To return to my business affairs. When I was comfortably settledin the prison, and knew exactly what I owed, I thought it my dutyto my father to give him the first chance of getting me out. Hisanswer to my letter contained a quotation from Shakespeare on thesubject of thankless children, but no remittance of money. Afterthat, my only course was to employ a lawyer and be declared abankrupt. I was most uncivilly treated, and remanded two or threetimes. When everything I possessed had been sold for the benefitof my creditors, I was reprimanded and let out. It is pleasant tothink that, even then, my faith in myself and in human nature wasstill not shaken.

About ten days before my liberation, I was thunderstruck atreceiving a visit from my sister's mahogany-colored husband, Mr.Batterbury. When I was respectably settled at home, thisgentleman would not so much as look at me without a frown; andnow, when I was a scamp, in prison, he mercifully and fraternallycame to condole with me on my misfortunes. A little dexterousquestioning disclosed the secret of this prodigious change in ourrelations toward each other, and informed me of a family eventwhich altered my position toward my sister in the most whimsicalmanner.

While I was being removed to the bankruptcy court, my uncle inthe soap and candle trade was being removed to the other world.His will took no notice of my father or my mother; but he left tomy sister (always supposed to be his favorite in the family) amost extraordin ary legacy of possible pin-money, in the shape ofa contingent reversion to the sum of three thousand pounds,payable on the death of Lady Malkinshaw, provided I survived her.

Whether this document sprang into existence out of any of hisinvolved money transactions with his mother was more than Mr.Batterbury could tell. I could ascertain nothing in relation toit, except that the bequest was accompanied by some cynicalremarks, to the effect that the testator would feel happy if hislegacy were instrumental in reviving the dormant interest of onlyone member of Doctor Softly's family in the fortunes of thehopeful young gentleman who had run away from home. My esteemeduncle evidently felt that he could not in common decency avoiddoing something for his sister's family; and he had done itaccordingly in the most malicious and mischievous manner. Thiswas characteristic of him; he was just the man, if he had notpossessed the document before, to have had it drawn out on hisdeath-bed for the amiable purpose which it was now devoted toserve.

Here was a pretty complication! Here was my sister's handsomelegacy made dependent on my outliving my grandmother! This wasdiverting enough; but Mr. Batterbury's conduct was more amusingstill.

The miserly little wretch not only tried to conceal his greedydesire to save his own pockets by securing the allowance ofpin-money left to his wife, but absolutely persisted in ignoringthe plain fact that his visit to me sprang from the seriouspecuniary interest which he and Annabella now had in the life andhealth of your humble servant. I made all the necessary jokesabout the strength of the vital principle in Lady Malkinshaw, andthe broken condition of my own constitution; but he solemnlyabstained from understanding one of them. He resolutely kept upappearances in the very face of detection; not the faintest shadeof red came over his wicked old mahogany face as he told me howshocked he and his wife were at my present position, and howanxious Annabella was that he should not forget to give me herlove. Tenderhearted creature! I had only been in prison sixmonths when that overwhelming testimony of sisterly affectioncame to console me in my captivity. Ministering angel! you shallget your three thousand pounds. I am fifty years younger thanLady Malkinshaw, and I will take care of myself, Annabella, forthy dear sake!

The next time I saw Mr. Batterbury was on the day when I at lastgot my discharge. He was not waiting to see where I was goingnext, or what vital risks I was likely to run on the recovery ofmy freedom, but to congratulate me, and to give me Annabella'slove. It was a very gratifying attention, and I said as much, intones of the deepest feeling.

"How is dear Lady Malkinshaw?" I asked, when my grateful emotionshad subsided.

Mr. Batterbury shook his head mournfully. "I regret to say, notquite so well as her friends could wish," he answered. "The lasttime I had the pleasure of seeing her ladyship, she looked soyellow that if we had been in Jamaica I should have said it was acase of death in twelve hours. I respectfully endeavored toimpress upon her ladyship the necessity of keeping the functionsof the liver active by daily walking exercise; time, distance,and pace being regulated with proper regard to her age--youunderstand me?--of course, with proper regard to her age."

