While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat backin his chair, with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on hisknees, and his whole countenance expressive of absorbing andoverwhelming astonishment. Sam sat opposite him in perfectsilence, waiting, with eager curiosity, for the termination of the scene.

Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before hiseyes for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then,mastering his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket andbuttoned it up. After this, he stirred the fire; after that, he rubbedhis hands and looked at Sam.

'Oh, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence,in a very low voice, 'here's a sorrowful affliction!'

Sam nodded very slightly.

'For the man of wrath, too!' added Mr. Stiggins; 'it makes avessel's heart bleed!'Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur somethingrelative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heardhim not.'Do you know, young man,' whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawinghis chair closer to Sam, 'whether she has left Emanuel anything?'

'Who's he?' inquired Sam.

'The chapel,' replied Mr. Stiggins; 'our chapel; our fold,Mr. Samuel.'

'She hasn't left the fold nothin', nor the shepherd nothin', northe animals nothin',' said Sam decisively; 'nor the dogs neither.'

Mr. Stiggins looked slily at Sam; glanced at the old gentleman,who was sitting with his eyes closed, as if asleep; and drawing hischair still nearer, said--

'Nothing for ME, Mr. Samuel?'

Sam shook his head.

'I think there's something,' said Stiggins, turning as pale as hecould turn. 'Consider, Mr. Samuel; no little token?'

'Not so much as the vorth o' that 'ere old umberella o' yourn,'replied Sam.

'Perhaps,' said Mr. Stiggins hesitatingly, after a few moments'deep thought, 'perhaps she recommended me to the care of theman of wrath, Mr. Samuel?'

'I think that's wery likely, from what he said,' rejoined Sam;'he wos a-speakin' about you, jist now.'

'Was he, though?' exclaimed Stiggins, brightening up. 'Ah!He's changed, I dare say. We might live very comfortablytogether now, Mr. Samuel, eh? I could take care of his propertywhen you are away--good care, you see.'

Heaving a long-drawn sigh, Mr. Stiggins paused for a response.

Sam nodded, and Mr. Weller the elder gave vent to an extraordinarysound, which, being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor agasp, nor a growl, seemed to partake in some degree of thecharacter of all four.

Mr. Stiggins, encouraged by this sound, which he understoodto betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him,rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walkingsoftly across the room to a well-remembered shelf in one corner,took down a tumbler, and with great deliberation put fourlumps of sugar in it. Having got thus far, he looked abouthim again, and sighed grievously; with that, he walked softly intothe bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full ofpine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gailyon the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, andtaking a long and hearty pull at the rum-and-water, stopped for breath.

The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make variousstrange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not asingle word during these proceedings; but when Stiggins stoppedfor breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler fromhis hand, threw the remainder of the rum-and-water in his face,and the glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverendgentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking himmost furiously, accompanying every application of his top-bootto Mr. Stiggins's person, with sundry violent and incoherentanathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and body.

'Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, 'put my hat on tight for me.'

Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband morefirmly on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming hiskicking with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr.Stiggins through the bar, and through the passage, out at thefront door, and so into the street--the kicking continuing thewhole way, and increasing in vehemence, rather than diminishing,every time the top-boot was lifted.

It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosedman writhing in Mr. Weller's grasp, and his whole framequivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession;it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, aftera powerful struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins's head in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there, until he was half suffocated.

'There!' said Mr. Weller, throwing all his energy into onemost complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. Stiggins towithdraw his head from the trough, 'send any vun o' them lazyshepherds here, and I'll pound him to a jelly first, and drowndhim artervards! Sammy, help me in, and fill me a small glass ofbrandy. I'm out o' breath, my boy.'

CHAPTER LIIICOMPRISING THE FINAL EXIT OF Mr. JINGLE AND JOBTROTTER, WITH A GREAT MORNING OF BUSINESS INGRAY'S INN SQUARE--CONCLUDING WITH A DOUBLEKNOCK AT Mr. PERKER'S DOOR

When Arabella, after some gentle preparation and many assurancesthat there was not the least occasion for being low-spirited, wasat length made acquainted by Mr. Pickwick with the unsatisfactoryresult of his visit to Birmingham, she burst into tears, andsobbing aloud, lamented in moving terms that she should have beenthe unhappy cause of any estrangement between a father and his son.

'My dear girl,' said Mr. Pickwick kindly, 'it is no fault ofyours. It was impossible to foresee that the old gentleman wouldbe so strongly prepossessed against his son's marriage, you know.I am sure,' added Mr. Pickwick, glancing at her pretty face, 'hecan have very little idea of the pleasure he denies himself.'

'Oh, my dear Mr. Pickwick,' said Arabella, 'what shall we do,if he continues to be angry with us?'

'Why, wait patiently, my dear, until he thinks better of it,'replied Mr. Pickwick cheerfully.

'But, dear Mr. Pickwick, what is to become of Nathaniel if hisfather withdraws his assistance?' urged Arabella.

'In that case, my love,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, 'I will ventureto prophesy that he will find some other friend who will not bebackward in helping him to start in the world.'

The significance of this reply was not so well disguised byMr. Pickwick but that Arabella understood it. So, throwing herarms round his neck, and kissing him affectionately, she sobbedlouder than before.

'Come, come,' said Mr. Pickwick taking her hand, 'we willwait here a few days longer, and see whether he writes or takesany other notice of your husband's communication. If not, Ihave thought of half a dozen plans, any one of which wouldmake you happy at once. There, my dear, there!'

With these words, Mr. Pickwick gently pressed Arabella'shand, and bade her dry her eyes, and not distress her husband.Upon which, Arabella, who was one of the best little creaturesalive, put her handkerchief in her reticule, and by the timeMr. Winkle joined them, exhibited in full lustre the samebeaming smiles and sparkling eyes that had originally captivated him.

