“That you had procured it for me, sir.”
“Since you ask me, I tell you honestly, that if it had been for your interest, I would have purchased that commission long ago; but there is a little secret, a political secret, which I could not tell you before—those who are behind the scenes cannot always speak—I may tell it to you now confidentially, but you must not repeat it, especially from me—that peace is likely to continue; so the army is out of the question.”
“Well, sir, if that be the case—you know best.”
“I do—it is, trust me; and as things have turned out—though I could not possibly foresee what has happened—every thing is for the best: I have come express from town to tell you news that will surprise you beyond measure.”
“What can you mean, sir?”
“Simply, sir, that you are possessed, or soon will be possessed of—But come, sit down quietly, and in good earnest let me explain to you. You know your father’s second wife, the Indian woman, the governor’s mahogany-coloured daughter—she had a prodigious fortune, which my poor friend, your father, chose, when dying, to settle upon her, and her Indian son; leaving you nothing but what he could not take from you, the little paternal estate of three hundred pounds a year. Well, it has pleased Heaven to take your mahogany-coloured step-mother and your Indian brother out of this world; both carried off within a few days of each other by a fever of the country—much regretted, I dare say, in the Bombay Gazette, by all who knew them.
“But as neither you nor I had that honour, we are not, upon this occasion, called upon for any hypocrisy, farther than a black coat, which I have ordered for you at my tailor’s. Have also noted and answered, in conformity, the agent’s letter of 26th July, received yesterday, containing the melancholy intelligence: farther, replied to that part of his last, which requested to know how and where to transmit the property, which, on the Indian mother and brother’s demise, falls, by the will of the late Captain Ormond, to his European son, Harry Ormond, esq., now under the guardianship of Sir Ulick O’Shane, Castle Hermitage, Ireland.”
As he spoke, Sir Ulick produced the agent’s letter, and put it into his ward’s hand, pointing to the “useful passages.” Harry, glancing his eye over them, understood just enough to be convinced that Sir Ulick was in earnest, and that he was really heir to a very considerable property.
“Well! Harry Ormond, esq.,” pursued Sir Ulick, “was I wrong when I told you that if you would inquire at Castle Hermitage you would hear of something to your advantage?”
“I hope in Heaven,” said Ormond, “and pray to Heaven that it may be to my advantage!—I hope neither my head nor my heart may be turned by sudden prosperity.”