Poor lad! I pity and excuse your indignation; both are natural in your case." "Such sympathy is worse than hate," I muttered.
"Well, believe me the author of all your wrongs, if it pleases you, Geoffrey; but first listen to what I have to say." I was too much exhausted by the violence of my emotions to offer the least opposition, and he had it entirely his own way--commencing his remarks with a provoking coolness which cut me to the heart.
"When you lost your parents, Geoffrey, you were too young to have formed a correct estimate of their characters." "I have a very indistinct recollection of my father.

I remember my mother well." "You may imagine that.

Your father had a fine, manly face, and nature had endowed him with those useless but brilliant qualities of mind, which the world calls genius, and like many of the same class, he acted more from impulse than from principle.

Your mother was a beautiful young woman, but with little discretion, who loved unwisely and too well.

Her father saw enough of my brother Edward's character, to awaken his suspicions that his attentions to his daughter were not of an honourable nature, and he forbade him the house.
"This impolitic step brought matters to a crisis.