question which I leave to your own conscience.
And your conscience does not acquit you. No,
sir, no ! "
Pronouncing these last words in a loud and
solemn voice, Mr. Pecksniff was not so abso-
lutely lost in his own fervour as to be unmindful
of the expediency of getting a little nearer to
the door.
" I have been struck this day," said Mr.
Pecksniff, " with a walking-stick (which I have
every reason to believe has knobs upon it), on
that delicate and exquisite portion of the human
anatomy, the brain. Several blows have been
inflicted, sir, without a walking-stick, upon that
tenderer portion of my frame : my heart. You
have mentioned, sir, my being bankrupt in my
purse. Yes, sir, I am. By an unfortunate
speculation, combined with treachery, I find
myself reduced to poverty ; at a time, sir, when
the child of my bosom is widowed, and affliction
and disgrace are in my family."
Here Mr. Pecksniff wiped his eyes again, and
gave himself two or three little knocks upon the
breast, as if he were answering two or three-
other little knocks from within, given by the
tinkling hammer of his conscience, to express
" Cheer up, my boy ! "
" I know the human mind, although I trust
it. That is my weakness. Do I not know,
sir;" here he became exceedingly plaintive,
and was observed to glance towards Tom
Pinch ; " that my misfortunes bring this treat- '
ment on me ? Do I not know, sir, that but for
them I never should have heard what I have
heard to-day ? Do I not know, that in the
silence and the solitude of night, a little voice
will whisper in your ear, Mr. Chuzziewit, ' This
was not well. This was not well, sir ! ' Think
of this, sir (if you will have the goodness),
rem te from the impulses of passion, and apart
from the specialities, if I may use that strong
remark, of prejudice. And if you ever contem-
plate the silent tomb, sir, which you will excuse
me for entertaining some doubt of your doing,
after the conduct into which you have allowed
yourself to be betrayed this day ; if you ever
contemplate the silent tomb, sir, think of me.
If you find yourself approaching to the silent
tomb, sir, think of me. If you should wish to
have anything inscribed upon your silent tomb,
sir, let it be, that I — ah, my remorseful sir ! that
I — the humble individual who has now the
honour of reproaching you : forgave you. That
I forgave you when my injuries were fresh, and
when my bosom was newly wrung. It may be
bitterness to you to hear it now, sir, but you
will live to seek a consolation in it. May you
find a consolation in it, when you want it, sir !
Cood morning ! "
With this sublime address, Mr. Pecksniff
departed. But the effect of his departure was
much impaired by his being immediately after-
wards run against, and nearly knocked down
by, a monstrously-excited little man in velveteen
shorts and a very tall hat ; who came bursting
up the stairs, and straight into the chambers of
Mr. Chuzziewit, as if he were deranged.
"Is there anybody here that knows him?"
cried the little man. " Is there anybody here
that knows him ? Oh, my stars, is there any-
body here that knows him ! "
They looked at each other for an explana-
tion ; but nobody knew anything more than that
here was an excited little man with a very tall
hat on, running in and out of the room as hard
as he could go; making his single pair of bright
blue stockings appear at least a dozen j and
constantly repeating in a shrill voice, " Is. there
anybody here that knows him?"
" If your brains is not turned topjy turjey,
Mr. Sweedlepipes ! " exclaimed another voice,
" hold that there nige of yourn, I beg you, sir."
At the same time Mrs. Camp was seen in the
doorway ; out of breath from coming up so
many stairs, and panting fearfully ; but dropping
curtseys to the last.
" Excuge the weakness of the man," said Mrs.
Gamp, eyeing Mr. Sweedlepipe with great in-
j BAILEY JUNIOR AND FRIEND.
411
dignation ; " and well I might expect it, as I
should have know'd, and wishin' he was
drown ded in the Thames afore I had brought
him here, which not a blessed hour ago he
nearly shaved the noge off from the father of as
lovely a family as ever, Mr. Chuzzlewit, was
born three sets of twins, and would have done
it, only he see it a goin' in the glass, and dodged
the rager. And never, Mr. Sweedlepipes, I do
assure you, sir, did I so well know what a mis-
fortun it was to be acquainted with you, as now I
do, which so I say, sir, and I don't deceive you !"
" I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen
all," cried the little barber, taking off his hat,
" and yours too, Mrs. Gamp. But — but," he
a Ided this, halfdaughing and half-crying, " Is
there anybody here that knows him ! "
As the barber said these words, a something
in top-boots, with its head bandaged up, stag-
gered into the room, and began going round
and round and round, apparently under the
impression that it was walking straight forward.
