John, said the good old man, I have been putting down a few items in the only work of mine, that will ever descend to posterity, and as you have a concern in the purport of it, I think it is but right you should know what it is. In this paper, which is my last will and testament, and which friend Davis has translated out of English into law, I have bequeathed my estates real and personal to your mother independantly of her husband for her life, and after her decease to you and your heirs, executors and assigns, for ever. So God bless you with it! I for one shan’t hold it from you long. However take notice, I have not forgotten certain friends and dependants, who will have claims upon you; and as I have not been notoriously uncharitable in my life, I have not quite overlooked that duty at my death. I shall not turn out rich in money, for the labouring poor have been so confoundedly pinched, that they would not let me gratify the rascally passion, which I naturally had to be a miser. There is Dame Jennings will come upon you for an annuity, and that little witch Amelia Jones is down in black and white for another. I could not help it. They were both too good, and one of them too pretty, too innocent, and too helpless to be left to the wide world; I could not go out of it in peace, and leave them to starve in poverty: you must think, John, that would not do; would it? No, no; I was forced to take care of them for the sake of an easy conscience, or in other words (do you see) for my own sake; else I should not have done it for the mere pleasure of giving away; for I have no pleasure in it. As a proof of that, look you, here is a hundred guineas in a canvas purse; I took from the greasy pocket of a drover for twenty head of scabby cattle, that were neither use nor ornament to me. I cheated the poor fellow, or rather I should say, let him cheat himself; for I took what he offered. Now here’s a case in point, if you don’t take and rid me of it, it will lie upon my conscience, and what with that and the gout together, I shall get no sleep.
You know, my dear generous grandfather, said John, I don’t want money.
Perhaps not; but I want sleep, replied the grandfather; therefore take it, if you love me, and dispose of it as you like. John made no further opposition, but received the present.
It so chanced that in the evening a certain Jew, Israel Lyons by name, who was in the practice of travelling about the country at stated periods with his portable stock in trade, came to the house. He had the character of a fair-dealing man, and was well known to the principal families in those parts. Israel either bought or sold, and was a trader in all respects conformable to the occasions of those, to whom he resorted. Old Morgan having retired to his chamber, John, according to custom, had stepped aside to pay a kind visit to Mrs. Richards and the old butler, whilst Israel was descanting upon the excellence of a pair of spectacles, which the good lady was cheapening; these were soon purchased and paid for without any cheapening at all, and in the mean time our hero’s eyes were caught by the attraction of a rich and elegant gold chain of curious workmanship, which Israel displayed with address and eloquence, at least proportioned to its merit. It instantly occurred to John that this brilliant chain would admirably become the beautiful neck of Amelia, and be a fit and apposite appendage to the miniature picture of her father, which he was about to present to her. A speedy transfer of the aforesaid chain was accordingly made by Mr. Israel Lyons, who had no kind of difficulty in parting from it for value received in ready cash upon terms of his own proposing; and thus it came to pass, that the present, which John hesitated to receive, was, as it now turned out, most opportunely bestowed.
The next morning brought our young De Lancaster to the door of Mrs. Jennings; he was admitted to that lady, but Amelia was not present. When he had communicated the object of his visit, and signified that he waited on Miss Jones with the entire approbation, and in fact by the immediate desire of his mother, Mrs. Jennings paused, and after a few moments recollection, said—I should very much wish, Mr. De Lancaster, that Amelia Jones, agitated as I am sure she will be upon the sight of this most interesting present, might with your permission be allowed to receive it in the first instance through my hands; that so she may have time to recollect herself, before she undertakes to pay her acknowledgments to Mrs. De Lancaster through you, and to you in person; and I hope, sir, you will believe that I can have no other inducement for proposing this to you, except that of my consideration for the feelings of the young and sensitive creature, who is under my immediate charge.
To this appeal our hero instantly, replied—As I promised my mother that I would deliver this token of her affection into Miss Jones’s hands, I confess I wished to have fulfilled my promise; but your authority supersedes those wishes on my part, and with all possible respect for your superior judgment, I beg you will transmit this pacquet to Miss Jones in the way you think best: I am only the bearer of it, and shall intrude no further—Having risen from his seat whilst he was uttering these words, he had no sooner made an end of speaking, than he bolted out of the room with a rapidity, that precluded all reply—Never will I enter those doors again, he exclaimed as he stepped into the street, whilst that dragon is within them.—
We make no comment on this hasty proceeding of our disappointed hero: some of our readers perhaps will find a plea for it; we offer none. The good lady whose caution had given cause for it, (if any cause there was) had by the sudden departure of her visitor been precluded from making any of those efforts for detaining him, which politeness might else have dictated. He had passed her windows before she had sufficiently recovered her surprise to attempt at explanation, and she had now to reflect how far it was, or was not, incumbent upon her to relate the incident with all its circumstances to Amelia. In her sense of the responsible situation, in which she stood towards the families of De Lancaster and Morgan, she conceived it highly behoved her to be extremely careful how she gave them any grounds to accuse her of favouring interviews, that in course of time might lead to an attachment, which she had reason to apprehend might involve her in much trouble, if considered by those families as originating in her house.
When she had weighed these circumstances in her mind, she found so many reasons, that justified her reserve towards young De Lancaster, that she no longer regretted the interruption she had given to a second interview, which would probably have excited some sensations, and drawn out some expressions on the part of Amelia, which she by no means was disposed to encourage. She now took up the pacquet, and entering the room, where Amelia, unconscious of what had been passing, was employed upon her studies—My dear child, she said, I have a present for you from Mrs. Philip De Lancaster, which I am sure you will very highly value, being a miniature portrait of your father, which that lady has long had in her possession, and now kindly bestows it upon you—Bless me, exclaimed Amelia, how very kind that is in Mrs. De Lancaster! What a good and generous lady she must be. In the meantime she eagerly proceeded to open the pacquet, which inclosed two shagreen cases, and instantly taking that, which evidently contained the miniature of her father, rapturously exclaimed—Oh, what an exquisite, what an admirable resemblance; how lovely, how divine is the expression of this countenance! I can look on this with more delight than I can on the portrait below stairs; for here I behold him happy and in health; there he appears so melancholy and dejected, that I can hardly ever look upon it without tears—But what in the name of wonder is this, said she, opening the case, in which the gold chain was contained? Bless me! can this fine thing be intended for me? Did Mrs. De Lancaster give me this also?
I suppose so, said Mrs. Jennings: at least I know nothing to the contrary.
But who brought it? demanded Amelia; and thus interrogated, Mrs. Jennings was constrained to answer, that it was brought and delivered to her by young De Lancaster himself.