We fund our winnings, and consider to refund, a work of supererogation—In looking after my father, I obey the old adage, "Follow your nose."
As soon as we were in the street, I commenced an inquiry as to the Major's motives. "Not one word, my dear fellow, until we are at home," replied he. As soon as we arrived, he threw himself in a chair, and crossing his legs, commenced: "You observe, Newland, that I am very careful that you should do nothing to injure your character. As for my own, all the honesty in the world will not redeem it; nothing but a peerage will ever set me right again in this world, and a coronet will cover a multitude of sins. I have thought it my duty to add something to our finances, and intend to add very considerably to them before we leave Cheltenham. You have won one hundred and twenty-eight pounds."
"Yes," replied I; "but you have lost it."
"Granted; but, as in most cases, I never mean to pay my losses, you see that it must be a winning speculation as long as we play against each other."
"I perceive," replied I; "but am not I a confederate?"
"No; you paid when you lost, and took your money when you won. Leave me to settle my own debts of honour."
"But you will meet him again to-morrow night."
"Yes, and I will tell you why. I never thought it possible that we could have met two such bad players at the club. We must now play against them, and we must win in the long run: by which means I shall pay off the debt I owe him, and you will win and pocket money."
"Ah," replied I, "if you mean to allow him a chance for his money, I have no objection—that will be all fair."
"Depend upon it, Newland, when I know that people play as badly as they do, I will not refuse them; but when we sit down with others, it must be as it was before—we must play against each other, and I shall owe the money. I told the fellow that I never would pay him."
"Yes; but he thought you were only joking."
"That is his fault—I was in earnest. I could not have managed this had it not been that you are known to be a young man of ten thousand pounds per annum, and supposed to be my dupe. I tell you so candidly; and now good-night."
I turned the affair over in my mind as I undressed—it was not honest—but I paid when I lost, and I only took the money when I won,—still I did not like it; but the bank notes caught my eye as they lay on the table, and—I was satisfied. Alas! how easy are scruples removed when we want money! How many are there who, when in a state of prosperity and affluence, when not tried by temptation, would have blushed at the bare idea of a dishonest action, have raised and held up their hands in abhorrence, when they have heard that others have been found guilty; and yet, when in adversity, have themselves committed the very acts which before they so loudly condemned! How many of the other sex, who have expressed their indignation and contempt at those who have fallen, when tempted, have fallen themselves! Let us therefore be charitable; none of us can tell to what we may be reduced by circumstances; and when we acknowledge that the error is great, let us feel sorrow and pity rather than indignation, and pray that we also may not be "led into temptation"
As agreed upon, the next evening we repaired to the club, and found the two gentlemen ready to receive us. This time the Major refused to play unless it was with me, as I had such good fortune, and no difficulty was made by our opponents. We sat down and played till four o'clock in the morning. At first, notwithstanding our good play, fortune favoured our adversaries; but the luck soon changed, and the result of the evening was, that the Major had a balance in his favour of forty pounds, and I rose a winner of one hundred and seventy-one pounds, so that in two nights we had won three hundred and forty-two pounds. For nearly three weeks this continued, the Major not paying when not convenient, and we quitted Cheltenham with about eight hundred pounds in our pockets; the Major having paid about one hundred and twenty pounds to different people who frequented the club; but they were Irishmen, who were not to be trifled with. I proposed to the Major that we should pay those debts, as there still would be a large surplus: he replied, "Give me the money." I did so. "Now," continued he, "so far your scruples are removed, as you will have been strictly honest; but, my dear fellow, if you know how many debts of this sort are due to me, of which I never did touch one farthing, you would feel as I do—that it is excessively foolish to part with money. I have them all booked here, and may some day pay—when convenient; but, at present, most decidedly it is not so." The Major put the notes into his pocket, and the conversation was dropped.
The next morning we had ordered our horses, when Timothy came up to me, and made a sign, as we were at breakfast, for me to come out. I followed him.
"Oh! sir, I could not help telling you, but there is a gentleman with—"
"With what?" replied I, hastily.
"With your nose, sir, exactly—and in other respects very like you—just about the age your father should be."
"Where is he, Timothy?" replied I, all my feelings in 'search of my father,' rushing into my mind.
"Down below, sir, about to set off in a post-chaise and four, now waiting at the door."
I ran down with my breakfast napkin in my hand, and hastened to the portico of the hotel—he was in his carriage, and the porter was then shutting the door. I looked at him. He was, as Timothy said, very like me indeed, the nose exact. I was breathless, and I continued to gaze.
"All right," cried the ostler.
"I beg your pardon, sir,—" said I, addressing the gentleman in the carriage, who perceiving a napkin in my hand, probably took me for one of the waiters, for he replied very abruptly, 'I have remembered you;' and pulling up the glass, away whirled the chariot, the nave of the hind wheel striking me a blow on the thigh which numbed it so, that it was with difficulty I could limp up to our apartments, when I threw myself on the sofa in a state of madness and despair.
"Good heavens, Newland, what is the matter?" cried the Major.
