“My dear Clara, you adore the world; and I suppose you have to learn that there is not a question in this wrangling world about which we have not disputes and contests ad nauseam.  I have my notions concerning Crossjay, Vernon has his.  I should wish to make a gentleman of him.  Vernon marks him for a sailor.  But Vernon is the lad’s protector, I am not.  Vernon took him from his father to instruct him, and he has a right to say what shall be done with him.  I do not interfere.  Only I can’t prevent the lad from liking me.  Old Vernon seems to feel it.  I assure you I hold entirely aloof.  If I am asked, in spite of my disapproval of Vernon’s plans for the boy, to subscribe to his departure, I can but shrug, because, as you see, I have never opposed.  Old Vernon pays for him, he is the master, he decides, and if Crossjay is blown from the masthead in a gale, the blame does not fall on me.  These, my dear, are matters of reason.”

“I would not venture to intrude on them,” said Clara, “if I had not suspected that money . . .”

“Yes,” cried Willoughby; “and it is a part.  And let old Vernon surrender the boy to me, I will immediately relieve him of the burden on his purse.  Can I do that, my dear, for the furtherance of a scheme I condemn?  The point is thus:  latterly I have invited Captain Patterne to visit me:  just previous to his departure for the African Coast, where Government despatches Marines when there is no other way of killing them, I sent him a special invitation.  He thanked me and curtly declined.  The man, I may almost say, is my pensioner.  Well, he calls himself a Patterne, he is undoubtedly a man of courage, he has elements of our blood, and the name.  I think I am to be approved for desiring to make a better gentleman of the son than I behold in the father:  and seeing that life from an early age on board ship has anything but made a gentleman of the father, I hold that I am right in shaping another course for the son.”

“Naval officers . . .”  Clara suggested.

“Some,” said Willoughby.  “But they must be men of birth, coming out of homes of good breeding.  Strip them of the halo of the title of naval officers, and I fear you would not often say gentlemen when they step into a drawing-room.  I went so far as to fancy I had some claim to make young Crossjay something different.  It can be done:  the Patterne comes out in his behaviour to you, my love; it can be done.  But if I take him, I claim undisputed sway over him.  I cannot make a gentleman of the fellow if I am to compete with this person and that.  In fine, he must look up to me, he must have one model.”

“Would you, then, provide for him subsequently?”

“According to his behaviour.”

“Would not that be precarious for him?”

“More so than the profession you appear inclined to choose for him?”

“But there he would be under clear regulations.”

“With me he would have to respond to affection.”