All this time, too, he kept supping his wine and cracking his walnuts, picking his almonds, and demolishing his dried fruit with a degree of unconscious industry, that could not but have proved highly interesting and edifying to any observing spectator.
When Colin had concluded, the Squire looked earnestly in his face during a few moments; he cast them to the ground again, and said nothing; he filled his glass, and Colin's too, but with an effort, for his hand slightly trembled as he did it; again he looked at him, and again his eyes were earthwards.
"My dear boy!" said he, but the words faltered on his lips,--"my dear boy! I am proud of you; but your presence makes me ashamed. I bitterly regret it--deeply and bitterly--and yet I ought not, when it has given me such a noble mind as this!"
He paused a moment, and then, as though with some sudden determination to shake off certain unwelcome and misplaced reflections, observed--"But, come,--drink your wine. I was not thinking much what I was talking about. Let us to business. I told you some time ago I should do something for you. What I have heard to-night has not lessened that determination. In the first place, have you left that vagabond place you were living in?"
Colin replied, that he had informed Peter Veriquear of his intention to leave, and was at liberty to take his departure at any hour.
"Then leave to-morrow," observed Mr. Lupton. "I will find you fitting apartments elsewhere. Do you like reading?"
"Much more," replied the young man, "than my opportunities have enabled me to gratify."
"I am glad to hear it. You shall have books, and fit yourself for better things than you seemed to be born to. But never mind that,--never mind that. And money? I suppose the bottle-merchant has not filled your pockets to the neck."
Colin observed in answer, that he had ten pounds in his pocket, though not through the hands of Peter Veriquear. At the same time he related to the Squire in what manner he had come by it, and how Miss Wintlebury's conduct on this occasion had convinced him she was a most worthy and estimable young woman.
"Have nothing to do with a girl like that," said Mr. Lupton. "I have seen similar things before now, and known many a man pay d--d expensively for a poor and frail commodity. No, my boy; take my advice, and think nothing more about her. She may be all very well, perhaps; but many others are better. I like charity; but the world renders it needful for people to hold their heads on their own level. As I shall make something of you, you must look higher. There is more in store for you than you can anticipate. I have no other than--Well, never mind. But the law knows me, my boy, as the last of my family; for, unluckily, my marriage has been like no marriage. Did you ever see Mrs. Lupton at Kiddal?"