" Look at him ! " cried the excited little
barber. " Here he is ! That'll soon wear oft",
and then he'll be all right again. He's no more
dead than I am. He's all alive and hearty.
Ain't you, Bailey ? "
" R — r — reether so, Poll ! *' replied that gen-
tleman.
" Look here ! " cried the little barber, laugh-
ing and crying in the same breath. " When I
steady him he comes all right. There ! He's
all right now. Nothing's the matter with him
now, except that he's a little shook and rather
giddy ; is there, Bailey ? "
" R — r — reether shook, Poll — reether so ! "
said Mr. Bailey. " What, my lovely Sairey !
There you air ! "
" What a boy he is ! " cried the tender-hearted
Poll, actually sobbing over him. " I never see
sech a boy ! It's all his fun. He's full of it.
He shall go into the business along with me.
I am determined he shall. We'll make it
Sweedlepipe and Bailey. He shall have the
sporting branch (what a one he'll be for the
matches !) and me the shavin'. I'll make over
the birds to him as soon as ever he's well
enough. He shall have the little bullfinch in
the shop, and all. He's sech a boy ! I ask
your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but I
thought there might be some one here that
know'd him ! "
Mrs. Gamp had observed, not without jealousy
and scorn, that a favourable impression ap-
peared to exist in behalf of Mr. Sweedlepipe
and his young friend ; and that she had fallen
rather into the background in consequence.
She now struggled to the front, therefore, and
stated her business.
"Which, Mr. Chuzzlewit," she said, " is well
beknown to Mrs. Harris as has one sweet infant
(though she do not wish it known) in her own
family by the mother's side kep in spirits in a
bottle ; and that sweet babe she see at
Greenwich Fair, a travelling in company vith
the pink-eyed lady, Prooshan dwarf, and livin'
skelinton, which judge her feelins wen the barrel
organ played, and she was showed her own dear
sister's child, the same not bein' expected from
the outside picter, where it was painted quite
contrairy in a livin' state, a many sizes larger, and
performing beautiful upon the Arp, which never
did that dear child know or do ; since breathe
it never did, to speak on, in this wale ! And
Mrs. Harris, Mr. Chuzzlewit, has knowed me
many year, and can give you information that
the lady which is widdefed can't do better and
may do worse, than let me wait upon her, which
I hope to do. Permittin' the sweet faces as I
see afore me."
" Oh ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " Is that your
business ? Was this good person paid for the
trouble we gave her ? "
" I paid her, sir," returned Mark Tapley ;
" liberal."
" The young man's words is true," said Mrs.
Gamp, " and thank you kindly."
" Then here we will close our acquaintance,
Mrs. Gamp," retorted Mr. Chuzzlewit. " And
Mr. Sweedlepipe — is that your name ? "
" That is my name, sir," replied Poll, accept-
ing with a profusion of gratitude, some chinking
pieces which the old man slipped into his hand.
" Mr. Sweedlepipe, take as much care of
your ladydodger as you can, and give her a
word or two of good advice now and then.
Such," said old Martin, looking gravely at the
astonished Mrs. Gamp, " as hinting at the ex-
pediency of a little less liquor, and a little more
humanity, and a little less regard for herself,
and a little more regard for her patients, and
perhaps a trifle of additional honesty. Or when
Mrs. Gamp gets into trouble, Mr. Sweedlepipe,
it had better not be at a time when I am near
enough to the Old Bailey, to volunteer myself
as a witness to her character. Endeavour to
impress that upon her at your leisure, if you
please."
Mrs. Gamp clasped her hands, turned up her
eyes until they were quite invisible, threw back
her bonnet for the admission of fresh air to her
heated brow ; and in the act of saying faintly —
"Less liquor !— Sairey Gamp— Bottle_ on the
chimley-piece, and let me put my lips to it
412
MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.
when I am so dispoged !" — fell into one of the
walking swoons, in which pitiable state she was
conducted forth by Mr. Sweedlepipe, who, be-
tween his two patients, the swooning Mrs. Gamp
and the revolving Bailey, had enough to do,
poor fellow.
The old man looked about him with a smile,
until his eyes rested on Tom Pinch's sister;
when he smiled the more.
" We will all dine here together," he said ;
" and as you and Mary have enough to talk of,
Martin, you shall keep house for us until the
afternoon, with Mr. and Mrs. Tapley. I must
see your lodgings in the meanwhile, Tom."
Tom was quite delighted. So was Ruth.
She would go with them.
