He was so far prepared as that, on the footman's saying, after he had
asked who was at home, "I think Miss Midmore is, sir," he had not been
unduly agitated; though the effect was of making him at the same time
wonder if he oughtn't, more decently, to have had his approach heralded
in the course of the morning by the bearer of a note. Such questions as
these, from the arrival of his ship at Plymouth, had repeatedly come up
for him, and he had not lacked leisure, since the evening before, when
the west country mail had set him down in Piccadilly amid a great bustle
of general recognition, to advise his cousins of his immediate intention
to wait on them. The sense had grown within him during the last three
days that mistakes of one sort and another would easily be open to a
young man just alighted from New York; he had made several already
between Devonshire and London, even if without paying for them in
heavier coin than a handful of new observations. His observations
multiplied at such a rate that fifty to the minute would have been a
short account of them; but there was one in particular that had from the
first kept repeating itself and that might certainty have done as much
to point his address as some of the others had done to remind him of
danger. The danger was flagrant and consisted of the number of things to
be known and reckoned with in England as compared to the few that had so
sufficiently served him at home. He but wanted to know, though he would
rather have liked to learn secretly; which for that matter he _was_ now,
he conceived, catching a little the trick of--and this in spite of his
wonted way, from far back, on receipt of a new impression or
apprehension of a new fact, and under correction, in particular, of a
wrong premise; which was to lose himself quite candidly and flagrantly
in the world of meaning so conveyed. That disclosed quantity was apt
fairly to make him stand still for wonder--whereby it might well have
happened that whosoever took note of him would scarce have known whether
to conclude most on his simplicity or on his wit. If it was strange to
have had so to wait for familiar appearances--familiar, that is, all
round him, seemingly, to everyone but himself--it was perhaps more
remarkable yet not to succeed in concealing how much one was on the spot
ready to make of them by the working of some inward machinery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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