CHAPTER VII. To the liege-lord of my dear native land HOME. EARLY, next morning, Philip was summon'd to attend Sir James, in his study. He attended, and found him much ruffled; the native smile of good humor was banish'd from his brow, and it's place usurp'd by the scowl of anger. "Sit down, young man," said he, motioning to a chair. Philip bow'd, and seated himself; and the baronet, after a pause, proceeded. "It is a disagreeable task that is imposed upon me; but my feelings must not prevent me from censuring you, as you merit, for your late ill conduct; as well as cautioning you to keep a curb on your levity, and impetuosity of temper, which will, otherwise, I fear, prove of serious consequence to you, hereafter." "In what have I been so unfortunate as to incur your displeasure, and render this preface necessary?" said Philip. "In what?" repeated Sir James, in an accent of astonishment. Surely this ignorance must be assumed; or your memory is very treacherous. You cannot, I imagine, have forgotten the events of last evening, in which my son, as well as yourself, was concern'd." "I conceive to what your words allude, sir; but, I must own, I was unprepared for the subject; for I thought your son (who, doubtless, is your author) would have conceal'd a circumstance, that must tell against himself, from every ear-particularly, sir, from your's." "Indeed! Well, since you are so well able to censure his conduct, you, doubtless, recollect your own, too?" "Never shall I forget it; 'twill form a subject of pleasing retrospection to my dying day!" "What, you glory, then, in that which you have done; and, doubtless, think it a feather in your cap of youth, that you have presumed to raise your hand against the son benefactor." of your "I would have raised it, in such a cause, against the son of my father!" replied Philip, with much animation. "Rash, and ungrateful, young man! it would better become you to own your fault, and sue for forgiveness, than to evince this exultation, after having offended me, in the person of my boy-and that in defence of a wanton." "Hold!" exclaim'd Philip, starting from his seat; "not a word of disrespect against the innocent, in whose cause I stood forward. You are deceived, sir, grossly duped; and the author of this vile calumny, on one of the most spotless of her sex, is Elijahthe fabricator of a falsehood against a woman!" "False ?" cried Sir James, with increased displeasure. "As God is true!-Oh! sir! would you but listen to the circumstances I could relate on my honor...." "I'll not hear one word on the subject, sir; and I must doubt his honor, who, after having disgraced the son of the man who shelter'd him, by a blow, would seek to extenuate his offence, by accusing him of falsehood. I begin to fear you are incorrigible; and I should be justified in the opinion of the world, were I to discard you, for ever. But, I will have nothing to upbraid myself I caution you; and now, with this once, I caution peremptorily, declare, if you repeat such gross provocation, as the last, that instant will I withdraw my protection from you." "And I must tell you, sir, with the same candor, that I now resign all pretensions to that protection. Believe me, Sir James, I am sensible how much I am indebted to you, for all your former goodness; and my eyes. will never be closed in sleep, until I have breathed a prayer for your prosperity; but here I find it impossible to remain. You have wounded my feelings, have blacken'd me with the charge of ingratitude, have doubted my honor, (the only treasure I possess, and I will cherish it, as I would the apple of my eye) and have reproach'd me with my dependent state. My pride revolts; and, as I have youth and health, I will endeavour, by industry, to secure a competency. To-morrow, I will leave this roof, for ever," (a tear started in his eye, at the idea, but he dash'd it away, indignantly) "and may your domestic comfort, to which I have been an involuntary bar, be perfectly restored by my absence!" He bow'd, respectfully, and hurried out of the study; and, on gaining his own chamber, he gave uncontrol'd vent to the fulness of his heart. He past great part of the day, in making preparations for his removal, and sent to apologise to the family for not attending the dinner-table. In the afternoon, he rallied his spirits, to the best of his ability, and set out, to take a parting leave of his uncle and aunt, as well as to bid a tender adieu to his beloved Rachel. He first went to the cottage of old Treadaway, and found the good man at home; who, as well as Susan, ex |