He laughed my hints to scorn. 'It is
idleness--idleness alone,' he said, 'that puts love-fancies into
girls' heads. Novel-reading, jingling at a pianoforte--merely other
names for idleness--these are the parents of such follies. Anne
Dutton, as mistress of this establishment, has her time fully and
usefully occupied; and when the time comes, not far distant now, to
establish her in marriage, she will wed into a family I wot of; and
the Romford prophecy of which you remind me will be realised, in great
part at least.'
He found, too late, his error. He hastily entered the office one
morning, and although it was only five or six weeks since I had last
seen him, the change in his then florid, prideful features was so
striking and painful, as to cause me to fairly leap upon my feet with
surprise.
'Good Heavens, Dutton!' I exclaimed, 'what is the matter? What has
happened?'
'Nothing has happened, Mr Sharp,' he replied, 'but what you predicted,
and which, had I not been the most conceited dolt in existence, I,
too, must have foreseen. You know that good-looking, idle, and, I
fear, irreclaimable young fellow, George Hamblin?'
'I have seen him once or twice. Has he not brought his father to the
verge of a workhouse by low dissipation and extravagance?'
'Yes. Well, he is an accepted suitor for Anne Dutton's hand. No wonder
that you start.
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