I am unsettled by unexpected intelligence, and again yearn after
the world of fashion.
I knew that he was mocking me in this reply, but I paid no attention to
that; I was satisfied that he consented. I now made him assist me, and
under my directions he made up the prescriptions. I explained to him the
nature of every medicine; and I made him read many books of physic and
surgery. In short, after two or three months, I could trust to Timothy as
well as if I were in the shop myself; and having an errand boy, I had
much more leisure, and I left him in charge after dinner. The business
prospered, and I was laying up money. My leisure time, I hardly need say
was spent with Mr Cophagus and his family, and my attachment to Susannah
Temple increased every day. Indeed, both Mr and Mrs Cophagus considered
that it was to be a match, and often joked with me when Susannah was not
present. With respect to Susannah, I could not perceive that I was
farther advanced in her affections than after I had known her two months.
She was always kind and considerate, evidently interested in my welfare,
always checking in me anything like levity--frank and confiding in her
opinions--and charitable to all, as I thought, except to me. But I made
no advance that I could perceive. The fact was, that I dared not speak
to her as I might have done to another who was not so perfect. And yet
she smiled, as I thought, more kindly when I returned than at other
times, and never appeared to be tired of my company. If I did sometimes
mention the marriage of another, or attentions paid which would, in all
probability, end in marriage, it would create no confusion or blushing
on her part, she would talk over that subject as composedly as any other.
I was puzzled, and I had been a year and nine months constantly in her
company, and had never dared to tell her that I loved her. But one day Mr
Cophagus brought up the subject when we were alone. He commenced by
stating how happy he had been as a married man, that he had given up
all hopes of a family, and that he should like to see Susannah Temple,
his sister-in-law, well married, that he might leave his property to her
children; and then he put the very pertinent question--"Japhet--
verily--thou hast done well--good business--money coming in fast--settle,
Japhet--marry, have children--and so on. Susannah--nice girl--good
wife--pop question--all right--sly puss--won't say no--um--what d'ye
say?--and so on." I replied that I was very much attached to Susannah,
but that I was afraid that the attachment was not mutual, and therefore
hesitated to propose. Cophagus then said that he would make his wife
sound his sister, and let me know the result.
This was in the morning just before I was about to walk over to the shop,
and I left the house in a state of anxiety and suspense. When I arrived
at the shop, I found Tim there as usual; but the colour in his face was
heightened as he said to me, "Read this, Japhet," and handed to me the
"Reading Mercury." I read an advertisement as follows:--
"If Japhet Newland, who was left at the Foundling Asylum, and was
afterwards for some time in London, will call at No. 16,
Throgmorton Court, Minories, he will hear of something very much
to his advantage, and will discover that of which he has been so
long in search. Should this reach his eye, he is requested to
write immediately to the above address, with full particulars of
his situation. Should anyone who reads this be able to give any
information relative to the said J.N., he will be liberally
rewarded."
I sank down on the chair. "Merciful Heaven! this can be no mistake--'he
will discover the object of his search.' Timothy, my dear Timothy, I
have at last found out my father."
"So I should imagine, my dear Japhet," replied Timothy, "and I trust
it will not prove a disappointment."
"They never would be so cruel, Timothy," replied I.
"But still it is evident that Mr Masterton is concerned in it,"
observed Timothy.
"Why so?" inquired I.
"How otherwise should it appear in the Reading newspaper? He must have
examined the postmark of my letter."
To explain this, I must remind the reader that Timothy had promised to
write to Mr Masterton when he found me; and he requested my permission
shortly after we had met again. I consented to his keeping his word, but
restricted him to saying any more than "that he had found me, and that
I was well and happy." There was no address in the letter as a clue to
Mr Masterton as to where I might be, and it could only have been from
the postmark that he could have formed any idea. Timothy's surmise was
therefore very probable; but I would not believe that Mr Masterton would
consent to the insertion of that portion of the advertisement, if there
was no foundation for it.
"What will you do, Japhet?"
"Do," replied I, recovering from my reverie, for the information had
again roused up all my dormant feelings--"Do," replied I, "why, I shall
set off for town this very morning."
"In that dress, Japhet?"
"I suppose I must," replied I, "for I have no time to procure another;"
and all my former ideas of fashion and appearance were roused, and in
full activity--my pride recovered its ascendency.
"Well," replied Timothy, "I hope you will find your father all that you
could wish."
