CHAPTER TEN
CONTAINING STRANGE MATTER, ON WHICH MANY EVENTS IN THIS HISTORY MAY, FORTHEIR GOOD OR EVIL INFLUENCE, CHIEFLY DEPEND
But Mr Pecksniff came to town on business. Had he forgotten that? Was healways taking his pleasure with Todgers's jovial brood, unmindful of theserious demands, whatever they might be, upon his calm consideration?No.
Time and tide will wait for no man, saith the adage. But all men have towait for time and tide. That tide which, taken at the flood, would leadSeth Pecksniff on to fortune, was marked down in the table, and about toflow. No idle Pecksniff lingered far inland, unmindful of the changesof the stream; but there, upon the water's edge, over his shoes already,stood the worthy creature, prepared to wallow in the very mud, so thatit slid towards the quarter of his hope.
The trustfulness of his two fair daughters was beautiful indeed. Theyhad that firm reliance on their parent's nature, which taught them tofeel certain that in all he did he had his purpose straight and fullbefore him. And that its noble end and object was himself, which almostof necessity included them, they knew. The devotion of these maids wasperfect.
Their filial confidence was rendered the more touching, by their havingno knowledge of their parent's real designs, in the present instance.All that they knew of his proceedings was, that every morning, afterthe early breakfast, he repaired to the post office and inquired forletters. That task performed, his business for the day was over; and heagain relaxed, until the rising of another sun proclaimed the advent ofanother post.
This went on for four or five days. At length, one morning, Mr Pecksniffreturned with a breathless rapidity, strange to observe in him, at othertimes so calm; and, seeking immediate speech with his daughters, shuthimself up with them in private conference for two whole hours. Of allthat passed in this period, only the following words of Mr Pecksniff'sutterance are known:
'How he has come to change so very much (if it should turn out as Iexpect, that he has), we needn't stop to inquire. My dears, I have mythoughts upon the subject, but I will not impart them. It is enoughthat we will not be proud, resentful, or unforgiving. If he wants ourfriendship he shall have it. We know our duty, I hope!'
That same day at noon, an old gentleman alighted from a hackney-coach atthe post-office, and, giving his name, inquired for a letter addressedto himself, and directed to be left till called for. It had been lyingthere some days. The superscription was in Mr Pecksniff's hand, and itwas sealed with Mr Pecksniff's seal.
It was very short, containing indeed nothing more than an address'with Mr Pecksniff's respectful, and (not withstanding what haspassed) sincerely affectionate regards.' The old gentleman tore off thedirection--scattering the rest in fragments to the winds--and givingit to the coachman, bade him drive as near that place as he could. Inpursuance of these instructions he was driven to the Monument; where heagain alighted, and dismissed the vehicle, and walked towards Todgers's.
Though the face, and form, and gait of this old man, and even hisgrip of the stout stick on which he leaned, were all expressive of aresolution not easily shaken, and a purpose (it matters little whetherright or wrong, just now) such as in other days might have survivedthe rack, and had its strongest life in weakest death; still there weregrains of hesitation in his mind, which made him now avoid the house hesought, and loiter to and fro in a gleam of sunlight, that brightenedthe little churchyard hard by. There may have been, in the presence ofthose idle heaps of dust among the busiest stir of life, something toincrease his wavering; but there he walked, awakening the echoes as hepaced up and down, until the church clock, striking the quarters forthe second time since he had been there, roused him from his meditation.Shaking off his incertitude as the air parted with the sound of thebells, he walked rapidly to the house, and knocked at the door.
Mr Pecksniff was seated in the landlady's little room, and his visitorfound him reading--by an accident; he apologised for it--an excellenttheological work. There were cake and wine upon a little table--byanother accident, for which he also apologised. Indeed he said, hehad given his visitor up, and was about to partake of that simplerefreshment with his children, when he knocked at the door.
'Your daughters are well?' said old Martin, laying down his hat andstick.
Mr Pecksniff endeavoured to conceal his agitation as a father when heanswered Yes, they were. They were good girls, he said, very good. Hewould not venture to recommend Mr Chuzzlewit to take the easy-chair,or to keep out of the draught from the door. If he made any suchsuggestion, he would expose himself, he feared, to most unjustsuspicion. He would, therefore, content himself with remarking thatthere was an easy-chair in the room, and that the door was far frombeing air-tight. This latter imperfection, he might perhaps venture toadd, was not uncommonly to be met with in old houses.
