"My son's future life," said Mr. Scarsdale, vindictively, "is quite independent of me. Had there been any nature left in our mutual position things might have been different. No! my son has no need to betake himself to a profession--he is quite above the necessity. Should I accelerate the time when he shall come to his fortune? Should I beg your prayers--for I remember you are pious--that he may enter speedily upon his inheritance? I thank you. I do not profess to be quite so disinterested. No, let him wait!--let him take his share of the evils of mankind. Must _I_ deny myself to smooth his path for him, and give him roses for my thorns? It would be the conduct of a fool. No, I repeat he has no need for a profession--let him wait! I support him--is it not enough?" "Too much!" cried Colonel Sutherland; "you must perceive that it would be ten times better for him to support himself, to labour for himself, instead of embittering his life in this forced idleness here. Why should he be a burden on you at all, at his years? Though he does not ultimately require a profession, to have one would be his salvation now. You are a hale and healthy man, in spite of all you do to yourself--you have twenty years to live before you attain the limited age of man. Can you think of this unfortunate boy living here as he lives now, in utter ignorance of the fortune which waits him, till he is forty? Think of it, I implore you! It has lasted long enough--too long, Scarsdale. Think, if you have human bowels, human mercy in you, of the extraordinary fate to which you destine your only son. Suppose him growing into maturity, into full manhood, to years in which you had the world at your feet and children at your knees; yet kept in darkness, kept in bitterness, idle, solitary, able to think of nothing but of the injury that has been done to him; until, all at once, you are struck down in extreme desolate old age--and wealth, which is no longer anything to him, wealth which will disgust him, falls into his hands. What! you turn away--you will not have that event even mentioned? What are you thinking of? Is a miserable heap of money of more importance to you than the welfare of your son?" "Upon my word," said Mr. Scarsdale, turning away with a violent colour on his face, and an exclamation of disgust, "I see no reason in the world why I should study the welfare, as you call it, of my son." "You do not--and you can say so?" cried the Colonel, in loud and stern astonishment. "I do not, and I can say so, and without raising my voice," said the other, with a sneer. "My son, I beg to tell you once again, is provided for. I give him food and clothing--he has nothing else to hope or to expect from me."