" Thank you, my love," said Mr. Chuzzlewit.
" But I am afraid I must take Tom a little out
of the way, on business. Suppose you go on
first, my dear?"
Pretty little Ruth was equally delighted to do
that.
" But not alone," said Martin, " not alone.
Mr. Westlock, I dare say, will escort you."
Why, of course he would : what else had Mr.
Westlock in his mind ? How dull these old
men are !
"You are sure you have no engagement?"
he persisted.
Engagement ! As if he could have any en-
gagement !
So they went off arm in arm. When Tom
and Mr. Chuzzlewit went off arm in arm a few
minutes after them, the latter was still smiling :
and really, for a gentleman of ids habits, in
rather a knowing manner.
CHAPTER LIII.
V/HAT JOHN WESTLOCK SAID TO TOM PINCH'S SISTER ;
WHAT TOM PINCH'S SISTER SAID TO JOHN WEST-
LOCK; WHAT TOM PINCH SAID TO BOTH OF THEM;
AND HOW THEY ALL PASSED THE REMAINDER OE
THE DAY.
RILLIANTLY the Temple Foun-
tain sparkled in the sun, and laugh-
ingly its liquid music played, and
, merrily the idle drops of water
? £*3 danced ami danced, and peeping out
•rt among the trees, plunged lightly
y down to hide themselves, as little Ruth
and her companion came towards it.
And why they came towards the Fountain at
all is a mystery ; for they had no business there.
It was not in their way. It was (mite out of
their way. They had no more to do with the
Fountain, bless you, than they had with — with
Love, or any out of the way thing of that sort.
It was all very well for Tom and his sister to
make appointments by the Fountain, but that
was quite another affair. Because, of course,
when she had to wait a minute or two, it would
have been very awkward for her to have had to
wait in any but a tolerably quiet spot ; and that
was as quiet a spot, everything considered, as
they could choose. But when she had John
Westlock to take care of her, and was going
home with her arm in his (home being in a
different direction altogether), their coming any-
where near that Fountain, was quite extraordinary.
However, there they found themselves. And
another extraordinary part of the matter was,
that they seemed to have come there, by a
silent understanding. Yet when they got there,
they were a little confused by being there,
which was the strangest part of all ; because
there is nothing naturally confusing in a Foun-
tain. We all know that.
What a good old place it was ! John said.
With quite an earnest affection for it.
"A pleasant place indeed," said little Ruth.
" So shady ! "
Oh wicked little Ruth !
They came to a stop when John began to
praise it. The day was exquisite ; and stopping
at all, it was quite natural — nothing could be
more so — that they should glance down Garden
Court; because Garden Court ends in the
Garden, and the Garden ends in the River, and
that glimpse is very bright and fresh and shining
on a summer's day. Then oh little Ruth, why
not look boldly at it ! Why fit that tiny, pre-
cious, blessed little foot into the cracked corner
of an insensible old flagstone in the pavement;
and be so very anxious to adjust it to a nicety !
If the Fiery faced matron in the crunched
bonnet could have seen them as they walked
away, how many years' purchase, might Fiery
Face have been disposed to take for her situation
in Furnival's Inn as laundress to Mr. Westlock !
They went away, but not through London's
streets ! Through some enchanted city, where
the pavements were of air ; where all the rough
sounds of a stirring town were softened into
gentle music; where every thing was happy;
where there was no distance, and no time.
There were two good-tempered burly draymen
Letting down big butts of beer into a cellar
somewhere ; and when John helped her —
almost lifted her — the lightest, easiest, neatest
thing you ever saw — across the rope, they said
he owed them a good turn for giving him the
chance. Celestial draymen !
ABOUT TELLING TOM.
4i3
Green pastures in the summer tide, deep-
littered straw-yards in the winter, no stint of
corn and clover, ever, to that noble horse who
would dance on the pavement with a gig behind
him, and who frightened her, and made her
clasp his arm with both hands (both hands :
meeting one upon the other, so endearingly !),
and caused her to implore him to take refuge
in the pastry-cook's; and afterwards to peep
out at the door so shrinkingly ; and then :
looking at him with those eyes : to ask him
was he sure — now was he sure — they might go
safely on ! Oh for a string of rampant horses !
For a lion, for a bear, a mad bull, anything to
bring the little hands together on his arm,
again !
They talked, of course. They talked of Tom,
and all these changes, and the attachment Mr.
