"
"This," said Sir Charles, "is a flattering speculation, but so wild and
romantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thought
you undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs
of your busy brain?"
"Excuse me, my practical friend," said Rolfe. "I opened my discourse in
three heads. What I see--what I foresee--and what, with diffidence, I
advise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; never disturb
an artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee is this:
you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when he is
of age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting off
entails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather did
it, and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, that
you may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental or
your Saxon son."
"Never!" shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, "He is my
first-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of a
morbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put
his younger brother in his place--never!"
Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed,
could be carried no farther without serious offense.
"And now for my advice.
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