Where I give one unfortunate a little private lift,
you do the same for a dozen. The idea of YOUR swelling
around the country and petting yourself with the nickname
of Givenaught - intolerable humbug! Before I would be
such a fraud as that, I would cut my right hand off.
Your life is a continual lie. But go on, I have tried MY
best to save you from beggaring yourself by your riotous
charities - now for the thousandth time I wash my hands
of the consequences. A maundering old fool! that's
what you are."
"And you a blethering old idiot!" roared Givenaught,
springing up.
"I won't stay in the presence of a man who has no more
delicacy than to call me such names. Mannerless swine!"
So saying, Herr Heartless sprang up in a passion.
But some lucky accident intervened, as usual, to change
the subject, and the daily quarrel ended in the customary
daily living reconciliation. The gray-headed old
eccentrics parted, and Herr Heartless walked off to his
own castle.
Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence
of Herr Givenaught. He heard her story, and said -
"I am sorry for you, my child, but I am very poor,
I care nothing for bookish rubbish, I shall not be there."
He said the hard words kindly, but they nearly broke poor
Hildegarde's heart, nevertheless.