"Matter," replied I, faintly. "I have seen my father."
"Your father, Newland? you must be mad. He was dead before you could recollect him—at least so you told me. How then, even if it were his ghost, could you have recognised him?"
The Major's remarks reminded me of the imprudence I had been guilty of.
"Major," replied I, "I believe I am very absurd; but he was so like me, and I have so often longed after my father, so long wished to see him face to face—that—that—I'm a great fool, that's the fact."
"You must go to the next world, my good fellow, to meet him face to face, that's clear; and I presume, upon a little consideration, you will feel inclined to postpone your journey. Very often in your sleep I have heard you talk about your father, and wondered why you should think so much about him."
"I cannot help it," replied I. "From my earliest days my father has ever been in my thoughts."
"I can only say, that very few sons are half so dutiful to their fathers' memories—but finish your breakfast, and then we start for London."
I complied with his request as well as I could, and we were soon on our road. I fell into a reverie—my object was to again find out this person, and I quietly directed Timothy to ascertain from the post-boys the directions he gave at the last stage. The Major perceiving me not inclined to talk, made but few observations; one, however struck me. "Windermear," said he, "I recollect one day, when I was praising you, said carelessly, 'that you were a fine young man, but a little tête montée upon one point.' I see now it must have been upon this." I made no reply, but it certainly was a strange circumstance that the Major never had any suspicions on this point—yet he certainly never had. We had once or twice talked over my affairs. I had led him to suppose that my father and mother died in my infancy, and that I should have had a large fortune when I came of age; but this had been entirely by indirect replies, not by positive assertions; the fact was, that the Major, who was an adept in all deceit, never had an idea that he could have been deceived by one so young, so prepossessing, and apparently so ingenuous as myself. He had, in fact, deceived himself. His ideas of my fortune arose entirely from my asking him, whether he would have refused the name of Japhet for ten thousand pounds per annum. Lord Windermear, after having introduced me, did not consider it at all necessary to acquaint the Major with my real history, as it was imparted to him in confidence. He allowed matters to take their course, and me to work my own way in the world. Thus do the most cunning overreach themselves, and with their eyes open to any deceit on the part of others, prove quite blind when they deceive themselves.
Timothy could not obtain any intelligence from the people of the inn at the last stage, except that the chariot had proceeded to London. We arrived late at night, and, much exhausted, I was glad to go to bed.
In following my nose, I narrowly escaped being nosed by a Beak.
And as I lay in my bed, thinking that I was now nearly twenty years old, and had not yet made any discovery, my heart sank within me. My monomania returned with redoubled force, and I resolved to renew my search with vigour. So I told Timothy the next morning, when he came into my room, but from him I received little consolation; he advised me to look out for a good match in a rich wife, and leave time to develop the mystery of my birth; pointing out the little chance I ever had of success.
Town was not full, the season had hardly commenced, and we had few invitations or visits to distract my thoughts from their object. My leg became so painful, that for a week I was on the sofa, Timothy every day going out to ascertain if he could find the person whom we had seen resembling me, and every evening returning without success, I became melancholy and nervous. Carbonnell could not imagine what was the matter with me. At last I was able to walk, and I sallied forth, perambulating, or rather running through street after street, looking into every carriage, so as to occasion surprise to the occupants, who believed me mad; my dress and person were disordered, for I had become indifferent to it, and Timothy himself believed that I was going out of my senses.
At last, after we had been in town about five weeks, I saw the very object of my search, seated in a carriage, of a dark brown colour, arms painted in shades, so as not to be distinguishable but at a near approach; his hat was off, and he sat upright and formally. "That is he!" ejaculated I, and away I ran after the carriage. "It is the nose," cried I, as I ran down the street, knocking every one to the right and left. I lost my hat, but fearful of losing sight of the carriage, I hastened on, when I heard a cry of "Stop him, stop him!" "Stop him," cried I, also, referring to the gentleman in black in the carriage.
"That won't do," cried a man, seizing me by the collar; "I know a trick worth two of that."
"Let me go," roared I, struggling; but he only held me the faster. I tussled with the man until my coat and shirt were torn, but in vain; the crowd now assembled, and I was fast. The fact was, that a pickpocket had been exercising his vocation at the time that I was running past, and from my haste, and loss of my hat, I was supposed to be the criminal. The police took charge of me—I pleaded innocence in vain, and I was dragged before the magistrate, at Marlborough Street. My appearance, the disorder of my dress, my coat and shirt in ribbons, with no hat, were certainly not at all in my favour, when I made my appearance, led in by two Bow Street officers.
"Whom have we here?" inquired the magistrate.
"A pickpocket, sir," replied they.
"Ah! one of the swell mob," replied he. "Are there any witnesses?"
"Yes, sir," replied a young man, coming forward. "I was walking up Bond Street, when I felt a tug at my pocket, and when I turned round, this chap was running away."
"Can you swear to his person?"
There were plenty to swear that I was the person who ran away.
