“Such is the weakness of all mortal hope,
So fickle is the state of earthly things,
That ere they come into their aimed scope,
They fall so short of our fraile reckonings,
And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.”
Spenser.
When any extraordinary event occurs in which one is deeply interested, the person concerned need not take much pains in his endeavours to find it out—it will soon reveal itself. So did it happen to Philip Martindale. But the information did not come upon him all at once—it was gradually developed like the catastrophe of a well-told tale.
One of the first indications that all was not right towards him in the matter of the Martindale property was, that a few days after the departure of the old gentleman, some letters arrived, which required an answer not convenient for him to give. These letters came all together by a very remarkable coincidence; and indeed it was very remarkable that so many of the Hon. Philip Martindale’s creditors should be all at once most unaccountably pressed for money to make up a heavy payment. But there is no accounting for coincidences. By this unpleasant indication of unpleasant news, the young gentleman was mightily disturbed. We do not however mean to insinuate that it was not in Mr. Philip’s power to stop the importunities of the above-named creditors by satisfying their claims; but as the October meeting at Newmarket was so very near at hand, and as he had horses to run at that meeting, it was absolutely and indispensably necessary for him to make a reserve to meet the exigences of that important concern. Still, however, it was disagreeable to his feelings to have the annoyance of such applications, and it occurred to him that he would once more have recourse to the children of Israel previously to the meeting at Newmarket; and with this intention he again visited the metropolis. On this excursion he could very conscientiously set out without informing his cousin, as the old gentleman was in London himself. Mr. Philip, indeed, had no wish to meet his worthy relative in town, and he had not much fear of such an accident.
He lost no time when he arrived in town, but made the best of his way to his well-known resort, and found his kind accommodating friend at home, but wearing an altered countenance. Heavy complaints were heard, and gloomy looks were seen, and it was altogether impossible just at that unfortunate crisis to afford any accommodation.—“That was the unkindest cut of all.”