I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to my situation.
Mr Cophagus was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a shop for me, and
furnished it much better than his own in Smithfield; the upper part of
the house was let off, as I was to reside with the family. When it was
ready, I went over it with him, and was satisfied; all I wished for was
Timothy as an assistant, but that wish was unavailing, as I knew not
where to find him.
That evening I observed to Mr Cophagus, that I did not much like putting
my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade it, and I
could not bear the idea, that Japhet Newland, at whose knock every
aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters above a
shop-window. "There are many reasons against it," observed I. "One is,
that it is not my real name--I should like to take the name of Cophagus;
another is, that the name, being so well known, may attract those who
formerly knew me, and I should not wish that they should come in and
mock me; another is--"
"Japhet Newland," interrupted Susannah, with more severity than I ever
had seen in her sweet countenance, "do not trouble thyself with giving
thy reasons, seeing thou hast given every reason but the right one, which
is, that thy pride revolts at it."
"I was about to observe," replied I, "that it was a name that sounded of
mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But, Susannah, you
have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no further objections.
Japhet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no more upon the subject."
"If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave thy forgiveness,"
replied Susannah. "But it is God alone who knoweth the secrets of our
hearts. I was presumptuous, and you must pardon me."
"Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon; you know me better than
I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride--but you have cured
me."
"Truly have I hopes of thee now, Japhet," replied Susannah, smiling.
"Those who confess their faults will soon amend them; yet I do think
there is some reason in thy observation, for who knoweth, but meeting
with thy former associates, thou mayst not be tempted into falling
away? Thou mayst spell thy name as thou listest; and, peradventure, it
would be better to disguise it."
So agreed Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and I therefore had it written
_Gnow_-land; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly
recommended to me, as an assistant, I took possession of my shop, and
was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my
medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading.
And I was happy. I had enjoyment during the day; my profession was, at
all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived as a gentleman, or rather I
should say respectably. I was earning my own livelihood. I was a useful
member of society, and when I retired home to meals, and late at night,
I found, that if Cophagus and his wife had retired, Susannah Temple
always waited up, and remained with me a few minutes. I had never been
in love until I had fallen in with this perfect creature; but my love
for her was not the love of the world; I could not so depreciate her--I
loved her as a superior being--I loved her with fear and trembling. I
felt that she was too pure, too holy, too good for a vain worldly
creature like myself. I felt as if my destiny depended upon her and her
fiat; that if she favoured me, my happiness in this world and in the
next were secured; that if she rejected me, I was cast away for ever.
Such was my feeling for Susannah Temple, who, perfect as she was, was
still a woman, and perceived her power over me; but unlike the many of
her sex, exerted that power only to lead to what was right. Insensibly
almost, my pride was quelled, and I became humble and religiously
inclined. Even the peculiarities of the sect, their meeting at their
places of worship, their drawling, and their quaint manner of talking,
became no longer a subject of dislike. I found out causes and good
reasons for everything which before appeared strange--sermons in stones,
and good in everything. Months passed away--my business prospered--I
had nearly repaid the money advanced by Mr Cophagus. I was in heart and
soul a Quaker, and I entered into the fraternity with a feeling that I
could act up to what I had promised. I was happy, quite happy, and yet
I had never received from Susannah Temple any further than the proofs
of sincere friendship. But I had much of her society, and we were now
very, very intimate. I found out what warm, what devoted feelings were
concealed under her modest, quiet exterior--how well her mind was
stored, and how right was that mind.
Often when I talked over past events, did I listen to her remarks, all
tending to one point, morality and virtue; often did I receive from her
at first a severe, but latterly a kind rebuke, when my discourse was
light and frivolous; but when I talked of merry subjects which were
innocent, what could be more joyous or more exhilarating than her
laugh--what more intoxicating than her sweet smile, when she approved
of my sentiments! and when animated by the subject, what could be more
musical or more impassioned than her bursts of eloquence, which were
invariably followed by a deep blush, when she recollected how she had
been carried away by excitement?
There was one point upon which I congratulated myself, which was, that
she had received two or three unexceptionable offers of marriage during
the six months that I had been in her company, and refused them. At the
end of that period, thanks to the assistance I received from the Friends,
I had paid Mr Cophagus all the money which he had advanced, and found
myself in possession of a flourishing business, and independent. I then
requested that I might be allowed to pay an annual stipend for my board
and lodging, commencing from the time I first came to his house. Mr
Cophagus said I was right--the terms were easily arranged, and I was
independent.
Still my advances with Susannah were slow, but if slow, they were sure.
One day I observed to her, how happy Mr Cophagus appeared to be as a
married man; her reply was, "He is, Japhet; he has worked hard for his
independence, and he now is reaping the fruits of his industry." That is
as much as to say that I must do the same, thought I, and that I have no
business to propose for a wife, until I am certain that I am able to
provide for her. I have as yet laid up nothing, and an income is not a
capital. I felt that whether a party interested or not, she was right,
and I redoubled my diligence.