Part 41 (1/2)
A NEW CHARACTER APPEARS, BUT NOT A VERY AMIABLE ONE; BUT I ATTACH MYSELF TO HIM, AS DROWNING MEN CATCH AT STRAWS.
I took my leave, more composed in mind, and the next day I went down to Lady de Clare's. I was kindly received, more than kindly, I was affectionately and parentally received by the mother, and by Cecilia as a dear brother; but they perceived my melancholy, and when they had upbraided me for my long neglect, they inquired the cause. As I had already made Lady de Clare acquainted with my previous history, I had no secrets; in fact, it was a consolation to confide my griefs to them.
Lord Windermear was too much above me--Mr Masterton was too matter-of-fact--Timothy was too inferior--and they were all men; but the kind soothing of a woman was peculiarly grateful, and after a sojourn of three days, I took my leave, with my mind much less depressed than when I arrived.
On my return, I called upon Mr Masterton, who stated to me that Lord Windermear was anxious to serve me, and that he would exert his interest in any way which might be most congenial to my feelings; that he would procure me a commission in the army, or a writers.h.i.+p to India; or, if I preferred it, I might study the law under the auspices of Mr Masterton.
If none of these propositions suited me, I might state what would be preferred, and that, as far as his interest and pecuniary a.s.sistance could avail, I might depend on it. ”So now, j.a.phet, you may go home and reflect seriously upon these offers; and when you have made up your mind what course you will steer, you have only to let me know.”
I returned my thanks to Mr Masterton, and begged that he would convey my grateful acknowledgments to his lords.h.i.+p. As I walked home, I met a Captain Atkinson, a man of very doubtful character, whom, by the advice of Carbonnell, I had always kept at a distance. He had lost a large fortune by gambling, and having been pigeoned, had, as is usual, ended by becoming a _rook_. He was a fas.h.i.+onable, well-looking man, of good family, suffered in society, for he had found out that it was necessary to hold his position by main force. He was a noted duellist, had killed his three or four men, and a cut direct from any person was, with him, sufficient grounds for sending a friend. Everybody was civil to him, because no one wished to quarrel with him.
”My dear Mr Newland,” said he, offering his hand, ”I am delighted to see you; I have heard at the clubs of your misfortune, and there were some free remarks made by some. I have great pleasure in saying that I put an immediate stop to them, by telling them that, if they were repeated in my presence, I should consider it as a personal quarrel.”
Three months before, had I met Captain Atkinson, I should have returned his bow with studied politeness, and have left him; but how changed were my feelings! I took his hand, and shook it warmly.
”My dear sir,” replied I, ”I am very much obliged for your kind and considerate conduct; there are more who are inclined to calumniate than to defend.”
”And always will be in this world, Mr Newland; but I have a fellow feeling. I recollect how I was received and flattered when I was introduced as a young man of fortune, and how I was deserted and neglected when I was cleaned out. I know now _why_ they are so civil to me, and I value their civility at just as much as it is worth. Will you accept my arm:--I am going your way.”
I could not refuse; but I coloured when I took it, for I felt that I was not adding to my reputation by being seen in his company; and still I felt, that although not adding to my reputation, I was less likely to receive insult, and that the same cause which induced them to be civil to him, would perhaps operate when they found me allied with him. ”Be it so,” thought I, ”I will, if possible, _extort_ politeness.”
We were strolling down Bond Street, when we met a young man, well known in the fas.h.i.+onable circles, who had dropped my acquaintance, after having been formerly most pressing to obtain it. Atkinson faced him.
”Good morning, Mr Oxberry.”
”Good morning, Captain Atkinson,” replied Mr Oxberry.
”I thought you knew my friend Mr Newland?” observed Atkinson, rather fiercely.
”Oh! really--I quite--I beg pardon. Good morning, Mr Newland; you have been long absent. I did not see you at Lady Maelstrom's last night.”
”No,” replied I, carelessly, ”nor will you ever. When you next see her ladys.h.i.+p, ask her, with my compliments, whether she has had another fainting fit.”
”I shall certainly have great pleasure in carrying your message, Mr Newland--good morning.”
”That fool,” observed Atkinson, ”will now run all over town, and you will see the consequence.”
We met one or two others, and to them Atkinson put the same question, ”I thought you knew my friend Mr Newland?” At last, just as we arrived at my own house in Saint James's Street, who should we meet but Harcourt.
Harcourt immediately perceived me, and bowed low as he pa.s.sed on; so that his bow would have served for both; but Atkinson stopped. ”I must beg your pardon, Harcourt, for detaining you a moment, but what are the odds upon the Vestris colt for the Derby?”
”Upon my word, Captain Atkinson, I was told, but I have forgotten.”
”Your memory appears bad, for you have also forgotten your old friend, Mr Newland.”
”I beg your pardon, Mr Newland.”
”There is no occasion to beg my pardon, Mr Harcourt,” interrupted I; ”for I tell you plainly, that I despise you too much to ever wish to be acquainted with you. You will oblige me, sir, by never presuming to touch your hat, or otherwise notice me.” Harcourt coloured, and started back. ”Such language, Mr Newland--”
”Is what you deserve: ask your own conscience. Leave us, sir;” and I walked on with Captain Atkinson. ”You have done well, Newland,”
observed Atkinson: ”he cannot submit to that language, for he knows that I have heard it. A meeting you will of course have no objection to. It will be of immense advantage to you.”