CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
WHAT JOHN WESTLOCK SAID TO TOM PINCH'S SISTER; WHAT TOM PINCH'S SISTERSAID TO JOHN WESTLOCK; WHAT TOM PINCH SAID TO BOTH OF THEM; AND HOW THEYALL PASSED THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY
Brilliantly the Temple Fountain sparkled in the sun, and laughinglyits liquid music played, and merrily the idle drops of water danced anddanced, and peeping out in sport among the trees, plunged lightly downto hide themselves, as little Ruth and her companion came toward it.
And why they came toward the Fountain at all is a mystery; for they hadno business there. It was not in their way. It was quite out of theirway. They had no more to do with the Fountain, bless you, than they hadwith--with Love, or any out-of-the-way thing of that sort.
It was all very well for Tom and his sister to make appointments by theFountain, but that was quite another affair. Because, of course, whenshe had to wait a minute or two, it would have been very awkward for herto have had to wait in any but a tolerably quiet spot; but that was asquiet a spot, everything considered, as they could choose. But when shehad John Westlock to take care of her, and was going home with her armin his (home being in a different direction altogether), their cominganywhere near that Fountain was quite extraordinary.
However, there they found themselves. And another extraordinary partof the matter was, that they seemed to have come there, by a silentunderstanding. Yet when they got there, they were a little confusedby being there, which was the strangest part of all; because there isnothing naturally confusing in a Fountain. We all know that.
'What a good old place it was!' John said. With quite an earnest affectionfor it.
'A pleasant place indeed,' said little Ruth. 'So shady!'
Oh wicked little Ruth!
They came to a stop when John began to praise it. The day was exquisite;and stopping at all, it was quite natural--nothing could be moreso--that they should glance down Garden Court; because Garden Court endsin the Garden, and the Garden ends in the River, and that glimpse isvery bright and fresh and shining on a summer's day. Then, oh, littleRuth, why not look boldly at it! Why fit that tiny, precious, blessedlittle foot into the cracked corner of an insensible old flagstone inthe pavement; and be so very anxious to adjust it to a nicety!
If the Fiery-faced matron in the crunched bonnet could have seen themas they walked away, how many years' purchase might Fiery Face have beendisposed to take for her situation in Furnival's Inn as laundress to MrWestlock!
They went away, but not through London's streets! Through some enchantedcity, where the pavements were of air; where all the rough sounds ofa stirring town were softened into gentle music; where everythingwas happy; where there was no distance, and no time. There were twogood-tempered burly draymen letting down big butts of beer into acellar, somewhere; and when John helped her--almost lifted her--thelightest, easiest, neatest thing you ever saw--across the rope, theysaid he owed them a good turn for giving him the chance. Celestialdraymen!
Green pastures in the summer tide, deep-littered straw yards in thewinter, no start of corn and clover, ever, to that noble horse who WOULDdance on the pavement with a gig behind him, and who frightened her, andmade her clasp his arm with both hands (both hands meeting one upon theanother so endearingly!), and caused her to implore him to takerefuge in the pastry-cook's, and afterwards to peep out at the door soshrinkingly; and then, looking at him with those eyes, to ask him washe sure--now was he sure--they might go safely on! Oh for a string oframpant horses! For a lion, for a bear, for a mad bull, for anything tobring the little hands together on his arm again!
They talked, of course. They talked of Tom, and all these changes andthe attachment Mr Chuzzlewit had conceived for him, and the brightprospects he had in such a friend, and a great deal more to the samepurpose. The more they talked, the more afraid this fluttering littleRuth became of any pause; and sooner than have a pause she would say thesame things over again; and if she hadn't courage or presence of mindenough for that (to say the truth she very seldom had), she was tenthousand times more charming and irresistible than she had been before.
'Martin will be married very soon now, I suppose?' said John.
She supposed he would. Never did a bewitching little woman supposeanything in such a faint voice as Ruth supposed that.
But seeing that another of those alarming pauses was approaching, sheremarked that he would have a beautiful wife. Didn't Mr Westlock thinkso?
'Ye--yes,' said John, 'oh, yes.'
She feared he was rather hard to please, he spoke so coldly.
'Rather say already pleased,' said John. 'I have scarcely seen her. Ihad no care to see her. I had no eyes for HER, this morning.'
Oh, good gracious!
It was well they had reached their destination. She never could havegone any further. It would have been impossible to walk in such atremble.
Tom had not come in. They entered the triangular parlour together, andalone. Fiery Face, Fiery Face, how many years' purchase NOW!
She sat down on the little sofa, and untied her bonnet-strings. He satdown by her side, and very near her; very, very near her. Oh rapid,swelling, bursting little heart, you knew that it would come to this,and hoped it would. Why beat so wildly, heart!
'Dear Ruth! Sweet Ruth! If I had loved you less, I could have told youthat I loved you, long ago. I have loved you from the first. There neverwas a creature in the world more truly loved than you, dear Ruth, byme!'
She clasped her little hands before her face. The gushing tears of joy,and pride, and hope, and innocent affection, would not be restrained.Fresh from her full young heart they came to answer him.
'My dear love! If this is--I almost dare to hope it is, now--not painfulor distressing to you, you make me happier than I can tell, or youimagine. Darling Ruth! My own good, gentle, winning Ruth! I hope I knowthe value of your heart, I hope I know the worth of your angel nature.Let me try and show you that I do; and you will make me happier, Ruth--'
'Not happier,' she sobbed, 'than you make me. No one can be happier,John, than you make me!'