"Now, sir, have you anything to offer in your defence?" said the magistrate.
"Yes, sir," replied I; "I certainly was running down the street; and it may be, for all I know or care, that this person's pocket may have been picked—but I did not pick it. I am a gentleman."
"All your fraternity lay claim to gentility," replied the magistrate; "perhaps you will state why you were running down the street."
"I was running after a carriage, sir, that I might speak to the person inside of it."
"Pray who was the person inside?"
"I do not know, sir."
"Why should you run after a person you do not know."
"It was because of his nose."
"His nose?" replied the magistrate, angrily. "Do you think to trifle with me, sir? You shall now follow your own nose to prison. Make out his committal."
"As you please, sir," replied I; "but still I have told you the truth; if you will allow any one to take a note, I will soon prove my respectability. I ask it in common justice."
"Be it so," replied the magistrate; "let him sit down within the bar till the answer comes."
In less than an hour, my note to Major Carbonnell was answered by his appearance in person, followed by Timothy. Carbonnell walked up to the magistrate, while Timothy asked the officers in an angry tone, what they had been doing to his master. This rather startled them, but both they and the magistrate were much surprised when the Major asserted that I was his most particular friend, Mr Newland, who possessed ten thousand pounds per annum, and who was as well known in fashionable society, as any young man of fortune about town. The magistrate explained what had passed, and asked the Major if I was not a little deranged; but the Major, who perceived what was the cause of my strange behaviour, told him that somebody had insulted me, and that I was very anxious to lay hold of the person, who had avoided me, and who must have been in that carriage.
"I am afraid, that after your explanation, Major Carbonnell, I must, as a magistrate, bind over your friend, Mr Newland, to keep the peace."
To this I consented, the Major and Timothy being taken as recognisances, and then I was permitted to depart. The Major sent for a hackney coach, and when we were going home he pointed out to me the folly of my conduct, and received my promise to be more careful for the future. Thus did this affair end, and for a short time I was more careful in my appearance, and not so very anxious to look into carriages; still, however, the idea haunted me, and I was often very melancholy. It was about a month afterwards, that I was sauntering with the Major, who now considered me to be insane upon that point, and who would seldom allow me to go out without him, when I again perceived the same carriage, with the gentleman inside as before.
"There he is, Major," cried I.
"There is who?" replied he.
"The man so like my father."
"What, in that carriage? that is the Bishop of E——, my good fellow. What a strange idea you have in your head, Newland; it almost amounts to madness. Do not be staring in that way—come along."
Still my head was turned quite round, looking at the carriage after it had passed, till it was out of sight; but I knew who the party was, and for the time I was satisfied, as I determined to find out his address, and call upon him. I narrated to Timothy what had occurred, and referring to the Red Book, I looked out the bishop's town address, and the next day, after breakfast, having arranged my toilet with the utmost precision, I made an excuse to the Major, and set off to Portland Place.
A Chapter of Mistakes—No benefit of Clergy—I attack a Bishop, and am beaten off—The Major hedges upon the filly stakes.
My hand trembled as I knocked at the door. It was opened. I sent in my card, requesting the honour of an audience with his lordship. After waiting a few minutes in an ante-room, I was ushered in. "My lord," said I, in a flurried manner, "will you allow me to have a few minutes' conversation with you alone?"
"This gentleman is my secretary, sir, but if you wish it, certainly, for although he is my confidant, I have no right to insist that he shall be yours. Mr Temple, will you oblige me by going up stairs for a little while."
The secretary quitted the room, the bishop pointed to a chair, and I sat down. I looked him earnestly in the face—the nose was exact, and I imagined that even in the other features I could distinguish a resemblance. I was satisfied that I had a last gained the object of my search. "I believe, sir," observed I, "that you will acknowledge, that in the heat and impetuosity of youth, we often rush into hasty and improvident connections."
I paused, with my eyes fixed upon his. "Very true, my young sir; and when we do we are ashamed, and repent of them afterwards," replied the bishop, rather astonished.
"I grant that, sir," replied I, "but at the same time, we must feel that we must abide by the results, however unpleasant."
"When we do wrong, Mr Newland," replied the bishop, first looking at my card, and then upon me, "we find that we are not only to be punished in the next world, but suffer for it also in this. I trust you have no reason for such suffering?"
"Unfortunately, the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, and, in that view, I may say that I have suffered."
"My dear sir," replied the bishop, "I trust you will excuse me, when I say, that my time is rather valuable; if you have anything of importance to communicate—anything upon which you would ask my advice—for assistance you do not appear to require, do me the favour to proceed at once to the point."
"I will, sir, be as concise as the matter will admit of. Allow me, then, to ask you a few questions, and I trust to your honour, and the dignity of your profession, for a candid answer. Did you not marry a young woman early in life? and were you not very much pressed in your circumstances?"
The bishop stared. "Really, Mr Newland, it is a strange question, and I cannot imagine to what it may lead, but still I will answer it. I did marry early in life, and I was, at that time, not in very affluent circumstances."
