"I wish he may accept your kind offer," said Horatio.
"And why should he not?" said my aunt, with a half inclination of
extricating her hand, and a penetrating glance of doubt, directed full
in the face of the speaker: "I know not," said Horatio, (hesitating, as
if fearful of giving offence), "but,"-"But what?" said my aunt;-"But I
fear his natural love of independence, and eccentricity of mind, will
admit of no constraint, which his high sense of honor will anticipate
must be partially the case whenever he submits himself to accept the
favors of even such generous hearts as yours." "He would feel no
such thing," said my aunt. "He could not resist the impression," said
Horatio; "your liberality would, I know, be calculated to dispossess
him of the painful sensation; but if the inherent pride of the man could
be subdued, or calmed into acquiescence, by breathing the enchanting
air of friendship, the weight of gratitude, the secret monitor of
fine-wrought minds, would overpower his tongue, and leave him, in his
own estimation, a pauper of the poorest class." "Then I'll adopt another
mode," said my aunt; "and though I hate the affectation of secret
charities, because I think the donor of a generous action is well
entitled to his reward, both here and hereafter,--I'll hand out some way,
anonymously or otherwise, to indulge my humour of serving him.
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