I have sung at races, where the rich
and the high-born were congregated, and have received their admiration.
I know what it is worth, Sir Oswald. The same benefactor who throws a
handful of half-pence, offers an insult with his donation."
Sir Oswald contemplated his _protegee_ in silent admiration, and it was
some moments before he continued the conversation.
"Will you walk with me in the garden?" he asked, presently; "that
avenue of beeches is delightful, and--and I think I shall be better
able to say what I wish there, than in this room. At any rate, I shall
feel less afraid of interruption."
Honoria rose to comply with her benefactor's wish, with that
deferential manner which she always preserved in her intercourse with
him, and they walked out upon the velvet lawn. Across the lawn lay the
beech-avenue, and it was thither Sir Oswald directed his steps.
"Honoria," he said, after a silence of some duration, "if you knew how
much doubt--how much hesitation I experienced before I came here to-
day--how much I still question the wisdom of my coming--I think you
would pity me. But I am here, and I must needs speak plainly, if I am
to speak at all. Long ago I tried to think that my interest in your
fate was only a natural impulse of charity--only an ordinary tribute to
gifts so far above the common. I tried to think this, and I acted with
the cold, calculating wisdom of a man of the world, when I marked out
for you a career by which you might win distinction for yourself, and
placed you in the way of following that career.
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