I cut my new acquaintance, but his company, even in so short a
time, proves my ruin--notwithstanding I part with all my
property, I retain my honesty.
In the meantime, the particulars of the duel had found their way into the
papers, with various comments, but none of them very flattering to me,
and I received a note from Mr Masterton, who, deceived by the
representations of that class of people who cater for newspapers, and who
are but too glad to pull, if they possibly can, every one to their own
level, strongly animadverted upon my conduct, and pointed out the folly
of it; adding, that Lord Windermear wholly coincided with him in opinion,
and had desired him to express his displeasure. He concluded by
observing, "I consider this to be the most serious false step which you
have hitherto made. Because you have been a party to deceiving the
public, and because one individual, who had no objection to be intimate
with a young man of fashion, station, and affluence, does not wish to
continue the acquaintance with one of unknown birth and no fortune, you
consider yourself justified in taking his life. Upon this principle, all
society is at an end, all distinctions levelled, and the rule of the
gladiator will only be overthrown by the stiletto of the assassin."
I was but ill prepared to receive this letter. I had been deeply thinking
upon the kind offers of Lord Windermear, and had felt that they would
interfere with the _primum mobile_ of my existence, and I was reflecting
by what means I could evade their kind intentions, and be at liberty to
follow my own inclinations, when this note arrived. To me it appeared to
be the height of injustice. I had been arraigned and found guilty upon
an _ex parte_ statement. I forgot, at the time, that it was my duty to
have immediately proceeded to Mr Masterton, and have fully explained
the facts of the case; and that, by not having so done, I left the
natural impression that I had no defence to offer. I forgot all this,
still I was myself to blame--I only saw that the letter in itself was
unkind and unjust--and my feelings were those of resentment. What right
have Lord Windermear and Mr Masterton thus to school and to insult me?
The right of obligations conferred. But is not Lord Windermear under
obligations to me? Have I not preserved his secret? Yes; but how did I
obtain possession of it? By so doing, I was only making reparation for
an act of treachery. Well, then, at all events, I have a right to be
independent of them, if I please--any one has a right to assert his
independence if he chooses. Their offers of service only would shackle
me, if I accepted of their assistance. I will have none of them. Such
were my reflections; and the reader must perceive that I was influenced
by a state of morbid irritability--a sense of abandonment which
prostrated me. I felt that I was an isolated being without a tie in the
whole world. I determined to spurn the world as it had spurned me. To
Timothy I would hardly speak a word. I lay with an aching head, aching
from increased circulation. I was mad, or nearly so. I opened the case
of pistols, and thought of suicide--reflection alone restrained me. I
could not abandon the search after my father.
Feverish and impatient, I wished to walk out, but I dared not meet the
public eye. I waited till dark, and then I sallied forth, hardly knowing
where I went. I passed the gaming house--I did pass it, but I returned
and lost every shilling; not, however, till the fluctuations of the game
had persuaded me, that had I had more money to carry it on, I should have
won.
I went to bed, but not to sleep; I thought of how I had been caressed and
admired, when I was supposed to be rich. Of what use then was the money
I possessed? Little or none. I made up my mind that I would either gain
a fortune, or lose that which I had. The next morning I went into the
city, and sold out all the remaining stock. To Timothy I had not
communicated my intentions. I studiously avoided speaking to him; he felt
hurt at my conduct, I perceived, but I was afraid of his advice and
expostulation.
At night-fall I returned to the hell--played with various success; at
one time was a winner of three times my capital, and I ended at last
with my pockets being empty. I was indifferent when it was all gone,
although in the highest state of excitement while the chances were
turning up.
The next day I went to a house agent, and stated my wish to sell my
house, for I was resolved to try fortune to the last. The agent
undertook to find a ready purchaser, and I begged an advance, which he
made, and continued to make, until he had advanced nearly half the value.
He then found a purchaser (himself, as I believe) at two-thirds of its
value. I did not hesitate, I had lost every advance, one after another,
and was anxious to retrieve my fortune or be a beggar. I signed the
conveyance and received the balance, fifteen hundred and fifty pounds,
and returned to the apartments, no longer mine, about an hour before
dinner. I called Timothy, and ascertaining the amount of bills due,
gave him fifty pounds, which left him about fifteen pounds as a residue.
I then sat down to my solitary meal, but just as I commenced I heard a
dispute in the passage.
"What is that, Timothy?" cried I, for I was nervous to a degree.
"It's that fellow Emmanuel, sir, who says that he will come up."
"Yesh, I vill go up, sar."
"Let him come, Timothy," replied I. Accordingly Mr Emmanuel ascended.
