I dismissed the coach, while Mr Masterton gave his orders for dinner,
and we then turned the key of the door to avoid intrusion, and I
commenced. It was nearly dinner-time before I had finished my story.
"Well, you really appear to be born for getting into scrapes, and
getting out of them again in a miraculous way," observed Mr Masterton.
"Your life would make a novel."
"It would indeed, sir," replied I. "I only hope, like all novels, it
will wind up well."
"So do I; but dinner's ready, Japhet, and after dinner we'll talk the
matter over again, for there are some points upon which I require some
explanation."
We sat down to dinner, and when we had finished, and the table had been
cleared, we drew to the fire, with our bottle of wine. Mr Masterton
stirred the fire, called for his slippers, and then crossing his legs
over the fender, resumed the subject.
"Japhet, I consider it most fortunate that we have met, previous to your
introduction to your father. You have so far to congratulate yourself,
that your family is undeniably good, there being, as you know, an Irish
peerage in it; of which, however, you have no chance, as the present
earl has a numerous offspring. You are also fortunate as far as money
is concerned, as I have every reason to believe that your father is a
very rich man, and, of course, you are his only child; but I must now
prepare you to meet with a very different person than perhaps the fond
anticipations of youth may have led you to expect. Your father has no
paternal feelings that I can discover; he has wealth, and he wishes to
leave it--he has therefore sought you out. But he is despotic, violent,
and absurd; the least opposition to his will makes him furious, and I am
sorry to add, that I am afraid that he is very mean. He suffered
severely when young from poverty, and his own father was almost as
authoritative and unforgiving as himself. And now I will state how it
was that you were left at the Asylum when an infant. Your grandfather
had procured for your father a commission in the army, and soon
afterwards procured him a lieutenancy. He ordered him to marry a young
lady of large fortune, whom he had never seen, and sent for him for that
purpose. I understand that she was very beautiful, and had your father
seen her, it is probable he would have made no objection; but he very
foolishly sent a peremptory refusal, for which he was dismissed for
ever. In a short time afterwards your father fell in love with a young
lady of great personal attractions, and supposed to possess a large
fortune. To deceive her, he pretended to be the heir to the earldom,
and, after a hasty courtship, they ran off, and were married. When they
compared notes, which they soon did, it was discovered that, on his
side, he had nothing but the pay of a subaltern, and on hers, that she
had not one shilling. Your father stormed, and called his wife an
impostor; she recriminated, and the second morning after the marriage
was passed in tears on her side, and oaths, curses, and revilings on
his. The lady, however, appeared the more sensible party of the two.
Their marriage was not known, she had run away on a pretence to visit a
relative, and it was actually supposed in the county town where she
resided, that such was the case. `Why should we quarrel in this way?'
observed she. `You, Edmund, wished to marry a fortune, and not me--I
may plead guilty to the same duplicity. We have made a mistake; but it
is not too late. It is supposed that I am on a visit to --, and that
you are on furlough for a few days. Did you confide your secret to any
of your brother officers?' `Not one,' muttered your father. `Well,
then, let us part as if nothing had happened, and nobody will be the
wiser. We are equally interested in keeping the secret. Is it
agreed?'--Your father immediately consented. He accompanied your mother
to the house at --, where she was expected, and she framed a story for
her delay, by having met such a very polite young man. Your father
returned to his regiment, and thus did they like two privateers, who,
when they meet and engage, as soon as they find out their mistake, hoist
their colours, and sheer off by mutual consent."
"I can't say much for my mother's affection or delicacy," observed I.
"The less you say the better, Japhet--however, that is your father's
story. And how to proceed. It appears that, about two months
afterwards, your father received a letter from your mother, acquainting
him that their short intercourse had been productive of certain results,
and requesting that he would take the necessary steps to provide for the
child, and avoid exposure, or that she would be obliged to confess her
marriage. By what means they contrived to avoid exposure until the
period of her confinement, I know not, but your father states that the
child was born in a house in London, and, by agreement, was instantly
put into his hands; that he, with the consent of his wife, left you at
the door of the Asylum, with the paper and the bank note, from which you
received the name of Newland. At the time, he had no idea of reclaiming
you himself; but the mother had; for, heartless as she appears to have
been, yet a mother must feel for her child. Your father's regiment was
then ordered out to the East Indies, and he was rapidly promoted for his
gallantry and good conduct during the war in the Mysore territory. Once
only has he returned home on furlough, and then he did make inquiries
after you; not, it appears, with a view of finding you out on his own
account, but from a promise which he made your mother."
"My mother! what, have they met since?"
"Yes; your mother went out to India on speculation, passing off as a
single girl, and was very well married there, I was going to say;
however, she committed a very splendid bigamy."
"Good heavens! how totally destitute of principle!"