'This is a distressing predicament for these young people,'thought Mr. Pickwick, as he dressed himself next morning. 'I'llwalk up to Perker's, and consult him about the matter.'

As Mr. Pickwick was further prompted to betake himself toGray's Inn Square by an anxious desire to come to a pecuniarysettlement with the kind-hearted little attorney without furtherdelay, he made a hurried breakfast, and executed his intentionso speedily, that ten o'clock had not struck when he reachedGray's Inn.

It still wanted ten minutes to the hour when he had ascendedthe staircase on which Perker's chambers were. The clerks hadnot arrived yet, and he beguiled the time by looking out of thestaircase window.The healthy light of a fine October morning made even thedingy old houses brighten up a little; some of the dusty windowsactually looking almost cheerful as the sun's rays gleamed uponthem. Clerk after clerk hastened into the square by one or otherof the entrances, and looking up at the Hall clock, acceleratedor decreased his rate of walking according to the time at whichhis office hours nominally commenced; the half-past nineo'clock people suddenly becoming very brisk, and the teno'clock gentlemen falling into a pace of most aristocratic slowness.The clock struck ten, and clerks poured in faster than ever,each one in a greater perspiration than his predecessor. Thenoise of unlocking and opening doors echoed and re-echoed onevery side; heads appeared as if by magic in every window; theporters took up their stations for the day; the slipshod laundresseshurried off; the postman ran from house to house; andthe whole legal hive was in a bustle.

'You're early, Mr. Pickwick,' said a voice behind him.

'Ah, Mr. Lowten,' replied that gentleman, looking round, andrecognising his old acquaintance.

'Precious warm walking, isn't it?' said Lowten, drawing aBramah key from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keepthe dust out.

'You appear to feel it so,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling atthe clerk, who was literally red-hot.

'I've come along, rather, I can tell you,' replied Lowten. 'Itwent the half hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm herebefore him, though, so I don't mind.'

Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extractedthe plug from the door-key; having opened the door, repluggedand repocketed his Bramah, and picked up the letters which thepostman had dropped through the box, he ushered Mr. Pickwickinto the office. Here, in the twinkling of an eye, he divestedhimself of his coat, put on a threadbare garment, which he tookout of a desk, hung up his hat, pulled forth a few sheets ofcartridge and blotting-paper in alternate layers, and, sticking apen behind his ear, rubbed his hands with an air of great satisfaction.

'There, you see, Mr. Pickwick,' he said, 'now I'm complete.I've got my office coat on, and my pad out, and let him come assoon as he likes. You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you,have you?'

'No, I have not,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'I'm sorry for it,' said Lowten. 'Never mind. I'll run outpresently, and get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queerabout the eyes, Mr. Pickwick?'

The individual appealed to, surveyed Mr. Lowten's eyes froma distance, and expressed his opinion that no unusual queernesswas perceptible in those features.

'I'm glad of it,' said Lowten. 'We were keeping it up prettytolerably at the Stump last night, and I'm rather out of sorts thismorning. Perker's been about that business of yours, by the bye.'

'What business?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Mrs. Bardell's costs?'

'No, I don't mean that,' replied Mr. Lowten. 'About gettingthat customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to thebill-discounter for, on your account--to get him out of theFleet, you know--about getting him to Demerara.'

'Oh, Mr. Jingle,' said Mr. Pickwick hastily. 'Yes. Well?'

'Well, it's all arranged,' said Lowten, mending his pen. 'Theagent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many timeswhen you were in business, and he would be glad to take him onyour recommendation.'

'That's well,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I am delighted to hear it.'

'But I say,' resumed Lowten, scraping the back of the penpreparatory to making a fresh split, 'what a soft chap that other is!'

'Which other?'

'Why, that servant, or friend, or whatever he is; you know, Trotter.'

'Ah!' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 'I always thought himthe reverse.'

'Well, and so did I, from what little I saw of him,' repliedLowten, 'it only shows how one may be deceived. What do youthink of his going to Demerara, too?'

'What! And giving up what was offered him here!' exclaimedMr. Pickwick.

'Treating Perker's offer of eighteen bob a week, and a rise ifhe behaved himself, like dirt,' replied Lowten. 'He said he mustgo along with the other one, and so they persuaded Perker towrite again, and they've got him something on the same estate;not near so good, Perker says, as a convict would get in NewSouth Wales, if he appeared at his trial in a new suit of clothes.'

'Foolish fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, with glistening eyes.'Foolish fellow.'

'Oh, it's worse than foolish; it's downright sneaking, youknow,' replied Lowten, nibbing the pen with a contemptuousface. 'He says that he's the only friend he ever had, and he'sattached to him, and all that. Friendship's a very good thing inits way--we are all very friendly and comfortable at the Stump,for instance, over our grog, where every man pays for himself;but damn hurting yourself for anybody else, you know! No manshould have more than two attachments--the first, to numberone, and the second to the ladies; that's what I say--ha! ha!'Mr. Lowten concluded with a loud laugh, half in jocularity, andhalf in derision, which was prematurely cut short by the soundof Perker's footsteps on the stairs, at the first approach of which,he vaulted on his stool with an agility most remarkable, andwrote intensely.

The greeting between Mr. Pickwick and his professionaladviser was warm and cordial; the client was scarcely ensconcedin the attorney's arm-chair, however, when a knock was heard atthe door, and a voice inquired whether Mr. Perker was within.

'Hark!' said Perker, 'that's one of our vagabond friends--Jingle himself, my dear Sir. Will you see him?'

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 262663 times

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