"But soon to be, I trust," replied Mrs Cophagus.
"Alas!" replied I, "I am an outcast;" and I looked at Susannah Temple.
"Not so, Japhet 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-bye, 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, Japhet 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 enquire no more."
"And is a parent's love so trifling, that one disappointment will drive him from seeking of his child? No, no, Japhet; 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 advice is good," replied Mrs Cophagus; "in following a shadow Japhet 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 God 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 ensure 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, Japhet—good business—marry by-and-bye—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 assistance 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-assuming as a right that position in society which I had held under false colours.