"
"You quite misunderstand me, my dear sir," said Sir Robert's hurried
voice; "he told me you had pledged him to secrecy, and he only revealed
it to explain why you wished to see me."
There was a grunt of half-placated wrath from Sharpe, and then the voice
resumed, but more deliberately, "Well, to come back to business: you've
got a boy, Francis, and I've got a darter, Araminty. They've sorter
taken a shine to each other and they want to get married. Mind yer--wait
a moment!--it wasn't allus so. No, sir; when my gal Araminty first seed
your boy in Californy she was poor, and she didn't kalkilate to get
inter anybody's family unbeknownst or on sufferance. Then she got rich
and you got poor; and then--hold on a minit!--she allows, does my girl,
that there ain't any nearer chance o' their making a match than they
were afore, for she isn't goin' to hev it said that she married your son
fur the chance of some day becomin' Lady Mainwaring."
"One moment, Mr. Sharpe," said the voice of the Baronet, gravely: "I am
both flattered and pained by what I believe to be the kindly object of
your visit. Indeed, I may say I have gathered a suspicion of what might
be the sequel of this most unhappy acquaintance of my son and your
daughter; but I cannot believe that he has kept you in ignorance of his
unfortunate prospects and his still more unfortunate state of health.
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