“Surely, my dear Vivian,” said he, seizing the first moment he could speak to him, “you are not going to spoil this excellent house? It is completely finished, in handsome modern architecture, perfectly comfortable and convenient, light, airy, large enough, warm rooms, well distributed, with ample means of getting at each apartment; and if you set about to new-model and transform it into a castle, you must, I see, by your plan, alter the proportions of almost every room, and spoil the comfort of the whole; turn square to round, and round again to square; and, worse than all, turn light to darkness--only for the sake of having what is called a castle, but what has not, in fact, any thing of the grandeur or solid magnificence of a real ancient edifice. These modern baby-house miniatures of castles, which gentlemen ruin themselves to build, are, after all, the most paltry, absurd things imaginable.” To this Vivian was, after some dispute, forced to agree; but he said, “that his should not be a baby-house; that he would go to any expense to make it really magnificent.” “As magnificent, I suppose, as Glistonbury Castle?” “If possible:--that is, I confess, the object of my emulation.” “Ah!” said Russell, shaking his head, “these are the objects of emulation, for which country gentlemen often ruin themselves; barter their independence and real respectability; reduce themselves to distress and disgrace: these are the objects for which they sell either their estates or their country; become placemen or beggars; and end either in the liberties of the King’s Bench, or the slaveries of St. James’s.” “Impossible for me! you know my public principles,” said Vivian: “and you know that I think the life of an independent country gentleman the most respectable of all others--you know my principles.” “I know your facility,” said Russell: “if you begin by sacrificing thus to your taste, do you think you will not end by sacrificing to your interest?” “Never! never!” cried Vivian. “Then you imagine that a strong temptation will not act where a weak one has been found irresistible.” “Of this I am certain,” said Vivian: “I could never be brought to sell my country, or to forfeit my honour.” “Perhaps not,” said Russell: “you might, in your utmost need, have another alternative; you might forfeit your love; you might give up Selina Sidney, and marry for money--all for the sake of a castle!” Struck by this speech, Vivian exclaimed, “I would give up a thousand castles rather than run such a hazard!” “Let us then coolly calculate,” said Russell. “What would the castle cost you?”