"Your father asserts that your mother was a freethinker, Japhet; her
father had made her one; without religion a woman has no stay. Your
father was in the up country during the time that your mother arrived,
and was married to one of the council of Calcutta. Your father says
that they met at a ball at Government House. She was still a very
handsome woman, and much admired. When your father recognised her, and
was told that she was lately married to the honourable Mr --, he was
quite electrified, and would have quitted the room; but she had
perceived him, and walking up to him with the greatest coolness, claimed
him as an old acquaintance in England, and afterwards they often met,
but she never adverted to what had passed between them, until the time
for his departure to England on leave, and she then sent for him, and
begged that he would make some inquiries after you, Japhet. He did so,
and you know the result. On his return to India he found that your
mother had been carried off by the prevailing pestilence. At that
period, your father was not rich, but he was then appointed to the chief
command in the Carnatic, and reaped a golden harvest in return for his
success and bravery. It appears, as far as I could obtain it from him,
that as long as your mother was alive, he felt no interest about you;
but her death, and the subsequent wealth which poured upon him, have now
induced him to find out an heir, to whom it may be bequeathed.
"Such, Japhet, are the outlines of your father's history; and I must
point out that he has no feelings of affection for you at present. The
conduct of your mother is ever before him, and if it were not that he
wishes an heir, I should almost say that his feelings are those of
dislike. You may create an interest in his heart, it is true: and he
may be gratified by your personal appearance; but you will have a very
difficult task, as you will have to submit to his caprices and fancies,
and I am afraid that, to a high spirit like yours, they will be almost
unbearable."
"Really, sir, I begin to feel that the fondest anticipations are seldom
realised, and almost to wish that I had not been sought for by my
father. I was happy and contented, and now I do not see any chance of
having to congratulate myself on the change."
"On one or two points I also wish to question you. It appears that you
have entered into the sect denominated Quakers. Tell me candidly, do
you subscribe heartily and sincerely to their doctrines? And I was
going to add, is it your intention to remain with them? I perceive much
difficulty in all this."
"The tenets of the sect I certainly do believe to be more in accordance
with the Christian religion than any other; and I have no hesitation in
asserting, from my knowledge of those who belong to this sect, that
they, generally speaking, lead better lives. There are some points
connected with their worship, which, at first, I considered ridiculous:
the feeling has, however, worn off. As to their quaint manner of
speaking, that has been grossly exaggerated. Their dress is a part of
their religion."
"Why so, Japhet?"
"I can reply to you in the words of Susannah Temple, when I made the
same interrogatory. `You think the peculiarity of our dress is an
outward form which is not required. It was put on to separate us from
others, and as a proof of our sincerity; but still, the discarding of
the dress is a proof of sincerity. We consider, that to admire the
person is vain, and our creed is humility. It is therefore an outward
and visible sign, that we would act up to those tenets which we profess.
It is not all who wear the dress who are Quakers in heart or conduct;
but we know that when it is put aside, the tenets of our persuasion are
at the same time renounced, therefore do we consider it essential. I do
not mean to say but that the heart may be as pure, and the faith
continue as steadfast, without such signs outwardly, but it is a part of
our creed, and we must not choose, but either reject all or none.'"
"Very well argued by the little Quakeress; and now Japhet, I should like
to put another question to you. Are you very much attached to this
young puritan?"
"I will not deny but that I am. I love her sincerely."
"Does your love carry you so far, that you would, for her sake, continue
a Quaker, and marry her?"
"I have asked myself that question at least a hundred times during the
last twenty-four hours, and I cannot decide. If she would dress as
others do, and allow me to do the same, I would marry her to-morrow;
whether I shall ever make up my mind to adhere to the persuasion, and
live and die a Quaker for her sake, is quite another matter--but I am
afraid not--I am too worldly-minded. The fact is, I am in a very
awkward position with respect to her. I have never acknowledged my
affection, or asked for a return, but she knows I love her, and I know
that she loves me."
"Like all vain boys, you flatter yourself."
"I leave you to judge, sir," replied I, repeating to him our parting
_tete-a-tete_, and how I had returned, and found her in tears.
"All that certainly is very corroborative evidence; but tell me, Japhet,
do you think she loves you well enough to abandon all for your sake?"
"No, nor ever will, sir, she is too high-principled, too high-minded.
She might suffer greatly, but she never would swerve from what she
thought was right."
"She must be a fine character, Japhet, but you will be in a dilemma:
indeed, it appears to me, that your troubles are now commencing instead
of ending, and that you would have been much happier where you were,
than you will be by being again brought out into the world. Your
prospect is not over-cheerful. You have an awkward father to deal with:
you will be under a strong check, I've a notion, and I am afraid you
will find that, notwithstanding you will be once more received into
society, all is vanity and vexation of spirit."
"I am afraid you are right, sir," replied I, "but at all events, it will
be something gained, to be acknowledged to the world by a father of good
family, whatever else I may have to submit to. I have been the sport of
Fortune all my life, and probably she has not yet done playing with me;
but it is late, and I will now wish you good night."
"Good night, Japhet; if I have any intelligence I will let you know.
Lady de Clare's address is Number 13, Park Street. You will, of course,
go there as soon as you can."
"I will, sir, after I have written my letters to my friends at Reading."