Chapter Eleven. Seeing Life in London.
You are welcome, Mr Tryon, said Mr Sleech, with whom Harry found himself left for a short time. I have heard of you before at Lynderton; indeed, I remember your countenance very well as a boy. You do not probably recollect me, however. Still you may possibly have heard the name of my respected father, one of the principal lawyers in Lynderton. We are a very well-connected family, but we do not boast of that here. While in this office, we are men of business; we sink every other character. You understand me, Mr Tryon, and if you are wise you will follow my advice. Here I am your superior and director, but outside this door we are equals, and I hope soon to say, we are friends.
Harry watched Mr Sleechs countenance while he spoke. He did
not particularly like its expression. It was then animated and vivacious enough, but directly afterwards, when Mr Kyffin drew near, it assumed a peculiarly dull and inanimate look, as if he was absorbed completely in the books over which he was poring.
Mr Coppinger himself soon afterwards arrived, and called Harry into his private room. He spoke to him much in the same way that Mr Kyffin had done.
You could not be in better hands than those of your guardian, he observed. However, as after a time you may grow tired of your daily walk backwards and forwards to Hampstead, you shall have the room over the counting-house, and I shall be happy to see you at my house, where you can become better acquainted with your cousins.
Harry thanked his uncle for his kindness, and expressed a hope that he should be attentive to business. The first moment he had time he wrote to Mabel, telling her of his good fortune in having a situation given him in Mr Coppingers house. He had previously written in a very different tone, giving an account of his grandmothers death, and the penury in which she had left him. He had not, however, told Mabel that he would release her from her engagement to him. While any hope yet lingered in his bosom he could not bring himself to do that. Now he was once more in spirits, and he felt sure that fortune would smile on him. He had never told Mabel that it was very possible Mr Kyffin might leave him his property. He had determined never to build on such a possibility. In the first place, Mr Kyffin was not an old man, and might live for many years, or he might have relatives who had claims on him, or he might not consider it necessary, simply because he was his ward, to leave him anything.
What a blessed thing is hope, even in regard to mere mundane matters. Harry had at this time nothing else to live upon. After all the grand expectations he had enjoyed, to find himself at last only a merchants clerk with 100 pounds a year! Roger Kyffins society might possibly have been more improving to Harry than that of his grandmother. At the same time, after a few weeks, it must be owned that Harry began to wish for a little change. Roger Kyffin had been in the habit of living a good deal by himself, and had not many acquaintances in the immediate neighbourhood. Now and then a few friends came to dine with him, but he seemed to think it a mark of respect to Harrys grandmother not to see any society at his house for the first two or three weeks after her death.
Mr Coppinger invited him to dinner the following day. He was to sleep at the counting-house, where a room had been prepared for him, which he could occupy whenever he pleased.
You may wish to see a little more of London and your friends, said Mr Coppinger, and you can scarcely do so if you go out to Hampstead every evening.
Harry of course thanked his uncle for his consideration, and the next, day prepared with some little interest to pay his respects to his unknown cousins.
Although at that time many persons dined early, the custom of late dinners was being generally introduced. Harry arranged his toilet with more than usual care, and somewhat before the hour of five took his way to his uncles house in Broad Street. It was a handsome mansion. As Harry knocked, the door flew open, and a couple of livery servants with powdered hair stood ready to receive him, and take his hat and cloak. He followed the servant up-stairs, and was ushered into a large drawing-room. A lady came forward, not very young, according to his idea, but fair and good-looking, with a somewhat full figure, and a pleasant expression of countenance.
And are you our cousin Harry? she said, putting out her hand. Why did you not come before? We heard about you, and are very glad at last to make your acquaintance.
I scarcely liked to come without my uncles invitation, said Harry, but am very happy to have the opportunity of making his daughters acquaintance. I conclude that you are Miss Coppinger.
Yes, I am generally so called, answered the young lady, but I am your cousin Martha, remember that. You must not be formal with us. My younger sisters may encourage you to be so, but you must not attend to their nonsense.