When the worthy executors had arrived at these unpleasant conclusions, and revealed them confidentially and unofficially to the gay young Phillip, he bit his nails in anger, drank off his brandy very copiously, cursed his father in a volley of bitter oaths, and in his fury burned the picture of the deceased, which hung over the mantle in the library. Yet, fully alive to the consequences which any such disclosure of affairs might have upon his own worldly prospect, he called “a council of war,” and beseeched the worthy executors to make no disclosures for the present. “Not for my sake, gentlemen,” he said, with much warmth and emphasis, “but for the sake of the reputation of my worthy and much-loved father. I have no mother, nor kindred of any kind, except Sir Richard Warbeck, and therefore show my disinterestedness in its true colours. All I desire is to save my father’s reputation in the community where he has lived and been respected for at least half a century; therefore I beg, gentlemen, that you will say nothing of this for the present. When the ships arrive there will be enough, and more than enough, to liquidate every claim, and thus preserve the honour of my family. As to myself, I care not a jot if there is not a penny remaining over and above all his just and honest debts; all I desire to see is that every creditor may be satisfied, even if I, his only son, go forth on the world penniless and in rags!” Such sentiments were much applauded by the executors, who thought it might be wise to say nothing until the arrival of these vessels. By some means, unknown to himself, Phillip discovered that old Sir Andrew had become aware of the true state of things. But the young man argued so well that the insurance office director was comforted. “These reports you have heard, Sir Andrew, are untrue,” said young Redgill, with much warmth and emphasis, “circulated, doubtless, by some unknown enemy, who, knowing my ardent love for Fanny, has sought this method to poison your mind against me; not that money could influence you in such an attachment as that which has always existed between myself and your daughter, for you are fully aware how ardent my love is, and how long it has existed, and I am positive you are too high-toned a gentleman to allow mere considerations of money to interpose between your daughter’s happiness and mine, for if I knew this moment that Fanny was not possessed of one copper it could never alter my attachment. I love her for herself, and expect nothing with her, and I am certain you would never object to me on any financial consideration.” Old Sir Andrew, in the largeness and generosity of his hypocritical heart, confessed that _money_—“mere paltry lucre”—had _never_ entered his thoughts regarding the apportionment of his daughter and her settlement in life.