"Look
Upon this child--I saved her, must not leave
Her life to chance; but point me out some nook
Of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve.
This child, who parentless, is therefore mine."
BYRON.
A few minutes after Newton had quitted the chambers of his uncle, the clerk
made his appearance, announcing to Mr John Forster that a gentleman
requested to speak to him.
"I asked the gentleman's name, sir," observed the clerk, shutting to the
door, "but he did not choose to give it. He has a little girl with him."
"Very well, Scratton, the little girl cannot concern me," replied the old
lawyer; "ask him to walk in;"--and he again conned over the brief, not
choosing to lose the minute which might elapse before he was again to be
interrupted. The door was reopened, and Edward Forster, with Amber holding
him by the hand, entered the room.
"Your servant, sir. Scratton, a chair--two chairs, Scratton. I beg your
pardon, young lady."
When the clerk had retired, Mr John Forster commenced as usual.--"Now, sir,
may I request the favour of asking your business with me?"
"You do not recollect me; nor am I surprised at it, as it is fifteen years
since we last met. Time and suffering, which have worn me to a skeleton,
have also worn out the remembrance of a brother. I am Edward Forster."
"Edward Forster!--humph! Well, I did not recollect you; but I'm very glad
to see you, brother. Very strange--never have heard of one of my family for
years, and now they all turn up at once! No sooner get rid of one, than up
starts another. Nicholas came from the Lord knows where, the other day."
Edward Forster, who was better acquainted with his brother's character than
Newton, took no notice of the abruptness of his remarks, but replied:
"Nicholas! Is he, then, alive? I shall be delighted to see him."
"Humph!" replied John, "I was delighted to get rid of him. Take care of
your watch or spectacles when you meet him."
"Indeed, brother! I trust he is not such a character."
"But he is a character, I can tell you; not what you suppose--he's honest
enough. Let me see--if my memory serves me, brother Edward, we last met
when you were passing through London on your way to ----, having been
invalided, and having obtained a pension of forty pounds per annum for a
severe wound received in action. And pray, brother, where have you been
ever since?"
"At the same spot, from which I probably never should have been induced to
remove, had it not been for the sake of this little girl who is now with
me."
"And pray who may be that little girl? Is she your daughter?"
"Only by adoption."
"Humph, brother! for a half-pay lieutenant, that appears rather an
expensive whim!--bad enough to maintain children of our own begetting."
"You say true," replied Edward; "but if in this instance I have incurred an
expense and responsibility, it must be considered to be more my misfortune
than my fault." Edward Forster then entered into the particulars connected
with Amber's rescue. "You must acknowledge, brother John," observed Edward,
as he closed his narrative, "that I could not well have acted otherwise;
you would not yourself."
"Humph! I don't know that; but this I do know, that you had better have
stayed at home!"
"Perhaps so, considering the forlorn prospects of the child; but we must
not judge. The same Providence which willed that she should be so
miraculously saved also willed that I should be her protector;--why
otherwise did the dog lay her at my feet?"
"Because it had been taught to 'fetch and carry,' I suppose: but however,
brother Edward, I have no right to question your conduct. If the girl is as
good as she is pretty, why all the better for her; but, as I am rather
busy, let me ask if you have any more to say to me?"
"I have, John; and the discourse we have had is preliminary. I am here with
a child, forced upon me I may say, but still as dear to me as if she were
mine own. You must be aware that I have nothing but my pension and half-pay
to subsist upon. I can save nothing. My health is undermined and my life
precarious. Last winter I never expected to quit my bed again; and, as I
lay in it, the thought naturally occurred of the forlorn and helpless state
in which this poor little girl would be in case of my decease. In a lonely
cottage, without money--without family or friends to apply to--without
anyone near her being made acquainted with her unfortunate history, what
would have become of her? It was this reflection which determined me, if my
life was spared, as soon as my health would permit, to come to you, the
only relative I was certain of still having in the world, that I might
acquaint you with her existence, and, with her history, confide to you the
few articles of dress which she wore when rescued, and which may eventually
lead to her recognition--a case of extreme doubt and difficulty, I grant;
but the ways of Providence are mysterious, and her return to the arms of
her friends will not be more wonderful than her preservation on that
dreadful night. Brother! I never have applied to you in my own behalf,
although conscious how ample are your means--and I never will; but I do now
plead in favour of this dear child. Worn out as I am, my pilgrimage on
earth can be but short; and if you would smooth the pillow of a dying
brother, promise him now that you will extend your bounty to this poor
orphan, when I'm no more!"
