Now, my good fellow, that fortune is among
the things that have been. It is gone, Ned, and has been gone--how old
are you? I always forget.'
'Seven-and-twenty, sir.'
'Are you indeed?' cried his father, raising his eyelids in a languishing
surprise. 'So much! Then I should say, Ned, that as nearly as I
remember, its skirts vanished from human knowledge, about eighteen or
nineteen years ago. It was about that time when I came to live in these
chambers (once your grandfather's, and bequeathed by that extremely
respectable person to me), and commenced to live upon an inconsiderable
annuity and my past reputation.'
'You are jesting with me, sir,' said Edward.
'Not in the slightest degree, I assure you,' returned his father with
great composure. 'These family topics are so extremely dry, that I am
sorry to say they don't admit of any such relief. It is for that reason,
and because they have an appearance of business, that I dislike them so
very much. Well! You know the rest. A son, Ned, unless he is old enough
to be a companion--that is to say, unless he is some two or three and
twenty--is not the kind of thing to have about one. He is a restraint
upon his father, his father is a restraint upon him, and they make each
other mutually uncomfortable.
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