“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.
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 L104,
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.”
