“I never told you, my dear Rosamond, that the
beautiful Constance was Mr. Gresham’s daughter;
I told you only that I saw her at his house.
To the best of my belief she is no relation to him.
She is daughter to Mr. Gresham’s sick partner;
and this partner—now, Rosamond, here is
coincidence, if not romance, enough to please you—this
partner is Mr. Panton, the London correspondent of
the shipwrecked Dutch merchants, the very Panton and
Co. to whom my father lately wrote to recommend Godfrey’s
friend, young Captain Henry—captain no more.
I have not seen him yet; he is invisible, in the counting-house,
in the remote city, in ultimate Broad-street, far
as pole from pole from me at Mrs. Panton’s
fine house in Grosvenor-square.
“But now to have done with an old story, before
I begin with a new—I will tell you at once
all I know, or probably shall ever know, about Constance.
She is sole heiress to her father’s fortune,
which, on his repeated word, I believe, amounts to
hundreds of thousands. She is accomplished and
amiable, and, as I told you before, beautiful:
but luckily her style of beauty, which is that of
one of Rubens’ wives, does not particularly strike
my fancy. Besides, I would really and truly rather
have a profession than be an idle gentleman:
I love my profession, and feel ambitious to distinguish
myself in it, and to make you all proud of your brother,
Dr. Percy. These general principles are strengthened
beyond the possibility of doubt, by the particular
circumstances of the present case. A young
unknown physician, I have been introduced by a friend
to this family, and have, in my medical capacity,
been admitted to a degree of familiarity in the house
which none shall ever have cause to repent. Physicians,
I think, are called upon for scrupulous good faith,
because in some respects, they are more trusted in
families, and have more opportunities of intimacy,
than those of any other profession. I know, my
dear Rosamond, you will not suspect me of assuming
fine sentiments that are foreign to my real feelings;
but I must now inform you, that if I could make myself
agreeable and acceptable to Miss Panton, and if it
were equally in my will and in my power, yet I should
never be, in the language of the market, one shilling
the better for her. Her father, a man of low
birth, and having, perhaps, in spite of his wealth,
suffered from the proud man’s contumely, has
determined to ennoble his family by means of his only
child, and she is not to enjoy his fortune unless she
marry one who has a title. If she unites herself
with any man, below the rank of a baron’s son,
he swears she shall never see the colour of sixpence
of his money. I understand that a certain Lord
Roadster, eldest son of Lord Runnymede, is the present
candidate for her favour—or rather for her
