Say, that my Brother’s wishes wait on hers, And his affection what she wills prefers.’ “Forgive me, Brother—these my words and more Our friendly Rector to Matilda bore; At large, at length, were all my views explain’d, And to my joy my wishes I obtain’d. “Dwell in that house, and we shall still be near, Absence and parting I no more shall fear; 450 Dwell in thy home, and at thy will exclude All who shall dare upon thee to intrude. “Again thy pardon—’twas not my design To give surprise; a better view was mine; But let it pass—and yet I wish’d to see That meeting too; and happy may it be!” Thus George had spoken, and then look’d around, And smiled as one who then his road had found; “Follow!” he cried, and briskly urged his horse. Richard was puzzled, but obey’d of course; 460 He was affected like a man astray, Lost, but yet knowing something of the way; Till, a wood clear’d, that still conceal’d the view, Richard the purchase of his Brother knew; And something flash’d upon his mind not clear, But much with pleasure mix’d, in part with fear. As one who, wandering through a stormy night, Sees his own home, and gladdens at the sight, Yet feels some doubt if fortune had decreed That lively pleasure in such time of need: 470 So Richard felt—but now the mansion came In view direct—he knew it for the same; There too the garden walk, the elms design’d To guard the peaches from the eastern wind; And there the sloping glass, that when he shines Gives the sun’s vigour to the ripening vines.— “It is my Brother’s!”— “No!” he answers, “No! ’Tis to thy own possession that we go; It is thy wife’s, and will thy children’s be, Earth, wood, and water!—all for thine and thee; 480 Bought in thy name—Alight, my friend, and come, I do beseech thee, to thy proper home; There wilt thou soon thy own Matilda view; She knows our deed, and she approves it too; Before her all our views and plans were laid, And Jacques was there t’ explain and to persuade. Here, on this lawn, thy boys and girls shall run, And play their gambols when their tasks are done; There, from that window, shall their mother view The happy tribe, and smile at all they do; 490 While thou, more gravely, hiding thy delight, Shalt cry ‘O! childish!’ and enjoy the sight. “Well, my dear Richard, there’s no more to say— Stay, as you will—do any thing—but stay; Be, I dispute not, steward—what you will, Take your own name, but be my Brother still. And hear me, Richard! if I should offend, Assume the patron, and forget the friend; If aught in word or manner I express That only touches on thy happiness; 500 If I be peevish, humorsome, unkind, Spoil’d as I am by each subservient mind; For I am humour’d by a tribe who make Me more capricious for the pains they take To make me quiet; shouldst thou ever feel