Mr Harcourt was an elegant young man of about five-and-twenty.
Equally pleased with each other’s externals,
we were soon familiar: he was witty, sarcastic,
and wellbred. After half an hour’s conversation
he asked me what I thought of the Major. I looked
him in the face and smiled. “That look
tells me that you will not be his dupe, otherwise I
had warned you: he is a strange character:
but if you have money enough to afford to keep
him, you cannot do better, as he is acquainted
with, and received by, everybody. His connections
are good; and he once had a very handsome fortune,
but it was soon run out, and he was obliged to sell
his commission in the Guards. Now he lives upon
the world; which as Shakespeare says, is his oyster;
and he has wit and sharpness enough to open it.
Moreover, he has some chance of falling into a peerage;
that prospect, and his amusing qualities, added to
his being the most fashionable man about town, keeps
his head above water. I believe Lord Windermear,
who is his cousin, very often helps him.”
“It was Lord Windermear who introduced me to
him,” observed I.
“Then he will not venture to play any tricks
upon you, further than eating your dinners, borrowing
your money, and forgetting to pay it.”
“You must acknowledge,” said I, “he
always tells you beforehand that he never will pay
you.”
“And that is the only point in which he adheres
to his word,” replied Harcourt, laughing; “but,
tell me, am I to be your guest to-day?”
“If you will do me that honour.”
“I assure you I am delighted to come, as I shall
have a further opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance.”
“Then we had better bend our steps towards the
hotel, for it is late,” replied I; and we did
so accordingly.
Chapter XXII
The real Simon Pure
proves the worse of the two—I am found guilty,
but not condemned; convicted,
yet convince; and after having
behaved the very contrary
to, prove that I am, a gentleman.
On our arrival, we found the table spread, champagne
in ice under the sideboard, and apparently everything
prepared for a sumptuous dinner, the Major on the
sofa giving directions to the waiter, and Timothy
looking all astonishment.
“Major,” said I, “I cannot tell
you how much I am obliged to you for your kindness
in taking all this trouble off my hands, that I might
follow up the agreeable introduction you have given
me to Mr Harcourt.”
“My dear Newland, say no more; you will, I dare
say, do the same for me if I require it, when I give
a dinner. (Harcourt caught my eye, as if to say, “You
may safely promise that.”) But, Newland, do you
know that the nephew of Lord Windermear has just arrived?
Did you meet abroad?”
“No,” replied I, somewhat confused; but
I soon recovered myself. As for Tim, he bolted
out of the room. “What sort of a person
is he?”
