"Thou must not read, but I may read unto thee," replied Susannah. "Tell me, what is it that thou wouldest have me read? I have no vain books; but surely thou thinkest not of them, after thy escape from death."
"I care not what is read, provided that you read to me," replied I.
"Nay, but thou shouldest care; and be not wroth if I say to thee, that there is but one book to which thou shouldest now listen. Thou hast been saved from deadly peril--thou hast been rescued from the jaws of death. Art thou not thankful? And to whom is grat.i.tude most due, but to thy heavenly Father, who hath been pleased to spare thee?"
"You are right," replied I; "then I pray you to read to me from the Bible."
Susannah made no reply, but resumed her seat; and selecting those chapters most appropriate to my situation, read them in a beautiful and impressive tone.
PART THREE, CHAPTER NINE.
PRIDE AND LOVE AT ISSUE--THE LATTER IS VICTORIOUS--I TURN QUAKER, AND RECOMMENCE MY OLD PROFESSION.
If the reader will recall my narrative to his recollection, he must observe, that religion had had hitherto but little of my thoughts. I had lived the life of most who live in this world; perhaps not quite so correct in morals as many people, for my code of morality was suited to circ.u.mstances; as to religion, I had none. I had lived in the world, and for the world. I had certainly been well instructed in the tenets of our faith when I was at the Asylum, but there, as in most other schools, it is made irksome, as a task, and is looked upon with almost a feeling of aversion. No proper religious sentiments are, or can be, inculcated to a large number of scholars; it is the parent alone who can instil, by precept and example, that true sense of religion, which may serve as a guide through life. I had not read the Bible from the time that I quitted the Foundling Hospital. It was new to me, and when I now heard read, by that beautiful creature, pa.s.sages equally beautiful, and so applicable to my situation, weakened by disease, and humbled in adversity, I was moved, even unto tears.
Susannah closed the book and came to the bedside. I thanked her: she perceived my emotion, and when I held out my hand she did not refuse hers. I kissed it, and it was immediately withdrawn, and she left the room. Shortly afterwards Ephraim made his appearance. Cophagus and his wife also came that evening, but I saw no more of Susannah Temple until the following day, when I again requested her to read to me.
I will not detain the reader by an account of my recovery. In three weeks I was able to leave the room; during that time, I had become very intimate with the whole family, and was treated as if I belonged to it.
During my illness I had certainly shown more sense of religion than I had ever done before, but I do not mean to say that I was really religious. I liked to hear the Bible read by Susannah, and I liked to talk with her upon religious subjects; but had Susannah been an ugly old woman, I very much doubt if I should have been so attentive. It was her extreme beauty--her modesty and fervour, which so became her, which enchanted me. I felt the beauty of religion, but it was through an earthly object; it was beautiful in her. She looked an angel, and I listened to her precepts as delivered by one. Still, whatever may be the cause by which a person"s attention can be directed to so important a subject, so generally neglected, whether by fear of death, or by love towards an earthly object, the advantages are the same; and although very far from what I ought to have been, I certainly was, through my admiration of her, a better man. As soon as I was on the sofa wrapped up in one of the dressing-gowns of Mr Cophagus, he told me that the clothes in which I had been picked up were all in tatters, and asked me whether I would like to have others made according to the usual fashion, or like those with whom I should, he trusted, in future reside. I had already debated this matter in my mind. Return to the world I had resolved not to do; to follow up the object of my search appeared to me only to involve me in difficulties; and what were the intentions of Cophagus with regard to me, I knew not. I was hesitating, for I knew not what answer to give, when I perceived the pensive, deep-blue eye of Susannah fixed upon me, watching attentively, if not eagerly, for my response.
It decided the point. "If," replied I, "you do not think that I should disgrace you, I should wish to wear the dress of the Society of Friends, although not yet one of your body."
"But soon to be, I trust," replied Mrs Cophagus.
"Alas!" replied I, "I am an outcast;" and I looked at Susannah Temple.
"Not so, j.a.phet Newland," replied she, mildly: "I am pleased that thou hast of thy own accord rejected vain attire. I trust that thou wilt not find that thou art without friends."
"While I am with you," replied I, addressing myself to them all, "I consider it my duty to conform to your manners in every way, but by-and-by, when I resume my search--"
"And why shouldst thou resume a search which must prove unavailing, and but leads thee into error and misfortune? I am but young, j.a.phet Newland, and not perhaps so able to advise, yet doth it appear to me, that the search can only be availing when made by those who left thee.
