very likely to look over his presentoffences, as they are, in some degree, personal to himself and hisfamily. If he imagines that he will go on from one crime to another,depend upon it he will think it only right to cut his career short atonce. The only fear is, that if this debt which you speak of evercrosses his mind, it will only serve as a bar to his lenity; for noman is so likely to be seized with a sudden determination to punishwith the utmost rigour, if he were to suspect for one moment that hisdebt to you, whatever might be the amount, might be assigned as themotive by any one for his forbearance. I would not advise you to urgesuch a plea, Mr. Wittingham; but, depend upon it, if this debt isconsidered at all, it will be considered to your disadvantage. Besidesall this, you must recollect that other persons were present;therefore Sir John has not the whole matter in his own hands. However,I have given you the best advice in my power; you can take it, if youlike; if not, the consequences be upon your own head; and you must notblame any one for any thing that may occur in the due course of law."
And rising from the bedside, he was about to depart, when Mr.Wittingham stopped him.
"Stay, stay, my dear Sir," said the magistrate, eagerly; "let usdiscuss this question a little further; I wish no harm to Sir JohnSlingsby, and I trust he wishes none to me. But are you sure therewere other persons who heard the words I spoke? Very unfortunate, veryunfortunate, indeed."
Now the truth was, that Mr. Wittingham was in a state of highirritation. The comments which Doctor Miles had made, or rather thehints which he had thrown out in regard to the education of his son,had greatly exasperated him. He never liked it to be even hinted thathe was wrong; it was a sort of accusation which he never could bear;and the worthy doctor would have been permitted in patience to proceedwith any other of Mr. Wittingham's friends or enemies without theleast interruption; but it was natural that he should take fire inregard to his son. Why natural? it may be asked. For this reason, thatthe education of his son was associated intimately with Mr.Wittingham's own vanity; and the idea of his faults being owing toeducation, was a direct reflection upon Mr. Wittingham himself.
Doctor Miles, however, regarded none of these things; and though theworthy magistrate desired him to stay, he declared he had no time,saying,
"Further discussion is out of the question. I have given you advicethat I know to be kind, that I believe to be good. Take it, if youjudge so; leave it, if you judge otherwise. Pursue what course youthink best in regard to Sir John Slingsby; but, at all events, do notattempt to influence him, by pecuniary considerations; for be assuredthat, although he may, by imprudence, have embarrassed his property,he has not arrived at that pitch of degradation which is only broughton step by step from the pressure of narrow circumstances, and whichinduces men to forget, great principles in order to escape from smalldifficulties. Good morning, Mr. Wittingham;" and, without furtherpause, Doctor Miles quitted the room, and walked down stairs. In thehall he met Mr. Wharton, the attorney, going up, with a somewhat sourand discontented face; but all that passed between the two gentlemenwas a cold bow, and the clergyman left the house in possession of thelawyer.
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