The old man sat down in the easy-chair, and after a few moments'silence, said:
'In the first place, let me thank you for coming to London so promptly,at my almost unexplained request; I need scarcely add, at my cost.'
'At YOUR cost, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, in a tone of greatsurprise.
'It is not,' said Martin, waving his hand impatiently, 'my habit to putmy--well! my relatives--to any personal expense to gratify my caprices.'
'Caprices, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff
'That is scarcely the proper word either, in this instance,' said theold man. 'No. You are right.'
Mr Pecksniff was inwardly very much relieved to hear it, though hedidn't at all know why.
'You are right,' repeated Martin. 'It is not a caprice. It is built upon reason, proof, and cool comparison. Caprices never are. Moreover, Iam not a capricious man. I never was.'
'Most assuredly not,' said Mr Pecksniff.
'How do you know?' returned the other quickly. 'You are to begin to knowit now. You are to test and prove it, in time to come. You and yours areto find that I can be constant, and am not to be diverted from my end.Do you hear?'
'Perfectly,' said Mr Pecksniff.
'I very much regret,' Martin resumed, looking steadily at him, andspeaking in a slow and measured tone; 'I very much regret that you andI held such a conversation together, as that which passed between us atour last meeting. I very much regret that I laid open to you what werethen my thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The intentions that I beartowards you now are of another kind; deserted by all in whom I have evertrusted; hoodwinked and beset by all who should help and sustain me;I fly to you for refuge. I confide in you to be my ally; to attachyourself to me by ties of Interest and Expectation'--he laid greatstress upon these words, though Mr Pecksniff particularly begged himnot to mention it; 'and to help me to visit the consequences of the veryworst species of meanness, dissimulation, and subtlety, on the rightheads.'
'My noble sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, catching at his outstretched hand.'And YOU regret the having harboured unjust thoughts of me! YOU withthose grey hairs!'
'Regrets,' said Martin, 'are the natural property of grey hairs; andI enjoy, in common with all other men, at least my share of suchinheritance. And so enough of that. I regret having been severed fromyou so long. If I had known you sooner, and sooner used you as you welldeserve, I might have been a happier man.'
Mr Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and clasped his hands in rapture.
'Your daughters,' said Martin, after a short silence. 'I don't knowthem. Are they like you?'
'In the nose of my eldest and the chin of my youngest, Mr Chuzzlewit,'returned the widower, 'their sainted parent (not myself, their mother)lives again.'
'I don't mean in person,' said the old man. 'Morally, morally.'
''Tis not for me to say,' retorted Mr Pecksniff with a gentle smile. 'Ihave done my best, sir.'
'I could wish to see them,' said Martin; 'are they near at hand?'
They were, very near; for they had in fact been listening at thedoor from the beginning of this conversation until now, when theyprecipitately retired. Having wiped the signs of weakness from his eyes,and
so given them time to get upstairs, Mr Pecksniff opened the door,and mildly cried in the passage,
'My own darlings, where are you?'
'Here, my dear pa!' replied the distant voice of Charity.
'Come down into the back parlour, if you please, my love,' said MrPecksniff, 'and bring your sister with you.'
'Yes, my dear pa,' cried Merry; and down they came directly (being allobedience), singing as they came.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two Miss Pecksniffs whenthey found a stranger with their dear papa. Nothing could surpass theirmute amazement when he said, 'My children, Mr Chuzzlewit!' But when hetold them that Mr Chuzzlewit and he were friends, and that Mr Chuzzlewithad said such kind and tender words as pierced his very heart, the twoMiss Pecksniffs cried with one accord, 'Thank Heaven for this!' andfell upon the old man's neck. And when they had embraced him withsuch fervour of affection that no words can describe it, they groupedthemselves about his chair, and hung over him, as figuring to themselvesno earthly joy like that of ministering to his wants, and crowding intothe remainder of his life, the love they would have diffused over theirwhole existence, from infancy, if he--dear obdurate!--had but consentedto receive the precious offering.
The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and then at MrPecksniff, several times.
'What,' he asked of Mr Pecksniff, happening to catch his eye in itsdescent; for until now it had been piously upraised, with something ofthat expression which the poetry of ages has attributed to a domesticbird, when breathing its last amid the ravages of an electric storm:'What are their names?'
