Japhet in Search of a Father

“My lord, I opened a letter brought to me with the initials of my name, and at the time I opened it I fully believed that it was intended for me.”

“We will grant that, sir; but after you had opened it you must have known that it was for some other person.”

“I will not deny that, my lord.”

“Notwithstanding which, you apply to my lawyer, representing yourself as another person, to obtain sealed papers.”

“I did, my lord; but allow me to say, that I never should have done so, had I not been warned by a dream.”

“By a dream?”

“Yes, my lord. I had determined not to go for them, when in a dream I was ordered so to do.”

“Paltry excuse! and then you break private seals.”

“Nay, my lord, although I did go for the papers, I could not, even with the idea of supernatural interposition, make up my mind to break the seals. If your lordship will recollect, it was you who broke the seals, and insisted upon my reading the papers.”

“Yes, sir, under your false name.”

“It is the name by which I go at present, although I acknowledge it is false; but that is not my fault—I have no other at present.”

“It is very true, sir, that in all I have now mentioned the law will not reach you; but recollect, that by assuming another person’s name—”

“I never did, my lord,” interrupted I.

“Well, I may say, by inducing me to believe that you were my nephew, you have obtained money under false pretences; and for that I now have you in my power.”

“My lord, I never asked you for the money; you yourself paid it into the banker’s hands to my credit, and to my own name. I appeal to you now, whether, if you so deceived yourself, the law can reach me?”

“Mr Newland, I will say, that much as I regret what has passed, I regret more than all the rest, that one so young, so prepossessing, so candid in appearance, should prove such an adept in deceit. Thinking you were my nephew, my heart warmed towards you; and I must confess, that since I have seen my real nephew, the mortification has been very great.”

“My lord, I thank you; but allow me to observe, that I am no swindler. Your thousand pounds you will find safe in the bank, for penury would not have induced me to touch it. But now that your lordship appears more cool, will you do me the favour to listen to me? When you have heard my life up to the present, and my motives for what I have done, you will then decide how far I am to blame.”

His lordship took a chair, and motioned to me to take another. I narrated what had occurred when I was left at the Foundling, and gave him a succinct account of my adventures subsequently—my determination to find my father—the dream which induced me to go for the papers—and all that the reader has already been acquainted with. His lordship evidently perceived the monomania which controlled me, and heard me with great attention.

“You certainly, Mr Newland, do not stand so low in my opinion as you did before this explanation, and I must make allowances for the excitement under which I perceive you to labour on one subject; but now, sir, allow me to put one question, and I beg that you will answer candidly. What price do you demand for your secrecy on this important subject?”

“My lord!” replied I, rising with dignity; “this is the greatest affront you have put upon me yet; still I will name the price by which I will solemnly bind myself, by all my future hopes of finding my father in this world, and of finding an eternal Father in the next, and that price, my lord, is a return of your good opinion.”

His lordship also rose, and walked up and down the room with much agitation in his manner. “What am I to make of you, Mr Newland?”

“My lord, if I were a swindler, I should have taken your money; if I had wished to avail myself of the secret, I might have escaped with all the documents, and made my own terms. I am, my lord, nothing more than an abandoned child, trying all he can to find his father.” My feelings overpowered me, and I burst into tears. As soon as I could recover myself, I addressed his lordship, who had been watching me in silence, and not without emotion. “I have one thing more to say to you, my lord.” I then mentioned the conversation between Mr Estcourt and myself, and pointed out the propriety of not making him a party to the important secret.

His lordship allowed me to proceed without interruption, and after a few moments’ thought said, “I believe that you are right, Mr Newland; and I now begin to think that it was better that this secret should have been intrusted to you than to him. You have now conferred an obligation on me, and may command me. I believe you to be honest, but a little mad, and I beg your pardon for the pain which I have occasioned you.”

“My lord, I am more than satisfied.”

“Can I be of any assistance to you, Mr Newland?”

“If, my lord, you could at all assist me, or direct me in my search—”

“There I am afraid I can be of little use; but I will give you the means of prosecuting your search, and in so doing, I am doing but an act of justice, for in introducing you to Major Carbonnell, I am aware that I must have very much increased your expenses. It was an error which must be repaired, and therefore, Mr Newland, I beg you will consider the money at the bank as yours, and make use of it to enable you to obtain your ardent wish.”