"Well, Emmanuel, what do you want with me?" said I, looking with contempt
at the miserable creature who entered as before, with his body bent
double, and his hand lying over his back.
"I vash a little out of breath, Mr Newland--I vash come to say dat de
monish is very scarce--dat I vill accept your offer, and vill take de
hundred pounds, and my tousand which I have lent you. You too mush
gentleman not to help a poor old man, ven he ish in distress."
"Rather say, Mr Emmanuel, that you have heard that I have not ten
thousand pounds per annum, and that you are afraid that you have lost
your money."
"Loshe my monish!--no--loshe my tousand pound! Did you not say, dat you
would pay it back to me, and give me hundred pounds for my trouble; dat
vash de last arrangement." "Yes, but you refused to take it, so it is not
my fault. You must now stick to the first, which is to receive fifteen
hundred pounds when I come into my fortune."
"Your fortune, but you av no fortune."
"I am afraid not; and recollect, Mr Emmanuel, that I never told you that
I had."
"Vill you pay me my monish, Mr Newland, or vill you go to prison?"
"You can't put me in prison for an agreement," replied I.
"No; but I can prosecute you for a swindler."
"No, you confounded old rascal, you cannot; try, and do your worst,"
cried I, enraged at the word swindler.
"Veil, Mr Newland, if you have not de ten tousand a year, you have de
house and de monish; you vill not cheat a poor man like me."
"I have sold my house."
"You have sold de house--den you have neither de house nor de monish.
Oh! my monish, my monish! Sare, Mr Newland, you are one d----d rascal;"
and the old wretch's frame quivered with emotion; his hand behind his
back shaking as much as the other which, in his rage, he shook in my face.
Enraged myself at being called such an opprobrious term, I opened the
door, twisted him round, and applying my foot to a nameless part, he
flew out and fell down the stairs, at the turning of which he lay,
groaning in pain. "Mine Got, mine Got, I am murdered!" cried he. "Fader
Abraham, receive me." My rage was appeased, and I turned pale at the
idea of having killed the poor wretch. With the assistance of Timothy,
whom I summoned, we dragged the old man upstairs, and placed him in a
chair, and found that he was not very much hurt. A glass of wine was
given to him, and then, as soon as he could speak, his ruling passion
broke out again. "Mishter Newland--ah, Mish-ter New-land, cannot you
give me my monish--cannot you give me de tousand pound, without de
interest? you are very welcome to de interest. I only lend it to oblige
you."
"How can you expect a d----d rascal to do any such thing?" replied I.
"D----d rascal! Ah! it vash I who vash a rascal, and vash a fool to say
the word. Mishter Newland, you vash a gentleman, you vill pay me my
monish. You vill pay me part of my monish. I have de agreement in my
pocket, all ready to give up."
"If I have not the money, how can I pay you?"
"Fader Abraham, if you have not de monish--you must have some monish;
den you will pay me a part. How much vill you pay me?"
"Will you take five hundred pounds, and return the agreement?"
"Five hundred pounds--lose half--oh! Mr Newland--it was all lent in
monish, not in goods; you will not make me lose so much as dat?"
"I'm not sure that I will give you five hundred pounds; your bond is not
worth two-pence, and you know it."
"Your honour, Mishter Newland, is worth more dan ten tousand pounds: but
if you have not de monish, den you shall pay me de five hundred pounds
which you offer, and I will give up de paper."
"I never offered five hundred pounds."
"Not offer; but you mention de sum, dat quite enough."
"Well then, for five hundred pounds, you will give up the paper?"
"Yes; I vash content to loshe all de rest, to please you."
I went to my desk, and took out five hundred pounds in notes. "Now,
there is the money, which you may put your hands on when you give up the
agreement." The old man pulled out the agreement and laid it on the
table, catching up the notes. I looked at the paper to see if it was all
right, and then tore it up. Emmanuel put the notes, with a heavy sigh,
into his inside coat pocket, and prepared to depart. "Now, Mr Emmanuel,
I will show that I have a little more honour than you think for. This
is all the money I have in the world," said I, taking out of my desk
the remaining thousand pounds, "and half of it I give to you, to pay you
the whole money which you lent me. Here is five hundred pounds more, and
now we are quits."
The eyes of the old man were fixed upon me in astonishment, and from my
face they glanced upon the notes; he could, to use a common expression,
neither believe his eyes nor his ears. At last he took the money, again
unbuttoned and pulled out his pocket-book, and with a trembling hand
stowed them away as before.
"You vash a very odd gentleman, Mishter Newland," said he; "you kick me
down stairs, and--but dat is noting."
"Good-bye, Mr Emmanuel," said I, "and let me eat my dinner."