Fiery Face, provide yourself! The usual wages or the usual warning. It'sall over, Fiery Face. We needn't trouble you any further.
The little hands could meet each other now, without a rampant horseto urge them. There was no occasion for lions, bears, or mad bulls. Itcould all be done, and infinitely better, without their assistance.No burly drayman or big butts of beer, were wanted for apologies. Noapology at all was wanted. The soft light touch fell coyly, but quitenaturally, upon the lover's shoulder; the delicate waist, the droopinghead, the blushing cheek, the beautiful eyes, the exquisite mouthitself, were all as natural as possible. If all the horses in Araby hadrun away at once, they couldn't have improved upon it.
They soon began to talk of Tom again.
'I hope he will be glad to hear of it!' said John, with sparkling eyes.
Ruth drew the little hands a little tighter when he said it, and lookedup seriously into his face.
'I am never to leave him, AM I, dear? I could never leave Tom. I am sureyou know that.'
'Do you think I would ask you?' he returned, with a--well! Never mindwith what.
'I am sure you never would,' she answered, the bright tears standing inher eyes.
'And I will swear it, Ruth, my darling, if you please. Leave Tom! Thatwould be a strange beginning. Leave Tom, dear! If Tom and we be notinseparable, and Tom (God bless him) have not all honour and all lovein our home, my little wife, may that home never be! And that's a strongoath, Ruth.'
Shall it be recorded how she thanked him? Yes, it shall. In allsimplicity and innocence and purity of heart, yet with a timid,graceful, half-determined hesitation, she set a little rosy seal uponthe vow, whose colour was reflected in her face, and flashed up to thebraiding of her dark brown hair.
'Tom will be so happy, and so proud, and glad,' she said, clasping herlittle hands. 'But so surprised! I am sure he had never thought of sucha thing.'
Of course John asked her immedia
tely--because you know they were in thatfoolish state when great allowances must be made--when SHE had begun tothink of such a thing, and this made a little diversion in their talk; acharming diversion to them, but not so interesting to us; at the end ofwhich, they came back to Tom again.
'Ah! dear Tom!' said Ruth. 'I suppose I ought to tell you everythingnow. I should have no secrets from you. Should I, John, love?'
It is of no use saying how that preposterous John answered her, becausehe answered in a manner which is untranslatable on paper though highlysatisfactory in itself. But what he conveyed was, No no no, sweet Ruth;or something to that effect.
Then she told him Tom's great secret; not exactly saying how she hadfound it out, but leaving him to understand it if he liked; and John wassadly grieved to hear it, and was full of sympathy and sorrow. But theywould try, he said, only the more, on this account to make him happy,and to beguile him with his favourite pursuits. And then, in all theconfidence of such a time, he told her how he had a capital opportunityof establishing himself in his old profession in the country; and how hehad been thinking, in the event of that happiness coming upon him whichhad actually come--there was another slight diversion here--how he hadbeen thinking that it would afford occupation to Tom, and enable them tolive together in the easiest manner, without any sense of dependence onTom's part; and to be as happy as the day was long. And Ruth receivingthis with joy, they went on catering for Tom to that extent that theyhad already purchased him a select library and built him an organ, onwhich he was performing with the greatest satisfaction, when they heardhim knocking at the door.
Though she longed to tell him what had happened, poor little Ruth wasgreatly agitated by his arrival; the more so because she knew that MrChuzzlewit was with him. So she said, all in a tremble:
'What shall I do, dear John! I can't bear that he should hear it fromany one but me, and I could not tell him, unless we were alone.'
'Do, my love,' said John, 'whatever is natural to you on the impulse ofthe moment, and I am sure it will be right.'
He had hardly time to say thus much, and Ruth had hardly time to--justto get a little farther off--upon the sofa, when Tom and Mr Chuzzlewitcame in. Mr Chuzzlewit came first, and Tom was a few seconds behind him.
Now Ruth had hastily resolved that she would beckon Tom upstairs aftera short time, and would tell him in his little bedroom. But when she sawhis dear old face come in, her heart was so touched that she ran intohis arms, and laid her head down on his breast and sobbed out, 'Blessme, Tom! My dearest brother!'
Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John Westlock close beside him,holding out his hand.
'John!' cried Tom. 'John!'
'Dear Tom,' said his friend, 'give me your hand. We are brothers, Tom.'
Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fervently, and puther in John Westlock's arms.
'Don't speak to me, John. Heaven is very good to us. I--' Tom could findno further utterance, but left the room; and Ruth went after him.
And when they came back, which they did by-and-bye, she looked morebeautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that were possible) than ever.And though Tom could not speak upon the subject even now; being yettoo newly glad, he put both his hands in both of John's with emphasissufficient for the best speech ever spoken.
'I am glad you chose to-day,' said Mr Chuzzlewit to John; with the sameknowing smile as when they had left him. 'I thought you would. I hopedTom and I lingered behind a discreet time. It's so long since I hadany practical knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, Iassure you.'
'Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir,' returned John, laughing,'if it led you to foresee what would happen to-day.'
'Why, I am not sure, Mr Westlock,' said the old man, 'that any greatspirit of prophecy was needed, after seeing you and Ruth together. Comehither, pretty one. See what Tom and I purchased this morning, while youwere dealing in exchange with that young merchant there.'
The old man's way of seating her beside him, and humouring his voice asif she were a child, was whimsical enough, but full of tenderness, andnot ill adapted, somehow, to little Ruth.
