They had postponed their breakfast on my account, and we sat down to table together. We had not been seated long, when I saw an approaching arrival in Mrs. Strong’s face, before I heard any sound of it. A gentleman on horseback came to the gate, and, leading his horse into the little court, with the bridle over his arm, as if he were quite at home, tied him to a ring in the empty coach-house wall, and came into the breakfast parlor, whip in hand. It was Mr. Jack Maldon; and Mr. Jack Maldon was not at all improved by India, I thought. I was in a state of ferocious virtue, however, as to young men who were not cutting down the trees in the forest of difficulty; and my impression must be received with due allowance.
“Mr. Jack!” said the Doctor, “Copperfield!”
Mr. Jack Maldon shook hands with me; but not very warmly, I believed; and with an air of languid patronage, at which I secretly took great umbrage. But his languor altogether was quite a wonderful sight; except when he addressed himself to his cousin Annie.
“Have you breakfasted this morning, Mr. Jack?” said the Doctor.
“I hardly ever take breakfast, sir,” he replied, with his head thrown back in an easy chair. “I find it bores me.”
“Is there any news to-day?” inquired the Doctor.
“Nothing at all, sir,” replied Mr. Maldon. “There’s an account about the people being hungry and discontented down in the North, but they are always being hungry and discontented somewhere.”
The Doctor looked grave, and said, as though he wished to change the subject, “Then there’s no news at all; and no news, they say, is good news.”
“There’s a long statement in the papers, sir, about a murder,” observed Mr. Maldon. “But somebody is always being murdered, and I didn’t read it.”
A display of indifference to all the actions and passions of mankind was not supposed to be such a distinguished quality at that time, I think, as I have observed it to be considered since. I have known it very fashionable indeed. I have seen it displayed with such success, that I have encountered some fine ladies and gentlemen who might as well have been born caterpillars. Perhaps it impressed me the more then, because it was new to me, but it certainly did not tend to exalt my opinion of, or to strengthen my confidence in, Mr. Jack Maldon.