I CUT MY NEW ACQUAINTANCE, BUT HIS COMPANY, EVEN IN SO SHORT A TIME, PROVES MY RUIN NOTWITHSTANDING I PART WITH ALL MY PROPERTY, I RETAIN MY HONESTY.

In the mean time, the particulars of the duel had found their way into the papers, with various comments, but none of them very flattering to me; and I received a note from Mr Masterton, who, deceived by the representations of that class of people who cater for newspapers, and who are but too glad to pull, if they possibly can, everyone to their own level, strongly animadverted upon my conduct, and pointed out the folly of it; adding, that Lord Windermear wholly coincided with him in opinion, and had desired him to express his displeasure. He concluded by observing, “I consider this to be the most serious false step which you have hitherto made. Because you have been a party to deceiving the public, and because one individual, who had no objection to be intimate with a young man of fashion, station, and affluence, does not wish to continue the acquaintance with one of unknown birth and no fortune, you consider yourself justified in taking his life. Upon this principle, all society is at an end, all distinctions levelled, and the rule of the gladiator will only be overthrown by the stiletto of the assassin.”

I was but ill prepared to receive this letter. I had been deeply thinking upon the kind offers of Lord Windermear, and had felt that they would interfere with the primum mobile of my existence, and I was reflecting by what means I could evade their kind intentions, and be at liberty to follow my own inclinations, when this note arrived. To me it appeared to be the height of injustice. I had been arraigned and found guilty upon an ex-parte statement. I forgot, at the time, that it was my duty to have immediately proceeded to Mr Masterton, and have fully explained the facts of the case; and that, by not having so done, I left the natural impression that I had no defence to offer. I forgot all this, still I was myself to blame I only saw that the letter in itself was unkind and unjust and my feelings were those of resentment. What right have Lord Windermear and Mr Masterton thus to school and to insult me? The right of obligations conferred. But is not Lord Windermear under obligations to me? Have I not preserved his secret? Yes; but how did I obtain possession of it? By so doing, I was only making reparation for an act of treachery. Well, then, at all events, I have a right to be independent of them, if I please anyone has a right to assert his independence if he chooses. Their offers or service only would shackle me, if I accepted of their assistance. I will have none of them. Such were my reflections; and the reader must perceive that I was influenced by a state of morbid irritability a sense of abandonment which prostrated me. I felt that I was an isolated being without a tie in the whole world. I determined to spurn the world as it had spurned me. To Timothy I would hardly speak a word. I lay with an aching head, aching from increased circulation. I was mad, or nearly so. I opened the case of pistols, and thought of suicide reflection alone restrained me. I could not abandon the search after my father.

Feverish and impatient, I wished to walk out, but I dared not meet the public eye. I waited till dark, and then I sallied forth, hardly knowing where I went. I passed the gaming house I did pass it, but I returned and lost every shilling; not, however, till the fluctuations of the game had persuaded me, that had I had more money to carry it on, I should have won.

I went to bed, but not to sleep; I thought of how I had been caressed and admired, when I was supposed to be rich. Of what use then was the money I possessed? Little or none. I made up my mind that I would either gain a fortune, or lose that which I had. The next morning I went into the city, and sold out all the remaining stock. To Timothy I had not communicated my intentions. I studiously avoided speaking to him: he felt hurt at my conduct, I perceived, but I was afraid of his advice and expostulation.

At night-fall I returned to the hell played with various success; at one time was a winner of three times my capital, and I ended at last with my pockets being empty. I was indifferent when it was all gone, although in the highest state of excitement while the chances were turning up.

The next day I went to a house-agent, and stated my wish to sell my house, for I was resolved to try fortune to the last. The agent undertook to find a ready purchaser, and I begged an advance, which he made, and continued to make, until he had advanced nearly half the value. He then found a purchaser (himself, as I believe) at two thirds of its value. I did not hesitate, I had lost every advance, one after another, and was anxious to retrieve my fortune or be a beggar. I signed the conveyance and received the balance, fifteen hundred and fifty pounds, and returned to the apartments, no longer mine, about an hour before dinner. I called Timothy, and ascertaining the amount of bills due, gave him fifty pounds, which left him about fifteen pounds as a residue. I then sat down to my solitary meal, but just as I commenced I heard a dispute in the passage.

“What is that, Timothy?” cried I, for I was nervous to a degree.

“It’s that fellow Emmanuel, sir, who says that he will come up.”

“Yesh, I vill go up, sar.”