"You had a child by that marriage—your eldest born—a boy!"
"That is also true, Mr Newland," replied the bishop, gravely.
"How long is it since you have seen him?"
"It is many years," replied the bishop, putting his handkerchief up to his eyes.
"Answer me, now, sir;—did you not desert him?"
"No, no!" replied the bishop. "It is strange that you should appear to know so much about the matter, Mr Newland, as you could have hardly been born. I was poor then—very poor; but although I could ill afford it, he had fifty pounds from me."
"But, sir," replied I, much agitated; "why have you not reclaimed him?"
"I would have reclaimed him, Mr Newland—but what could I do—he was not to be reclaimed; and now—he is lost for ever."
"Surely, sir, in your present affluence, you must wish to see him again?"
"He died, and I trust he has gone to heaven," replied the bishop, covering up his face.
"No, sir," replied I, throwing myself on my knees before him, "he did not die, here he is at your feet, to ask your blessing."
The bishop sprang from his chair. "What does this mean, sir?" said he, with astonishment. "You my son!"
"Yes, reverend father—your son; who, with fifty pounds you left—"
"On the top of the Portsmouth coach!"
"No, sir, in the basket."
"My son! sir,—impossible; he died in the hospital."
"No, sir, he has come out of the hospital," replied I; "and as you perceive, safe and well."
"Either, sir, this must be some strange mistake, or you must be trifling with me," replied his lordship; "for, sir, I was at his death-bed, and followed him to his grave."
"Are you sure of that, sir?" replied I, starting up with amazement.
"I wish that I was not, sir—for I am now childless; but pray, sir, who, and what are you, who know so much of my former life, and who would have thus imposed upon me?"
"Imposed upon you, sir!" replied I, perceiving that I was in error. "Alas! I would do no such thing. Who am I? I am a young man who is in search of his father. Your face, and especially your nose, so resembled mine, that I made sure that I had succeeded. Pity me, sir—pity me," continued I, covering up my face with my hands.
The bishop, perceiving that there was little of the impostor in my appearance, and that I was much affected, allowed a short time for me to recover myself, and then entered into an explanation. When a curate, he had had an only son, very wild, who would go to sea in spite of his remonstrances. He saw him depart by the Portsmouth coach, and gave him the sum mentioned. His son received a mortal wound in action, and was sent to the Plymouth hospital, where he died. I then entered into my explanation in a few concise sentences, and with a heart beating with disappointment, took my leave. The bishop shook hands with me as I quitted the room, and wished me better success at my next application.
I went home almost in despair. Timothy consoled me as well as he could, and advised me to go as much as possible into society, as the most likely chance of obtaining my wish, not that he considered there was any chance, but he thought that amusement would restore me to my usual spirits. "I will go and visit little Fleta," replied I, "for a few days; the sight of her will do me more good than anything else." And the next day I set off for the town of ——, where I found the dear little girl, much grown, and much improved. I remained with her for a week, walking with her in the country, amusing her, and amused myself with our conversation. At the close of the week I bade her farewell, and returned to the Major's lodgings.
I was astonished to find him in deep mourning. "My dear Carbonnell," said I, inquiringly, "I hope no severe loss?"
"Nay, my dear Newland, I should be a hypocrite if I said so; for there never was a more merry mourner, and that's the truth of it. Mr M——, who, you know, stood between me and the peerage, has been drowned in the Rhone; I now have a squeak for it. His wife has one daughter, and is enceinte. Should the child prove a boy, I am done for, but if a girl, I must then come in to the barony, and fifteen thousand pounds per annum. However, I've hedged pretty handsomely."
"How do you mean?"
"Why they say that when a woman commences with girls, she generally goes on, and the odds are two to one that Mrs M—— has a girl. I have taken the odds at the clubs to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds; so if it be a girl I shall have to pay that out of my fifteen thousand pounds per annum, as soon as I fall into it; if it be a boy, and I am floored, I shall pocket thirty thousand pounds by way of consolation for the disappointment. They are all good men."
"Yes, but they know you never pay."
"They know I never do now, because I have no money; but they know I will pay if I come into the estate; and so I will, most honourably, besides a few more thousands that I have in my book."
"I congratulate you, with all my heart, Major. How old is the present Lord B——?"
"I have just been examining the peerage—he is sixtytwo; but he is very fresh and hearty, and may live a long while yet. By-the-bye, Newland, I committed a great error last night at the club. I played pretty high, and lost a great deal of money."
"That is unfortunate."
"That was not the error; I actually paid all my losings, Newland, and it has reduced the stock amazingly. I lost seven hundred and fifty pounds. I know I ought not to have paid away your money, but the fact was, as I was hedging, it would not do not to have paid, as I could not have made up my book as I wished. It is, however, only waiting a few weeks, till Mrs M—— decides my fate, and then, either one way or the other, I shall have money enough. If your people won't give you any more till you are of age, why we must send to a little friend of mine, that's all, and you shall borrow for both of us."
"Borrow!" replied I, not much liking the idea; "they will never lend me money."