'See here!' he said, taking a case from his pocket, 'what a beautifulnecklace. Ah! How it glitters! Earrings, too, and bracelets, and a zonefor your waist. This set is yours, and Mary has another like it. Tomcouldn't understand why I wanted two. What a short-sighted Tom! Earringsand bracelets, and a zone for your waist! Ah! Beautiful! Let us see howbrave they look. Ask Mr Westlock to clasp them on.'
It was the prettiest thing to see her holding out her round, white arm;and John (oh deep, deep John!) pretending that the bracelet was veryhard to fasten; it was the prettiest thing to see her girding on theprecious little zone, and yet obliged to have assistance because herfingers were in such terrible perplexity; it was the prettiest thingto see her so confused and bashful, with the smiles and blushes playingbrightly on her face, like the sparkling light upon the jewels; it wasthe prettiest thing that you would see, in the common experiences of atwelvemonth, rely upon it.
'The set of jewels and the wearer are so well matched,' said the oldman, 'that I don't know which becomes the other most. Mr Westlock couldtell me, I have no doubt, but I'll not ask him, for he is bribed. Healthto wear them, my dear, and happiness to make you forgetful of them,except as a remembrance from a loving friend!'
He patted her upon the cheek, and said to Tom:
'I must play the part of a father here, Tom, also. There are not manyfathers who marry two such daughters on the same day; but we willoverlook the improbability for the gratification of an old man's fancy.I may claim that much indulgence,' he added, 'for I have gratified fewfancies enough in my life tending to the happiness of others, Heavenknows!'
These various proceedings had occupied so much time, and they fell intosuch a pleasant conversation now, that it was within a quarter of anhour of the time appointed for dinner before any of them thought aboutit. A hackney-coach soon carried them to the Temple, however; and therethey found everything prepared for their reception.
Mr Tapley having been furnished with unlimited credentials relative tothe ordering of dinner, had so exerted himself for the honour of theparty, that a prodigious banquet was served, under the joint directionof himself and his Intended. Mr Chuzzlewit would have had them of theparty, and Martin urgently seconded his wish, but Mark could by no meansbe persuaded to sit down at table; observing, that in having the honourof attending to their comforts, he felt himself, indeed, the landlord ofthe Jolly Tapley, and could almost delude himself into the belief thatthe entertainment was actually being held under the Jolly Tapley's roof.
For the better encouragement of himself in this fable, Mr Tapley tookit upon him to issue divers general directions to the waiters from thehotel, relative to the disposal of the dishes and so forth; and as theywere usually in direct opposition to all precedent, and were alwaysissued in his most facetious form of thought and speech, they occasionedgreat merriment among those attendants; in which Mr Tapley participated,with an infinite enjoyment of his own humour. He likewise entertainedthem with short anecdotes of his travels appropriate to the occasion;and now and then with some comic passage or other between himself andMrs Lupin; so that explosive laughs were constantly issuing from theside-board, and from the backs of chairs; and the head-waiter (who worepowder, and knee-smalls, and was usually a grave man) got to be a brightscarlet in the face, and broke his waistcoat-strings audibly.
Young Martin sat at the head of the table, and Tom Pinch at the foot;and if there were a genial face at that board, it was Tom's. They alltook their tone from Tom. Everybody drank to him, everybody looked tohim, everybody thought of him, everybody loved him. If he so much aslaid down his knife and fork, somebody put out a hand to shake with him.Martin and Mary had taken him aside before dinner, and spoken to him soheartily of the time to come, laying such fervent stress upon the trustthey had in his completion of their felicity, by his society and closestfriendship, that Tom was posi
tively moved to tears. He couldn't bear it.His heart was full, he said, of happiness. And so it was. Tom spoke thehonest truth. It was. Large as thy heart was, dear Tom Pinch, it had noroom that day for anything but happiness and sympathy!
And there was Fips, old Fips of Austin Friars, present at the dinner,and turning out to be the jolliest old dog that ever did violence to hisconvivial sentiments by shutting himself up in a dark office. 'Where ishe?' said Fips, when he came in. And then he pounced on Tom, and toldhim that he wanted to relieve himself of all his old constraint; and inthe first place shook him by one hand, and in the second place shook himby the other, and in the third place nudged him in the waistcoat, and inthe fourth place said, 'How are you?' and in a great many other placesdid a great many other things to show his friendliness and joy. And hesang songs, did Fips; and made speeches, did Fips; and knocked off hiswine pretty handsomely, did Fips; and in short, he showed himself aperfect Trump, did Fips, in all respects.
But ah! the happiness of strolling home at night--obstinate little Ruth,she wouldn't hear of riding!--as they had done on that dear night, fromFurnival's Inn! The happiness of being able to talk about it, and toconfide their happiness to each other! The happiness of stating alltheir little plans to Tom, and seeing his bright face grow brighter asthey spoke!
When they reached home, Tom left John and his sister in the parlour, andwent upstairs into his own room, under pretence of seeking a book. AndTom actually winked to himself when he got upstairs; he thought it sucha deep thing to have done.
'They like to be by themselves, of course,' said Tom; 'and I came awayso naturally, that I have no doubt they are expecting me, every moment,to return. That's capital!'
But he had not sat reading very long, when he heard a tap at his door.
'May I come in?' said John.
'Oh, surely!' Tom replied.
'Don't leave us, Tom. Don't sit by yourself. We want to make you merry;not melancholy.'