Mr Pecksniff told him, and added, rather hastily; his caluminatorswould have said, with a view to any testamentary thoughts that might beflitting through old Martin's mind; 'Perhaps, my dears, you had betterwrite them down. Your humble autographs are of no value in themselves,but affection may prize them.'
'Affection,' said the old man, 'will expend itself on the livingoriginals. Do not trouble yourselves, my girls, I shall not so easilyforget you, Charity and Mercy, as to need such tokens of remembrance.Cousin!'
'Sir!' said Mr Pecksniff, with alacrity.
'Do you never sit down?'
'Why--yes--occasionally, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, who had been standingall this time.
'Will you do so now?'
'Can you ask me,' returned Mr Pecksniff, slipping into a chairimmediately, 'whether I will do anything that you desire?'
'You talk confidently,' said Martin, 'and you mean well; but I fear youdon't know what an old man's humours are. You don't know what it is tobe required to court his likings and dislikings; to adapt yourself tohis prejudices; to do his bidding, be it what it may; to bear with hisdistrusts and jealousies; and always still be zealous in his service.When I remember how numerous these failings are in me, and judge oftheir occasional enormity by the injurious thoughts I lately entertainedof you, I hardly dare to claim you for my friend.'
'My worthy sir,' returned his relative, 'how CAN you talk in such apainful strain! What was more natural than that you should make oneslight mistake, when in all other respects you were so very correct, andhave had such reason--such very sad and undeniable reason--to judge ofevery one about you in the worst light!'
'True,' replied the other. 'You are very lenient with me.'
'We always said, my girls and I,' cried Mr Pecksniff with increasingobsequiousness, 'that while we mourned the heaviness of our misfortunein being confounded with the base and mercenary, still we could notwonder at it. My dears, you remember?'
Oh vividly! A thousand times!
'We uttered no complaint,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Occasionally we had thepresumption to console ourselves with the remark that Truth would inthe end prevail, and Virtue be triumphant; but not often. My loves, yourecollect?'
Recollect! Could he doubt it! Dearest pa, what strange unnecessaryquestions!
'And when I saw you,' resumed Mr Pecksniff, with still greaterdeference, 'in the little, unassuming village where we take the libertyof dwelling, I said you were mistaken in me, my dear sir; that was all,I think?'
'No--not all,' said Martin, who had been sitting with his hand upon hisbrow for some time past, and now looked up again; 'you said much more,which, added to other circumstances that have come to my knowledge,opened my eyes. You spoke to me, disinterestedly, on behalf of--Ineedn't name him. You know whom I mean.'
Trouble was expressed in Mr Pecksniff's visage, as he pressed his hothands together, and replied, with humility, 'Quite disinterestedly, sir,I assure you.'
'I know it,' said old Martin, in his quiet way. 'I am sure of it. I saidso. It was disinterested too, in you, to draw that herd of harpiesoff from me, and be their victim yourself; most other men would havesuffered them to display themselves in all their rapacity, and wouldhave striven to rise, by contrast, in my estimation. You felt for me,and drew them off, for which I owe you many thanks. Although I left theplace, I know what passed behind my back, you see!'
'You amaze me, sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff; which was true enough.
'My knowledge of your proceedings,' said the old man, does not stop atthis. You have a new inmate in your house.'
'Yes, sir,' rejoined the architect, 'I have.'
'He must quit it' said Martin.
'For--for yours?' asked Mr Pecksniff, with a quavering mildness.
'For any shelter he can find,' the old man answered. 'He has deceivedyou.'
'I hope not' said Mr Pecksniff, eagerly. 'I trust not. I have beenextremely well disposed towards that young man. I hope it cannot beshown that he has forfeited all claim to my protection. Deceit--deceit,my dear Mr Chuzzlewit, would be final. I should hold myself bound, onproof of deceit, to renounce him instantly.'
The old man glanced at both his fair supporters, but especially atMiss Mercy, whom, indeed, he looked full in the face, with a greaterdemonstration of interest than had yet appeared in his features. Hisgaze again encountered Mr Pecksniff, as he said, composedly:
'Of course you know that he has made his matrimonial choice?'
'Oh dear!' cried Mr Pecksniff, rubbing his hair up very stiff uponhis head, and staring wildly at his daughters. 'This is becomingtremendous!'