"Won't they?" replied the Major; "no fear of that. Your signature, and my introduction, will be quite sufficient."
"We had better try to do without it, Major; I do not much like it."
"Well, if we can, we will; but I have not fifty pounds left in my desk; how much have you?"
"About twenty," replied I, in despair at this intelligence; "but I think there is a small sum left at the banker's; I will go and see." I took up my hat and set off, to ascertain what funds we might have in store.
I am over head and ears in trouble about a lady's ear-rings; commit myself sadly, and am very nearly committed.
I must say, that I was much annoyed at this intelligence. The money-lenders would not be satisfied unless they knew where my estates were, and had examined the will at Doctors' Commons; then all would be exposed to the Major, and I should be considered by him as an impostor. I walked down Pall Mall in a very unhappy mood, so deep in thought, that I ran against a lady, who was stepping out of her carriage at a fashionable shop. She turned round, and I was making my best apologies to a very handsome woman when her ear-rings caught my attention. They were of alternate coral and gold, and the fac-simile in make to the chain given by Nattée to Fleta. During my last visit, I had often had the chain in my hand, and particularly marked the workmanship. To make more sure, I followed into the shop, and stood behind her, carefully examining them, as she looked over a quantity of laces. There could be no doubt. I waited till the lady rose to go away, and then addressed the shopman, asking the lady's name. He did not know—she was a stranger; but perhaps Mr H——, the master, did, and he went back to answer the question. Mr H—— being at that moment busy, the man stayed so long, that I heard the carriage drive off. Fearful of losing sight of the lady, I took to my heels, and ran out of the shop. My sudden flight from the counter, covered with lace, made them imagine that I had stolen some, and they cried out, "Stop thief," as loud as they could, springing over the counter, and pursuing me as I pursued the carriage, which was driven at a rapid pace.
A man perceiving me running, and others, without their hats, following, with the cries of "Stop thief," put out his leg, and I fell on the pavement, the blood rushing in torrents from my nose. I was seized, roughly handled, and again handed over to the police, who carried me before the same magistrate in Marlborough Street.
"What is this?" demanded the magistrate.
"A shoplifter, your worship."
"I am not, sir," replied I; "you know me well enough, I am Mr Newland."
"Mr Newland!" replied the magistrate, suspiciously; "this is strange, a second time to appear before me upon such a charge."
"And just as innocent as before, sir."
"You'll excuse me, sir, but I must have my suspicions this time. Where is the evidence?"
The people of the shop then came forward, and stated what had occurred. "Let him be searched," said the magistrate.
I was searched, but nothing was found upon me. "Are you satisfied now, sir?" inquired I.
"By no means. Let the people go back and look over their laces, and see if any are missing; in the meantime I shall detain you, for it is very easy to get rid of a small article, such as lace, when you are caught."
The men went away, and I wrote a note to Major Carbonnell, requesting his attendance. He arrived at the same time as the shopman, and I told him what had happened. The shopman declared that the stock was not correct; as far as they could judge, there were two pieces of lace missing.
"If so, I did not take them," replied I.
"Upon my honour, Mr B——," said the Major, to the magistrate, "it is very hard for a gentleman to be treated in this manner. This is the second time that I have been sent for to vouch for his respectability."
"Very true, sir," replied the magistrate; "but allow me to ask Mr Newland, as he calls himself, what induced him to follow a lady into the shop?"
"Her ear-rings," replied I.
"Her ear-rings! why, sir, the last time you were brought before me, you said it was after a gentleman's nose—now it appears you were attracted by a lady's ears; and pray, sir, what induced you to run out of the shop?"
"Because I wanted particularly to inquire about her ear-rings, sir."
"I cannot understand these paltry excuses; there are, it appears, two pieces of lace missing. I must remand you for further examination, sir; and you also, sir," said the magistrate, to Major Carbonnell; "for if he is a swindler, you must be an accomplice."
"Sir," replied Major Carbonnell, sneeringly, "you are certainly a very good judge of a gentleman, when you happen by accident to be in his company. With your leave, I will send a note to another confederate."
The Major then wrote a note to Lord Windermear, which he despatched by Timothy, who, hearing I was in trouble, had accompanied the Major. And while he was away, the Major and I sat down, he giving himself all manner of airs, much to the annoyance of the magistrate, who at last threatened to commit him immediately. "You'll repent this," replied the Major, who perceived Lord Windermear coming in.
"You shall repent it, sir, by God," cried the magistrate, in a great passion.
"Put five shillings in the box for swearing, Mr B——. You fine other people," said the Major. "Here is my other confederate, Lord Windermear."
"Carbonnell," said Lord Windermear, "what is all this?"
"Nothing, my lord, except that our friend Newland is taken up for shoplifting, because he thought proper to run after a pretty woman's carriage; and I am accused by his worship of being his confederate. I could forgive his suspicions of Mr Newland in that plight; but as for his taking me for one of the swell mob, it proves a great deficiency of judgment; perhaps he will commit your lordship also, as he may not be aware that your lordship's person is above caption."