'My dear friend,' said Tom, with a cheerful smile.
'Brother, Tom. Brother.'
'My dear brother,' said Tom; 'there is no danger of my being melancholy,how can I be melancholy, when I know that you and Ruth are so blest ineach other! I think I can find my tongue tonight, John,' he added, aftera moment's pause. 'But I never can tell you what unutterable joy thisday has given me. It would be unjust to you to speak of your havingchosen a portionless girl, for I feel that you know her worth; I am sureyou know her worth. Nor will it diminish in your estimation, John, whichmoney might.'
'Which money would, Tom,' he returned. 'Her worth! Oh, who could see herhere, and not love her! Who could know her, Tom, and not honour her! Whocould ever stand possessed of such a heart as hers, and grow indifferentto the treasure! Who could feel the rapture that I feel to-day, and loveas I love her, Tom, without knowing something of her worth! Your joyunutterable! No, no, Tom. It's mine, it's mine.
'No, no, John,' said Tom. 'It's mine, it's mine.'
Their friendly contention was brought to a close by little Ruth herself,who came peeping in at the door. And oh, the look, the glorious,half-proud, half-timid look she gave Tom, when her lover drew her to hisside! As much as to say, 'Yes, indeed, Tom, he will do it. But then hehas a right, you know. Because I AM fond of him, Tom.'
As to Tom, he was perfectly delighted. He could have sat and looked atthem, just as they were, for hours.
'I have told Tom, love, as we agreed, that we are not going to permithim to run away, and that we cannot possibly allow it. The loss of oneperson, and such a person as Tom, too, out of our small household ofthree, is not to be endured; and so I have told him. Whether he isconsiderate, or whether he is only selfish, I don't know. But he needn'tbe considerate, for he is not the least restraint upon us. Is he,dearest Ruth?'
Well! He really did not seem to be any particular restraint upon them.Judging from what ensued.
Was it folly in Tom to be so pleased by their remembrance of him atsuch a time? Was their graceful love a folly, were their dear caressesfollies, was their lengthened parting folly? Was it folly in him towatch her window from the street, and rate its scantiest gleam of lightabove all diamonds; folly in her to breathe his name upon her knees, andpour out her pure heart before that Being from whom such hearts and suchaffections come?
If these be follies, then Fiery Face go on and prosper! If they be not,then Fiery Face avaunt! But set the crunched bonnet at some other singlegentleman, in any case, for one is lost to thee for ever!
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
GIVES THE AUTHOR GREAT CONCERN. FOR IT IS THE LAST IN THE BOOK
Todger's was in high feather, and mighty preparations for a latebreakfast were astir in its commercial bowers. The blissful morninghad arrived when Miss Pecksniff was to be united in holy matrimony, toAugustus.
Miss Pecksniff was in a frame of mind equally becoming to herself andthe occasion. She was full of clemency and conciliation. She had laidin several caldrons of live coals, and was prepared to heap them on theheads of her enemies. She bore no spite nor malice in her heart. Not theleast.
Quarrels, Miss Pecksniff said, were dreadful things in families; andthough she never could forgive her dear papa, she was willing to receiveher other relations. They had been separated, she observed, too long.It was enough to call down a judgment upon the family. She believed thedeath of Jonas WAS a judgment on them for their internal dissensions.And Miss Pecksniff was confirmed in this belief, by the lightness withwhich the visitation had fallen on herself.
By way of doing sacrifice--not in triumph; not, of course, in triumph,but in humiliation of spirit--this amiable young person wrote,therefore, to her kinswoman of the strong mind, and informed her thather nuptials would take place on such a day. That she had been much hurtby the unnatural conduct of herself and daughters, and hoped they mightnot have suffered in their consciences. That, being desirous to forgiveher enemies, and make her peace with the world before entering into themost solemn of covenants with the most devoted of men, she now held outthe hand of friendship. That if the strong-minded women took that hand,in the temper in which it was extended to her, she, Miss Pecksniff,did invite her to be present at the ceremony of her marriage, and didfurthermore invite the three red-nosed spinsters, her daughters(but Miss Pecksniff did not particularize their noses), to attend asbridesmaids.
The strong-minded women returned for answer, that herself and daughterswere, as regarded their consciences, in the enjoyment of robust health,which she knew Miss Pecksniff would be glad to hear. That she hadreceived Miss Pecksniff's note with unalloyed delight, because shenever had attached the least importance to the paltry and insignificantjealousies with which herself and circle had been assailed; otherwisethan as she had found them, in the contemplation, a harmless source ofinnocent mirth. That she would joyfully attend Miss Pecksniff's bridal;and that her three dear daughters would be happy to assist, on sointeresting, and SO VERY UNEXPECTED--which the strong-minded womanunderlined--SO VERY UNEXPECTED an occasion.
On the receipt of this gracious reply, Miss Pecksniff extended herforgiveness and her invitations to Mr and Mrs Spottletoe; to Mr GeorgeChuzzlewit the bachelor cousin; to the solitary female who usually hadthe toothache; and to the hairy young gentleman with the outline ofa face; surviving remnants of the party that had once assembled in MrPecksniff's parlour. After which Miss Pecksniff remarked that there wasa sweetness in doing our duty, which neutralized the bitter in our cups.
The wedding guests had not yet assembled, and indeed it was so earlythat Miss Pecksniff herself was in the act of dressing at her leisure,when a carriage stopped near the Monument; and Mark, dismounting fromthe rumble, assisted Mr Chuzzlewit to alight. The carriage remained inwaiting; so did Mr Tapley. Mr Chuzzlewit betook himself to Todger's.
