Japhet in Search of a Father Part 26

"Yes, my lord, I intend to search after my father; and I trust that, by husbanding my unexpected resources, I shall now be able."

"You have the credit, in the fashionable world, of possessing a large fortune."

"That is not my fault, my lord: it is through Major Carbonnell's mistake that the world is deceived. Still I must acknowledge myself so far partic.i.p.ator, that I have never contradicted the report."

"Meaning, I presume, by some good match, to reap the advantage of the supposition."

"Not so, my lord, I a.s.sure you. People may deceive themselves, but I will not deceive them."

"Nor undeceive them, Mr Newland?"

"Undeceive them I will not; nay, if I did make the attempt, I should not be believed. They never would believe it possible that I could have lived so long with your relative, without having had a large supply of money. They might believe that I had run through my money, but not that I never had any."

"There is a knowledge of the world in that remark," replied his lordship; "but I interrupted you, so proceed."

"I mean to observe, my lord, and you, by your knowledge of my previous history, can best judge how far I am warranted in saying so, that I have as yet steered the middle course between that which is dishonest and honest. If the world deceives itself, you would say that, in strict honesty, I ought to undeceive it. So I would, my lord, if it were not for my peculiar situation; but at the same time I _never_ will, if possible, be guilty of direct deceit; that is to say, I would not take advantage of my supposed wealth, to marry a young person of large fortune. I would state myself a beggar, and gain her affections as a beggar. A woman can have little confidence in a man who deceives her before marriage."

"Your secret will always be safe with me, Mr Newland; you have a right to demand it. I am glad to hear the sentiments which you have expressed; they are not founded, perhaps, upon the strictest code of morality; but there are many who profess more who do not act up to so much. Still, I wish you would think in what way I may be able to serve you, for your life at present is useless and unprofitable, and may tend to warp still more, ideas which are not quite so strict as they ought to be."

"My lord, I have but one object in allowing the world to continue in their error relative to my means, which is, that it procures for me an entrance into that society in which I have a moral conviction that I shall find my father. I have but one pursuit, one end to attain, which is, to succeed in that search. I return you a thousand thanks for your kind expressions and good will; but I cannot, at present, avail myself of them. I beg your lordship's pardon, but did you ever meet the lady with the ear-rings?"

Lord Windermear smiled. "Really, Mr Newland, you are a very strange person; not content with finding out your own parents, you must also be searching after other people's; not that I do not commend your conduct in this instance; but I'm afraid, in running after shadows, you are too indifferent to the substance."

"Ah, my lord! it is very well for you to argue who have had a father and mother, and never felt the want of them; but if you knew how my heart yearns after my parents, you would not be surprised at my perseverance."

"I am surprised at nothing in this world, Mr Newland; everyone pursues happiness in his own way; your happiness appears to be centred in one feeling, and you are only acting as the world does in general; but recollect that the search after happiness ends in disappointment."

"I grant it but too often does, my lord; but there is pleasure in the chase," replied I.

"Well, go, and may you prosper. All I can say is this, Mr Newland; do not have that false pride not to apply to me when you need a.s.sistance.

Recollect, it is much better to be under an obligation, if such you will consider it, than to do that which is wrong; and that it is a very false pride which would blush to accept a favour, and yet not blush to do what it ought to be ashamed of. Promise me, Mr Newland, that upon any reverse or exigence, you will apply to me."

"I candidly acknowledge to your lordship, that I would rather be under an obligation to anyone but you; and I trust you will clearly appreciate my feelings. I have taken the liberty of refunding the one thousand pounds you were so kind as to place at my disposal as a loan. At the same time I will promise, that, if at any time I should require your a.s.sistance, I will again request leave to become your debtor." I rose again to depart.

"Farewell, Newland; when I thought you had behaved ill, and I offered to better you, you only demanded my good opinion; you have it, and have it so firmly, that it will not easily be shaken." His lordship then shook hands with me, and I took my leave.

On my return I found Emmanuel, the money-lender, who had accompanied Timothy, fancying that I was in want of more a.s.sistance, and but too willing to give it. His surprise was very great when I told him that I wished to repay the money I had borrowed.

"Vell, dis is very strange! I have lent my monish a tousand times, and never once they did offer it me back. Vell, I will take it, sar."

"But how much must I give you, Mr Emmanuel, for the ten days' loan?"

"How moch--vy you remember, you vill give de bond money--de fifteen hundred."