"I can assure you, sir," said Lord Windermear, proudly, "that this is my relative, Major Carbonnell, and the other is my friend, Mr Newland. I will bail them for any sum you please."
The magistrate felt astonished and annoyed, for, after all, he had only done his duty. Before he could reply, a man came from the shop to say that the laces had been found all right. Lord Windermear then took me aside, and I narrated what had happened. He recollected the story of Fleta in my narrative of my life, and felt that I was right in trying to find out who the lady was. The magistrate now apologised for the detention, but explained to his lordship how I had before made my appearance upon another charge, and with a low bow we were dismissed.
"My dear Mr Newland," said his lordship, "I trust that this will be a warning to you, not to run after other people's noses and ear-rings; at the same time, I will certainly keep a look-out for those very ear-rings myself. Major, I wish you a good morning."
His lordship then shook us both by the hand, and saying that he should be glad to see more of me than he latterly had done, stepped into his carriage and drove off.
"What the devil did his lordship mean about ear-rings, Newland?" inquired the Major.
"I told him that I was examining the lady's ear-rings, as very remarkable," replied I.
"You appear to be able to deceive everybody but me, my good fellow. I know that you were examining the lady herself." I left the Major in his error, by making no reply.
I borrow money upon my estate, and upon very favourable terms.
When I came down to breakfast the next morning, the Major said, "My dear Newland, I have taken the liberty of requesting a very old friend of mine to come and meet you this morning. I will not disguise from you that it is Emmanuel, the money-lender. Money you must have until my affairs are decided, one way or the other; and, in this instance, I will most faithfully repay the sum borrowed, as soon as I receive the amount of my bets, or am certain of succeeding to the title, which is one and the same thing."
I bit my lips, for I was not a little annoyed; but what could be done? I must have either confessed my real situation to the Major, or have appeared to raise scruples, which, as the supposed heir to a large fortune, would have appeared to him to be very frivolous. I thought it better to let the affair take its chance. "Well," replied I, "if it must be, it must be: but it shall be on my own terms."
"Nay," observed the Major, "there is no fear but that he will consent, and without any trouble."
After a moment's reflection I went up stairs and rang for Timothy. "Tim," said I, "hear me; I now make you a solemn promise, on my honour as a gentleman, that I will never borrow money upon interest, and until you release me from it, I shall adhere to my word."
"Very well, sir," replied Timothy; "I guess your reason for so doing, and I expect you will keep your word. Is that all?"
"Yes; now you may take up the urn."
We had finished our breakfast, when Timothy announced Mr Emmanuel, who followed him into the room.
"Well, old cent per cent, how are you?" said the Major. "Allow me to introduce my most particular friend, Mr Newland."
"Auh! Master Major," replied the descendant of Abraham, a little puny creature, bent double with infirmity, and carrying one hand behind his back, as if to counterbalance the projection of his head and shoulders. "You vash please to call me shent per shent. I wish I vash able to make de monies pay that. Mr Newland, can I be of any little shervice to you?"
"Sit down, sit down, Emmanuel. You have my warrant for Mr Newland's respectability, and the sooner we get over the business the better."
"Auh, Mr Major, it ish true, you was recommend many good—no, not always good—customers to me, and I was very much obliged. Vat can I do for your handsome young friend? De young gentlemen always vant money; and it is de youth which is de time for de pleasure and enjoyment."
"He wants a thousand pounds, Emmanuel."
"Dat is a large sum—one tousand pounds' he does not vant any more?"
"No," replied I, "that will be sufficient."
"Vel, den, I have de monish in my pocket. I will just beg de young gentleman to sign a little memorandum, dat I may von day receive my monish."
"But what is that to be?" interrupted I.
"It will be to promise to pay me my monish and only fifteen per shent, when you come into your own."
"That will not do," replied I; "I have pledged my solemn word of honour, that I will not borrow money on interest."
"And you have given de pledge, but you did not swear upon de book?"
"No, but my word has been given, and that is enough; if I would forfeit my word with those to whom I have given it, I would also forfeit my word with you. My keeping my promise, ought to be a pledge to you that I will keep my promise to you."
"Dat is veil said—very veil said; but den we must manage some oder way. Suppose—let me shee—how old are you, my young sir?"
"Past twenty."
"Auh, dat is a very pleasant age, dat twenty. Veil, den, you shall shign a leetle bit of paper, that you pay me £2000 ven you come into your properties, on condition dat I pay now one tousand. Dat is very fair—ish it not, Mr Major?"
"Rather too hard, Emmanuel."
"But de rishque—de rishque, Mr Major."
"I will not agree to those terms," replied I; "you must take your money away, Mr Emmanuel."
"Veil, den—vat vill you pay me?"
"I will sign an agreement to pay you £1500 for the thousand, if you please; if that will not suit you, I will try elsewhere."
"Dat is very bad bargain. How old, you shay?"
"Twenty."
"Vell, I shuppose I must oblige you, and my very goot friend, de Major."
