Your poor mother's eyes and hair--my father's splendid brow and lip; and your figure, even now so stately! They will court you: you will have lords and great men enough at your feet; but you will never forget this night, nor the agony of your father's death-bed face, and the brand they have burned in his heart.

And now, Constance, give me the Bible in which you read to me this morning: that will do:--stand away from the light and fix your eyes on mine, and listen as if your soul were in your ears.
"When I was a young man, toiling my way to fortune through the labours of the Bar,--prudent, cautious, indefatigable, confident of success,--certain lords, who heard I possessed genius, and thought I might become their tool, came to me, and besought me to enter parliament.

I told them I was poor--was lately married--that my public ambition must not be encouraged at the expense of my private fortunes.
They answered, that they pledged themselves those fortunes should be their care.

I yielded; I deserted my profession; I obeyed their wishes; I became famous--and a ruined man! They could not dine without me; they could not sup without me; they could not get drunk without me; no pleasure was sweet but in my company.

What mattered it that, while I ministered to their amusement, I was necessarily heaping debt upon debt--accumulating miseries for future years--laying up bankruptcy, and care, and shame, and a broken heart, and an early death?
But listen, Constance! Are you listening ?--attentively ?--Well! note now, I am a just man.