'You know the fact?' repeated Martin
'Surely not without his grandfather's consent and approbation my dearsir!' cried Mr Pecksniff. 'Don't tell me that. For the honour of humannature, say you're not about to tell me that!'
'I thought he had suppressed it,' said the old man.
The indignation felt by Mr Pecksniff at this terrible disclosure, wasonly to be equalled by the kindling anger of his daughters. What! Hadthey taken to their hearth and home a secretly contracted serpent; acrocodile, who had made a furtive offer of his hand; an imposition onsociety; a bankrupt bachelor with no effects, trading with the spinsterworld on false pretences! And oh, to think that he should have disobeyedand practised on that sweet, that venerable gentleman, whose namehe bore; that kind and tender guardian; his more than father--to saynothing at all of mother--horrible, horrible! To turn him out withignominy would be treatment much too good. Was there nothing else thatcould be done to him? Had he incurred no legal pains and penalties?Could it be that the statutes of the land were so remiss as to haveaffixed no punishment to such delinquency? Monster; how basely had theybeen deceived!
'I am glad to find you second me so warmly,' said the old man holding uphis hand to stay the torrent of their wrath. 'I will not deny that itis a pleasure to me to find you so full of zeal. We will consider thattopic as disposed of.'
'No, my dear sir,' cried Mr Pecksniff, 'not as disposed of, until I havepurged my house of this pollution.'
'That will follow,' said the old man, 'in its own time. I look upon thatas done.'
'You are very good, sir,' answered Mr Pecksniff, shaking his hand. 'Youdo me honour. You MAY look upon it as done, I assure you.'
'There is another topic,' said Martin, 'on which I hope you will assistme. You remember Mary, cousin?'
'The
young lady that I mentioned to you, my dears, as having interestedme so very much,' remarked Mr Pecksniff. 'Excuse my interrupting you,sir.'
'I told you her history?' said the old man.
'Which I also mentioned, you will recollect, my dears,' cried MrPecksniff. 'Silly girls, Mr Chuzzlewit--quite moved by it, they were!'
'Why, look now!' said Martin, evidently pleased; 'I feared I should havehad to urge her case upon you, and ask you to regard her favourably formy sake. But I find you have no jealousies! Well! You have no causefor any, to be sure. She has nothing to gain from me, my dears, and sheknows it.'
The two Miss Pecksniffs murmured their approval of this wisearrangement, and their cordial sympathy with its interesting object.
'If I could have anticipated what has come to pass between us four,'said the old man thoughfully; 'but it is too late to think of that. Youwould receive her courteously, young ladies, and be kind to her, if needwere?'
Where was the orphan whom the two Miss Pecksniffs would not havecherished in their sisterly bosom! But when that orphan was commended totheir care by one on whom the dammed-up love of years was gushing forth,what exhaustless stores of pure affection yearned to expend themselvesupon her!
An interval ensued, during which Mr Chuzzlewit, in an absent frame ofmind, sat gazing at the ground, without uttering a word; and as it wasplain that he had no desire to be interrupted in his meditations, MrPecksniff and his daughters were profoundly silent also. During thewhole of the foregoing dialogue, he had borne his part with a cold,passionless promptitude, as though he had learned and painfullyrehearsed it all a hundred times. Even when his expressions were warmestand his language most encouraging, he had retained the same manner,without the least abatement. But now there was a keener brightness inhis eye, and more expression in his voice, as he said, awakening fromhis thoughtful mood:
'You know what will be said of this? Have you reflected?'
'Said of what, my dear sir?' Mr Pecksniff asked.
'Of this new understanding between us.'
Mr Pecksniff looked benevolently sagacious, and at the same time farabove all earthly misconstruction, as he shook his head, and observedthat a great many things would be said of it, no doubt.
'A great many,' rejoined the old man. 'Some will say that I dote in myold age; that illness has shaken me; that I have lost all strength ofmind, and have grown childish. You can bear that?'
Mr Pecksniff answered that it would be dreadfully hard to bear, but hethought he could, if he made a great effort.
'Others will say--I speak of disappointed, angry people only--that youhave lied and fawned, and wormed yourself through dirty ways into myfavour; by such concessions and such crooked deeds, such meannesses andvile endurances, as nothing could repay; no, not the legacy of half theworld we live in. You can bear that?'