Edward Forster's voice was tremulous at the close of his appeal, and his
brother appeared to be affected. There was a silence of a minute, when the
customary "humph!" was ejaculated, and John Forster then continued: "A very
foolish business, brother--very foolish, indeed. When Nicholas and his son
came here the other day and applied to me--why it was all very well--there
was relationship; but really, to put another man's child upon me!"
"Not while it pleases heaven to spare _my_ life, brother."
"'May you live a thousand years!' then, as the Spanish say; but, however,
brother Edward, as you say, the poor thing must not starve; so, if I am to
take care of a child of another man's begetting, as soon as you are dead, I
can only say, it will very much increase my sorrow at your loss. Come here,
little one: What's your name?"
"Amber, sir."
"Amber! who the devil gave you that fool's name?"
"I did, brother," replied Edward; "I thought it appropriate."
"Humph! really can't see why. Why did you not call her Sukey, or some name
fit for a Christian? Amber! Amber's a gum, is it not? Stop, let's see what
Johnson says."
The lawyer went to a case of books which were in the next room, and
returned with a quarto.
"Now," said he, seating himself; "AG--AL--AM--Ambassador--Ambassadress--
Amber!--humph! here it is, 'A yellow, transparent substance of a gummous or
bituminous consistence, but of a resinous taste, and a smell like oil of
turpentine; chiefly found in the Baltic sea or the coast of Prussia.'
Humph! 'Some have imagined it to consist of the tears of birds; others
the'--humph!--'of a beast; others the scum of the Lake Cephesis, near the
Atlantic; others a congelation in some fountains, where it is found
swimming like pitch.' Really, brother," continued the lawyer, fixing his
eyes on the little girl, and shutting the book, "I can't see the analogy."
"Be her godfather, my dear brother, and call her any name you please."
"Humph!"
"Pray, papa," said Amber, turning to Edward Forster, "What's the meaning of
'humph'?"
"Humph!" repeated the lawyer, looking hard at Amber.
"It implies yes or no, as it may be," replied Edward Forster, smiling.
"I never heard anyone say it before, papa. You're not angry with me, sir?"
continued Amber, turning round to John Forster.
"No, not angry, little girl; but I'm too busy to talk to you--or indeed
with you, brother Edward. Have you anything more to say?"
"Nothing, my dear brother, if I have your promise."
"Well, you have it; but what am I to do with her, God only knows! I wish
you had kept better hours. You mentioned some clothes which might identify
her to her relations; pray let me have them; for I shall have the greatest
pleasure in restoring her to them, as soon as possible, after she is once
in my hands."
"Here they are, brother," replied Edward, taking a small packet from his
coat-pocket; "you had better take charge of them now; and may God bless you
for having relieved my mind from so heavy a load!"
"Humph! by taking it on my own shoulders," muttered John, as he walked to
the iron safe, to deposit the packet of linen; then returning to the table,
"Have you anything more to say, brother?"
"Only to ask you where I may find my brother Nicholas?"
"That I can't tell; my nephew told me somewhere down the river; but it's a
long way from here to the Nore. Nephew's a fine lad; I sent him off to the
East Indies."
"I am sorry then that I have no chance of seeing him:--but you are busy,
brother?"
"I have told you so three times, as plain as I could speak!"
"I will no longer trespass on your time. We return home to-morrow morning;
and, as I cannot expect ever to see you again, God bless you, my dear John!
and farewell, I am afraid I may say, in this world at least, farewell for
ever!"
Edward held out his hand to his brother. It was taken with considerable
emotion. "Farewell, brother, farewell!--I'll not forget."
"Good-bye, sir," said Amber, going close up to John Forster.
"Good-bye, my little girl," replied he, looking earnestly in her face; and
then, as if thawing towards her, as he scanned her beautiful and expressive
features, removing his spectacles and kissing her, "Good-bye."
"Oh! papa," cried Amber, as she went out of the room, "he kissed me!"
"Humph!" said John Forster, as the door closed upon them.
The spectacles were put on, and the reading of the brief immediately
continued.