Chuzzlewit had conceived for him, and the
bright prospects he had in such a friend, and a
great deal more to the same purpose. The
more they talked, the more afraid this fluttering
little Ruth became of any pause ; and sooner
than have a pause she would say the same things
over again ; and if she hadn't courage or pre-
sence of mind enough for that (to say the truth
she very seldom had), she was ten thousand
times more charming and irresistible than she
had been before.
" Martin will be married very soon now, I
suppose," said John.
She supposed he would. Never did a be-
witching little woman suppose anything in such
a faint voice as Ruth supposed that.
But feeling that another of those alarming
pauses was approaching, she remarked that he
would have a beautiful wife. Didn't Mr. West-
lock think so ?
" Ye — yes," said John : " oh, yes."
She feared he was rather hard to please, he
spoke so coldly.
" Rather say already pleased," said John.
" I have scarcely seen her. I had no care to
see her. I had no eyes for her, this morning."
Oh, good gracious !
It was well they had reached their destina-
tion. She never could have gone any further.
Tt would have been impossible to walk in such
a tremble.
Tom had not come in. They entered the
triangular parlour together, and alone. Fiery
Face, Fiery Face, how many years' purchase
now !
She sat down on the little sofa, and untied
her bonnet-strings. He sat down by her side,
and very near her : very, very near her. Oh,
rapid, swelling, bursting little heart, you knew
that it would come to this, and hoped it would.
Why beat so wildly, heart !
" Dear Ruth ! Sweet Ruth ! If I had loved
you less, I could have told you that I loved you,
long ago. I have loved you from the first.
There never was a creature in the world more
truly loved than you, dear Ruth, by me ! "
She clasped her little hands before her face.
The gushing tears of joy, and pride, and hope,
and innocent affection, would not be restrained.
Fresh from her full young heart they came to
answer him.
" My dear love ! If this is — I almost dare to
hope it is, now — not painful or distressing to
you, you make me happier than I can tell, or
you imagine. Darling Ruth ! My own good,
gentle, winning Ruth ! I hope I know the
value of your heart, I hope I know the worth
of your angel nature. Let me try and show you
that I do ; and you will make me happier,
Ruth "
" Not happier," she sobbed, " than you make
me. No one can be happier, John, than you
make me ! "
Fiery Face, provide yourself! The usual
wages or the usual warning. It's all over, Fiery
Face. We needn't trouble you any further.
The little hands could meet each other now,
without a rampant horse to urge them. There
was no occasion for lions, bears, or mad bulls.
It could all be done, and infinitely better, with-
out their assistance. No burly drayman or big
butts of beer, were wanted for apologies. No
apology at all was wanted. The soft, light touch
fell coyly, but quite naturally, upon the lover's
shoulder ; the delicate waist, the drooping head,
the blushing cheek, the beautiful eyes, the ex-
quisite mouth itself, were all as natural as pos-
sible. If all the horses in Araby had run away
at once, they couldn't have improved upon it.
They soon began to talk of Tom again.
" I hope he will be glad to hear of it ! " said
John, with sparkling eyes.
Ruth drew the little hands a little tighter
when he said it, and looked up seriously into
his face.
"I am never to leave him, am I, dear? I
could never leave Tom. I am sure you know
that."
"Do you think I would ask you?" he re-
turned, with a — well ! Never mind with what.
" I am sure you never would," she answered,
the bright tears standing in her eyes.
"And I will swear it, Ruth, my darling, if
you please. Leave Tom ! That would be a
strange beginning. Leave Tom, dear ! If Tom
and we be not inseparable, and Tom (God bless
414
MA R TIN CIIUZZLE J I 'IT
him) have not all honour and all love in our
home, my little wife, may that home never be !
And that's a strong oath, Ruth.''
Shall it be recorded how she thanked him ?
Yes, it shall. In all simplicity and innocence
and purity of heart, yet with a timid, graceful,
half-determined hesitation, she set a little rosy
seal upon the vow, whose colour was reflected
in her face, and flashed up to the braiding of her
dark brown hair.
"Tom will be so happy, and so proud, and
glad, - ' she said, clasping her little hands. ; ' But
so surprised ! I am sure he has never thought
of such a thing."
Of course John asked her immediately — be-
cause you know they were in that foolish state
when great allowances must be made — when
she had begun to think of such a thing, and this
made a little diversion in their talk ; a charming
diversion to them, but not so interesting to us ;
at the end of which, they came back to Tom
again.
"Ah ! dear Tom ! " said Ruth. " I suppose
I ought to tell you everything now. I should
have no secrets from you. Should I, John,
love ? "
It is of no use saying how that preposterous
John answered her, because he answered in a
manner which is untranslatable on paper, though
highly satisfactory in itself. But what he con-
veyed was, No no no, sweet Ruth ; or some-
thing to that effect.