“Let him come, Timothy,” replied I. Accordingly Mr Emmanuel ascended. “Well, Emmanuel, what do you want with me?” said I, looking with contempt at the miserable creature who entered as before, with his body bent double, and his hand lying over his back.

“I vash a little out of breath, Mr Newland I vash come to say dat de monish is very scarce dat I vill accept your offer, and vill take de hundred pounds and my tousand which I have lent you. You too mush gentleman not to help a poor old man, ven he ish in distress.”

“Rather say, Mr Emmanuel, that you have heard that I have not ten thousand pounds per annum, and that you are afraid that you have lost your money.”

“Loshe my monish! no loshe my tousand pound! Did you not say, dat you would pay it back to me, and give me hundred pounds for my trouble; dat vash de last arrangement.”

“Yes, but you refused to take it, so it is not my fault. You must now stick to the first, which is to receive fifteen hundred pounds when I come into my fortune.”

“Your fortune, but you av no fortune.”

“I am afraid not; and recollect, Mr Emmanuel, that I never told you that I had.”

“Vill you pay me my monish, Mr Newland, or vill you go to prison?”

“You can’t put me in prison for an agreement,” replied I.

“No; but I can prosecute you for a swindler.”

“No, you confounded old rascal, you cannot; try, and do your worst,” cried I, enraged at the word swindler.

“Vell, Mr Newland, if you have not de ten tousand a year, you have de house and de monish; you vill not cheat a poor man like me.”

“I have sold my house.”

“You have sold de house den you have neither de house or de monish. Oh! my monish, my monish! Sare, Mr Newland, you are one damned rascal;” and the old wretch’s frame quivered with emotion; his hand behind his back shaking as much as the other which, in his rage, he shook in my face.

Enraged myself at being called such an opprobrious term, I opened the door, twisted him round, and applying my foot to a nameless part, he flew out and fell down the stairs, at the turning of which he lay, groaning in pain.

“Mine Got, mine Got, I am murdered,” cried he. “Fader Abraham, receive me.” My rage was appeased, and I turned pale at the idea of having killed the poor wretch. With the assistance of Timothy, whom I summoned, we dragged the old man up stairs, and placed him in a chair, and found that he was not very much hurt. A glass of wine was given to him, and then, as soon as he could speak, his ruling passion broke out again. “Mishter Newland ah, Mishter Newland, cannot you give me my monish cannot you give me de tousand pound, without de interest? you are very welcome to de interest. I only lend it to oblige you.”

“How can you expect a damned rascal to do any such thing?” replied I.

“Damned rascal! Ah! it vash I who vash a rascal, and vash a fool to say the word. Mishter Newland, you vash a gentleman, you vill pay me my monish. You vill pay me part of my monish. I have de agreement in my pocket, all ready to give up.”

“If I have not the money, how can I pay you?”

“Fader Abraham, if you have not de monish you must have some monish; den you will pay me a part. How much vill you pay me?”

“Will you take five hundred pounds, and return the agreement?”

“Five hundred pounds lose half oh! Mr Newland it was all lent in monish, not in goods; you will not make me lose so much as dat?”

“I’m not sure that I will give you five hundred pounds; your bond is not worth two-pence, and you know it.”

“Your honour, Mishter Newland, is worth more dan ten tousand pounds: but if you have not de monish, den you shall pay me de five hundred pounds which you offer, and I will give up de paper.”

“I never offered five hundred pounds.”

“Not offer; but you mention de sum, dat quite enough.”

“Well, then, for five hundred pounds, you will give up the paper?”

“Yes; I vash content to loshe all de rest, to please you.”

I went to my desk, and took out five hundred pounds in notes. “Now, there is the money, which you may put your hands on when you give up the agreement.” The old man pulled out the agreement and laid it on the table, catching up the notes. I looked at the paper to see if it was all right, and then tore it up. Emmanuel put the notes, with a heavy sigh, into his inside coat pocket, and prepared to depart. “Now, Mr Emmanuel, I will show that I have a little more honour than you think for. This is all the money I have in the world,” said I, taking out of my desk the remaining thousand pounds, “and half of it I give to you, to pay you the whole money which you lent me. Here is five hundred pounds more, and now we are quits.”

The eyes of the old man were fixed upon me in astonishment, and from my face they glanced upon the notes; he could, to use a common expression, neither believe his eyes nor his ears. At last he took the money, again unbuttoned, and pulled out his pocket-book, and with a trembling hand stowed them away as before.

“You vash a very odd gentleman, Mishter Newland,” said he; “you kick me down stairs, and but dat is noting.”

“Good-bye, Mr Emmanuel,” said I, “and let me eat my dinner.”