called Sam back into the room.
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, clearing his throat, 'your father and I have
been having some conversation about you.'
'About you, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, in a patronising and impressive
voice.
'I am not so blind, Sam, as not to have seen, a long time since, that
you entertain something more than a friendly feeling towards Mrs.
Winkle's maid,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'You hear this, Samivel?' said Mr. Weller, in the same judicial form of
speech as before.
'I hope, Sir,' said Sam, addressing his master, 'I hope there's no
harm in a young man takin' notice of a young 'ooman as is undeniably
good-looking and well-conducted.'
'Certainly not,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Not by no means,' acquiesced Mr. Weller, affably but magisterially.
'So far from thinking there is anything wrong in conduct so natural,'
resumed Mr. Pickwick, 'it is my wish to assist and promote your wishes
in this respect. With this view, I have had a little conversation with
your father; and finding that he is of my opinion--'
'The lady not bein' a widder,' interposed Mr. Weller in explanation.
'The lady not being a widow,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. 'I wish to
free you from the restraint which your present position imposes upon
you, and to mark my sense of your fidelity and many excellent qualities,
by enabling you to marry this girl at once, and to earn an independent
livelihood for yourself and family. I shall be proud, Sam,' said Mr.
Pickwick, whose voice had faltered a little hitherto, but now resumed
its customary tone, 'proud and happy to make your future prospects in
life my grateful and peculiar care.'
There was a profound silence for a short time, and then Sam said, in a
low, husky sort of voice, but firmly withal--
'I'm very much obliged to you for your goodness, Sir, as is only like
yourself; but it can't be done.'
'Can't be done!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick in astonishment.
'Samivel!' said Mr. Weller, with dignity.
'I say it can't be done,' repeated Sam in a louder key. 'Wot's to become
of you, Sir?'
'My good fellow,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'the recent changes among my
friends will alter my mode of life in future, entirely; besides, I am
growing older, and want repose and quiet. My rambles, Sam, are over.'
'How do I know that 'ere, sir?' argued Sam. 'You think so now! 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 'ud become 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 certainty that 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 reason wy you
should alvays have somebody by you as understands you, to keep you up
and make you comfortable. If you vant a more polished sort o' feller,
vell and good, have him; but vages or no vages, notice or no notice,
board or no board, lodgin' or no lodgin', Sam Veller, as you took
from the old inn in the Borough, sticks by you, come what may; and let
ev'rythin' and ev'rybody do their wery fiercest, nothin' shall ever
perwent it!'
At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with great emotion, the
elder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and, forgetting all considerations
of time, place, or propriety, waved his hat above his head, and gave
three vehement cheers.
'My good fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller had sat down again,
rather abashed at his own enthusiasm, 'you are bound to consider the
young woman also.'
'I do consider the young 'ooman, Sir,' said Sam. 'I have considered the
young 'ooman. I've spoke to her. I've told her how I'm sitivated; she's
ready to vait till I'm ready, and I believe she 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. He derived, at
that moment, more pride and luxury of feeling from the disinterested
attachment of his humble friends, than ten thousand protestations from
the greatest men living could have awakened in his heart.
While this conversation was passing in Mr. Pickwick's room, a little
old gentleman in a suit of snuff-coloured clothes, followed by a porter
carrying a small portmanteau, presented himself below; and, after
securing a bed for the night, inquired of the waiter whether one
Mrs. Winkle was staying there, to which question 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 own maid,
Sir, if you--'
'No, I don't want her,' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Show me 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, without announcing me.'
As the little old gentleman uttered this command, he slipped five
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 had
better do it at once. It will save time.'
There was something so very cool and collected in the gentleman's
manner, 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 gentleman could be, and what he wanted;
the little old gentleman, waiting till he was out of sight, tapped at
the door.
'Come in,' said Arabella.
'Um, a pretty voice, at any rate,' murmured the little old gentleman;
'but that's nothing.' As he said this, he opened the door and walked
in. Arabella, who was sitting at work, rose on beholding a stranger--a
little confused--but by no means ungracefully so.
