I am a little jealous, and, like the immortal William[A] Bottom,
inclined to enact more parts than one.--With a big effort my
hankering after bigamy is mastered by Mr Masterton--and by my own
good sense.
[Footnote A: Or rather Nick--Ed.]
I returned home to reflect upon what Mr Masterton had told me, and I must
say that I was not very well pleased with his various information. His
account of my mother, although she was no more, distressed me, and, from
the character which he gave of my father, I felt convinced that my
happiness would not be at all increased by my having finally attained
the long-desired object of my wishes. Strange to say, I had no sooner
discovered my father, but I wished that he had never turned up; and when
I compared the peaceful and happy state of existence which I had lately
enjoyed, with the prospects of what I had in future to submit to, I
bitterly repented that the advertisement had been seen by Timothy; still,
on one point, I was peculiarly anxious, without hardly daring to
anatomise my feelings; it was relative to Cecilia de Clare, and what Mr
Masterton had mentioned in the course of our conversation. The next
morning I wrote to Timothy and to Mr Cophagus, giving them a shortdetail
of what I had been informed by Mr Masterton, and expressing a wish, which
I then really did feel, that I had never been summoned away from them.
Having finished my letters, I set off to Park Street, to call upon Lady
de Clare and Cecilia. It was rather early, but the footman who opened the
door recognised me, and I was admitted upon his own responsibility. It
was now more than eighteen months since I had quitted their house at
Richmond, and I was very anxious to know what reception I might have. I
followed the servant up stairs, and when he opened the door walked in,
as my name was announced.
Lady de Clare rose in haste, so did Cecilia, and so did a third person,
whom I had not expected to have met--Harcourt. "Mr Newland," exclaimed
Lady de Clare, "this is indeed unexpected." Cecilia also came forward,
blushing to the forehead. Harcourt held back, as if waiting for the
advances to be made on my side. On the whole, I never felt more
awkwardly, and I believe my feelings were reciprocated by the whole
party. I was evidently _de trop_.
"Do you know Mr Harcourt?" at last said Lady de Clare.
"If it is the Mr Harcourt I once knew," replied I, "I certainly do."
"Believe me it is the same, Newland," said Harcourt, coming to me and
offering his hand, which I took with pleasure.
"It is a long while since we met," observed Cecilia, who felt it
necessary to say something, but, at the same time, did not like to enter
upon my affairs before Harcourt.
"It is, Miss de Clare," replied I, for I was not exactly pleased at my
reception; "but I have been fortunate since I had the pleasure of seeing
you last."
Cecilia and her mother looked earnestly, as much as to say, "in
what?"--but did not like to ask the question.
"There is no one present who is not well acquainted with my history,"
observed I, "that is, until the time that I left you and Lady de
Clare, and I have no wish to create mystery. I have at last discovered
my father."
"I hope we are to congratulate you, Mr Newland," said Lady de Clare.
"As far as respectability and family are concerned, I certainly have no
reason to be ashamed," replied I. "He is the brother of an earl, and a
general in the army. His name I will not mention until I have seen him,
and I am formally and openly acknowledged. I have also the advantage of
being an only son, and if I am not disinherited, heir to considerable
property," continued I, smiling sarcastically. "Perhaps I may now be
better _received_ than I have been as Japhet Newland the Foundling: but,
Lady de Clare, I am afraid that I have intruded unseasonably, and will
now take my leave. Good morning;" and without waiting for a reply, I
made a hasty retreat, and gained the door.
Flushed with indignation, I had nearly gained the bottom of the stairs,
when I heard a light footstep behind me, and my arm was caught by
Cecilia de Clare. I turned round, and she looked me reproachfully in the
face, as the tear stood in her eye.
"What have we done, Japhet, that you should treat us in this manner?"
said she, with emotion.
"Miss de Clare," replied I, "I have no reproaches to make. I perceived
that my presence was not welcome, and I would no further intrude."
"Are you then so proud, now that you have found out that you are well
born, Japhet?"
"I am much too proud to intrude where I am not wished for, Miss de
Clare. As Japhet Newland, I came here to see the Fleta of former days.
When I assume my real name, I shall always be most happy of an
introduction to the daughter of Lady de Clare."
