take her without fortune; they have long loved each other, and for the friendship I bear his father, my interest shall not be wanting in his promotion. Leave then that ambition which disappoints you, and for once admit that happiness which courts your acceptance.’
‘Sir William,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘be assured I never yet forced her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this young gentleman, let her have him with all my heart. There is still, thank heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something more. Only let my old friend here (meaning me) give me a promise of settling six thousand pounds upon my girl, if ever he should come to his fortune, and I am ready this night to be the first to join them together.’
As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily gave a promise of making the settlement he required, which, to one who had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now therefore the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other’s arms in a transport. ‘After all my misfortunes,’ cried my son George, ‘to be thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope for. To be possessed of all that’s good, and after such an interval of pain! My warmest wishes could never rise so high!’—‘Yes, my George,’ returned his lovely bride, ‘now let the wretch take my fortune; since you are happy without it so am I. O what an exchange have I made from the basest of men to the dearest best!—Let him enjoy our fortune, I now can be happy even in indigence.’—‘And I promise you,’ cried the ‘Squire, with a malicious grin, ‘that I shall be very happy with what you despise.’—‘Hold, hold, Sir,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘there are two words to that bargain. As for that lady’s fortune, Sir, you shall never touch a single stiver of it. Pray your honour,’ continued he to Sir William, ‘can the ‘Squire have this lady’s fortune if he be married to another?’—‘How can you make such a simple demand,’ replied the Baronet, ‘undoubtedly he cannot.’—‘I am sorry for that,’ cried Jenkinson; ‘for as this gentleman and I have been old fellow spotters, I have a friendship for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that his contract is not worth a tobacco stopper, for he is married already.’—‘You lie, like a rascal,’ returned the ‘Squire, who seemed rouzed by this insult, ‘I never was legally married to any woman.’—‘Indeed, begging your honour’s pardon,’ replied the other, ‘you were; and I hope you will shew a proper return of friendship to your own