You have done it. You have brought this on me, sir.
But you knew no better: and I forgive--"
"Arthur--in God's name--in your father's, who, by Heavens, was the
proudest man alive, and had the honor of the family always at
heart--in mine--for the sake of a poor broken down old fellow, who has
always been dev'lish fond of you--don't fling this chance away--I pray
you, I beg you, I implore you, my dear, dear boy, don't fling this
chance away. It's the making of you. You're sure to get on. You'll be
a baronet; it's three thousand a year: dammy, on my knees, there, I
beg of you, don't do this."
And the old man actually sank down on his knees, and seizing one of
Arthur's hands, looked up piteously at him. It was cruel to remark the
shaking hands, the wrinkled and quivering face, the old eyes weeping
and winking, the broken voice. "Ah, sir," said Arthur, with a groan.
"You have brought pain enough on me, spare me this. You have wished me
to marry Blanche. I marry her. For God's sake, sir, rise, I can't
bear it.
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