Mr Emmanuel drew out his spectacles, pen, and inkhorn, filled up a bond, and handed it to me to sign. I read it carefully over, and signed it; he then paid down the money, and took his leave.
It may appear strange to the reader that the money was obtained so easily, but he must remember that the Major was considered a person who universally attached himself to young men of large fortune; he had already been the means of throwing many profitable speculations into the hands of Emmanuel, and the latter put implicit confidence in him. The money-lenders also are always on the look out for young men with large fortunes, and have their names registered. Emmanuel had long expected me to come to him, and although it was his intention to have examined more particularly, and not to have had the money prepared, yet my refusal to sign the bond, bearing interest, and my disputing the terms of the second proposal, blinded him completely, and put him off his usual guard.
"Upon my word, Newland, you obtained better terms than I could have expected from the old Hunks."
"Much better than I expected also, Major," replied I; "but now, how much of the money would you like to have?"
"My dear fellow, this is very handsome of you; but, I thank Heaven, I shall be soon able to repay it: but what pleases me, Newland, is your perfect confidence in one whom the rest of the world would not trust with a shilling. I will accept your offer as freely as it is made, and take £500, just to make a show for the few weeks that I am in suspense, and then you will find, that with all my faults, I am rot deficient in gratitude." I divided the money with the Major, and he shortly afterwards went out.
"Well, sir," said Timothy, entering, full of curiosity, "what have you done?"
"I have borrowed a thousand to pay fifteen hundred when I come into my property."
"You are safe then. Excellent, and the Jew will be bit."
"No, Timothy, I intend to repay it as soon as I can."
"I should like to know when that will be."
"So should I, Tim, for it must depend upon my finding out my parentage." Heigho, thought I, when shall I ever find out who is my father?
The Major is very fortunate and very unfortunate—He receives a large sum in gold and one ounce of lead.
I dressed and went out, met Harcourt, dined with him, and on my return the Major had not come home. It was then past midnight, and feeling little inclination to sleep, I remained in the drawing-room, waiting for his arrival. About three o'clock he came in, flushed in the face, and apparently in high good humour.
"Newland," said he, throwing his pocket-book on the table, "just open that, and then you will open your eyes."
I obeyed him, and to my surprise took out a bundle of bank-notes; I counted up their value, and they amounted to £3500.
"You have been fortunate, indeed."
"Yes," replied the Major; "knowing that in a short time I shall be certain of cash, one way or the other, I had resolved to try my luck with the £500. I went to the hazard table, and threw in seventeen times—hedged upon the deuce ace, and threw out with it—voila. They won't catch me there again in a hurry—luck like that only comes once in a man's life; but, Japhet, there is a little drawback to all this. I shall require your kind attendance in two or three hours."
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Merely an affair of honour. I was insulted by a vagabond, and we meet at six o'clock."
"A vagabond—but surely, Carbonnell, you will not condescend—"
"My dear fellow, although as great a vagabond as there is on the face of the earth, yet he is a peer of the realm, and his title warrants the meeting—but, after all, what is it?"
"I trust it will be nothing, Carbonnell, but still it may prove otherwise."
"Granted; and what then, my dear Newland? we all owe Heaven a death, and if I am floored, why then I shall no longer be anxious about title or fortune."
"It's a bad way of settling a dispute," replied I, gravely.
"There is no other, Newland. How would society be held in check if it were not for duelling? We should all be a set of bears living in a bear-garden. I presume you have never been out?"
"Never," replied I, "and had hoped that I never should have."
"Then you must have better fortune, or better temper than most others, if you pass through life without an affair of this kind on your hands. I mean as principal, not as second. But, my dear fellow, I must give you a little advice, relative to your behaviour as a second; for I'm very particular on these occasions, and like that things should be done very correctly. It will never do, my dear Newland, that you appear on the ground with that melancholy face. I do not mean that you should laugh, or even smile, that would be equally out of character, but you should show yourself perfectly calm and indifferent. In your behaviour towards the other second, you must be most scrupulously polite, but, at the same time, never give up a point of dispute, in which my interest may be concerned. Even in your walk be slow, and move, as much as the ground will allow you, as if you were in a drawing-room. Never remain silent; offer even trivial remarks, rather than appear distract. There is one point of great importance—I refer to choosing the ground, in which, perhaps, you will require my unperceived assistance. Any decided line behind me would be very advantageous to my adversary, such as the trunk of a tree, post, &c.; even an elevated light or dark ground behind me is unadvisable. Choose, if you can, a broken light, as it affects the correctness of the aim; but as you will not probably be able to manage this satisfactorily, I will assist you. When on the ground, after having divided the sun fairly between us, I will walk about unconcernedly, and when I perceive a judicious spot, I will take a pinch of snuff and use my handkerchief, turning at the same time in the direction in which I wish my adversary to be placed. Take your cue from that, and with all suavity of manner, insist as much as you can upon our being so placed. That must be left to your own persuasive powers. I believe I have now stated all that is necessary, and I must prepare my instruments."
