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my departure and her tears-castle building of every description. After the coach stopped, there I remained fixed on the top of it
, not aware that we were in London until the coachman asked me whether the spirit did not move me to get down. I recollected myself, and calling a hackney-coach, gave orders to be driven to the Piazza, Covent Garden.
“ Piazza, Common Garden," said the waterman, “why that ban't an 'otel for the like o' you, master. They'll torment you to death, them young chaps."
I had forgotten that I was dressed as a Quaker. “ Tell the coachman to stop at the first cloth warehouse where they have ready-made cloaks,” said I. The man did so; I went out and purchased a roquelaure, which enveloped my whole person. I then stopped at a hatter's, and purchased a hat according to the mode. “ Now drive to the Piazza,” said I, entering the coach. I know not why, but I was resolved to go to that hotel. It was the one I had stayed at when I first arrived in London, and I wished to see it again. When the hackney coach stopped, I asked the waiter who came out whether he had apartments, and answering me in the affirmative, I followed him, and was shown into the same rooms I had previously occupied. “ These will do," said I, “ now let me have something to eat, and send for a good tailor.” The waiter offered to remove my cloak, but I refused, saying that I was cold. He left the room, and I threw myself on the sofa, running over all the scenes which had passed in that room with Carbonnell, Harcourt, and others. My thoughts were broken in upon by the arrival of the tailor. “ Stop a moment,” said I, “and let him come in when I ring.” So ashamed was I of my Quaker's dress, that I threw off my coat and waistcoat, and put on my cloak again before I rang the bell for the tailor to come up. “ Mr. —," said I, “I must have a suit of clothes ready by tomorrow at ten o'clock."
Impossible, sir.” “ Impossible !” said I, “ and you pretend to be a fashionable tailor. Leave the room."
At this peremptory behaviour the tailor imagined that I must be somebody
“ I will do my possible, sir, and if I can only get home in time to start the workmen, I think it may be managed. Of course you are aware of the expense of night work.”
“I am only aware of this, that if I give an order I am accustomed to have it obeyed; I learnt that from my poor friend, Major Carbonnell.”
The tailor bowed low; there was magic in the name, although the man was dead.
“ Here have I been masquerading in a Quaker's dress, to please a puritannical young lady, and I am obliged to be off without any other clothes in my portmanteau ; so take my measure, and I expect the clothes at ten precisely." So saying, I threw off my roquelaure, and desired him to proceed. This accomplished, the tradesman took his leave. Shortly afterwards, the door opened, and as I lay wrapped up in my cloak on the sofa, in came the landlord and two waiters, each bearing a dish of my supper. I wished them at the devil; but I was still more surprised when the landlord made a low bow, saying, “ Happy to see you returned, Mr. Newland; you've been away some time-another grand tour, I presume.”
“ Yes, Mr. - I have had a few adventures since I was last here,” replied I, carelessly, “but I am not very well. You may leave the supper, and if I feel inclined, I will take a little by-and-bye,-no one need wait."
The landlord and waiter bowed and went out of the room. I turned the key of the door, put on my Quaker's coat, and made a hearty supper, for I had had nothing since breakfast. When I had finished, I returned to the sofa, and I could not help analyzing my own conduct. “ Alas,” thought I, “ Susannah, how rightly did you judge me! I am not away from you more than eighteen hours, and here I am ashamed of the dress which I have so long worn, and been satisfied with, in your society. Truly did you say that I was full of pride, and would joyfully re-enter the world of vanity and vexation.” And I thought of Susannah, and her tears after my supposed departure, and I felt angry and annoyed at my want of strength of mind and my worldly feelings.
I retired early to bed, and did not wake until late the next morning. When I rang the bell, the chambermaid brought in my clothes from the tailor's : I dressed, and I will not deny that I was pleased with the alteration. After breakfast I ordered a coach, and drove to No. 16, Throgmorton Court, Minories. The house was dirty outside, and the windows had not been cleaned apparently for years, and it was with some difficulty when I went in that I could decypher a tall, haggard-looking man seated at the desk.
“ Your pleasure, sir," said he.
“ I come to you, sir, relative to an advertisement which appeared in the papers. I refer to this,” continued I, putting the newspaper down on the desk, and pointing to the advertisement.