'Pray don't rise, ma'am,' said the unknown, walking in, and closing the
door after him. 'Mrs. Winkle, I believe?'
Arabella inclined her head.
'Mrs. Nathaniel Winkle, who married the son of the old man at
Birmingham?' 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 on his nose.
'You don't know me, ma'am?' he said, looking so intently at Arabella
that she began to feel alarmed.
'No, sir,' she replied timidly.
'No,' said the gentleman, nursing his left leg; 'I don't know how you
should. You know my name, though, ma'am.'
'Do I?' said Arabella, trembling, though she scarcely knew why. 'May I
ask what it is?'
'Presently, ma'am, presently,' said the stranger, not having yet removed
his eyes from her countenance. 'You have been recently married, ma'am?'
'I have,' replied Arabella, in a scarcely audible tone, laying aside her
work, and becoming greatly agitated as a thought, that had occurred to
her before, struck more forcibly upon her mind.
'Without having represented to your husband the propriety of first
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 indirect appeal, what
were the old man's sentiments on a point in which he would naturally
feel much interested?' said the stranger.
'I cannot deny it, Sir,' said Arabella.
'And without having sufficient property of your own to afford your
husband any permanent assistance in exchange for the worldly advantages
which you knew he would have gained if he had married agreeably to his
father's wishes?' said the old gentleman. 'This is what boys and girls
call disinterested affection, till they have boys and girls of their
own, and then they see it in a rougher and very different light!'
Arabella's tears flowed fast, as she pleaded in extenuation that she was
young and inexperienced; that her attachment had alone induced her to
take the step to which she had resorted; and that she had been deprived
of the counsel and guidance of her parents almost from infancy.
'It was wrong,' said the old gentleman in a milder tone, 'very wrong. 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 that he
fell in love with you, I suppose? Yes it was, though,' said the old
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 of paying
it, or his altered manner--so much kinder than it was, at first--or all
three together, forced a smile from Arabella in the midst 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 persuaded him to
take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at not 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; 'and indeed,
Sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of bringing 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, as far as he is
concerned.'
The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips, when footsteps
were heard ascending the stairs, which he and Arabella seemed both to
recognise at the same moment. The little gentleman turned pale; and,
making a strong effort to 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 have you
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 the old
gentleman.
'No, Sir,' replied Mr. Winkle, drawing Arabella's arm through his. '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 your affection
for me, Sir,' said Mr. Winkle; 'but I will say, at the same time, that I
have no reason to be ashamed of having this lady for my wife, nor you of
having her for a daughter.'
'Give me your hand, Nat,' said the old gentleman, in an altered voice.
'Kiss me, my love. You are a very charming little daughter-in-law after
all!'
In a few minutes' time Mr. Winkle went in search of Mr. Pickwick, and
returning with that gentleman, presented him to his father, whereupon
they shook hands for five minutes incessantly.
'Mr. Pickwick, I thank you most heartily for all your kindness to 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 and taken by
surprise. I have judged for myself now, and am more than satisfied.
Shall I make any more apologies, Mr. Pickwick?'
'Not one,' replied that gentleman. 'You have done the only thing wanting
to complete my happiness.'
Hereupon there was another shaking of hands for five minutes longer,
accompanied by a great number of complimentary speeches, which, besides
being complimentary, had the additional and 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 had been charged
with the delivery of a note from Emily Wardle.
'I say,' said Joe, who was unusually loquacious, 'what a pretty girl
Mary is, isn't she? I am SO fond of her, I am!'
Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply; but eyeing the fat boy for
a moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led him by the collar
to the corner, and dismissed him with a harmless but ceremonious kick.
After which, he walked home, whistling.
CHAPTER LVII. IN WHICH THE PICKWICK CLUB IS FINALLY DISSOLVED, AND
EVERYTHING CONCLUDED TO THE SATISFACTION OF EVERYBODY
For a whole week after the happy arrival of Mr. Winkle from Birmingham,
