'My good fellow,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'the recent changesamong my friends will alter my mode of life in future, entirely;besides, I am growing older, and want repose and quiet. Myrambles, Sam, are over.'

'How do I know that 'ere, sir?' argued Sam. 'You think sonow! S'pose you wos to change your mind, vich is not unlikely,for you've the spirit o' five-and-twenty in you still, what 'udbecome on you vithout me? It can't be done, Sir, it can't be done.'

'Wery good, Samivel, there's a good deal in that,' said Mr.Weller encouragingly.

'I speak after long deliberation, Sam, and with the certaintythat I shall keep my word,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head.'New scenes have closed upon me; my rambles are at an end.'

'Wery good,' rejoined Sam. 'Then, that's the wery best reasonwy you should alvays have somebody by you as understands you,to keep you up and make you comfortable. If you vant a morepolished sort o' feller, vell and good, have him; but vages or novages, notice or no notice, board or no board, lodgin' or nolodgin', Sam Veller, as you took from the old inn in the Borough,sticks by you, come what may; and let ev'rythin' and ev'rybodydo their wery fiercest, nothin' shall ever perwent it!'

At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with greatemotion, the elder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and, forgettingall considerations of time, place, or propriety, waved his hatabove his head, and gave three vehement cheers.

'My good fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller hadsat down again, rather abashed at his own enthusiasm, 'you arebound to consider the young woman also.'

'I do consider the young 'ooman, Sir,' said Sam. 'I haveconsidered the young 'ooman. I've spoke to her. I've told herhow I'm sitivated; she's ready to vait till I'm ready, and I believeshe vill. If she don't, she's not the young 'ooman I take her for,and I give her up vith readiness. You've know'd me afore, Sir.My mind's made up, and nothin' can ever alter it.'

Who could combat this resolution? Not Mr. Pickwick. Hederived, at that moment, more pride and luxury of feeling fromthe disinterested attachment of his humble friends, than tenthousand protestations from the greatest men living could haveawakened in his heart.

While this conversation was passing in Mr. Pickwick's room,a little old gentleman in a suit of snuff-coloured clothes, followedby a porter carrying a small portmanteau, presented himselfbelow; and, after securing a bed for the night, inquired of thewaiter whether one Mrs. Winkle was staying there, to whichquestion the waiter of course responded in the affirmative.

'Is she alone?' inquired the old gentleman.

'I believe she is, Sir,' replied the waiter; 'I can call her ownmaid, Sir, if you--'

'No, I don't want her,' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Showme to her room without announcing me.'

'Eh, Sir?' said the waiter.

'Are you deaf?' inquired the little old gentleman.

'No, sir.'

'Then listen, if you please. Can you hear me now?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'That's well. Show me to Mrs. Winkle's room, withoutannouncing me.'

As the little old gentleman uttered this command, he slippedfive shillings into the waiter's hand, and looked steadily at him.

'Really, sir,' said the waiter, 'I don't know, sir, whether--'

'Ah! you'll do it, I see,' said the little old gentleman. 'You hadbetter do it at once. It will save time.'

There was something so very cool and collected in the gentleman'smanner, that the waiter put the five shillings in his pocket,and led him upstairs without another word.

'This is the room, is it?' said the gentleman. 'You may go.'The waiter complied, wondering much who the gentlemancould be, and what he wanted; the little old gentleman, waitingtill he was out of sight, tapped at the door.

'Come in,' said Arabella.

'Um, a pretty voice, at any rate,' murmured the little oldgentleman; 'but that's nothing.' As he said this, he opened thedoor and walked in. Arabella, who was sitting at work, rose onbeholding a stranger--a little confused--but by no meansungracefully so.

'Pray don't rise, ma'am,' said the unknown, walking in, andclosing the door after him. 'Mrs. Winkle, I believe?'

Arabella inclined her head.

'Mrs. Nathaniel Winkle, who married the son of the old man atBirmingham?' said the stranger, eyeing Arabella with visible curiosity.

Again Arabella inclined her head, and looked uneasily round,as if uncertain whether to call for assistance.

'I surprise you, I see, ma'am,' said the old gentleman.

'Rather, I confess,' replied Arabella, wondering more and more.

