Thus, I found that in serving my employer faithfully, I conferred the greatest benefit on myself; and the hours devoted to study, while they formed a pleasant recreation from the day labours of the office, were among the happiest and most sinless of my life.
I was seldom admitted into my uncle"s drawing-room, and never allowed to mingle with evening parties, which, during the brief visits of Theophilus to his home, were not only frequent, but very brilliant.
This I felt as a great hardship. My solitary and companionless youth had deeply imbued my mind with romance. I was fond of castle-building; I pictured to myself the world as a paradise, and fancied that I was an ill.u.s.trious actor in scenes of imaginary splendour, which bore no a.n.a.logy to the dull realities of my present life.
I was a dreamer of wild dreams, and suffered my enthusiasm to get the master of reason, and betray me into a thousand absurdities. My love for poetry and music was excessive. I played upon the flute by ear, and often when alone dissipated my melancholy thoughts by breathing them into the instrument.
Through this medium, Harrison became an adept at discovering the state of my feelings. "My flute told tales," he said. "It always spoke the language of my heart." Yet from him I had few concealments. He was my friend and bosom-counsellor, in whom I reposed the most unreserved confidence. But strange to say, this confidence was not mutual. There was a mystery about George which I could not fathom; a mental reservation which was tantalizing and inexplicable.
He was a gentleman in education, appearance and manners, and possessed those high and honourable feelings, which if displayed in a peasant would rank him as one, and which are inseparable from all who really deserve the t.i.tle. He never spoke to me of his family--never alluded to the events of his past life, or the scenes in which his childhood had been spent. He talked of sorrow and sickness--of chastis.e.m.e.nts in the school of adversity, in general terms; but he never revealed the cause of these trials, or why a young man of his attainments was reduced to a situation so far below the station he ought to have held in society.
I was half inclined to quarrel with him for so pertinaciously concealing from me circ.u.mstances which I thought I had a right to know; and in which, when known, I was fully prepared to sympathize. A thousand times I was on the point of remonstrating with him on this undue reserve, which appeared so foreign to his frank, open nature, but feelings of delicacy restrained me.
What right had _I_ to pry into his secrets? My impertinent curiosity might reopen wounds which time had closed. There were, doubtless, good reasons for his withholding the information I coveted.
Yet, I must confess that I had an intense curiosity--a burning desire to know the history of his past life. For many long months my wishes remained ungratified.
At this time I felt an ardent desire to see something more of life, to mingle in the gay scenes of the great world around me. Pride, however, withheld me from accepting the many pressing invitations I daily received from the clerks in the office, to join them in parties of pleasure, to the theatres and other places of public amus.e.m.e.nt. Mr.
Moncton had strictly forbidden me to leave the house of an evening; but as he was often absent of a night, I could easily have evaded his commands; but I scorned to expose to strangers the meanness of my wealthy relative, by confessing that mine was an empty purse; while the thought of enjoying myself at the expense of my generous companions, was not to be tolerated for an instant. If I could not go as a gentleman, and pay my own share of the entertainment, I determined not to go at all; and these resolutions met with the entire approbation of my friend Harrison.
"Wait patiently, Geoffrey, and fortune will pay up the arrears of the long debt she owes you. It is an old and hackneyed saying, "That riches alone, cannot confer happiness upon the possessor.""
"My uncle and cousin are living demonstrations of the truth of the proverb. Mr. Moncton is affluent, and might enjoy all the luxuries that wealth can procure; yet he toils with as much a.s.siduity to increase his riches, as the poorest labourer does to earn bread for his family. He can acquire, but has not the heart to enjoy--while the bad disposition of Theophilus would render him, under any circ.u.mstances, a miserable man. Yet, after all, George, in this bad world, money is power."
"Only, to a certain extent: to be happy, a man must be good; religiously, morally, physically. He must bear upon his heart the image of the Prince of Peace, before he can truly value the glorious boon of life."
"I wish I could see these things in the same calm unprejudiced light,"
said I; "but I find it a bitter mortification, after so many years of hard labour, to be without a penny to pay for seeing a raree-show."
Harrison laughed heartily, "You will perhaps say, that it is easy for me to preach against riches; but like the Fox in the fable, the grapes are sour. I speak, however, with indifference of the good that Providence has placed beyond my reach. Geoffrey, I was once the envied possessor of wealth, which in my case was productive of much evil."
"How did you lose such an advantage?" I eagerly exclaimed, "do tell me something of your past life?"
This was the first allusion he had made to his former circ.u.mstances; and I was determined not to let the opportunity pa.s.s unnoticed.
He seemed to guess my thoughts. "Are you anxious for a humiliating confession, of vanity, folly and prodigality? Well, Geoffrey, you shall have it; but mark me--it will only be in general terms--I cannot enter into particulars. I was born poor, and unexpectedly became rich, and like many persons in like circ.u.mstances, I was ashamed of my mean origin; and thought, by making a dashing appearance and squandering lavishly my wealth, to induce men to forget my humble birth. The world applauds such madness as long as the money lasts, and for a short period, I had friends and flatterers at will.
