Major's will. He left his diamond solitaire as a memento to his
lordship. Bring it to me, and I will call and present it."

Chapter XXXII

A chapter full of morality, which ends in a Jew refusing upwards of
L1000, proving the Millenium to be nearly at hand.

This conversation took place the day after the funeral, and, attired in
deep mourning, I called upon his lordship, and was admitted. His
lordship had sent his carriage to attend the funeral, and was also in
mourning when he received me. I executed my commission, and after a long
conversation with his lordship, in which I confided to him the contents
of the will, and the amount of property of the deceased, I rose to take
my leave.

"Excuse me, Mr Newland," said he, "but what do you now propose to do? I
confess I feel a strong interest about you, and had wished that you had
come to me oftener without an invitation. I perceive that you never
will. Have you no intention of following up any pursuit?"

"Yes, my lord, I intend to search after my father; and I trust that, by
husbanding my unexpected resources, I shall now be able."

"You have the credit, in the fashionable world, of possessing a large
fortune."

"That is not my fault, my lord: it is through Major Carbonnell's mistake
that the world is deceived. Still I must acknowledge myself so far
participator, that I have never contradicted the report."

"Meaning, I presume, by some good match, to reap the advantage of the
supposition."

"Not so, my lord, I assure you. People may deceive themselves, but I
will not deceive them."

"Nor undeceive them, Mr Newland?"

"Undeceive them I will not; nay, if I did make the attempt, I should
not be believed. They never would believe it possible that I could have
lived so long with your relative, without having had a large supply of
money. They might believe that I had run through my money, but not that
I never had any."

"There is a knowledge of the world in that remark," replied his
lordship; "but I interrupted you, so proceed."

"I mean to observe, my lord, and you, by your knowledge of my previous
history, can best judge how far I am warranted in saying so; that I have
as yet steered the middle course between that which is dishonest and
honest. If the world deceives itself, you would say that, in strict
honesty, I ought to undeceive it. So I would, my lord, if it were not
for my peculiar situation; but at the same time I never will, if
possib