"You could not possibly have given her better advice," I said."When I saw her, as long as two years ago, Lady Malkinshaw'sfavorite delusion was that she was the most active woman ofseventy-five in all England. She used to tumble downstairs two orthree times a week, then, because she never would allow any oneto help her; and could not be brought to believe that she was asblind as a mole, and as rickety on her legs as a child of a yearold. Now you have encouraged her to take to walking, she will bemore obstinate than ever, and is sure to tumble down daily, outof doors as well as in. Not even the celebrated Malkinshawtoughness can last out more than a few weeks of that practice.Considering the present shattered condition of my constitution,you couldn't have given her better advice--upon my word of honor,you couldn't have given her better advice!"

"I am afraid," said Mr. Batterbury, with a power of face Ienvied; "I am afraid, my dear Frank (let me call you Frank), thatI don't quite apprehend your meaning: and we have unfortunatelyno time to enter into explanations. Five miles here by aroundabout way is only half my daily allowance of walkingexercise; five miles back by a roundabout way remain to be nowaccomplished. So glad to see you at liberty again! Mind you letus know where you settle, and take care of yourself; and dorecognize the importance to the whole animal economy of dailywalking exercise--do now! Did I give you Annabella's love? She'sso well. Good-by."

Away went Mr. Batterbury to finish his walk for the sake of hishealth, and away went I to visit my publisher for the sake of mypocket.

An unexpected disappointment awaited me. My "Scenes of ModernPrison Life" had not sold so well as had been anticipated, and mypublisher was gruffly disinclined to speculate in any futureworks done in the same style. During the time of my imprisonment,a new caricaturist had started, with a manner of his own; he hadalready formed a new school, and the fickle public were allrunning together after him and his disciples. I said to myself:"This scene in the drama of your life, my friend, has closed in;you must enter on another, or drop the curtain at once." Ofcourse I entered on another.

Taking leave of my publisher, I went to consult an artist-friendon my future prospects. I supposed myself to be merely on my wayto a change of profession. As destiny ordered it, I was also onmy way to the woman who was not only to be the object of my firstlove, but the innocent cause of the great disaster of my life.

I first saw her in one of the narrow streets leading fromLeicester Square to the Strand. There was something in her face(dimly visible behind a thick veil) that instantly stopped me asI passed her. I looked back and hesitated. Her figure was theperfection of modest grace. I yielded to the impulse of themoment. In plain words, I did what you would have done, in myplace--I followed her.

She looked round--discovered me--and instantly quickened herpace. Reaching the westward end of the Strand, she crossed thestreet and suddenly entered a shop.

I looked through the window, and saw her speak to a respectableelderly person behind the counter, who darted an indignant lookat me, and at once led my charming stranger into a back office.For the moment, I was fool enough to feel puzzled; it was out ofmy character you will say--but remember, all men are fools whenthey first fall in love. After a little while I recovered the useof my senses. The shop was at the corner of a side street,leading to the market, since removed to make room for therailway. "There's a back entrance to the house!" I thought tomyself--and ran down the side street. Too late! the lovelyfugitive had escaped me. Had I lost her forever in the greatworld of London? I thought so at the time. Events will show thatI never was more mistaken in my life.

I was in no humor to call on my friend. It was not until anotherday had passed that I sufficiently recovered my composure to seepoverty staring me in the face, and to understand that I hadreally no alternative but to ask the good-natured artist to lendme a helping hand.

I had heard it darkly whispered that he was something of avagabond. But the term is so loosely applied, and it seems sodifficult, after all, to define what a vagabond is, or to strikethe right moral balance between the vagabond work which is boldlypublished, and the vagabond work which is reserved for privatecirculation only, that I did not feel justified in holding alooffrom my former friend. Accordingly, I renewed our acquaintance,and told him my present difficulty. He was a sharp man, and heshowed me a way out of it directly.