"What! five hundred pounds interest for ten days, Mr Emmanuel; no, no, that's rather too bad. I will, if you please, pay you back eleven hundred pounds, and that I think is very handsome."

"I don't want my monish, my good sar. I lend you one tousand pounds, on de condition that you pay me fifteen hundred when you come into your properties, which will be in very short time. You send for me, and tell me you vish to pay back de monish directly; I never refuse monish--if you wish to pay, I will take, but I will not take von farding less dan de monish on de bond."

"Very well, Mr Emmanuel, just as you please; I offer you your money back, in presence of my servant, and one hundred pounds for the loan of it for ten days. Refuse it if you choose, but I earnestly recommend you to take it."

"I will not have de monish, sar; dis is de child's play," replied the Jew. "I must have my fifteen hundred--all in goot time, sar--I am in no hurry--I vish you a very good morning, Mr Newland. Ven you vish for more monish to borrow, I shall be happy to pay my respects." So saying, the Jew walked out of the room, with his arm behind his back as usual.

PART TWO, CHAPTER NINE.

I DECIDE UPON HONESTY AS THE BEST POLICY, AND WHAT IS MORE STRANGE, RECEIVE LEGAL ADVICE UPON THIS IMPORTANT POINT.

Timothy and I burst into laughter. "Really, Timothy," observed I, "it appears that very little art is necessary to deceive the world, for in every instance they will deceive themselves. The Jew is off my conscience, at all events, and now he never will be paid, until--"

"Until when, j.a.phet?"

"Until I find out my father," replied I.

"Everything is put off till that time arrives, I observe," said Timothy.

"Other people will soon be as interested in the search as yourself."

"I wish they were; unfortunately it is a secret, which cannot be divulged."

A ring at the bell called Timothy down stairs; he returned with a letter, it was from Lord Windermear, and ran as follows:--

"My dear Newland,--I have been thinking about you ever since you left me this morning, and as you appear resolved to prosecute your search, it has occurred to me that you should go about it in a more systematic way. I do not mean to say that what I now propose will prove of any advantage to you, but still it may, as you will have a very old, and very clever head to advise with. I refer to Mr Masterton, my legal adviser, from whom you had the papers which led to our first acquaintance. He is aware that you were (I beg your pardon) an impostor, as he has since seen Mr Estcourt. The letter enclosed is for him, and with that in your hand you may face him boldly, and I have no doubt but that he will a.s.sist you all in his power, and put you to no expense. Narrate your whole history to him, and then you will hear what he may propose. He has many secrets, much more important than yours. Wishing you every success that your perseverance deserves, Believe me,--

"Yours very truly,--

"Windermear."

"I believe the advice to be good," said I, after reading the letter. "I am myself at fault, and hardly know how to proceed. I think I will go at once to the old gentleman, Timothy."

"It can do no harm, if it does no good. Two heads are better than one,"

replied Timothy. "Some secrets are too well kept, and deserting a child is one of those which is confided but to few."

"By-the-by, Timothy, here have I been, more than so many years out of the Foundling Hospital, and have never yet inquired if anyone has ever been to reclaim me."

"Very true; and I think I'll step myself to the workhouse, at Saint Bridget's, and ask whether anyone has asked about me," replied Timothy, with a grin.

"There is another thing that I have neglected," observed I, "which is, to inquire at the address in Coleman Street, if there is any letter from Melchior."

"I have often thought of him," replied Timothy. "I wonder who he can be--there is another mystery there. I wonder whether we shall ever fall in with him again--and Nattee, too?"

"There's no saying, Timothy. I wonder where that poor fool, Philotas, and our friend Jumbo, are now?"

The remembrance of the two last personages made us both burst out a laughing.

"Timothy, I've been reflecting that my intimacy with poor Carbonnell has rather hindered than a.s.sisted me in my search. He found me with a good appearance, and he has moulded me into a gentleman, so far as manners, and appearance are concerned; but the constant vortex, in which I have been whirled in his company has prevented me from doing anything. His melancholy death has perhaps been fortunate for me. It has left me more independent in circ.u.mstances and more free. I must now really set to in earnest."

"I beg your pardon, j.a.phet, but did not you say the same when we first set off on our travels, and yet remain more than a year with the gipsies? Did not you make the same resolution when we arrived in town, with our pockets full of money, and yet, once into fashionable society, think but little, and occasionally, of it? Now you make the same resolution, and how long will you keep it?"