the ship in which we went out to India was a
young writer. He was pleasing in his manners, but far more retiring and
silent than his companions, and I did not for a moment suppose that he
was likely to win the affections of my daughter. He had already been in
India some years, and was returning after a short absence. He therefore
knew the country, and immediately on landing proceeded to his station.
I flattered myself that I had got rid of him, for latterly I had
observed that my daughter was more pleased with his society than with
that of anybody else on board. We remained some time at Calcutta,
where, as I expected, my daughter was greatly admired. I, meantime, was
perfecting myself in Hindostanee, and gaining information to guide my
further proceedings. At length we got off up the country, but on the
way I was taken seriously ill. It happened to be at the very station
where Mr Bramston was residing. He heard of my being there and
instantly called, and very naturally pressed his suit with my daughter.
Believing that I was dying, I consented to his becoming her lawful
protector, for otherwise I dreaded lest she should be left in the
country alone and destitute. Scarcely, however, had the marriage taken
place than I recovered, and all the plans I had designed were brought to
nothing. I found that my character was suspected, and hastening back to
Calcutta, I took a passage on board a ship bound for Canton, again
changing my name to that by which you know me. From that time forward I
have knocked about in these seas in various capacities, just able to
support myself, but ever failing to gain the wealth for which I had been
ready at one time to sell my soul. Of the child I had loved so dearly I
had never heard. If she wrote to me, her letters must have miscarried,
and from that day to this I have received no tidings of her. Often and
often I have thought of returning to India, but the dread of being
recognised has deterred me, and I felt that my appearance would more
likely produce shame and annoyance than afford her any satisfaction or
pleasure. Thus all my plans and schemings have come to an end, and such
fruits as they have produced have been bitter indeed; I cannot talk
more, Burton. Promise me that you will try to find out my daughter and
her husband. Bramston, remember, Charles Bramston of the Civil
Service--the Bengal Presidency, and his wife bore the name of Emily
Herbert. Herbert was the name I the