That’s true; that’s true. He would take his leave of you before he sets out upon his journey to the south of France. An opinion has prevailed that your mother must winter in a warmer climate, and your father is going to make preparations for her residence at Montpelier. Upon these occasions I do not chuse to interpose: he will follow his own fancy, and that is about as likely to lead him to Jerusalem as to Montpelier: and your mother, John, your mother, never will go hence but to her grave. Nature is in absolute decay; her vital powers are exhausted, and Llewellyn either knows her inability to undertake the journey, or is blockhead enough to believe it practicable, and knows nothing of his business. You will say, why do I not dissuade your father from setting out upon this fruitless journey? I answer, because it is not worth my while; for whom does it concern in what spot of earth upon this habitable globe a listless creature doses out unprofitable time? Let him go, let him go; I rest no further hopes on him. The tree, which emblematically bears the fortunes of my house, is withering at the top, dead in its middle branches, whilst there is yet one scyon, that has life and vigour: Yes, my child, I am passing away; thy father is gone by, but thou, with the blessing of providence, art springing up and bursting into bloom, I have thy tutor’s testimony strongly vouched in thy favour, and with rapture I contemplate the auspicious promise of those dawning virtues, which in the riper character of the man will be the ornament and safe-guard of our ancient stock. And now, John, I must apprise thee of an affair, that will put those virtues to the test. Some neighbouring gentlemen, who are amongst the chief supporters of the Owen interest, have this morning been with me to enquire into the circumstances of Sir David’s treatment of you in the matter of the horse bequeathed to you by your godfather; and they are determined to call upon you and Davis for your evidence, that they may sift it to the bottom. With all my heart, cried John, the colour mounting to his cheeks. I desire nothing better than to meet Sir David Owen face to face, and depose what I know of that rascally transaction in the most public manner before all his friends, be they who they may. Hold, hold, my child, said De Lancaster, you must not forget how much modesty and forbearance become your years. You must put all angry thoughts aside, when you are called upon to speak the truth without prejudice or animosity; and that you may be kept in mind of that duty, I shall desire your worthy tutor to accompany you to that discussion. I hope you will not think that necessary, John replied, for if I have nothing to do but to speak the truth, I trust I do not want a tutor to teach me that.