'I'll take a chair, if you'll allow me, ma'am,' said the stranger.

He took one; and drawing a spectacle-case from his pocket,leisurely pulled out a pair of spectacles, which he adjusted onhis nose.

'You don't know me, ma'am?' he said, looking so intently atArabella that she began to feel alarmed.

'No, sir,' she replied timidly.

'No,' said the gentleman, nursing his left leg; 'I don't knowhow you should. You know my name, though, ma'am.'

'Do I?' said Arabella, trembling, though she scarcely knewwhy. 'May I ask what it is?'

'Presently, ma'am, presently,' said the stranger, not having yetremoved his eyes from her countenance. 'You have been recentlymarried, ma'am?'

'I have,' replied Arabella, in a scarcely audible tone, layingaside her work, and becoming greatly agitated as a thought, thathad occurred to her before, struck more forcibly upon her mind.

'Without having represented to your husband the propriety offirst consulting his father, on whom he is dependent, I think?'said the stranger.

Arabella applied her handkerchief to her eyes.

'Without an endeavour, even, to ascertain, by some indirectappeal, what were the old man's sentiments on a point in whichhe would naturally feel much interested?' said the stranger.

'I cannot deny it, Sir,' said Arabella.

'And without having sufficient property of your own to affordyour husband any permanent assistance in exchange for theworldly advantages which you knew he would have gained if hehad married agreeably to his father's wishes?' said the old gentleman.'This is what boys and girls call disinterested affection, tillthey have boys and girls of their own, and then they see it in arougher and very different light!'

Arabella's tears flowed fast, as she pleaded in extenuation thatshe was young and inexperienced; that her attachment had aloneinduced her to take the step to which she had resorted; and thatshe had been deprived of the counsel and guidance of her parentsalmost from infancy.

'It was wrong,' said the old gentleman in a milder tone, 'verywrong. It was romantic, unbusinesslike, foolish.'

'It was my fault; all my fault, Sir,' replied poor Arabella, weeping.

'Nonsense,' said the old gentleman; 'it was not your fault thathe fell in love with you, I suppose? Yes it was, though,' said theold gentleman, looking rather slily at Arabella. 'It was your fault.He couldn't help it.'

This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way ofpaying it, or his altered manner--so much kinder than it was, atfirst--or all three together, forced a smile from Arabella in themidst of her tears.

'Where's your husband?' inquired the old gentleman, abruptly;stopping a smile which was just coming over his own face.

'I expect him every instant, sir,' said Arabella. 'I persuadedhim to take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched atnot having heard from his father.'

'Low, is he?' said the old gentlemen. 'Serve him right!'

'He feels it on my account, I am afraid,' said Arabella; 'andindeed, Sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means ofbringing him to his present condition.'

'Don't mind it on his account, my dear,' said the old gentleman.'It serves him right. I am glad of it--actually glad of it, asfar as he is concerned.'

The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips,when footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, which he andArabella seemed both to recognise at the same moment. Thelittle gentleman turned pale; and, making a strong effortto appear composed, stood up, as Mr. Winkle entered the room.

'Father!' cried Mr. Winkle, recoiling in amazement.

'Yes, sir,' replied the little old gentleman. 'Well, Sir, what haveyou got to say to me?'

Mr. Winkle remained silent.

'You are ashamed of yourself, I hope, Sir?' said the old gentleman.

Still Mr. Winkle said nothing.

'Are you ashamed of yourself, Sir, or are you not?' inquired theold gentleman.

'No, Sir,' replied Mr. Winkle, drawing Arabella's arm throughhis. 'I am not ashamed of myself, or of my wife either.'

'Upon my word!' cried the old gentleman ironically.

'I am very sorry to have done anything which has lessened youraffection for me, Sir,' said Mr. Winkle; 'but I will say, at the sametime, that I have no reason to be ashamed of having this lady formy wife, nor you of having her for a daughter.'

'Give me your hand, Nat,' said the old gentleman, in analtered voice. 'Kiss me, my love. You are a very charming littledaughter-in-law after all!'

In a few minutes' time Mr. Winkle went in search of Mr.Pickwick, and returning with that gentleman, presented him tohis father, whereupon they shook hands for five minutes incessantly.

