“Most certainly, sir, I will; and, as you say,
I have had adventures. But it really will be
a long story.”
“Then we’ll dine here, and pass the evening
together—so that’s settled.”
In which I am let into
more particulars relative to my father’s
history.
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 tirred 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 our 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