He was shown, by the degenerate successor of Mr Bailey, into thedining-parlour; where--for his visit was expected--Mrs Todgersimmediately appeared.
'You are dressed, I see, for the wedding,' he said.
Mrs Todgers, who was grea
tly flurried by the preparations, replied inthe affirmative.
'It goes against my wishes to have it in progress just now, I assureyou, sir,' said Mrs Todgers; 'but Miss Pecksniff's mind was set upon it,and it really is time that Miss Pecksniff was married. That cannot bedenied, sir.'
'No,' said Mr Chuzzlewit, 'assuredly not. Her sister takes no part inthe proceedings?'
'Oh, dear no, sir. Poor thing!' said Mrs Todgers, shaking her head, anddropping her voice. 'Since she has known the worst, she has never leftmy room; the next room.'
'Is she prepared to see me?' he inquired.
'Quite prepared, sir.'
'Then let us lose no time.'
Mrs Todgers conducted him into the little back chamber commanding theprospect of the cistern; and there, sadly different from when it hadfirst been her lodging, sat poor Merry, in mourning weeds. The roomlooked very dark and sorrowful; and so did she; but she had one friendbeside her, faithful to the last. Old Chuffey.
When Mr Chuzzlewit sat down at her side, she took his hand and put itto her lips. She was in great grief. He too was agitated; for he had notseen her since their parting in the churchyard.
'I judged you hastily,' he said, in a low voice. 'I fear I judged youcruelly. Let me know that I have your forgiveness.'
She kissed his hand again; and retaining it in hers, thanked him in abroken voice, for all his kindness to her since.
'Tom Pinch,' said Martin, 'has faithfully related to me all that youdesired him to convey; at a time when he deemed it very improbable thathe would ever have an opportunity of delivering your message. Believeme, that if I ever deal again with an ill-advised and unawakenednature, hiding the strength it thinks its weakness, I will have long andmerciful consideration for it.'
'You had for me; even for me,' she answered. 'I quite believe it. I saidthe words you have repeated, when my distress was very sharp and hard tobear; I say them now for others; but I cannot urge them for myself.You spoke to me after you had seen and watched me day by day. Therewas great consideration in that. You might have spoken, perhaps,more kindly; you might have tried to invite my confidence by greatergentleness; but the end would have been the same.'
He shook his head in doubt, and not without some inward self-reproach.
'How can I hope,' she said, 'that your interposition would haveprevailed with me, when I know how obdurate I was! I never thought atall; dear Mr Chuzzlewit, I never thought at all; I had no thought,no heart, no care to find one; at that time. It has grown out of mytrouble. I have felt it in my trouble. I wouldn't recall my trouble suchas it is and has been--and it is light in comparison with trials whichhundreds of good people suffer every day, I know--I wouldn't recallit to-morrow, if I could. It has been my friend, for without it no onecould have changed me; nothing could have changed me. Do not mistrust mebecause of these tears; I cannot help them. I am grateful for it, in mysoul. Indeed I am!'
'Indeed she is!' said Mrs Todgers. 'I believe it, sir.'
'And so do I!' said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'Now, attend to me, my dear. Yourlate husband's estate, if not wasted by the confession of a large debtto the broken office (which document, being useless to the runaways,has been sent over to England by them; not so much for the sake of thecreditors as for the gratification of their dislike to him, whom theysuppose to be still living), will be seized upon by law; for it is notexempt, as I learn, from the claims of those who have suffered by thefraud in which he was engaged. Your father's property was all, or nearlyall, embarked in the same transaction. If there be any left, it will beseized on, in like manner. There is no home THERE.'
'I couldn't return to him,' she said, with an instinctive reference tohis having forced her marriage on. 'I could not return to him.'
'I know it,' Mr Chuzzlewit resumed; 'and I am here because I knowit. Come with me! From all who are about me, you are certain (Ihave ascertained it) of a generous welcome. But until your health isre-established, and you are sufficiently composed to bear that welcome,you shall have your abode in any quiet retreat of your own choosing,near London; not so far removed but that this kind-hearted lady maystill visit you as often as she pleases. You have suffered much; but youare young, and have a brighter and a better future stretching out beforeyou. Come with me. Your sister is careless of you, I know. She hurrieson and publishes her marriage, in a spirit which (to say no more of it)is barely decent, is unsisterly, and bad. Leave the house before herguests arrive. She means to give you pain. Spare her the offence, andcome with me!'
Mrs Todgers, though most unwilling to part with her, added herpersuasions. Even poor old Chuffey (of course included in the project)added his. She hurriedly attired herself, and was ready to depart, whenMiss Pecksniff dashed into the room.
Miss Pecksniff dashed in so suddenly, that she was placed in anembarrassing position. For though she had completed her bridal toiletteas to her head, on which she wore a bridal bonnet with orange flowers,she had not completed it as to her skirts, which displayed no choicerdecoration than a dimity bedgown. She had dashed in, in fact, abouthalf-way through, to console her sister, in her affliction, with a sightof the aforesaid bonnet; and being quite unconscious of the presence ofa visitor, until she found Mr Chuzzlewit standing face to face with her,her surprise was an uncomfortable one.
'So, young lady!' said the old man, eyeing her with strong disfavour.'You are to be married to-day!'