"Oh, yes, very true: can you give us any information ?” “ Yes, sir, I can, and the most satisfactory."
“ Then, sir, I am sorry that you have had so much trouble, but you must call at Lincoln's Inn upon a lawyer of the name of Masterton; the whole affair is now in his hands."
“ Can you, sir, inform me who is the party that is inquiring after this young man?
Why, yes; it is a General De Benyon, who has lately returned from the East Indies."
“ Good God! is it possible !” thought I; “ how strange that my own wild fancy should have settled upon him as my father !”.
I hurried away; threw myself into the hackney-coach, and desired the man to drive to Lincoln's Inn. I hastened up to Mr. Masterton's rooms : he was fortunately at home, although he stood at the table with his hat and his great coat on, ready to go out.
My dear sir, have you forgotten me?" said I, in a voice choked with emotion, taking his hand and squeezing it with rapture.
“By heavens, you are determined that I shall not forget you for some minutes, at least,” exclaimed he, wringing his hand with pain. 6 Who the devil are you?”. Mr. Masterton could not see without his spectacles, and my
subdued voice he had not recognised. He pulled them out, as I made no reply, and fixing them across his nose—“ Hah! why yes—it is Japhet, is it not ? "
“ It is indeed, sir," said I, offering my hand, which he shook warmly.
“ Not quite so hard, my dear fellow, this time,” said the old lawyer; “I acknowledge your vigour, and that is sufficient. I am very glad to see you, Japhet, I am indeed-you-you scamp-you ungrateful fellow. Sit down sit down—first help me off with my great coat: I presume the advertisement has brought you into existence again. Well, it's all true; and you have at last found your father, or, rather, he has found you. And what's more strange, you hit
upon the right person; that is strange-very strange indeed." “ Where is he, sir ?” interrupted I, “ where is he-take me to him.”
“ No, rather be excused," replied Mr. Masterton, “ for he is gone to Ireland, so you must wait.”
“ Wait, sir, oh no— -I must follow him."
“ That will only do harm ; for he is rather a queer sort of old gentleman, and although he acknowledges that he left you as Japhet and has searched for you, yet he is so afraid of somebody else's brat being put upon him that he insists upon most undeniable proofs. Now we cannot trace you from the hospital unless we can find that fellow Cophagus, and we have made every search after him, and no one can tell where he is.”
“ But I left him but yesterday morning, sir," replied I, “and Timothy as well.”
“Good—very good; we must send for him or go to him; besides, he has the packet intrusted to the care of Miss Maitland, to whom he was executor, which proves the marriage of your father. Very strange -very strange indeed, that you should have hit upon it as you did almost supernatural. However, all right now, my dear boy, and I congratulate you. Your father is a very strange person: he has lived like a despot among slaves all his life, and will not be thwarted, I can
If you say a word in contradiction he'll disinherit you terrible old tiger, I must say. If it had not been for your sake, I should have done with him long ago. He seems to think the world ought to be at his feet. Depend upon it, Japhet, there is no hurry about seeing him ;-and see him you shall not, until we have every proof of your identity ready to produce to him. I hope you have the bump of veneration strong, Japhet, and plenty of filial duty, or you will be kicked out of the house in a week. D-n me, if he didn't call me an old thief of a lawyer.”
“ Indeed, sir," replied I, laughing ; “I must apologize to you for my father's conduct.
“ Never mind, Japhet ; I don't care about a trifle; but why don't you ask after your friends ?”
“I have longed so to do, sir," replied I. 6 Lord Windermear“Is quite well, and will be most happy to see you."
Lady de Clare, and her daughter“ Lady de Clare has entered into society again, and her daughter, as you call her-your Fleta, alias Cecilia de Clare-is the belle of the metropolis. But now, sir, as I have answered all your interrogatories, and satisfied you upon the most essential points, will you
favour me with a narrative of your adventures, (for adventures I am sure you must have had,) since you ran away from us all in that ungrateful manner.”
“ Most certainly, sir, I will ; and as you say, I have had adventures. But it really will be a long story."
“ Then we'll dine here, and pass the evening together-so that's settled.”
