VIII.

Chronicle for April and May.

We have visited seven more large towns, and are now at Birmingham.  Consulting my books, I find that Miss Vanstone has realized by the Entertainment, up to this time, the enormous sum of nearly four hundred pounds.  It is quite possible that my own profits may reach one or two miserable hundred more.  But I was the architect of her fortunes—­the publisher, so to speak, of her book—­and, if anything, I am underpaid.

I made the above discovery on the twenty-ninth of the month—­anniversary of the Restoration of my royal predecessor in the field of human sympathies, Charles the Second.  I had barely finished locking up my dispatch-box, when the ungrateful girl, whose reputation I have made, came into the room and told me in so many words that the business connection between us was for the present at an end.

I attempt no description of my own sensations:  I merely record facts.  She informed me, with an appearance of perfect composure, that she needed rest, and that she had “new objects in view.”  She might possibly want me to assist those objects; and she might possibly return to the Entertainment.  In either case it would be enough if we exchanged addresses, at which we could write to each other in case of need.  Having no desire to leave me too abruptly, she would remain the next day (which was Sunday); and would take her departure on Monday morning.  Such was her explanation, in so many words.

Remonstrance, as I knew by experience, would be thrown away.  Authority I had none to exert.  My one sensible course to take in this emergency was to find out which way my own interests pointed, and to go that way without a moment’s unnecessary hesitation.

A very little reflection has since convinced me that she has a deep-laid scheme against Michael Vanstone in view.  She is young, handsome, clever, and unscrupulous; she has made money to live on, and has time at her disposal to find out the weak side of an old man; and she is going to attack Mr. Michael Vanstone unawares with the legitimate weapons of her sex.  Is she likely to want me for such a purpose as this?  Doubtful.  Is she merely anxious to get rid of me on easy terms?  Probable.  Am I the sort of man to be treated in this way by my own pupil?  Decidedly not:  I am the man to see my way through a neat succession of alternatives; and here they are: 

First alternative:  To announce my compliance with her proposal; to exchange addresses with her; and then to keep my eye privately on all her future movements.  Second alternative:  to express fond anxiety in a paternal capacity; and to threaten giving the alarm to her sister and the lawyer, if she persists in her design.  Third alternative:  to turn the information I already possess to the best account, by making it a marketable commodity between Mr. Michael Vanstone and myself.  At present I incline toward the last of these three courses.  But my decision is far too important to be hurried.  To-day is only the twenty-ninth.  I will suspend my Chronicle of Events until Monday.