Oliver had rid himself of his occupation by a simple method; he had merely abstained from going to his work at the butcher's any more, and had sent round to say he had found other and more suitable employment, and, as a slight recompense to his master for any loss he might suppose himself to sustain, had bidden him keep the few shillings of wage due to him. So that he felt himself, as he said, now entirely free to look after and protect me.
"For look after you I always shall," he said, "So long as it is in my power and until I see you accorded your own. Then, when that happens, you may send me about my business as soon as you will, and I will shift for myself."
"It can never happen," I replied, "that the time will come when you and I must part,"--alas! I spake as what I was, a child who knew not and could not foresee the stirring events that were to be my portion for many years to come, nor how the seas were to roll between me and that honest creature for many of those years,--"nor can the time ever come when I shall fail in my gratitude to you or to Mr. Kinchella. You! my only friends."
Then Oliver's face lighted up with pleasure as I spoke, and he grasped my hand and said that if Providence would only allow it we would never part.
To Mr. Kinchella I had gone between the time of the affray with my uncle--of whom the last I saw was his being half-led and half-carried to a coach by Considine, after he had learnt who it was who had gone to Virginia in my place--and the sailing of the packet, and I had found him busy making his preparations for departing for his vacation, the Michaelmas term being now nearly at its end. He was astonished at my appearance, as he might well be, and muttered, as he looked smilingly down at me, "Quantum mutatus ab illo! Have you come in for your fortune and proved your right to your title, my lord?"
But when I had sat me down and told him the whole of my story and of the strange things that had happened during the last two days, he seemed as though thunderstruck and mused deeply ere he spoke.
"'Tis a strong blow, a brave blow," he exclaimed at last, "and boldly planned. Moreover, I see not how your uncle can proceed against you or Quin for your parts in it. If he goes against Quin, there is the paper showing that he was willing that you should be sold into slavery. Therefore he dare not move in that quarter. Then, as for you, if he proceeds against you he acknowledges your existence and so stultifies his own claim. And, again, he cannot move because witnesses could be brought against him to show that the scheme was his, though the carrying out of it was different from his hopes--those player wenches could also testify, though I know not whether a court of law would admit, or receive, the evidence of such as they."
"There are others besides," I said. "Mr. Garrett, with whom Roderick quarrelled, and who seemed to be of a good position; he, too, heard it. Also, there were several by the river this morning who witnessed the fit into which my uncle fell when he found how his wicked plot had recoiled on his own head----"
"Ay, hoist with his own petard! Well, I am honestly glad of it. And, moreover, 'tis something different from the musty old story told by the romancers and the playwrights. With these gentry 'tis ever the rightful heir who goes to the wall and is the sufferer, but here in this, a real matter, 'tis the heir who--up to now at least--is triumphant and the villains who are outwitted. Gerald, when you get to London, you should make your way to the coffee-houses--there is the 'Rose'; also 'Button's' still exists, I think, besides many others--and offer thy story to the gentlemen who write. It might make the fortune of a play, if not of the author."
"'Tis as yet not ripe," I replied, though I could not but laugh at good Mr. Kinchella's homely jokes; "the first act is hardly over. Let us wait and see what the result may be."