“It seems a strange infatuation; but I have remarked, that, let the weather be what it may, neither cold nor heat, nor storm nor shine, ever keeps Mark Hurdlestone from church.  He is still in the old place; his fine grey locks flowing over his shoulders, with as proud and aristocratic an expression on his countenance as if his head were graced with a coronet, instead of being bound about with an old red handkerchief, which he wears in lieu of a hat; the rest of his person clothed in rags, which a beggar would spurn from him in disdain.”

“Is he insensible to the disgust which his appearance must excite?”

“He seems perfectly at ease.  His mind is too much absorbed in mental calculations to care for the opinion of any one.  If you sit in the family pew, which I advise you to do, you will have to exercise great self-control to avoid laughing at his odd appearance.”

“I am too much humiliated by his deplorable aberration of mind to feel the least inclination to mirth.  I wish that I could learn to respect and love him as a father should be respected and loved; but since my last visit to Ashton my heart is hardened against him.  A dislike almost amounting to loathing, has usurped the place of the affection which nature ever retains for those who are bound together by kindred ties.”

“If you were more accustomed to witness his eccentricities you would be less painfully alive to their absurdity.  Use almost reconciles us to anything.  If you were to inhabit the same house with Mark Hurdlestone, and were constantly to listen to his arguments on the love of money, you might possibly fall in love with hoarding, and become like him a worshipper of gold.”

“Avarice generally produces a reaction in the minds of those who witness its effects,” said Anthony.  “I will not admit the truth of your proposition, for experience has proved that the son of a miser commonly ends in being a spendthrift.”

“With some exceptions,” said Frederic Wildegrave, with a good-humored smile.  “But really, when he pleases, your father can be a sensible, agreeable companion, and quite the gentleman.  The other day I had a long chat with him, partly upon business, partly from curiosity.  I wanted to buy from him an odd angle of ground, about half an acre, that made an awkward bite into a favorite field.  I went to him, and, knowing his habits, I offered him at once the full value of the land.  He saw that my heart was set upon the purchase, and he trebled the price.  I laughed at him; and we held a long palaver of about two hours, and never came one inch nearer to the settlement of the question.  At length I pulled out my purse, and counted the gold down upon the table before him.  ’There is the money,’ I said.  ’I have offered you, Mr. Hurdlestone, the full value of the land.  You can take it or leave it.’