Mr Pecksniff made reply that this would be also very hard to bear, asreflecting, in some degree, on the discernment of Mr Chuzzlewit. Stillhe had a modest confidence that he could sustain the calumny, with thehelp of a good conscience, and that gentleman's friendship.
'With the great mass of slanderers,' said old Martin, leaning back inhis chair, 'the tale, as I clearly foresee, will run thus: That to markmy contempt for the rabble whom I despised, I chose from among them thevery worst, and made him do my will, and pampered and enriched him atthe cost of all the rest. That, after casting about for the means of apunishment which should rankle in the bosoms of these kites the most,and strike into their gall, I devised this scheme at a time when thelast link in the chain of grateful love and duty, that held me tomy race, was roughly snapped asunder; roughly, for I loved him well;roughly, for I had ever put my trust in his affection; roughly, for thathe broke it when I loved him most--God help me!--and he without a pangcould throw me off, while I clung about his heart! Now,' said the oldman, dismissing this passionate outburst as suddenly as he had yieldedto it, 'is your mind made up to bear this likewise? Lay your accountwith having it to bear, and put no trust in being set right by me.'
'My dear Mr Chuzzlewit,' cried Pecksniff in an ecstasy, 'for such a manas you have shown yourself to be this day; for a man so injured, yet sovery humane; for a man so--I am at a loss what precise term to use--yetat the same time so remarkably--I don't know how to express my meaning;for such a man as I have described, I hope it is no presumption to saythat I, and I am sure I may add my children also (my dears, we perfectlyagree in this, I think?), would bear anything whatever!'
'Enough,' said Martin. 'You can charge no consequences on me. When doyou retire home?'
'Whenever you please, my dear sir. To-night if you desire it.'
'I desire nothing,' returned the old man, 'that is unreasonable. Such arequest would be. Will you be ready to return at the end of this week?'
The very time of all others that Mr Pecksniff would have suggested ifit had been left to him to make his own choice. As to his daughters--thewords, 'Let us be at home on Saturday, dear pa,' were actually upontheir lips.
'Your expenses, cousin,' said Martin, taking a folded slip of paper fromhis pocketbook, 'may possibly exceed that amount. If so, let me know thebalance that I owe you, when we next meet. It would be useless if I toldyou where I live just now; indeed, I have no fixed abode. When I have,you shall know it. You and your daughters may expect to see mebefore long; in the meantime I need not tell you that we keep our ownconfidence. What you will do when you get home is understood between us.Give me no account of it at any time; and never refer to it in any way.I ask that as a favour. I am commonly a man of few words, cousin; andall that need be said just now is said, I think.'
'One glass of wine--one morsel of this homely cake?' cried Mr Pecksniff,venturing to detain him. 'My dears--!'
The sisters flew to wait upon him.
'Poor girls!' said Mr Pecksniff. 'You will excuse their agitation, mydear sir. They are made up of feeling. A bad commodity to go through theworld with, Mr Chuzzlewit! My youngest daughter is almost as much of awoman as my eldest, is she not, sir?'
'Which IS the youngest?' asked the old man.
'Mercy, by five years,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'We sometimes venture toconsider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speaking as an artist, Imay perhaps be permitted to suggest that its outline is graceful andcorrect. I am naturally,' said Mr Pecksniff, drying his hands upon hishandkerchief, and looking anxiously in his cousin's face at almost everyword, 'proud, if I may use the expression, to have a daughter who isconstructed on the best models.'
'She seems to have a lively disposition,' observed Martin.
'Dear me!' said Mr Pecksniff. 'That is quite remarkable. You havedefined her character, my dear sir, as correctly as if you had known herfrom her birth. She HAS a lively disposition. I assure you, my dear sir,that in our unpretending home her gaiety is delightful.'
'No doubt,' returned the old man.
'Charity, upon the other hand,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'is remarkable forstrong sense, and for rather a deep tone of sentiment, if the partialityof a father may be excused in saying so. A wonderful affection betweenthem, my dear sir! Allow me to drink your health. Bless you!'
'I little thought,' retorted Martin, 'but a month ago, that I should bebreaking bread and pouring wine with you. I drink to you.'
Not at all abashed by the extraordinary abruptness with which theselatter words were spoken, Mr Pecksniff thanked him devoutly.
'Now let me go,' said Martin, putting down the wine when he had merelytouched it with his lips. 'My dears, good morning!'
