There's a smut on your nose, Walter. I forbid you to spoon his daughter,
upon pain of a father's curse. My real niece, Julia, is a lady and an
heiress, and the beauty of the county. She is the girl for you."
"And how about the seventh commandment?" inquired Walter, putting his
hands in his pockets.
"Oh," said the Colonel, indifferently, "you must mind your eye, like
other husbands. But in our walk of life it's the man's fault if the woman
falls out of the ranks."
"That's not what I mean," said Walter.
"What do you mean, then, if you mean anything at all?"
"I mean this, father. She marries Percy Fitzroy in three weeks; so if I
fix my affections on her up to the date of the wedding, shall I not be
tempted to continue, and will not a foolish attachment to another man's
sweetheart end in a vicious attachment to another man's wife?"
Once more was the Colonel staggered for a moment, and, oh--as the ladies
say--is it not gratifying to find that where honest reasons go for
nothing, humbug can obtain a moment's hearing? The Colonel admitted there
was something in that; but even humbug could not divert him long from
his mania.
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