Then she told him Tom's great secret ; not
exactly saying how she had found it out, but
leaving him to understand it if he liked ; and
John was sadly grieved to hear it, and was full
of sympathy and sorrow. But they would try,
he said, only the more, on this account, to make
him happy, and to beguile him with his favourite
pursuits. And then, in all the confidence of
such a time, he told her how he had a capital
opportunity of establishing himself in his old
profession in the country; and how he had been
thinking, in the event of that happiness coming
upon him which had actually come — there was
another slight diversion here — how he had been
thinking that it would afford occupation to Tom,
and enable them to live together in the easiest
manner, without any sense of dependence on
Tom's part ; and to be as happy as the day was
long. And Ruth receiving this with joy, they
went on catering for Tom to that extent that
they had already purchased him a select library
and built him an organ, on which he was per-
forming with the greatest satisfaction : when
they heard him knocking at the door.
Though she longed to tell him what had hap-
pened, poor little Ruth was greatly agitated by
his arrival ; the more so because she knew that
Mr. Chuzzlewit was with him. So she said, all
in a tremble :
" What shall I do, dear John ! I can't bear
that he should hear it from any one but me,
and I could not tell him unless we were alone."
" Do, my love," said John, " whatever is
natural to you on the impulse of the moment,
and I am sure it will be right."
He had hardly time to say thus much, and
Ruth had hardly time to — just to get a little
farther off — upon the sofa, when Tom and Mr.
Chuzzlewit came in. Mr. Chuzzlewit came first,
and Tom was a few seconds behind him.
Now Ruth had hastily resolved that she
would beckon Tom up-stairs after a short time,
and would tell him in his little bedroom. But
when she saw his dear old face come in, her
heart was so touched that she ran into his arms,
and laid her head down on his breast, and
sobbed out, " Bless me, Tom ! My dearest
brother ! "
Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John
Westlock close beside him, holding out his
hand.
" John ! " cried Tom. ',' John !"
" Dear Tom," said his friend, " give me your
hand. We are brothers, Tom."
Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced
his sister fervently, and put her in John West-
lock's arms.
" Don't speak to me, John. Heaven is very
good to us. I " Tom could find no further
utterance, but left the room ; and Ruth went
after him.
And when they came back, which they did
by-and-by, she looked more beautiful, and Tom
more good and true (if that were possible) than
ever. And though Tom could not speak upon
the subject even now : being yet too newly
glad : he put both his hands in both of John's
with emphasis sufficient for the best speech ever
spoken.
" I am glad you chose to-day," said Mr.
Chuzzlewit to John ; with the same knowing
smile as when they had left him. "I thought
you would. I hope Tom and I lingered behind
a discreet time, ft's so long since I had any
practical knowledge of these subjects, that I
have been anxious, I assure you."
" Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir,"
returned John, laughing, " if it led you to foresee
what would happen to-day,"
" Why, I am not sure, Mr. Westlock," said
the old man, " that any great spirit of prophecy
was needed, after seeing you and Ruth together.
GRAND ENTERTAINMENT AT THE JOLLY TAPLEY.
4i5
Come hither, pretty one. See what Tom and I
purchased this morning, while you were dealing
in exchange with that young merchant there."
The old man's way of seating her beside him,
and humouring his voice as if she were a child,
was whimsical enough, but full of tenderness,
and not ill adapted, somehow, to little Ruth.
"See here !" he said, taking a case from his
pocket, " what a beautiful necklace. Ah ! How
it glitters ! Earrings too, and bracelets, and a
zone for your waist. This set is yours, and
Mary has another like it. Tom couldn't under-
stand why I wanted two. What a short-sighted
Tom ! Earrings and bracelets, and a zone for
your waist ! Ah ! beautiful ! Let us see how
brave they look. Ask Mr. Westlock to clasp
them on."
It was the prettiest thing to see her holding
out her round, white arm ; and John (oh deep,
deep John !) pretending that the bracelet was
very hard to fasten ; it was the prettiest thing
to see her girding on the precious little zone,
and yet obliged to have assistance because her
fingers were in such terrible perplexity ; it was
the prettiest thing to see her so confused and
bashful, with the smiles and blushes playing
brightly on her face; like the sparkling light
upon the jewels ; it was the prettiest thing that
you would see, in the common experiences of a
twelvemonth, rely upon it.
" The set of jewels and the wearer are so well