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 Number 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 post-mark 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 post-mark 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 mean time 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.