Weller walked forth from the Great White Horse when his father had left
him; and bending his steps towards St. Clement's Church, endeavoured to
dissipate his melancholy, by strolling among its ancient precincts. He
had loitered about, for some time, when he found himself in a retired
spot--a kind of courtyard of venerable appearance--which he discovered
had no other outlet than the turning by which he had entered. He was
about retracing his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to the spot
by a sudden appearance; and the mode and manner of this appearance, we
now proceed to relate.
Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up at the old brick houses now
and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon some
healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threw open a
bedroom window, when the green gate of a garden at the bottom of the
yard opened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed the green gate
very carefully after him, and walked briskly towards the very spot where
Mr. Weller was standing.
Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any attendant
circumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in it; because in
many parts of the world men do come out of gardens, close green
gates after them, and even walk briskly away, without attracting any
particular share of public observation. It is clear, therefore, that
there must have been something in the man, or in his manner, or both,
to attract Mr. Weller's particular notice. Whether there was, or not, we
must leave the reader to determine, when we have faithfully recorded the
behaviour of the individual in question.
When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, as we have
said twice already, with a brisk pace up the courtyard; but he no
sooner caught sight of Mr. Weller than he faltered, and stopped, as if
uncertain, for the moment, what course to adopt. As the green gate was
closed behind him, and there was no other outlet but the one in front,
however, he was not long in perceiving that he must pass Mr. Samuel
Weller to get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and advanced,
staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing about the
man was, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful and
astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handiwork never
was disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had
overlaid his countenance with in one moment.
'Well!' said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. 'This is wery
odd. I could ha' swore it was him.'
Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted than
ever, as he drew nearer.
'I could take my oath to that 'ere black hair and mulberry suit,' said
Mr. Weller; 'only I never see such a face as that afore.'
As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly twinge,
perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, however, and
the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him to detect, under
all these appalling twists of feature, something too like the small eyes
of Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.
'Hollo, you Sir!' shouted Sam fiercely.
The stranger stopped.
'Hollo!' repeated Sam, still more gruffly.
The man with the horrible face looked, with the greatest surprise,
up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the
houses--everywhere but at Sam Weller--and took another step forward,
when he was brought to again by another shout.
'Hollo, you sir!' said Sam, for the third time.
There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from now, so the
stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam Weller full in
the face.
'It won't do, Job Trotter,' said Sam. 'Come! None o' that 'ere nonsense.
You ain't so wery 'andsome that you can afford to throw avay many o'
your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' yourn back into their proper
places, or I'll knock 'em out of your head. D'ye hear?'
As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the spirit of this
address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its natural
expression; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, 'What do I see?
Mr. Walker!'
'Ah,' replied Sam. 'You're wery glad to see me, ain't you?'
'Glad!' exclaimed Job Trotter; 'oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but known
how I have looked forward to this meeting! It is too much, Mr. Walker;
I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot.' And with these words, Mr. Trotter
burst into a regular inundation of tears, and, flinging his arms around
those of Mr. Weller, embraced him closely, in an ecstasy of joy.
'Get off!' cried Sam, indignant at this process, and vainly endeavouring
to extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiastic acquaintance.
'Get off, I tell you. What are you crying over me for, you portable
engine?'
'Because I am so glad to see you,' replied Job Trotter, gradually
releasing Mr. Weller, as the first symptoms of his pugnacity
disappeared. 'Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much.'
'Too much!' echoed Sam, 'I think it is too much--rayther! Now, what have
you got to say to me, eh?'
Mr. Trotter made no reply; for the little pink pocket-handkerchief was
in full force.
'What have you got to say to me, afore I knock your head off?' repeated
Mr. Weller, in a threatening manner.
'Eh!' said Mr. Trotter, with a look of virtuous surprise.
'What have you got to say to me?'
'I, Mr. Walker!'
'Don't call me Valker; my name's Veller; you know that vell enough. What
have you got to say to me?'
'Bless you, Mr. Walker--Weller, I mean--a great many things, if you will
come away somewhere, where we can talk comfortably. If you knew how I
have looked for you, Mr. Weller--'
'Wery hard, indeed, I s'pose?' said Sam drily.
'Very, very, Sir,' replied Mr. Trotter, without moving a muscle of his
face. 'But shake hands, Mr. Weller.'
Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as if actuated by a
sudden impulse, complied with his request. 'How,' said Job Trotter, as
they walked away, 'how is your dear, good master? Oh, he is a worthy
gentleman, Mr. Weller! I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night,
Sir.'