When they wish for you they will seek thee, but thy seeking them is vain and fruitless."
"But," replied I, "recollect that inquiries have already been made at the Foundling, and those who inquired have been sent away disappointed-- they will inquire no more."
"And is a parent"s love so trifling, that one disappointment will drive him from seeking of his child? No, no, j.a.phet; if thou art yearned for, thou wilt be found, and fresh inquiries will be made; but thy search is unavailing, and already hast thou lost much time."
"True, Susannah, thy advise is good," replied Mrs Cophagus; "in following a shadow j.a.phet hath much neglected the substance; it is time that thou shouldst settle thyself, and earn thy livelihood."
"And do thy duty in that path of life to which it hath pleased G.o.d to call thee," continued Susannah, who with Mrs Cophagus walked out of the room.
Cophagus then took up the conversation, and pointing out the uselessness of my roving about, and the propriety of my settling in life, proposed that I should take an apothecary"s shop, for which he would furnish the means, and that he could insure me the custom, of the whole Society of Friends in Reading, which was very large, as there was not one of the sect in that line of business. "Become one of us, j.a.phet--good business--marry by-and-by--happy life--little children--and so on." I thought of Susannah, and was silent. Cophagus then said, I had better reflect upon his offer, and make up my determination. If that did not suit me, he would still give me all the a.s.sistance in his power.
I did reflect long before I could make up my mind. I was still worldly inclined; still my fancy would revel in the idea of finding out my father in high life, and, as once more appearing as a star of fashion, of returning with interest the contumely I had lately received, and re-a.s.suming as a right that position in society which I had held under false colours.
I could not bear the idea of sinking at once into a tradesman, and probably ending my days in obscurity. Pride was still my ruling pa.s.sion. Such were my first impulses, and then I looked upon the other side of the picture. I was without the means necessary to support myself; I could not return to high life without I discovered my parents in the first place, and in the second, found them to be such as my warm imagination had depicted. I had no chance of finding them. I had already been long seeking in vain. I had been twice taken up to Bow Street--nearly lost my life in Ireland--had been sentenced to death--had been insane, and recovered by a miracle, and all in prosecuting this useless search. All this had much contributed to cure me of the monomania. I agreed with Susannah that the search must be made by the other parties, and not by me. I recalled the treatment I had received from the world--the contempt with which I had been treated--the heartlessness of high life, and the little chance of my ever again being admitted into fashionable society.
I placed all this in juxtaposition with the kindness of those with whom I now resided--what they had done already for me, and what they now offered, which was to make me independent by my own exertions. I weighed all in my mind; was still undecided, for my pride still carried its weight; when I thought of the pure, beautiful Susannah Temple, and-- my decision was made. I would not lose the substance by running after shadows.
That evening, with many thanks, I accepted the kind offers of Mr Cophagus, and expressed my determination of entering into the Society of Friends.
"Thou hast chosen wisely," said Mrs Cophagus, extending her hand to me, "and it is with pleasure that we shall receive thee."
"I welcome thee, j.a.phet Newland," said Susannah, also offering her hand, "and I trust that thou wilt find more happiness among those with whom thou art about to sojourn, than in the world of vanity and deceit, in which thou hast hitherto played thy part. No longer seek an earthly father, who hath deserted thee, but a heavenly Father, who will not desert thee in thy afflictions."
"You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah," replied I.
"I am too young to be a guide, j.a.phet," replied she, smiling; "but not too young, I hope, to be a friend."
The next day my clothes came home, and I put them on. I looked at myself in the gla.s.s, and was anything but pleased; but as my head was shaved, it was of little consequence what I wore; so I consoled myself.
Mr Cophagus sent for a barber and ordered me a wig, which was to be ready in a few days; when it was ready I put it on, and altogether did not dislike my appearance. I flattered myself that if I was a Quaker, at all events I was a very good looking and a very smart one; and when, a day or two afterwards a reunion of friends took place at Mr Cophagus"s house to introduce me to them, I perceived, with much satisfaction, that there was no young man who could compete with me.
After this, I was much more reconciled to my transformation.
PART THREE, CHAPTER TEN.
I PROSPER IN EVERY WAY, AND BECOME RECONCILED TO MY SITUATION.
