The horror-struck Pembroke waited a quarter of an hour before his
father re-entered. When he did appear, the deep gloom of his eye gave
no encouragement to his son, who, hanging down his head, recoiled
from speaking first. Sir Robert approached with a composed but severe
countenance, and said, "I have been seeking every palliation that
your conduct might admit, but I can find none. Before you quitted
England, you knew well my abhorrence of Poland. One of that country
many years ago wounded my happiness in a way I shall never recover.
From that hour I took an oath never to enter its borders, and never
to suffer one of its people to come within my doors. Rash,
disobedient boy! You know my disposition, and you have seen the
emotion with which this dilemma has shaken my soul! I But be it on
your own head that you have incurred obligations which I cannot
repay. I will not perjure myself to defray a debt contracted against
my positive and declared principles. I never will see this Polander
you speak of; and it is my express command, on pain of my eternal
malediction, that you break with him entirely."
Pembroke fell into a seat. Sir Robert proceeded.
"I pity your distress, but my resolution cannot be shaken. Oaths are
not to be broken with impunity. You must either resign him or resign
me. We may compromise your debt of gratitude. I will give you deeds
to put your friend in possession of five hundred pounds a-year for
life forever; nay, I would even double it to give you satisfaction;
but from the hour in which you tell him so, you must see him no
more.
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