'Yes, sir,' returned Miss Pecksniff, modestly. 'I am. I--my dress israther--really, Mrs Todgers!'
'Your delicacy,' said old Martin, 'is troubled, I perceive. I am notsurprised to find it so. You have chosen the period of your marriageunfortunately.'
'I beg your pardon, Mr Chuzzlewit,' retorted Cherry; very red and angryin a moment; 'but if you have anything to say on that subject, I mustbeg to refer you to Augustus. You will scarcely think it manly, I hope,to force an argument on me, when Augustus is at all times ready todiscuss it with you. I have nothing to do with any deceptions that mayhave been practiced on my parent,' said Miss Pecksniff, pointedly; 'andas I wish to be on good terms with everybody at such a time, I shouldhave been glad if you would have favoured us with your company atbreakfast. But I will not ask you as it is; seeing that you have beenprepossessed and set against me in another quarter. I hope I have mynatural affections for another quarter, and my natural pity foranother quarter; but I cannot always submit to be subservient to it, MrChuzzlewit. That would be a little too much. I trust I have more respectfor myself, as well as for the man who claims me as his Bride.'
'Your sister, meeting--as I think; not as she says, for she has saidnothing about it--with little consideration from you, is going away withme,' said Mr Chuzzlewit.
'I am very happy to find that she has some good fortune at last,'returned Miss Pecksniff, tossing her head. 'I congratulate her, Iam sure. I am not surprised that this event should be painful toher--painful to her--but I can't help that, Mr Chuzzlewit. It's not myfault.'
'Come, Miss Pecksniff!' said the old man, quietly. 'I should like to seea better parting between you. I should like to see a better parting onyour side, in such circumstances. It would make me your friend. You maywant a friend one day or other.'
'Every relation of life, Mr Chuzzlewit, begging your pardon; and everyfriend in life,' returned Miss Pecksniff, with dignity, 'is now bound upand cemented in Augustus. So long as Augustus is my own, I cannot wanta friend. When you speak of friends, sir, I must beg, once for all, torefer you to Augustus. That is my impression of the religious ceremonyin which I am so soon to take a part at that altar to which Augustuswill conduct me. I bear no malice at any time, much less in a moment oftriumph, towards any one; much less towards my sister. On the contrary,I congratulate her. If you didn't hear me say so, I am not to blame.And as I owe it to Augustus, to be punctual on an occasion when he maynaturally be supposed to be--to be impatient--really, Mrs Todgers!--Imust beg your leave, sir, to retire.'
After these words the bridal bonnet disappeared; with as much state asthe dimity bedgown left in it.
Old Martin gave his arm to the younger sister without speaking; and ledher out. Mrs Todgers, with her holiday garments fluttering in the wind,accompanied them to the carriage, clung round Merry's neck at parting,and ran back to her own dingy house, crying the whole way. She hada lean, lank body, Mrs Todgers, but a well-conditioned soul within.Perhaps the good Samaritan was lean and lank, and found it hard to live.Who knows!
Mr Chuzzlewit followed her so closely with his eyes, that, until she hadshut her own door, they did not encounter Mr Tapley's face.
'Why, Mark!' he said, as soon as he observed it, 'what's the matter?'
'The wonderfulest ewent, sir!' returned Mark, pumping at his voice ina most laborious manner, and hardly able to articulate with all hisefforts. 'A coincidence as never was equalled! I'm blessed if here ain'ttwo old neighbours of ourn, sir!'
'What neighbours?' cried old Martin, looking out of window. 'Where?'
'I was a-walkin' up and down not five yards from this spot,' said MrTapley, breathless, 'and they come upon me like their own ghosts, as Ithought they was! It's the wonderfulest ewent that ever happened. Bringa feather, somebody, and knock me down with it!'
'What do you mean!' exclaimed old Martin, quite as much excited bythe spectacle of Mark's excitement as that strange person was himself.'Neighbours, where?'
'Here, sir!' replied Mr Tapley. 'Here in the city of London! Here uponthese very stones! Here they are, sir! Don't I know 'em? Lord love theirwelcome faces, don't I know 'em!'
With which ejaculations Mr Tapley not only pointed to a decent-lookingman and woman standing by, but commenced embracing them alternately,over and over again, in Monument Yard.
'Neighbours, WHERE? old Martin shouted; almost maddened by hisineffectual efforts to get out at the coach-door.
'Neighbours in America! Neighbours in Eden!' cried Mark. 'Neighbours inthe swamp, neighbours in the bush, neighbours in the fever. Didn't shenurse us! Didn't he help us! Shouldn't we both have died without 'em!Haven't they come a-strugglin' back, without a single child for theirconsolation! And talk to me of neighbours!'
Away he went again, in a perfectly wild state, hugging them, andskipping round them, and cutting in between them, as if he wereperforming some frantic and outlandish dance.
Mr Chuzzlewit no sooner gathered who these people were, than he burstopen the coach-door somehow or other, and came tumbling out among them;and as if the lunacy of Mr Tapley were contagious, he immediately beganto shake hands too, and exhibit every demonstration of the liveliestjoy.
'Get up, behind!' he said. 'Get up in the rumble. Come along with me! Goyou on the box, Mark. Home! Home!'
'Home!' cried Mr Tapley, seizing the old man's hand in a burst ofenthusiasm. 'Exactly my opinion, sir. Home for ever! Excuse the liberty,sir, I can't help it. Success to the Jolly Tapley! There's nothin' inthe house they shan't have for the askin' for, except a bill. Home to besure! Hurrah!'
