Here was a poser. I have since wondered how I ever got over it. I winked at the Overland, and replied, “I ought to.”
“I think you’ll do, Sir,” was his rejoinder; “come and breakfast with me to-morrow morning.” I bowed and withdrew, and whilst adjusting my wig in the outer office, I heard an order given to the head clerk to admit no more applicants. This I regarded as a sure earnest of an engagement, and began to feel myself a man of business again. I fancied myself a full head taller than before, and stooped very low as I threaded some narrow archways near the Bank. How I got home, I cannot distinctly remember, but I packed my portmanteau in readiness for an immediate departure, in spite of the remonstrances of my worthy landlady, who looked on a journey to Egypt in the light of a wanton sacrifice of my life, assuring me that I should die of the plague in less than a week after I got there, and making me promise that I would send her off a mummy immediately on my arrival.
I was punctual to my appointment next morning, and it was fortunate that I was so, for * * * * was never known to be a minute behind time in any thing, and was in the act of pouring out my cup of tea when I entered his apartment. Had I been four minutes later, I might have whistled for my new engagement. Our breakfast over, and some preliminary matters discussed, we hastened to the office.
“Is that letter ready, Mr. Wateley? Very good. Now, Sir, here are your credentials; deliver that document on your arrival in Alexandria, to which you are booked through, viâ Marseilles: call here to-morrow morning at eight for your despatches, take this cheque, and don’t bother me any more. Good morning!”
And the “Overland” vanished into the inner office—the door was shut, and I never saw him afterwards!
I suppose I must have stood transfixed for a few moments, for I caught a juvenile clerk grinning at me like a fiend. Feeling, that if I hesitated, I ran a chance of being recalled, and losing my new honours, I ran off to Lombard Street with the cheque; and had the banker’s clerk asked me if it were honestly come by, I believe I should have answered in the negative, being somewhat confused by the odd chain of events, brought about during the last twenty-four hours.
As I hurried through Cheapside, on my return from the Bank, a hand was laid on my shoulder, and a familiar voice inquired, “Where I was off to so fast?” “To Cairo,” I replied, and was again making away, when my friend politely insinuated that I was on the wrong tack, and ought to have gone down Leadenhall Street. He was right, and in return for his information, I consented to partake of some sherry and biscuit at his counting-house hard by. Here I fell in with one or two others, who, hearing of the turn my affairs had taken, insisted on my spending a last evening in their company, and carried me off to a white-bait dinner at Blackwall, from which we did not return until near midnight.
I was awakened early the next morning by one of my companions of the dinner-party, who had made up his mind to see me as far as Paris. He reminded me of what I had somehow or other totally forgotten, that passports might possibly be necessary, and in our hurry to secure these troublesome documents, we overlooked other matters of equal or even greater importance. I turned my back upon London with considerable pleasure, finding that the anticipation of novelty and change of scene, shut the door in the face of all the varied regrets and emotions which had accompanied my former leave-takings. I felt myself cast once more upon the world, to begin life as it were, over again among new scenes and fresh faces, and although I could scarcely be said to have a very distinct idea, either of my ultimate destination, or of the occupation in store for me, I felt prepared to view all en couleur de rose, and steer a straight-forward course through all difficulties.
CHAPTER II.
DISCOMFORTS OF THE CHANNEL—AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY—HORRORS OF THE ROTONDE—A TRAVELLER’S TOILETTE—CHALONS SUR SOANE—LYONS—A TRANSPLANTED ENGINEER—THE RHONE—ARLES—THE MEDITERRANEAN—MARSEILLES.