"I'm sure of it, Tim--I'm sure of it," replied I; "you must run and take
a place in the first coach."
"But you are not going without seeing Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and--Miss
Temple," continued Tim, laying an emphasis upon the latter name.
"Of course not," replied I, colouring deeply. "I will go at once. Give
me the newspaper, Tim."
I took the newspaper, and hastened to the house of Mr Cophagus. I found
them all three sitting in the breakfast parlour, Mr Cophagus, as usual,
reading, with his spectacles on his nose, and the ladies at work. "What
is the matter, friend Japhet?" exclaimed Mr Cophagus, as I burst into
the room, my countenance lighted up with excitement. "Read that, sir!"
said I to Mr Cophagus. Mr Cophagus read it. "Hum--bad news--lose
Japhet--man of fashion--and so on," said Cophagus, pointing out the
paragraph to his wife, as he handed over the paper.
In the meantime I watched the countenance of Susannah--a slight emotion,
but instantly checked, was visible at Mr Cophagus's remark. She then
remained quiet until her sister, who had read the paragraph, handed the
paper to her. "I give thee joy, Japhet, at the prospect of finding out
thy parent," said Mrs Cophagus. "I trust thou wilt find in him one who
is to be esteemed as a man. When departest thou?"
"Immediately," replied I.
"I cannot blame thee--the ties of nature are ever powerful. I trust that
thou wilt write to us, and that we soon shall see thee return."
"Yes, yes," said Cophagus, "see father--shake hands--come back--heh!--
settle here--and so on."
"I shall not be altogether my own master, perhaps," observed I. "If my
father desires that I remain with him, must not I obey? But I know
nothing at present. You shall hear from me. Timothy can take my place
in the--" I could not bear the idea of the word shop, and I stopped.
Susannah, for the first time, looked me earnestly in the face, but she
said nothing. Mr and Mrs Cophagus, who probably had been talking over
the subject of our conversation, and thought this a good opportunity to
allow me to have an _eclaircissement_ with Susannah, left the room,
saying they would look after my portmanteau and linen. "Susannah," said
I, "you do not appear to rejoice with me."
"Japhet Newland, I will rejoice at everything that may tend to thy
happiness, believe me; but I do not feel assured but that this trial may
prove too great, and that thou mayst fall away. Indeed, I perceive even
now that thou art excited with new ideas, and visions of pride."
"If I am wrong, forgive me. Susannah, you must know that the whole object
of my existence has been to find my father; and now that I have every
reason to suppose that my wish is obtained, can you be surprised, or
can you blame me, that I long to be pressed in his arms?"
"Nay, Japhet, for that filial feeling I do commend thee; but ask thy own
heart, is that the only feeling which now exciteth thee? Dost thou not
expect to find thy father one high in rank and power? Dost thou not
anticipate to join once more the world which thou hast quitted, yet still
hast sighed for? Dost thou not already feel contempt for thy honest
profession:--nay, more, dost thou not only long to cast off the plain
attire, and not only the attire, but the sect which in thy adversity
thou didst embrace the tenets of? Ask thy own heart, and reply if thou
wilt, but I press thee not so to do; for the truth would be painful,
and a lie, thou knowest, I do utterly abhor."
I felt that Susannah spoke the truth, and I would not deny it. I sat down
by her. "Susannah," said I, "it is not very easy to change at once. I
have mixed for years in the world, with you I have not yet lived two. I
will not deny but that the feelings you have expressed have risen in my
heart, but I will try to repress them; at least, for your sake, Susannah,
I would try to repress them, for I value your opinion more than that of
the whole world. You have the power to do with me as you please:--will
you exert that power?"
"Japhet," replied Susannah, "the faith which is not built upon a more
solid foundation than to win the favour of an erring being like myself
is but weak; that power over thee which thou expectest will fix thee in
the right path, may soon be lost, and what is then to direct thee? If no
purer motives than earthly affection are to be thy stay, most surely thou
wilt fall. But no more of this; thou hast a duty to perform, which is to
go to thy earthly father, and seek his blessing. Nay, more, I would that
thou shouldst once more enter into the world, there thou mayst decide.
Shouldst thou return to us, thy friends will rejoice, and not one of
them will be more joyful than Susannah Temple. Fare thee well, Japhet,
mayst thou prove superior to temptation. I will pray for thee--earnestly
I will pray for thee, Japhet," continued Susannah, with a quivering of
her lips and broken voice, and she left the room.