Home they rolled accordingly, when he had got the old man in again, asfast as they could go; Mark abating nothing of his fervour by the way,by allowing it to vent itself as unrestrainedly as if he had been onSalisbury Plain.
And now the wedding party began to assemble at Todgers's. Mr Jinkins,the only boarder invited, was on the ground first. He wore a whitefavour in his button-hole, and a bran new extra super double-milled bluesaxony dress coat (that was its description in the bill), with a varietyof tortuous embellishments about the pockets, invented by the artistto do honour to the day. The miserable Augustus no longer felt stronglyeven on the subject of Jinkins. He hadn't strength of mind enough to doit. 'Let him come!' he had said, in answer to Miss Pecksniff, when sheurged the point. 'Let him come! He has ever been my rock ahead throughlife. 'Tis meet he should be there. Ha, ha! Oh, yes! let Jinkins come!'
Jinkins had come with all the pleasure in life, and there he was. Forsome few minutes he had no companion but the breakfast, which was setforth in the drawing-room, with unusual taste and ceremony. But MrsTodgers soon joined him; and the bachelor cousin, the hairy younggentleman, and Mr and Mrs Spottletoe, arrived in quick succession.
Mr Spottletoe honoured Jinkins with an encouraging bow. 'Glad to knowyou, sir,' he said. 'Give you joy!' Under the impression that Jinkinswas the happy man.
Mr Jinkins explained. He was merely doing the honours for his friendModdle, who had ceased to reside in the house, and had not yet arrived.
'Not arrived, sir!' exclaimed Spottletoe, in a great heat.
'Not yet,' said Mr Jinkins.
'Upon my soul!' cried Spottletoe. 'He begins well! Upon my life andhonour this young man begins well! But I should very much like to knowhow it is that every one who comes into contact with this family isguilty of some gross insult to it. Death! Not arrived yet. Not here toreceive us!'
The nephew with the outline of a countenance, suggested that perhaps hehad ordered a new pair of boots, and they hadn't come home.
'Don't talk to me of Boots, sir!' retorted Spottletoe, with immenseindignation. 'He is bound to come here in his slippers then; he is boundto come here barefoot. Don't offer such a wretched and evasive plea tome on behalf of your friend, as Boots, sir.'
'He is not MY friend,' said the nephew. 'I never saw him.'
'Very well, sir,' returned the fiery Spottletoe. 'Then don't talk tome!'
The door was thrown open at this juncture, and Miss Pecksniff entered,tottering, and supported by her three bridesmaids. The strong-mindedwoman brought up the rear; having waited outside until now, for thepurpose of spoiling the effect.
'How do you do, ma'am!' said Spottletoe to the strong-minded woman in atone of defiance. 'I believe you see Mrs Spottletoe, ma'am?'
The strong-minded woman with an air of great interest in MrsSpottletoe's health, regretted that she was not more easily seen. Natureerring, in that lady's case, upon the slim side.
'Mrs Spottletoe is at least more easily seen than the bridegroom,ma'am,' returned that lady's husband. 'That is, unless he has confinedhis attentions to any particular part or branch of this family, whichwould be quite in keeping with its usual proceedings.'
'If you allude to me, sir--' the strong-minded woman began.
'Pray,' interposed Miss Pecksniff, 'do not allow Augustus, at this awfulmoment of his life and mine, to be the means of disturbing that harmonywhich it is ever Augustus's and my wish to maintain. Augustus has notbeen introduced to any of my relations now present. He preferred not.'
'Why, then, I venture to assert,' cried Mr Spottletoe, 'that the man whoaspires to join this family, and "prefers not" to be introduced to itsmembers, is an impertinent Puppy. That is my opinion of HIM!'
The strong-minded woman remarked with great suavity, that she was afraidhe must be. Her three daughters observed aloud that it was 'Shameful!'
'You do not know Augustus,' said Miss Pecksniff, tearfully, 'indeed youdo not know him. Augustus is all mildness and humility. Wait till yousee Augustus, and I am sure he will conciliate your affections.'
'The question arises,' said Spottletoe, folding his arms: 'How long weare to wait. I am not accustomed to wait; that's the fact. And I want toknow how long we are expected to wait.'
'Mrs Todgers!' said Charity, 'Mr Jinkins! I am afraid there must be somemistake. I think Augustus must have gone straight to the Altar!'
As such a thing was possible, and the church was close at hand, MrJinkins ran off to see, accompanied by Mr George Chuzzlewit the bachelorcousin, who preferred anything to the aggravation of sitting near thebreakfast, without being able to eat it. But they came back with noother tidings than a familiar message from the clerk, importing that ifthey wanted to be married that morning they had better look sharp, asthe curate wasn't going to wait there all day.
The bride was now alarmed; seriously alarmed. Good Heavens, what couldhave happened! Augustus! Dear Augustus!
Mr Jinkins volunteered to take a cab, and seek him at thenewly-furnished house. The strong-minded woman administered comfort toMiss Pecksniff. 'It was a specimen of what she had to expect
. It woulddo her good. It would dispel the romance of the affair.' The red-noseddaughters also administered the kindest comfort. 'Perhaps he'd come,'they said. The sketchy nephew hinted that he might have fallen off abridge. The wrath of Mr Spottletoe resisted all the entreaties of hiswife. Everybody spoke at once, and Miss Pecksniff, with clasped hands,sought consolation everywhere and found it nowhere, when Jinkins, havingmet the postman at the door, came back with a letter, which he put intoher hand.