But this distant form of farewell was by no means tender enough for theyearnings of the young ladies, who again embraced him with all theirhearts--with all their arms at any rate--to which parting caresses theirnew-found friend submitted with a better grace than might have beenexpected from one who, not a moment before, had pledged their parent insuch a very uncomfortable manner. These endearments terminated, he tooka hasty leave of Mr Pecksniff and withdrew, followed to the door by bothfather and daughters, who stood there kissing their hands
and beamingwith affection until he disappeared; though, by the way, he never oncelooked back, after he had crossed the threshold.
When they returned into the house, and were again alone in Mrs Todgers'sroom, the two young ladies exhibited an unusual amount of gaiety;insomuch that they clapped their hands, and laughed, and looked withroguish aspects and a bantering air upon their dear papa. This conductwas so very unaccountable, that Mr Pecksniff (being singularly gravehimself) could scarcely choose but ask them what it meant; and took themto task, in his gentle manner, for yielding to such light emotions.
'If it was possible to divine any cause for this merriment, even themost remote,' he said, 'I should not reprove you. But when you can havenone whatever--oh, really, really!'
This admonition had so little effect on Mercy, that she was obliged tohold her handkerchief before her rosy lips, and to throw herself back inher chair, with every demonstration of extreme amusement; which wantof duty so offended Mr Pecksniff that he reproved her in set terms,and gave her his parental advice to correct herself in solitude andcontemplation. But at that juncture they were disturbed by the sound ofvoices in dispute; and as it proceeded from the next room, the subjectmatter of the altercation quickly reached their ears.
'I don't care that! Mrs Todgers,' said the young gentleman who had beenthe youngest gentleman in company on the day of the festival; 'I don'tcare THAT, ma'am,' said he, snapping his fingers, 'for Jinkins. Don'tsuppose I do.'
'I am quite certain you don't, sir,' replied Mrs Todgers. 'You havetoo independent a spirit, I know, to yield to anybody. And quite right.There is no reason why you should give way to any gentleman. Everybodymust be well aware of that.'
'I should think no more of admitting daylight into the fellow,' said theyoungest gentleman, in a desperate voice, 'than if he was a bulldog.'
Mrs Todgers did not stop to inquire whether, as a matter of principle,there was any particular reason for admitting daylight even into abulldog, otherwise than by the natural channel of his eyes, but sheseemed to wring her hands, and she moaned.
'Let him be careful,' said the youngest gentleman. 'I give him warning.No man shall step between me and the current of my vengeance. I knowa Cove--' he used that familiar epithet in his agitation but correctedhimself by adding, 'a gentleman of property, I mean--who practices witha pair of pistols (fellows too) of his own. If I am driven to borrow'em, and to send at friend to Jinkins, a tragedy will get into thepapers. That's all.'
Again Mrs Todgers moaned.
'I have borne this long enough,' said the youngest gentleman but nowmy soul rebels against it, and I won't stand it any longer. I left homeoriginally, because I had that within me which wouldn't be domineeredover by a sister; and do you think I'm going to be put down by HIM? No.'
'It is very wrong in Mr Jinkins; I know it is perfectly inexcusable inMr Jinkins, if he intends it,' observed Mrs Todgers
'If he intends it!' cried the youngest gentleman. 'Don't he interruptand contradict me on every occasion? Does he ever fail to interposehimself between me and anything or anybody that he sees I have set mymind upon? Does he make a point of always pretending to forget me,when he's pouring out the beer? Does he make bragging remarks about hisrazors, and insulting allusions to people who have no necessity to shavemore than once a week? But let him look out! He'll find himself shaved,pretty close, before long, and so I tell him.'
The young gentleman was mistaken in this closing sentence, inasmuch ashe never told it to Jinkins, but always to Mrs Todgers.
'However,' he said, 'these are not proper subjects for ladies' ears.All I've got to say to you, Mrs Todgers, is, a week's notice from nextSaturday. The same house can't contain that miscreant and me any longer.If we get over the intermediate time without bloodshed, you may thinkyourself pretty fortunate. I don't myself expect we shall.'
'Dear, dear!' cried Mrs Todgers, 'what would I have given to haveprevented this? To lose you, sir, would be like losing the house'sright-hand. So popular as you are among the gentlemen; so generallylooked up to; and so much liked! I do hope you'll think better of it; ifon nobody else's account, on mine.'