"My brief career terminated in ruin and disgrace: wealth which is not acquired by industry, is seldom retained by prudence; and to those unacquainted with the real value of money, a large sum always appears inexhaustible. So it was with me. I spent, without calculating the cost, and soon lost all. The world now wore a very different aspect. I was deserted by all my gay a.s.sociates; my most intimate companions pa.s.sed me in the streets without recognition. I knew that this would be the result of my altered fortunes, yet the reality cut me to the heart.
"These are mortifying lessons, which experience, wisdom"s best counsellor, daily teaches us; and a man must either be very self-conceited, or very insensible, who cannot profit by her valuable instructions. The hour which brought to me the humiliating conviction, that I was a person of no consequence; that the world could go on very well without me; that my merry companions would not be one jot less facetious, though I was absent from their jovial parties, was after all not the most miserable of my life.
"I woke as from a dream. The scales had fallen from my eyes. I knew myself--and became a wiser and better man. I called all my creditors together, discharged my debts, and found myself free of the world in the most liberal sense.
"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed. "How could you bear such a dreadful reverse with such fort.i.tude--such magnanimity?"
"You give me greater credit than I deserve, Geoffrey: my imprudent conduct merited a severe punishment, and I had sense enough to discern that it was just. After the first shock was over, I felt happier in my poverty than I had ever done during my unmerited prosperity. I had abused the gifts of fortune while they were mine, and I determined to acquire an independence by my own exertions. A friend, whom I had scarcely regarded as such, during my reckless career of folly, came unexpectedly to my a.s.sistance, and offered to purchase for me a commission in the army, but I had private reasons for wishing to obtain a situation in this office. Writing a good hand, and having been originally educated for the profession, together with the recommendation of Mr. Ba.s.sett who was related to my friend, procured me the place I now hold."
"And your reasons for coming here?" I cried, burning with curiosity.
"Pardon me, Geoffrey. That is my secret."
He spoke with the calmness of a philosopher, but I saw his emotion, as his eyes turned mechanically to the parchment he was copying, and affected an air of cheerful resignation.
The candid exposure of his past faults and follies raised, rather than sunk him in my estimation; but I was sadly disappointed at the general terms in which they were revealed. I wanted to know every event of his private life, and this abridgment was very tantalizing.
While I was pondering these things in my heart, the pen he had grasped so tightly was flung to some distance, and he raised his fine eyes to my face.
"Thank G.o.d! Geoffrey; I have not as yet lost the faculty of feeling--that I can see and deplore the errors of the past. When I think what I was, what I am, and what I might have been, it brings a cloud over my mind which often dissolves in tears. This is the weakness of human nature. But the years so uselessly wasted rise up in dread array against me, and the flood-gates of the soul are broken up by bitter and remorseful regrets. But see," he exclaimed, dashing the thickening mist from his eyes, and resuming his peculiarly benevolent smile: "the dark cloud has pa.s.sed, and George is himself again."
"You are happier than I. You can smile through your tears," I cried, regarding his April face with surprise.
"And so would you, Geoffrey, if, like me, you had brought your pa.s.sions under the subjection of reason."
"It is no easy task, George, to storm a city, when your own subjects defend the walls, and at every attack drive you back with your own weapons, into the trenches. I will, however, commence the attack, by striving to forget that there is a world beyond these gloomy walls, in whose busy scenes I am forbidden to mingle."
"Valiantly resolved, Geoffrey. But how comes it, that you did not tell me the news this morning?"
"News--what news?"
"Your cousin Theophilus returned last night."
"The devil he did! That"s everything but good news to me. But are you sure the news is true?"
"My landlady is sister to Mr. Moncton"s housekeeper. I had my information from her. She tells me that the father and son are on very bad terms."
"I have seldom heard Mr. Moncton mention him of late. I wonder we have not seen him in the office. He generally pays us an early visit to show off his fine clothes, and to insult me."
"Talk of his satanic majesty, Geoff. You know the rest. Here comes the heir of the house of Moncton."
"He does not belong to the elder branch," I cried, fiercely. "Poor as I am, I consider myself the head of the house, and one of these days will dispute his right to that t.i.tle."
"Tush!" said George, resuming his pen, "you are talking sad nonsense.
But hereby hangs a tale."
I looked up inquiringly. Harrison was hard at work. I saw a mischievous smile hovering about his lips. He turned his back abruptly to the door, and bent more closely over his parchment, as Theophilus Moncton entered the office equipped for a journey.
CHAPTER IX.
A PORTRAIT.
Two years had pa.s.sed away since I last beheld my cousin, and during his absence, there had been peace between his father and me. He appeared before me like the evil genius of the house, prepared to renew the old hostility, and I could not meet him with the least show of cordiality and affection.
I am not a good hand at sketching portraits, but the person of my cousin is so fresh in my memory, his image so closely interwoven with all the leading events of my life, that I can scarcely fail in giving a tolerably correct likeness of the original.
He was about the middle stature, his figure slender and exceedingly well made: and but for a strong dash of affectation, which marred all that he did and said, his carriage would have been easy and graceful.