The major then went into his own room, and I never felt more nervous or more unhinged than after this conversation. I had a melancholy foreboding—but that I believe every one has, when he, for the first time, has to assist at a mortal rencontre. I was in a deep musing when he returned with his pistols and all the necessary apparatus; and when the Major pointed out to me, and made me once or twice practice the setting of the hair triggers, which is the duty of the second, an involuntary shudder came over me.
"Why, Newland, what is the matter with you? I thought that you had more nerve."
"I probably should show more, Carbonnell, were I the principal instead of the second, but I cannot bear the reflection that some accident should happen to you. You are the only one with whom I have been on terms of friendship, and the idea of losing you, is very, very painful."
"Newland, you really quite unman me, and you may now see a miracle," continued Carbonnell, as he pressed his hand to his eye, "the moisture of a tear on the cheek of a London roué, a man of the world, who has long lived for himself and for this world only. It never would be credited if asserted. Newland, there was a time when I was like yourself—the world took advantage of my ingenuousness and inexperience; my good feelings were the cause of my ruin, and then, by degrees, I became as callous and as hardened as the world itself. My dear fellow, I thought all affection, all sentiment, dried up within me, but it is not the case. You have made me feel that I have still a heart, and that I can love you. But this is all romance, and not fitted for the present time. It is now five o'clock, let us be on the ground early—it will give us an advantage."
"I do not much like speaking to you on the subject, Carbonnell; but is there nothing that you might wish done in case of accident?"
"Nothing—why yes. I may as well. Give me a sheet of paper." The Major sat down and wrote for a few minutes. "Now, send Timothy and another here. Timothy, and you, sir, see me sign this paper, and put my seal to it. I deliver this as my act and deed. Put your names as witnesses." They complied with his request, and then the Major desired Timothy to call a hackney-coach. "Newland," said the Major, putting the paper, folded up, in my pocket, along with the bank notes, "take care of this for me till we come back."
"The coach is at the door, sir," said Timothy, looking at me, as if to say, "What can all this be about?"
"You may come with us and see," said the Major, observing Tim's countenance, "and put that case into the coach." Tim, who knew that it was the Major's case of pistols, appeared still more alarmed, and stood still without obeying the order. "Never mind, Tim, your master is not the one who is to use them," said the Major, patting him on the shoulder.
Timothy, relieved by this intelligence, went down stairs with the pistols; we followed him. Tim mounted on the box, and we drove to Chalk Farm. "Shall the coach wait?" inquired Timothy.
"Yes, by all means," replied I, in a low voice. We arrived at the usual ground, where disputes of this kind were generally settled; and the Major took a survey of it with great composure.
"Now observe, Japhet," said he, "if you can contrive—; but here they are. I will give you the notice agreed upon." The peer, whose title was Lord Tineholme, now came up with his second, whom he introduced to me as Mr Osborn. "Mr Newland," replied the Major, saluting Mr Osborn in return. We both took off our hats, bowed, and then proceeded to our duty. I must do my adversary's second the justice to say, that his politeness was fully equal to mine. There was no mention, on either side, of explanations and retractions—the insult was too gross, and the character of his lordship, as well as that of Major Carbonnell, was too well known. Twelve paces were proposed by Mr Osborn, and agreed to by me—the pistols of Major Carbonnell were gained by drawing lots—we had nothing more to do but to place our principals. The Major took out his snuff-box, took a pinch, and blew his nose, turning towards a copse of beech trees.
"With your permission, I will mark out the ground, Mr Osborn," said I, walking up to the Major, and intending to pace twelve paces in the direction towards which he faced.
"Allow me to observe that I think a little more in this direction, would be more fair for both parties," said Mr Osborn.
"It would so, my dear sir," replied I, "but, submitting to your superior judgment, perhaps it may not have struck you that my principal will have rather too much of the sun. I am incapable of taking any advantage, but I should not do my duty if I did not see every justice done to the Major, who has confided to me in this unpleasant affair. I put it to you, sir, as a gentleman and man of honour, whether I am claiming too much?" A little amicable altercation took place on this point, but finding that I would not yield, and that at every reply I was more and more polite and bland in my deportment, Mr Osborn gave up the point. I walked the twelve paces, and Mr Osborn placed his principal. I observed that Lord Tineholme did not appear pleased; he expostulated with him, but it was then too late. The pistols had been already loaded—the choice was given to his lordship, and Major Carbonnell received the other from my hand, which actually trembled, while his was firm. I requested Mr Osborn to drop the handkerchief, as I could not make up my mind to give a signal which might be fatal to the Major. They fired—Lord Tineholme fell immediately—the Major remained on his feet for a second or two, and then sank down on the ground. I hastened up to him. "Where are you hurt?"
The Major put his hand to his hip—"I am hit hard, Newland, but not so hard as he is. Run and see."
I left the Major, and went up to where Lord Tineholme lay, his head raised on the knee of his second.
"It is all over with him, Mr Newland, the ball has passed through his brain."