“She must be a fine character, Japhet, but you
will be in a dilemma: indeed, it appears to me,
that your troubles are now commencing instead of ending,
and that you would have been much happier where you
were, than you will be by being again brought out
into the world. Your prospect is not over cheerful.
You have an awkward father to deal with: you will
be under a strong check, I’ve a notion, and
I am afraid you will find that, notwithstanding you
will be once more received into society, all is vanity
and vexation of spirit.”
“I am afraid you are right, sir,” replied
I, “but, at all events, it will be something
gained, to be acknowledged to the world by a father
of good family, whatever else I may have to submit
to. I have been the sport of fortune all my life,
and probably she has not yet done playing with me;
but it is late, and I will now wish you good-night.”
“Good-night, Japhet; if I have any intelligence
I will let you know. Lady de Clare’s address
is No. 13, Park Street. You will, of course, go
there as soon as you can.”
“I will, sir, after I have written my letters
to my friends at Reading.”
I am a little jealous, and, like the
immortal William[A] Bottom, inclined to enact
more parts than one.—With a big effort my
hankering after bigamy is mastered by Mr Masterton—and
by my own good sense.
[Footnote A: Or
rather Nick—Ed.]
I returned home to reflect upon what Mr Masterton
had told me, and I must say that I was not very well
pleased with his various information. His account
of my mother, although she was no more, distressed
me, and, from the character which he gave of my father,
I felt convinced that my happiness would not be at
all increased by my having finally attained the long-desired
object of my wishes. Strange to say, I had no
sooner discovered my father, but I wished that he
had never turned up; and when I compared the peaceful
and happy state of existence which I had lately enjoyed,
with the prospects of what I had in future to submit
to, I bitterly repented that the advertisement had
been seen by Timothy; still, on one point, I was peculiarly
anxious, without hardly daring to anatomise my feelings;
it was relative to Cecilia de Clare, and what Mr Masterton
had mentioned in the course of our conversation.
The next morning I wrote to Timothy and to Mr Cophagus,
giving them a shortdetail of what I had been informed
by Mr Masterton, and expressing a wish, which I then
really did feel, that I had never been summoned away
from them.
Having finished my letters, I set off to Park Street,
to call upon Lady de Clare and Cecilia. It was
rather early, but the footman who opened the door
recognised me, and I was admitted upon his own responsibility.
It was now more than eighteen months since I had quitted
their house at Richmond, and I was very anxious to
know what reception I might have. I followed
the servant up stairs, and when he opened the door
walked in, as my name was announced.