I dismissed the coach, while Mr. Masterton gave his orders for dinner, and we then turned the key of the door to avoid intrusion, and I commenced. It was nearly dinner time before I had finished my story. “Well
, you really appear to be born for getting into scrapes, and getting out of them again in a miraculous way,” observed Mr. Master-ton. “ Your life would make a novel.”
" It would indeed, sir,” replied I. “I only hope, like all novels, it will wind up well."
“ So do 1 ; but dinner's ready, Japhet, and after dinner we'll talk the matter over again, for there are some points upon which I require some explanation."
We sat down to dinner, and when we had finished, and the table had been cleared, we drew to the fire, with our bottle of wine. Mr. Masterton stirred the fire, called for his slippers, and then crossing his legs over the fender, resumed the subject.
“ Japhet, I consider it most fortunate that we have met, previous to your introduction to your father. You have so far to congratulate yourself, that your family is undeniably good, there being, as you know, an Irish peerage in it; of which, however, you have no chance, as the present earl has a numerous offspring. You are also fortunate as far as money is concerned, as I have every reason to believe that your father is a very rich man, and of course you are his only child ; but I must now prepare you to meet with a very different person than perhaps the fond anticipations of youth may have led you to expect. Your father has no paternal feelings that I can discover; he has wealth, and he wishes to leave it—he has therefore sought you out. But he is despotic, violent, and absurd; the least opposition to his will makes him furious, and I am sorry to add, that I am afraid that he is very mean. He suffered severely when young from poverty, and his own father was almost as authoritative and unforgiving as himself. And now I will state how it was that you were left at the Asylum when an infant. Your grandfather had procured for your father a commission in the army, and soon afterwards procured him a lieutenancy. He ordered him to marry a young lady of large fortune, whom he had never seen, and sent for him for that purpose. I understand that she was very beautiful, and had your father seen her, it
is probable he would have made no objection, but he very foolishly sent a peremptory refusal, for which he was dismissed for ever.
In a short time afterwards your father fell in love with a young lady of great personal attractions, and supposed to possess a large fortune. To deceive her he pretended to be the heir to the earldom, and, after a hasty courtship, they ran off, and were married. When they compared notes, which they soon did, it was discovered that on his side, he had nothing but the pay of a subaltern, and on hers, that she had not one shilling. Your father stormed, and called his wife an impostor ; she recriminated, and the second morning after the marriage was passed in tears on her side, and oaths and revilings on his. The lady, however, appeared the most sensible party of the two. Their marriage was not known, she had run away on a pretence to visit a relative, and it was actually supposed in the country town where she resided, that such was the case. Why should we quarrel in this way?' observed she. • You, Edmund, wished to marry a and not me--I may plead guilty to the same duplicity. We have made a mistake ; but it is not too late. It is supposed that I am on a visit to
and that you are on furlough for a few days. Did you confide your secret to any of your brother officers ?' • Not one,' muttered my father. Well, then, let us part as if nothing had happened, and nobody will be the wiser. We are equally interested in keeping the secret. Is it agreed ?' Your father immediately consented. He accompanied your mother to the house at where she was expected, and she framed a story for her delay, by having met such a very polite young man. Your father returned to his regiment, and thus did they, like two privateers, who, when they meet and engage, as soon as they find out their mistake, hoist their colours, and sheer off by mutual consent."
“I can't say much for my mother's affection or delicacy," observed I.
“ The less you say the better, Japhet-however, that is your father's story.
And now to proceed. It appears that about two months afterwards, your father received a letter from your mother, acquainting him that their short intercourse had been productive of certain results, and requesting that he would take the necessary steps to provide for the child, and avoid exposure, or that she would be obliged to confess her marriage. By what means they contrived to avoid exposure until the period of her confinement, I know not, but your father states that the child was born in a house in London, and by agreement was instantly put into his hands; that he, with the consent of his wife, left you at the door of the asylum, with the paper and the bank note, from which you received the name of Newland. At the time he had no idea of reclaiming you himself, but the mother had, for heartless as she appears to have been, yet a mother must feel for her child. Your father's regiment was then ordered out to the East Indies, and he was rapidly promoted for his gallantry and good conduct during the war in the Mysore territory. Once only has he returned home on furlough, and then he did make inquiries after you;
appears, with a view of finding you out on his own account, but from a promise which he made your mother.”