There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, as he
said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fist, as
he burned with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs. Sam
constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was extremely
well.
'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter; 'is he here?'
'Is yourn?' asked Sam, by way of reply.
'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going on
worse than ever.'
'Ah, ah!' said Sam.
'Oh, shocking--terrible!'
'At a boarding-school?' said Sam.
'No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the same sly
look which Sam had noticed before; 'not at a boarding-school.'
'At the house with the green gate?' said Sam, eyeing his companion
closely.
'No, no--oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very unusual to
him, 'not there.'
'What was you a-doin' there?' asked Sam, with a sharp glance. 'Got
inside the gate by accident, perhaps?'
'Why, Mr. Weller,' replied Job, 'I don't mind telling you my little
secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each other when we
first met. You recollect how pleasant we were that morning?'
'Oh, yes,' said Sam, impatiently. 'I remember. Well?'
'Well,' replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the low tone
of a man who communicates an important secret; 'in that house with the
green gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good many servants.'
'So I should think, from the look on it,' interposed Sam.
'Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter, 'and one of them is a cook, who has saved
up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can establish
herself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery way, you see.'
'Yes.'
'Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, Sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to; a very
neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing the number
four collection of hymns, which I generally carry about with me, in a
little book, which you may perhaps have seen in my hand--and I got a
little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from that, an acquaintance
sprung up between us, and I may venture to say, Mr. Weller, that I am to
be the chandler.'
'Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam, eyeing Job
with a side look of intense dislike.
'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, his eyes
filling with tears as he spoke, 'will be, that I shall be able to leave
my present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to devote myself
to a better and more virtuous life; more like the way in which I was
brought up, Mr. Weller.'
'You must ha' been wery nicely brought up,' said Sam.
'Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very,' replied Job. At the recollection of
the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink
handkerchief, and wept copiously.
'You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith,' said
Sam.
'I was, sir,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh; 'I was the idol of the
place.'
'Ah,' said Sam, 'I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you must ha' been
to your blessed mother.'
At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink handkerchief
into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and began to weep
copiously.
'Wot's the matter with the man,' said Sam, indignantly. 'Chelsea
water-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now? The
consciousness o' willainy?'
'I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, after a short
pause. 'To think that my master should have suspected the conversation
I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a post-chaise, and after
persuading the sweet young lady to say she knew nothing of him, and
bribing the school-mistress to do the same, deserted her for a better
speculation! Oh! Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder.'
'Oh, that was the vay, was it?' said Mr. Weller.
'To be sure it was,' replied Job.
'Vell,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, 'I vant to
have a little bit o' talk with you, Job; so if you're not partickler
engaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse to-night,
somewheres about eight o'clock.'
'I shall be sure to come,' said Job.
'Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look, 'or else I
shall perhaps be askin' arter you, at the other side of the green gate,
and then I might cut you out, you know.'
'I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter; and wringing
Sam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away.
'Take care, Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, looking after him, 'or
I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall, indeed.' Having
uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen no
more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bedroom.
'It's all in training, Sir,' said Sam.
'What's in training, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'I've found 'em out, Sir,' said Sam.
'Found out who?'
'That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the black
hair.'
'Impossible, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy. 'Where
are they, Sam: where are they?'
'Hush, hush!' replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick to
dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter.
'But when is this to be done, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'All in good time, Sir,' replied Sam.
Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter.
CHAPTER XXIV. WHEREIN Mr. PETER MAGNUS GROWS JEALOUS, AND THE
MIDDLE-AGED LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE PICKWICKIANS WITHIN THE
GRASP OF THE LAW
When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter Magnus
had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with the major
part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box, and the
brown-paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage on his person,
while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of the
utmost excitement and agitation.
'Good-morning, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'What do you think of this,
Sir?'
'Very effective indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments of
Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile.
'Yes, I think it'll do,' said Mr. Magnus. 'Mr. Pickwick, Sir, I have
sent up my card.'
'Have you?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me at eleven--at
eleven, Sir; it only wants a quarter now.'
'Very near the time,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Yes, it is rather near,' replied Mr. Magnus, 'rather too near to be
pleasant--eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir?'
'Confidence is a great thing in these cases,' observed Mr. Pickwick.
'I believe it is, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'I am very confident,
Sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any fear
in such a case as this, sir. What is it, Sir? There's nothing to be
ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more. Husband