Miss Pecksniff opened it, uttered a piercing shriek, threw it down uponthe ground, and fainted away.
They picked it up; and crowding round, and looking over one another'sshoulders, read, in the words and dashes following, this communication:
'OFF GRAVESEND.
'CLIPPER SCHOONER, CUPID
'Wednesday night
'EVER INJURED MISS PECKSNIFF--Ere this reaches you, the undersignedwill be--if not a corpse--on the way to Van Dieman's Land. Send not inpursuit. I never will be taken alive!
'The burden--300 tons per register--forgive, if in my distraction,I allude to the ship--on my mind--has been truly dreadful.Frequently--when you have sought to soothe my brow with kisses--hasself-destruction flashed across me. Frequently--incredible as it mayseem--have I abandoned the idea.
'I love another. She is Another's. Everything appears to be somebodyelse's. Nothing in the world is mine--not even my Situation--which Ihave forfeited--by my rash conduct--in running away.
'If you ever loved me, hear my last appeal! The last appeal of amiserable and blighted exile. Forward the inclosed--it is the key of mydesk--to the office--by hand. Please address to Bobbs and Cholberry--Imean to Chobbs and Bolberry--but my mind is totally unhinged. I left apenknife--with a buckhorn handle--in your work-box. It will repay themessenger. May it make him happier than ever it did me!
'Oh, Miss Pecksniff, why didn't you leave me alone! Was it not cruel,CRUEL! Oh, my goodness, have you not been a witness of my feelings--haveyou not seen them flowing from my eyes--did you not, yourself, reproachme with weeping more than usual on that dreadful night when last wemet--in that house--where I once was peaceful--though blighted--in thesociety of Mrs Todgers!
'But it was written--in the Talmud--that you should involve yourself inthe inscrutable and gloomy Fate which it is my mission to accomplish,and which wreathes itself--e'en now--about in temples. I will notreproach, for I have wronged you. May the Furniture make some amends!
'Farewell! Be the proud bride of a ducal coronet, and forget me!Long may it be before you know the anguish with which I now subscribemyself--amid the tempestuous howlings of the--sailors,
'Unalterably,
'Never yours,
'AUGUSTUS.'
They thought as little of Miss Pecksniff, while they greedily perusedthis letter, as if she were the very last person on earth whom itconcerned. But Miss Pecksniff really had fainted away. The bitterness ofher mortification; the bitterness of having summoned witnesses, andsuch witnesses, to behold it; the bitterness of knowing that thestrong-minded women and the red-nosed daughters towered triumphant inthis hour of their anticipated overthrow; was too much to be borne. MissPecksniff had fainted away in earnest.
What sounds are these that fall so grandly on the ear! What darkeningroom is this!
And that mild figure seated at an organ, who is he! Ah Tom, dear Tom,old friend!
Thy head is prematurely grey, though Time has passed thee and our oldassociation, Tom. But, in those sounds with which it is thy wont to bearthe twilight company, the music of thy heart speaks out--the story ofthy life relates itself.
Thy life is tranquil, calm, and happy, Tom. In the soft strain whichever and again comes stealing back upon the ear, the memory of thineold love may find a voice perhaps; but it is a pleasant, softened,whispering memory, like that in which we sometimes hold the dead, anddoes not pain or grieve thee, God be thanked.
Touch the notes lightly, Tom, as lightly as thou wilt, but never willthine hand fall half so lightly on that Instrument as on the head ofthine old tyrant brought down very, very low; and never will it make ashollow a response to any touch of thine, as he does always.
For a drunken, begging, squalid, letter-writing man, called Pecksniff,with a shrewish daughter, haunts thee, Tom; and when he makes appeals tothee for cash, reminds thee that he built thy fortunes better than hisown; and when he spends it, entertains the alehouse company with talesof thine ingratitude and his munificence towards thee once upon a time;and then he shows his elbows worn in holes, and puts his solelessshoes up on a bench, and begs his auditors look there, while thou artcomfortably housed and clothed. All known to thee, and yet all bornewith, Tom!
So, with a smile upon thy face, thou passest gently to anothermeasure--to a quicker and more joyful one--and little feet are used todance about thee at the sound, and bright young eyes to glance upinto thine. And there is one slight creature, Tom--her child; notRuth's--whom thine eyes follow in the romp and dance; who, wonderingsometimes to see thee look so thoughtful, runs to climb up on thy knee,and put her cheek to thine; who loves thee, Tom, above the rest, if thatcan be; and falling sick once, chose thee for her nurse, and never knewimpatience, Tom, when thou wert by her side.
Thou glidest, now, into a graver air; an air devoted to old friends andbygone times; and in thy lingering touch upon the keys, and the richswelling of the mellow harmony, they rise before thee. The spirit ofthat old man dead, who delighted to anticipate thy wants, and neverceased to honour thee, is there, among the rest; repeating, with a facecomposed and calm, the words he said to thee upon his bed, and blessingthee!
And coming from a garden, Tom, bestrewn with flowers by children'shands, thy sister, little Ruth, as light of foot and heart as in olddays, sits down beside thee. From the Present, and the Past, with whichshe is so tenderly entwined in all thy thoughts, thy strain soars onwardto the Future. As it resounds within thee and without, the noble music,rolling round ye both, shuts out the grosser prospect of an earthlyparting, and uplifts ye both to Heaven!
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