Harper's New Monthly Magazine, vol. 3, no. 18, November, 1851Harper, Various (magazine)
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, vol. 3, no. 18, November, 1851
Harper, Various (magazine)
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"But, to be sure," quoth he, with an angry look at poor Frank, "you have
good Hazeldean blood in you, and know a bean from a turnip."
"Why, sir," said Randal, ingenuously, "I am training myself for public
life; and what is a public man worth if he do not study the agriculture
of his country?"
"Right--what is he worth? Put that question, with my compliments, to my
half-brother. What stuff he did talk, the other night, on the malt-tax,
to be sure!"
"Mr. Egerton has had so many other things to think of, that we must
excuse his want of information upon one topic, however important. With
his strong sense, he must acquire that information, sooner or later; for
he is fond of power; and, sir, knowledge is power!"
"Very true; very fine saying," quoth the poor Squire, unsuspiciously, as
Randal's eye rested upon Mr. Hazeldean's open face, and then glanced
toward Frank, who looked sad and bored.
"Yes," repeated Randal, "knowledge is power;" and he shook his head
wisely, as he passed the bottle to his host.
Still, when the Squire, who meant to return to the Hall next morning,
took leave of Frank, his heart warmed to his son: and still more for
Frank's dejected looks. It was not Randal's policy to push estrangement
too far at first, and in his own presence.
"Speak to poor Frank--kindly now, sir--do," whispered he, observing the
Squire's watery eyes, as he moved to the window.
The Squire rejoiced to obey--thrust out his hand to his son, "My dear
boy," said he, "there, don't fret--pshaw!--it was but a trifle, after
all. Think no more of it."
Frank took the hand, and suddenly threw his arm round his father's broad
shoulder.
"Oh, sir, you are too good--too good." His voice trembled so, that
Randal took alarm, passed by him, and touched him meaningly.
The Squire pressed his son to his heart--heart so large, that it seemed
to fill the whole width under his broadcloth.
"My dear Frank," said he, half blubbering, "it is not the money; but,
you see, it so vexes your poor mother; you must be careful in future;
and, zounds, boy, it will be all yours one day; only don't calculate on
it; I could not bear _that_--I could not indeed."
"Calculate!" cried Frank. "Oh, sir, can you think it?"
"I am so delighted that I had some slight hand in your complete
reconciliation with Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, as the young men walked
from the hotel. "I saw that you were disheartened, and I told him to
speak to you kindly."
"Did you? Ah, I am sorry he needed telling."
"I know his character so well already," said Randal, "that I flatter
myself I can always keep things between you as they ought to be. What an
excellent man!"
"The best man in the world!" cried Frank, heartily; and then as his
accent drooped, "yet I have deceived him. I have a great mind to go
back--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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