"You have a good eye for a likeness," he said; "and you have madeit keep you hitherto. Very well. Make it keep you still. Youcan't profitably caricature people's faces any longer--nevermind! go to the other extreme, and flatter them now. Turnportrait-painter. You shall have the use of this study three daysin the week, for ten shillings a week--sleeping on the hearth-rugincluded, if you like. Get your paints, rouse up your friends,set to work at once. Drawing is of no consequence; painting is ofno consequence; perspective is of no consequence; ideas are of noconsequence. Everything is of no consequence, except catching alikeness and flattering your sitter--and that you know you cando."

I felt that I could; and left him for the nearest colorman's.

Before I got to the shop, I met Mr. Batterbury taking his walkingexercise. He stopped, shook hands with me affectionately, andasked where I was going. A wonderful idea struck me. Instead ofanswering his question, I asked after Lady Malkinshaw.

"Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Batterbury; "her ladyship tumbleddownstairs yesterday morning."

"My dear sir, allow me to congratulate you!"

"Most fortunately," continued Mr. Batterbury, with a strongemphasis on the words, and a fixed stare at me; "mostfortunately, the servant had been careless enough to leave alarge bundle of clothes for the wash at the foot of the stairs,while she went to answer the door. Falling headlong from thelanding, her ladyship pitched (pardon me the expression)--pitchedinto the very middle of the bundle. She was a little shaken atthe time, but is reported to be going on charmingly this morning.Most fortunate, was it not? Seen the papers? Awful news fromDemerara--the yellow fever--"

"I wish I was at Demerara," I said, in a hollow voice.

"You! Why?" exclaimed Mr. Batterbury, aghast.

"I am homeless, friendless, penniless," I went on, getting morehollow at every word. "All my intellectual instincts tell me thatI could retrieve my position and live respectably in the world,if I might only try my hand at portrait-painting--the thing ofall others that I am naturally fittest for. But I have nobody tostart me; no sitter to give me a first chance; nothing in mypocket but three-and-sixpence; and nothing in my mind but a doubtwhether I shall struggle on a little longer, or end itimmediately in the Thames. Don't let me detain you from yourwalk, my dear sir. I'm afraid Lady Malkinshaw will outlive me,after all!"

"Stop!" cried Mr. Batterbury; his mahogany face actually gettingwhite with alarm. "Stop! Don't talk in that dreadfullyunprincipled manner--don't, I implore, I insist! You have plentyof friends--you have me, and your sister. Take toportrait-painting--think of your family, and take toportrait-painting!"

"Where am I to get a sitter?' I inquired, with a gloomy shake ofthe head.

"Me," said Mr. Batterbury, with an effort. "I'll be your firstsitter. As a beginner, and especially to a member of the family,I suppose your terms will be moderate. Small beginnings--you knowthe proverb?" Here he stopped; and a miserly leer puckered up hismahogany cheeks.

"I'll do you, life-size, down to your waistcoat, for fiftypounds," said I.

Mr. Batterbury winced, and looked about him to the right andleft, as if he wanted to run away. He had five thousand a year,but he contrived to took, at that moment, as if his utmost incomewas five hundred. I walked on a few steps.

"Surely those terms are rather high to begin with?" he said,walking after me. "I should have thought five-and-thirty, orperhaps forty--"

"A gentleman, sir, cannot condescend to bargain," said I, withmournful dignity. "Farewell!" I waved my hand, and crossed overthe way.

"Don't do that!" cried Mr. Batterbury. "I accept. Give me youraddress. I'll come tomorrow. Will it include the frame! There!there! it doesn't include the frame, of course. Where are yougoing now? To the colorman? He doesn't live in the Strand, Ihope--or near one of the bridges. Think of Annabella, think ofthe family, think of the fifty pounds--an income, a year's incometo a prudent man. Pray, pray be careful, and compose your mind:promise me, my dear, dear fellow--promise me, on your word ofhonor, to compose your mind!"

I left him still harping on that string, and suffering, Ibelieve, the only serious attack of mental distress that had everaffected him in the whole course of his life.

Behold me, then, now starting afresh in the world, in thecharacter of a portrait-painter; with the payment of myremuneration from my first sitter depending whimsically on thelife of my grandmother. If you care to know how Lady Malkinshaw'shealth got on, and how I succeeded in my new profession, you haveonly to follow the further course of these confessions, in thenext chapter.