My immediate future was not as black as it might have been. I was going
direct to the house of my friend Jack Senior, who had been my chum both
at Elizabeth College and at Guy's. He, like myself, had been hitherto a
sort of partner to his father, the well-known physician, Dr. Senior of
Brook Street. They lived together in a highly-respectable but gloomy
residence, kept bachelor fashion, for they had no woman-kind at all
belonging to them. The father and son lived a good deal apart, though
they were deeply attached to one another. Jack had his own apartments,
and his own guests, in the spacious house, and Dr. Senior had his.
The first night, as Jack and I sat up together in the long summer
twilight, till the dim, not really dark, midnight came over us, I told
him every thing; as one tells a friend a hundred things one cannot put
into words to any person who dwells under the same roof, and is witness
of every circumstance of one's career.
As I was talking to him, every emotion and perception of my brain, which
had been in a wild state of confusion and conflict, appeared to fall
into its proper rank. I was no longer doubtful as to whether I had been
the fool my father called me. My love for Olivia acquired force and
decision. My judgment that it would have been a folly and a crime to
marry Julia became confirmed.
"Old fellow," said Jack, when I had finished, "you are in no end of a
mess."
"Well, I am," I admitted; "but what am I to do?"
"First of all, how much money have you?" he asked.
"I'd rather not say," I answered.
"Come, old friend," he said, in his most persuasive tones, "have you
fifty pounds in hand?"
"No," I replied.
"Thirty?"