"Oh! how changed," exclaimed she, fixing her large blue eyes upon me.
"Prosperity changes us all, Miss de Clare. I wish you a very good
morning;" and I turned away, and crossed the hall to the door.
As I went out I could not help looking back, and I perceived that
Cecilia's handkerchief was held to her eyes, as she slowly mounted the
stairs. I walked home to the Piazza in no very pleasant humour. I was
angry and disgusted at the coolness of my reception. I thought myself ill
used, and treated with ingratitude. "So much for the world," said I, as
I sat down in my apartment, and spun my hat on the table. "She has been
out two seasons, and is no longer the same person. Yet how lovely she has
grown! But why this change--and why was Harcourt there? Could he have
prejudiced them against me? Very possibly." While these ideas were
running in my mind, and I was making comparisons between Cecilia de
Clare and Susannah Temple--not much in favour of the former--and looking
forward prospectively to the meeting with my father, the doubts as to my
reception in society colouring everything with the most sombre tints, the
door opened, and in walked Harcourt, announced by the waiter.
"A chair for Mr Harcourt," said I to the waiter, with formality.
"Newland," said Harcourt, "I come for two reasons: in the first place,
I am commissioned by the ladies, to assure you--"
"I beg your pardon, Mr Harcourt, for interrupting you, but I require no
ambassador from the ladies in question. They may make you their
confidant if they please, but I am not at all inclined to do the same.
Explanation, after what I witnessed and felt this morning, is quite
unnecessary. I surrender all claims upon either Lady de Clare or her
daughter, if I ever was so foolhardy as to imagine that I had any. The
first reason of your visit it is therefore useless to proceed with. May
I ask the other reason which has procured me this honour?"
"I hardly know, Mr Newland," replied Harcourt, colouring deeply,
"whether, after what you have now said, I ought to proceed with the
second--it related to myself."
"I am all attention, Mr Harcourt," replied I, bowing politely.
"It was to say, Mr Newland, that I should have taken the earliest
opportunity after my recovery, had you not disappeared so strangely, to
have expressed my sorrow for my conduct towards you, and to have
acknowledged that I had been deservedly punished: more perhaps by my own
feelings of remorse, than by the dangerous wound I had received by your
hand. I take even this opportunity, although not apparently a favourable
one, of expressing what I consider it my duty, as a gentleman who has
wronged another, to express. I certainly was going to add more, but there
is so little chance of its being well received, that I had better defer it
to some future opportunity. The time may come, and I certainly trust it
will come, when I may be allowed to prove to you that I am not deserving
of the coolness with which I am now received. Mr Newland, with every wish
for your happiness, I will now take my leave; but I must say, it is with
painful sentiments, as I feel that the result of this interview will be
the cause of great distress to those who are bound to you, not only by
gratitude, but sincere regard."
Harcourt then bowed, and quitted the room. "It's all very well," muttered
I, "but I know the world, and am not to be soothed down by a few fine
words. I trust that they will be sorry for their conduct, but see me
again inside their doors they will not," and I sat down, trying to feel
satisfied with myself--but I was not; I felt that I had acted harshly, to
say no more. I ought to have listened to an explanation sent by Cecilia
and her mother, after her coming down stairs to expostulate. They were
under great obligations to me, and by my quick resentment, I rendered the
obligations more onerous. It was unkind of me--and I wished that Harcourt
had not left the room. As for his conduct, I tried to find fault with it,
but could not. It was gentlemanly and feeling. The fact was, I was in a
very bad humour, and could not, at the time, discover the reason, which
was neither more nor less than that I was more jealous of finding
Harcourt so intimate at Lady de Clare's, than I was at the unpalatable
reception which I had met with. The waiter came in, and brought me a note
from Mr Masterton.
"I have this morning received a summons from your father, who
returned, it appears, two days ago, and is now at the Adelphi
Hotel. I am sorry to say, that stepping out of his carriage when
travelling, he missed his footing, and has snapped his tendon
Achilles. He is laid up on a couch, and, as you may suppose, his
amiability is not increased by the accident, and the pain
attending it. As he has requested me to bring forward immediate
evidence as to your identity, and the presence of Mr Cophagus is
necessary, I propose that we start for Reading to-morrow at nine
o'clock. I have a curiosity to go down there, and having a
leisure day or two, it will be a relaxation. I wish to see my old
acquaintance Timothy, and your shop. Answer by bearer.