Mr Cophagus was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a shop for me, and furnished it much better than his own in Smithfield; the upper part of the house was let off, as I was to reside with the family. When it was ready, I went over it with him, and was satisfied; all I wished for was Timothy as an a.s.sistant, but that wish was unavailing, as I knew not where to find him.
That evening I observed to Mr Cophagus, that I did not much like putting my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade it, and I could not bear the idea, that j.a.phet Newland, at whose knock every aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters above a shop-window. "There are many reasons against it," observed I. "One is, that it is not my real name--I should like to take the name of Cophagus; another is, that the name, being so well known, may attract those who formerly knew me, and I should not wish that they should come in and mock me; another is--"
"j.a.phet Newland," interrupted Susannah, with more severity than I ever had seen in her sweet countenance, "do not trouble thyself with giving thy reasons, seeing thou hast given every reason but the right one, which is, that thy pride revolts at it."
"I was about to observe," replied I, "that it was a name that sounded of mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But, Susannah, you have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no further objections.
j.a.phet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no more upon the subject."
"If I have wronged thee, j.a.phet, much do I crave thy forgiveness,"
replied Susannah. "But it is G.o.d alone who knoweth the secrets of our hearts. I was presumptuous; and you must pardon me."
"Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon; you know me better than I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride--but you have cured me."
"Truly have I hopes of thee now, j.a.phet," replied Susannah, smiling.
"Those who confess their faults will soon amend them; yet I do think there is some reason in thy observation, for who knoweth, but meeting with thy former a.s.sociates, thou mayst not be tempted into falling away?
Thou mayst spell thy name as thou listest; and, peradventure, it would be better to disguise it."
So agreed Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and I therefore had it written _Gnow-land_; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly recommended to me, as an a.s.sistant, I took possession of my shop, and was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading.
And I was happy. I had enjoyment during the day; my profession was, at all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived as a gentleman, or rather I should say respectably. I was earning my own livelihood. I was a useful member of society, and when I retired home to meals, and late at night, I found, that if Cophagus and his wife had retired, Susannah Temple always waited up, and remained with me a few minutes. I had never been in love until I had fallen in with this perfect creature; but my love for her was not the love of the world; I could not so depreciate her--I loved her as a superior being--I loved her with fear and trembling. I felt that she was too pure, too holy, too good for a vain worldly creature like myself. I felt as if my destiny depended upon her and her fiat; that if she favoured me, my happiness in this world and in the next were secured; that if she rejected me, I was cast away for ever. Such was my feeling for Susannah Temple, who, perfect as she was, was still a woman, and perceived her power over me; but unlike the many of her s.e.x, exerted that power only to lead to what was right.
Insensibly almost, my pride was quelled, and I became humble and religiously inclined. Even the peculiarities of the sect, their meeting at their places of worship, their drawling, and their quaint manner of talking, became no longer a subject of dislike. I found out causes and good reasons for everything which before appeared strange--sermons in stones, and good in everything. Months pa.s.sed away--my business prospered--I had nearly repaid the money advanced by Mr Cophagus. I was in heart and soul a Quaker, and I entered into the fraternity with a feeling that I could act up to what I had promised. I was happy, quite happy, and yet I had never received from Susannah Temple any further than the proofs of sincere friendship. But I had much of her society, and we were now very, very intimate. I found out what warm, what devoted feelings were concealed under her modest, quiet exterior--how well her mind was stored, and how right was that mind.
Often when I talked over past events, did I listen to her remarks, all tending to one point, morality and virtue; often did I receive from her at first a severe, but latterly a kind rebuke, when my discourse was light and frivolous; but when I talked of merry subjects which were innocent, what could be more joyous or more exhilarating than her laugh--what more intoxicating than her sweet smile, when she approved of my sentiments! and when animated by the subject, what could be more musical or more impa.s.sioned than her bursts of eloquence, which were invariably followed by a deep blush, when she recollected how she had been carried away by excitement.
There was one point upon which I congratulated myself, which was, that she had received two or three unexceptionable offers of marriage during the six months that I had been in her company, and refused them. At the end of that period, thanks to the a.s.sistance I received from the Friends, I had paid Mr Cophagus all the money which he had advanced, and found myself in possession of a flourishing business, and independent. I then requested that I might be allowed to pay an annual stipend for my board and lodging, commencing from the time I first came to his house. Mr Cophagus said I was right--the terms were easily arranged, and I was independent.