Realising that he was now an orphan, an orphan with
not a few grey hairs, our hero had set sail in quest of amusing
adventure.
For three months he took the waters of Bath, unobtrusively, like other
well-bred visitors. His attendance was solicited for all the most
fashionable routs, and at assemblies he sat always in the shade of
some titled turban. In fact, Mr. Coates was a great success. There was
an air of most romantic mystery that endeared his presence to all the
damsels fluttering fans in the Pump Room. It set them vying for his
conduct through the mazes of the Quadrille or of the Triumph, and
blushing at the sound of his name. Alas! their tremulous rivalry
lasted not long. Soon they saw that Emma, sole daughter of Sir James
Tylney Long, that wealthy baronet, had cast a magic net about the warm
Antiguan heart. In the wake of her chair, by night and day, Mr. Coates
was obsequious. When she cried that she would not drink the water
without some delicacy to banish the iron taste, it was he who stood by
with a box of vanilla-rusks. When he shaved his great moustachio, it
was at her caprice. And his devotion to Miss Emma was the more noted
for that his own considerable riches were proof that it was true and
single.
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