J. MASTERTON."
I wrote a few lines, informing Mr Masterton that I would be with him at
the appointed hour, and then sat down to my solitary meal. How different
from when I was last at this hotel! Now I knew nobody. I had to regain my
footing in society, and that could only be accomplished by being
acknowledged by my father; and, as soon as that was done, I would call
upon Lord Windermear, who would quickly effect what I desired. The next
morning I was ready at nine o'clock, and set off with post horses, with
Mr Masterton, in his own carriage. I told him what had occurred the day
before, and how disgusted I was at my reception.
"Upon my word, Japhet, I think you are wrong," replied the old gentleman;
"and if you had not told me of your affection for Miss Temple, to see
whom, by-the-bye, I confess to be one of the chief motives of my going
down with you, I should almost suppose that you were blinded by jealousy.
Does it not occur to you, that, if Mr Harcourt was admitted to the
ladies at such an early hour, there is preference shown him in that
quarter? And now I recollect that I heard something about it. Harcourt's
elder brother died, and he's come into the property, and I heard somebody
say that he would in all probability succeed in gaining the handsomest
girl in London, with a large fortune--that it was said to be a match.
Now, if such be the case, and you broke in upon a quiet reunion between
two young people about to be united, almost without announcement, and so
unexpectedly, after a lapse of so long a time, surely you cannot be
surprised at there being a degree of confusion and restraint--more
especially after what had passed between Harcourt and you. Depend upon
it, that was the cause of it. Had Lady de Clare and her daughter been
alone, your reception would have been very different; indeed, Cecilia's
following you down stairs, proves that it was not from coolness towards
you; and Harcourt calling upon you, and the conversation which took
place, is another proof that you have been mistaken."
"I never viewed it in that light, certainly, sir," observed I. "I merely
perceived that I was considered intrusive, and finding in the company one
who had treated me ill, and had been my antagonist in the field, I
naturally supposed that he had prejudiced them against me. I hope I may
be wrong; but I have seen so much of the world, young as I am, that I
have become very suspicious."
"Then discard suspicion as fast as you can, it will only make you
unhappy, and not prevent your being deceived. If you are suspicious,
you will have the constant fear of deception hanging over you, which
poisons existence."
After these remarks I remained silent for some time; I was analysing my
own feelings, and I felt that I had acted in a very absurd manner. The
fact was, that one of my castle buildings had been, that I was to marry
Fleta as soon as I had found my own father, and this it was which had
actuated me, almost without my knowing it. I felt jealous of Harcourt,
and that, without being in love with Miss de Clare, but actually
passionately fond of another person; I felt as if I could have married
her without loving her, and that I could give up Susannah Temple, whom
I did love, rather than that a being whom I considered as almost of my
own creation, should herself presume to fall in love, or that another
should dare to love her, until I had made up my mind whether I should
take her myself: and this after so long an absence, and their having
given up all hopes of ever seeing me again. The reader may smile at the
absurdity, still more at the selfishness of this feeling; so did I, when
I had reflected upon it, and I despised myself for my vanity and folly.
"What are you thinking of, Japhet?" observed Mr Masterton, tired with my
long abstraction.
"That I have been making a most egregious fool of myself, sir," replied
I, "with respect to the De Clares."
"I did not say so, Japhet; but, to tell you the truth, I thought
something very like it. Now tell me, were you not jealous at finding her
in company with Harcourt?"
"Exactly so, sir."
"I'll tell Susannah Temple when I see her, that she may form some idea
of your constancy," replied Mr Masterton, smiling. "Why, what a dog in
the manger you must be--you can't marry them both. Still, under the
circumstances, I can analyse the feeling--it is natural, but all that is
natural is not always creditable to human nature. Let us talk a little
about Susannah, and then all these vagaries will be dispersed. How old
is she?"
Mr Masterton plied me with so many questions relative to Susannah, that
her image alone soon filled my mind, and I recovered my spirits. "I
don't know what she will say, at my being in this dress, sir," observed
I. "Had I not better change it on my arrival?"
"By no means; I'll fight your battle--I know her character pretty well,
thanks to your raving about her."