Japhet in Search of a Father

“Indeed, sir, I cannot say that I do exactly.”

“I could not expect it, my dear sir, you have been so long away. You have very much improved in person, I must say; yet still, I recollect your features as a mere boy. Without compliment, I had no idea that you would ever have made so handsome a man.” I bowed to the compliment. “Have you heard from your uncle?”

“I had a few lines from Lord Windermear, enclosing your letter.”

“He is well, I hope.”

“Quite well, I believe.”

Mr Masterton then rose, went to an iron safe, and brought out a packet of papers, which he put into my hands. “You will read these with interest, Mr Neville. I am a party to the whole transaction, and must venture to advise you not to appear in England under your own name, until all is settled. Your uncle, I perceive, has begged the same.”

“And I have assented, sir. I have taken a name instead of my real one.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“I call myself Mr Japhet Newland.”

“Well, it is singular, but perhaps as good as any other. I will take it down, in case I have to write to you. Your address is—”

“Piazza—Covent Garden.”

Mr Masterton took my name and address, I took the papers, and then we both took leave of one another, with many expressions of pleasure and good-will.

I returned to the hotel, where I found Timothy waiting for me, with impatience. “Japhet,” said he, “Lord Windermear has not yet left town. I have seen him, for I was called back after I left the house, by the footman, who ran after me—he will be here immediately.”

“Indeed,” replied I. “Pray what sort of person is he, and what did he say to you?”

“He sent for me in the dining-parlour, where he was at breakfast, asked when you arrived, whether you were well, and how long I had been in your service. I replied that I had not been more than two days, and had just put on my liveries. He then desired me to tell Mr Newland that he would call upon him in about two hours. ‘Then, my lord,’ replied I, ‘I had better go and tell him to get out of bed.’

“The lazy dog!” said he, “nearly one o’clock, and not out of bed; well, go then, and get him dressed as fast as you can.”

Shortly afterwards a handsome carriage with greys drew up to the door. His lordship sent in his footman to ask whether Mr Newland was at home. The reply of the waiter was, that there was a young gentleman who had been there two or three days, who had come from making a tour, and his name did begin with an N. “That will do, James; let down the steps.” His lordship alighted, was ushered up stairs, and into my room. There we stood, staring at each other.

“Lord Windermear, I believe,” said I, extending my hand.

“You have recognised me first, John,” said he, taking my hand, and looking earnestly in my face. “Good heavens! is it possible that an awkward boy should have grown up into so handsome a fellow? I shall be proud of any nephew. Did you remember me when I entered the room?”

“To tell the truth, my lord, I did not; but expecting you, I took it for granted that it must be you.”

“Nine years make a great difference, John;—but I forget, I must now call you Japhet. Have you been reading the Bible lately, that you fixed upon that strange name?”

“No, my lord; but this hotel is such a Noah’s ark, that it’s no wonder I thought of it.”

“You’re an undutiful dog, not to ask after your mother, sir.”

“I was about—”

“I see—I see,” interrupted his lordship; “but recollect, John, that she still is your mother. By-the-by, have you read the papers yet?”

“No, sir,” replied I; “there they are, pointing to them on the side table. I really do not like to break the seals.”

“That they will not contain pleasant intelligence, I admit,” replied his lordship; “but until you have read them, I do not wish to converse with you on the subject, therefore,” said he, taking up the packet, and breaking the seals, “I must now insist that you employ this forenoon in reading them through. You will dine with me at seven, and then we will talk the matter over.”

“Certainly, sir, if you wish it, I will read them.”

“I must insist upon it, John; and am rather surprised at your objecting, when they concern you so particularly.”

“I shall obey your orders, sir.”

“Well, then, my boy, I shall wish you good morning, that you may complete your task before you come to dinner. To-morrow, if you wish it—but recollect, I never press young men on these points, as I am aware that they sometimes feel it a restraint—if you wish it, I say, you may bring your portmanteaus, and take up your quarters with me. By-the-by,” continued his lordship, taking hold of my coat, “who made this?”

“The tailor to his Serene Highness the Prince of Darmstadt had that honour, my lord,” replied I.

“Humph! I thought they fitted better in Germany; it’s not quite the thing—we must consult Stulz, for with that figure and face, the coat ought to be quite correct. Adieu, my dear fellow, till seven.”

His lordship shook hands with me, and I was left alone. Timothy came in as soon as his lordship’s carriage had driven off.

“Well, sir,” said he, “was your uncle glad to see you?”

“Yes,” replied I; “and look, he has broken open the seals, and has insisted upon my reading the papers.”

“It would be very undutiful in you to refuse, so I had better leave you to your task,” said Timothy, smiling, as he quitted the room.

Part 1—Chapter XX

I open an Account with my Bankers, draw largely upon Credulity, and am prosperous without a Check.

I sat down and took up the papers. I was immediately and strangely interested in all that I read. A secret!—it was, indeed, a secret, involving the honour and reputation of the most distinguished families. One that, if known, the trumpet of scandal would have blazoned forth to the disgrace of the aristocracy. It would have occasioned bitter tears to some, gratified the petty malice of many, satisfied the revenge of the vindictive, and bowed with shame the innocent as well as the guilty. It is not necessary, nor, indeed, would I, on any account, state any more. I finished the last paper, and then fell into a reverie. This is, indeed, a secret, thought I; one that I would I never had possessed. In a despotic country my life would be sacrificed to the fatal knowledge—here, thank God, my life as well as my liberty are safe.

The contents of the papers told me all that was necessary to enable me to support the character which I had assumed. The reason why the party, whom I was supposed to be, was intrusted with it, was, that he was in a direct line, eventually heir, and the question was whether he would waive his claim with the others, and allow death to bury crime in oblivion. I felt that were I in his position I should so do—and therefore was prepared to give an answer to his lordship. I sealed up the papers, dressed myself, and went to dinner; and after the cloth was removed, Lord Windermear, first rising and turning the key in the door, said to me, in a low voice, “You have read the papers, and what those, nearly as much interested as you are in this lamentable business, have decided upon. Tell me, what is your opinion?”

“My opinion, my lord, is, that I wish I had never known what has come to light this day—that it will be most advisable never to recur to the subject, and that the proposals made are, in my opinion, most judicious, and should be acted upon.”

“That is well,” replied his lordship; “then all are agreed, and I am proud to find you possessed of such honour and good feeling. We now drop the subject for ever. Are you inclined to leave town with me, or what do you intend to do?”

“I prefer remaining in town, if your lordship will introduce me to some of the families of your acquaintance. Of course I know no one now.”

“Very true; I will introduce you, as agreed, as Mr Newland. It may be as well that you do not know any of our relations, whom I have made to suppose, that you are still abroad—and it would be awkward, when you take your right name by-and-by. Do you mean to see your mother?”

“Impossible, my lord, at present; by-and-by I hope to be able.”

“Perhaps it’s all for the best. I will now write one note to Major Carbonnell, introducing you as my particular friend, and requesting that he will make London agreeable. He knows everybody, and will take you everywhere.”

“When does your lordship start for the country?”

“To-morrow; so we may as well part to-night. By-the-by, you have credit at Drummond’s, in the name of Newland, for a thousand pounds; the longer you make it last you the better.”

His lordship gave me the letter of introduction. I returned to him the sealed packet, shook hands with him, and took my departure.