“My lord—”

“I will not be denied, Mr Newland; and if you feel any delicacy on the subject, you may take it as a loan, to be repaid when you find it convenient. Do not, for a moment, consider that it is given to you because you possess an important secret, for I will trust entirely to your honour on that score.”

“Indeed, my lord,” replied I, “your kindness overwhelms me, and I feel as if, in you, I had already almost found a father. Excuse me, my lord, but did your lordship ever—ever—”

“I know what you would say, my poor fellow: no, I never did. I never was blessed with children. Had I been, I should not have felt that I was disgraced by having one resembling you. Allow me to entreat you, Mr Newland, that you do not suffer the mystery of your birth to weigh so heavily on your mind; and now I wish you good morning, and if you think I can be useful to you, I beg that you will not fail to let me know.”

“May Heaven pour down blessings on your head,” replied I, kissing respectfully his lordship’s hand; “and may my father, when I find him, be as like unto you as possible.” I made my obeisance, and quitted the house.

Part 1—Chapter XXIII

The Major prevents the Landlord from imposing on me, but I gain nothing by his Interference—For economical Reasons I agree to live with him that he may live on me.

I returned to the hotel, for my mind had been much agitated, and I wished for quiet, and the friendship of Timothy. As soon as I arrived I told him all that had passed.

“Indeed,” replied Timothy, “things do now wear a pleasant aspect; for I am afraid, that without that thousand, we could not have carried on for a fortnight longer. The bill here is very heavy, and I’m sure the landlord wishes to see the colour of his money.”

“How much do you think we have left? It is high time, Timothy, that we now make up our accounts, and arrange some plans for the future,” replied I. “I have paid the jeweller and the tailor, by the advice of the major, who says, that you should always pay your first bills as soon as possible, and all your subsequent bills as late as possible; and if put off sine die, so much the better. In fact, I owe very little now, but the bill here—I will send for it to-night.”

Here we were interrupted by the entrance of the landlord. “O Mr Wallace, you are the very person I wished to see; let me have my bill, if you please.”

“It’s not of the least consequence, sir,” replied he; “but if you wish it, I have posted down to yesterday,” and the landlord left the room.

“You were both of one mind, at all events,” said Timothy, laughing; “for he had the bill in his hand, and concealed it the moment you asked for it.”

In about ten minutes the landlord re-appeared, and presenting the bill upon a salver, made his bow and retired. I looked it over: it amounted to 104 pounds; which, for little more than three weeks, was pretty well. Timothy shrugged up his shoulders, while I ran over the items. “I do not see that there is anything to complain of, Tim,” observed I, when I came to the bottom of it; “but I do see that living here, with the major keeping me an open house, will never do. Let us see how much money we have left.”

Tim brought the dressing-case in which our cash was deposited, and we found, that after paying the waiters, and a few small bills not yet liquidated, our whole stock was reduced to fifty shillings.

“Merciful Heaven! what an escape,” cried Timothy; “if it had not been for this new supply, what should we have done?”

“Very badly, Timothy; but the money is well spent, after all. I have now entrance into the first circles. I can do without Major Carbonnell; at all events, I shall quit this hotel, and take furnished apartments, and live at the clubs. I know how to put him off.”

I laid the money on the salver, and desired Timothy to ring for the landlord, when who should come up but the major and Harcourt. “Why, Newland! what are you going to do with that money?” said the major.

“I am paying my bill, major.”

“Paying your bill, indeed; let us see—104 pounds. O this is a confounded imposition. You mustn’t pay this.” At this moment the landlord entered. “Mr Wallace,” said the major, “my friend Mr Newland was about, as you may see, to pay you the whole of your demand; but allow me to observe, that being my very particular friend, and the Piazza having been particularly recommended by me, I do think that your charges are somewhat exorbitant. I shall certainly advise Mr Newland to leave the house to-morrow, if you are not more reasonable.”

“Allow me to observe, major, that my reason for sending for my bill, was to pay it before I went into the country, which I must do to-morrow, for a few days.”

“Then I shall certainly recommend Mr Newland not to come here when he returns, Mr Wallace; for I hold myself, to a certain degree, after the many dinners we have ordered here, and of which I have partaken, as I may say, particeps criminis, or in other words, as having been a party to this extortion. Indeed, Mr Wallace, some reduction must be made, or you will greatly hurt the credit of your house.”

Mr Wallace declared, that really he had made nothing but the usual charges, that he would look over the bill again and see what he could do.