'Mr. Pickwick, I thank you most heartily for all your kindnessto my son,' said old Mr. Winkle, in a bluff, straightforward way.'I am a hasty fellow, and when I saw you last, I was vexed andtaken by surprise. I have judged for myself now, and am morethan satisfied. Shall I make any more apologies, Mr. Pickwick?'

'Not one,' replied that gentleman. 'You have done the onlything wanting to complete my happiness.'

Hereupon there was another shaking of hands for five minuteslonger, accompanied by a great number of complimentaryspeeches, which, besides being complimentary, had the additionaland very novel recommendation of being sincere.

Sam had dutifully seen his father to the Belle Sauvage, when,on returning, he encountered the fat boy in the court, who hadbeen charged with the delivery of a note from Emily Wardle.

'I say,' said Joe, who was unusually loquacious, 'what a prettygirl Mary is, isn't she? I am SO fond of her, I am!'

Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply; but eyeing the fatboy for a moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led himby the collar to the corner, and dismissed him with a harmlessbut ceremonious kick. After which, he walked home, whistling.

CHAPTER LVIIIN WHICH THE PICKWICK CLUB IS FINALLY DISSOLVED,AND EVERYTHING CONCLUDED TO THE SATISFACTIONOF EVERYBODY

For a whole week after the happy arrival of Mr. Winkle fromBirmingham, Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller were from home all daylong, only returning just in time for dinner, and then wearingan air of mystery and importance quite foreign to their natures.It was evident that very grave and eventful proceedings were onfoot; but various surmises were afloat, respecting their precisecharacter. Some (among whom was Mr. Tupman) were disposed to thinkthat Mr. Pickwick contemplated a matrimonial alliance; but thisidea the ladies most strenuously repudiated. Others rather inclinedto the belief that he had projected some distant tour, and was atpresent occupied in effecting the preliminary arrangements; butthis again was stoutly denied by Sam himself, who had unequivocallystated, when cross-examined by Mary, that no new journeys wereto be undertaken. At length, when the brains of the whole party hadbeen racked for six long days, by unavailing speculation, it wasunanimously resolved that Mr. Pickwick should be called upon toexplain his conduct, and to state distinctly why he had thus absentedhimself from the society of his admiring friends.

With this view, Mr. Wardle invited the full circle to dinner atthe Adelphi; and the decanters having been thrice sent round,opened the business.

'We are all anxious to know,' said the old gentleman, 'whatwe have done to offend you, and to induce you to desert us anddevote yourself to these solitary walks.'

'Are you?' said Mr. Pickwick. 'It is singular enough that I hadintended to volunteer a full explanation this very day; so, if youwill give me another glass of wine, I will satisfy your curiosity.'

The decanters passed from hand to hand with unwontedbriskness, and Mr. Pickwick, looking round on the faces of hisfriends with a cheerful smile, proceeded--'All the changes that have taken place among us,' said Mr.Pickwick, 'I mean the marriage that HAS taken place, and themarriage that WILL take place, with the changes they involve,rendered it necessary for me to think, soberly and at once, uponmy future plans. I determined on retiring to some quiet, prettyneighbourhood in the vicinity of London; I saw a house whichexactly suited my fancy; I have taken it and furnished it. It isfully prepared for my reception, and I intend entering upon itat once, trusting that I may yet live to spend many quiet years inpeaceful retirement, cheered through life by the society of myfriends, and followed in death by their affectionate remembrance.'

Here Mr. Pickwick paused, and a low murmur ran round the table.

'The house I have taken,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'is at Dulwich.It has a large garden, and is situated in one of the most pleasantspots near London. It has been fitted up with every attention tosubstantial comfort; perhaps to a little elegance besides; but ofthat you shall judge for yourselves. Sam accompanies me there.I have engaged, on Perker's representation, a housekeeper--avery old one--and such other servants as she thinks I shallrequire. I propose to consecrate this little retreat, by having aceremony in which I take a great interest, performed there. Iwish, if my friend Wardle entertains no objection, that hisdaughter should be married from my new house, on the day Itake possession of it. The happiness of young people,' saidMr. Pickwick, a little moved, 'has ever been the chief pleasure ofmy life. It will warm my heart to witness the happiness of thosefriends who are dearest to me, beneath my own roof.'

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
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