Fortune, however, frowned upon her votary with great perseverance. One morning, after a turn of ill luck, when, in desponding apathy, wringing his hands and calling upon Hercules, he was thinking of breaking with Sinson, cost what it might, that individual crossed his path, and accosted him.
"What! is the goddess always blind, Everope? Nothing to be done at the Rooms?"
"I shall go there no more," said the spendthrift sullenly. "I have done with them, and play, and the world, and everything."
"Which means," Sinson observed maliciously, "that you have lost your money. Perhaps I can put you in the way of getting some. There's corn in Egypt."
"What can you do?" asked Everope. "Pick the lock of the granary, perchance? But I am desperate. Let me hear."
"Pooh!" said Michael. "I want a companion for a pretty long trip into the country. One not troubled with over-nice scruples; do you note me?"
"Then you may go somewhere else," cried Everope, who felt that he was selling his soul past redemption.
"And you will go into the Fleet," added the tempter, "to lie there till you die. Remember I have a considerable memorandum against you in my pocket-book; and I shall find a friend to serve me all the same. There's nothing that money won't buy; and there's plenty of it to be won here. I offer it to you in kindness, as a friend."
And he jingled some gold in his pocket to give emphasis to his words. Woe for Everope! He had made the step which costs: the rest were comparatively easy. "True," thought he, "if I hold back, another will be found. Already I am entangled with this scoundrel. And, after all, there may be nothing bad in the business. Pish!
'Returning is as tedious as go o'er.'"