'There's Jinkins,' said the youngest gentleman, moodily. 'Yourfavourite. He'll console you, and the gentlemen too, for the loss oftwenty such as me. I'm not understood in this house. I never have been.'
'Don't run away with that opinion, sir!' cried Mrs Todgers, with a showof honest indignation. 'Don't make such a charge as that against theestablishment, I must beg of you. It is not so bad as that comes to,sir. Make any remark you please against the gentlemen, or against me;but don't say you're not understood in this house.'
'I'm not treated as if I was,' said the youngest gentleman.
'There you make a great mistake, sir,' returned Mrs Todgers, in the samestrain. 'As many of the gentlemen and I have often said, you are toosensitive. That's where it is. You are of too susceptible a nature; it'sin your spirit.'
The young gentleman coughed.
'And as,' said Mrs Todgers, 'as to Mr Jinkins, I must beg of you, if weARE to part, to understand that I don't abet Mr Jinkins by any means.Far from it. I could wish that Mr Jinkins would take a lower tone inthis establishment, and would not be the means of raising differencesbetween me and gentlemen that I can much less bear to part with than Icould with Mr Jinkins. Mr Jinkins is not such a boarder, sir,' added MrsTodgers, 'that all considerations of private feeling and respect giveway before him. Quite the contrary, I assure you.'
The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and similar speecheson the part of Mrs Todgers, that he and that lady gradually changedpositions; so that she became the injured party, and he was understoodto be the injurer; but in a complimentary, not in an offensive sense;his cruel conduct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to thatalone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his notice, andassured Mrs Todgers of his unalterable regard; and having done so, wentback to business.
'Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs!' cried that lady, as she came into theback room, and sat wearily down, with her basket on her knees, and herhands folded upon it, 'what a trial of temper it is to keep a house likethis! You must have heard most of what has just passed. Now did you everhear the like?'
'Never!' said the two Miss Pecksniffs.
'Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to deal with,'resumed Mrs Todgers, 'that is the most ridiculous and unreasonable. MrJinkins is hard upon him sometimes, but not half as hard as he deserves.To mention such a gentleman as Mr Jinkins in the same breath withHIM--you know it's too much! And yet he's as jealous of him, bless you,as if he was his equal.'
The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs Todgers's account,no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative of the youngestgentleman's character, which she went on to tell them. But Mr Pecksnifflooked quite stern and angry; and when she had concluded, said in asolemn voice:
'Pray, Mrs Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that young gentlemancontribute towards the support of these premises?'
'Why, sir, for what HE has, he pays about eighteen shillings a week!'said Mrs Todgers.
'Eighteen shillings a week!' repeated Mr Pecksniff.
'Taking one week with another; as near that as possible,' said MrsTodgers.
Mr Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked at her, andshook his head.
'And do you mean to say, ma'am--is it possible, Mrs Todgers--that forsuch a miserable consideration as eighteen shillings a week, a female ofyour understanding can so far demean herself as to wear a double face,even for an instant?'
'I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir,' falteredMrs Todgers. 'I must preserve peace among them, and keep my connectiontogether, if possible, Mr Pecksniff. The profit is very small.'
'The profit!' cried that gentleman, laying great stress upon the word.'The profit, Mrs Todgers! You amaze me!'
He was so severe, that Mrs Todgers shed tears.
'The profit!' repeated Mr pecksniff. 'The profit of dissimulation! Toworship th
e golden calf of Baal, for eighteen shillings a week!'
'Don't in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr Pecksniff,' criedMrs Todgers, taking out her handkerchief.
'Oh Calf, Calf!' cried Mr Pecksniff mournfully. 'Oh, Baal, Baal! oh myfriend, Mrs Todgers! To barter away that precious jewel, self-esteem,and cringe to any mortal creature--for eighteen shillings a week!'
He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that he immediatelytook down his hat from its peg in the passage, and went out for a walk,to compose his feelings. Anybody passing him in the street might haveknown him for a good man at first sight; for his whole figure teemedwith a consciousness of the moral homily he had read to Mrs Todgers.
Eighteen shillings a week! Just, most just, thy censure, uprightPecksniff! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon, star, or garter;sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in parliament, a tap uponthe shoulder from a courtly sword; a place, a party, or a thriving lie,or eighteen thousand pounds, or even eighteen hundred;--but to worshipthe golden calf for eighteen shillings a week! oh pitiful, pitiful!
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