Martin Chuzzlewit Read online

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEREIN CERTAIN PERSONS ARE PRESENTED TO THE READER, WITH WHOM HE MAY,IF HE PLEASE, BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED

  It was pretty late in the autumn of the year, when the declining sunstruggling through the mist which had obscured it all day, lookedbrightly down upon a little Wiltshire village, within an easy journey ofthe fair old town of Salisbury.

  Like a sudden flash of memory or spirit kindling up the mind of an oldman, it shed a glory upon the scene, in which its departed youth andfreshness seemed to live again. The wet grass sparkled in the light;the scanty patches of verdure in the hedges--where a few green twigsyet stood together bravely, resisting to the last the tyranny of nippingwinds and early frosts--took heart and brightened up; the stream whichhad been dull and sullen all day long, broke out into a cheerful smile;the birds began to chirp and twitter on the naked boughs, as though thehopeful creatures half believed that winter had gone by, and springhad come already. The vane upon the tapering spire of the old churchglistened from its lofty station in sympathy with the general gladness;and from the ivy-shaded windows such gleams of light shone back uponthe glowing sky, that it seemed as if the quiet buildings were thehoarding-place of twenty summers, and all their ruddiness and warmthwere stored within.

  Even those tokens of the season which emphatically whispered of thecoming winter, graced the landscape, and, for the moment, tinged itslivelier features with no oppressive air of sadness. The fallen leaves,with which the ground was strewn, gave forth a pleasant fragrance, andsubduing all harsh sounds of distant feet and wheels created a reposein gentle unison with the light scattering of seed hither and thither bythe distant husbandman, and with the noiseless passage of the plough asit turned up the rich brown earth, and wrought a graceful pattern inthe stubbled fields. On the motionless branches of some trees, autumnberries hung like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchardswhere the fruits were jewels; others stripped of all their garniture,stood, each the centre of its little heap of bright red leaves, watchingtheir slow decay; others again, still wearing theirs, had them allcrunched and crackled up, as though they had been burnt; about the stemsof some were piled, in ruddy mounds, the apples they had borne thatyear; while others (hardy evergreens this class) showed somewhat sternand gloomy in their vigour, as charged by nature with the admonitionthat it is not to her more sensitive and joyous favourites she grantsthe longest term of life. Still athwart their darker boughs, thesunbeams struck out paths of deeper gold; and the red light, mantling inamong their swarthy branches, used them as foils to set its brightnessoff, and aid the lustre of the dying day.

  A moment, and its glory was no more. The sun went down beneath the longdark lines of hill and cloud which piled up in the west an airy city,wall heaped on wall, and battlement on battlement; the light was allwithdrawn; the shining church turned cold and dark; the stream forgotto smile; the birds were silent; and the gloom of winter dwelt oneverything.

  An evening wind uprose too, and the slighter branches cracked andrattled as they moved, in skeleton dances, to its moaning music. Thewithering leaves no longer quiet, hurried to and fro in search ofshelter from its chill pursuit; the labourer unyoked his horses, andwith head bent down, trudged briskly home beside them; and from thecottage windows lights began to glance and wink upon the darkeningfields.

  Then the village forge came out in all its bright importance. The lustybellows roared Ha ha! to the clear fire, which roared in turn, and badethe shining sparks dance gayly to the merry clinking of the hammers onthe anvil. The gleaming iron, in its emulation, sparkled too, and shedits red-hot gems around profusely. The strong smith and his men dealtsuch strokes upon their work, as made even the melancholy night rejoice,and brought a glow into its dark face as it hovered about the door andwindows, peeping curiously in above the shoulders of a dozen loungers.As to this idle company, there they stood, spellbound by the place, and,casting now and then a glance upon the darkness in their rear, settledtheir lazy elbows more at ease upon the sill, and leaned a littlefurther in: no more disposed to tear themselves away than if they hadbeen born to cluster round the blazing hearth like so many crickets.

  Out upon the angry wind! how from sighing, it began to bluster round themerry forge, banging at the wicket, and grumbling in the chimney, as ifit bullied the jolly bellows for doing anything to order. And what animpotent swaggerer it was too, for all its noise; for if it had anyinfluence on that hoarse companion, it was but to make him roar hischeerful song the louder, and by consequence to make the fire burnthe brighter, and the sparks to dance more gayly yet; at length, theywhizzed so madly round and round, that it was too much for such a surlywind to bear; so off it flew with a howl giving the old sign before theale-house door such a cuff as it went, that the Blue Dragon was morerampant than usual ever afterwards, and indeed, before Christmas, rearedclean out of its crazy frame.

  It was small tyranny for a respectable wind to go wreaking its vengeanceon such poor creatures as the fallen leaves, but this wind happening tocome up with a great heap of them just after venting its humour on theinsulted Dragon, did so disperse and scatter them that they fled away,pell-mell, some here, some there, rolling over each other, whirlinground and round upon their thin edges, taking frantic flights into theair, and playing all manner of extraordinary gambols in the extremityof their distress. Nor was this enough for its malicious fury; for notcontent with driving them abroad, it charged small parties of them andhunted them into the wheel wright's saw-pit, and below the planks andtimbers in the yard, and, scattering the sawdust in the air, it lookedfor them underneath, and when it did meet with any, whew! how it drovethem on and followed at their heels!

  The scared leaves only flew the faster for all this, and a giddy chaseit was; for they got into unfrequented places, where there was nooutlet, and where their pursuer kept them eddying round and round at hispleasure; and they crept under the eaves of houses, and clung tightly tothe sides of hay-ricks, like bats; and tore in at open chamber windows,and cowered close to hedges; and, in short, went anywhere for safety.But the oddest feat they achieved was, to take advantage of the suddenopening of Mr Pecksniff's front-door, to dash wildly into his passage;whither the wind following close upon them, and finding the back-dooropen, incontinently blew out the lighted candle held by Miss Pecksniff,and slammed the front-door against Mr Pecksniff who was at that momententering, with such violence, that in the twinkling of an eye he lay onhis back at the bottom of the steps. Being by this time weary of suchtrifling performances, the boisterous rover hurried away rejoicing,roaring over moor and meadow, hill and flat, until it got out to sea,where it met with other winds similarly disposed, and made a night ofit.

  In the meantime Mr Pecksniff, having received from a sharp angle in thebottom step but one, that sort of knock on the head which lights up, forthe patient's entertainment, an imaginary general illumination of verybright short-sixes, lay placidly staring at his own street door. And itwould seem to have been more suggestive in its aspect than streetdoors usually are; for he continued to lie there, rather a lengthy andunreasonable time, without so much as wondering whether he was hurtor no; neither, when Miss Pecksniff inquired through the key-hole in ashrill voice, which might have belonged to a wind in its teens, 'Who'sthere' did he make any reply; nor, when Miss Pecksniff opened the dooragain, and shading the candle with her hand, peered out, and lookedprovokingly round him, and about him, and over him, and everywhere butat him, did he offer any remark, or indicate in any manner the leasthint of a desire to be picked up.

  'I see you,' cried Miss Pecksniff, to the ideal inflicter of a runawayknock. 'You'll catch it, sir!'

  Still Mr Pecksniff, perhaps from having caught it already, said nothing.

  'You're round the corner now,' cried Miss Pecksniff. She said it at aventure, but there was appropriate matter in it too; for Mr Pecksniff,being in the act of extinguishing the candles before mentioned prettyrapidly, and of reducing the number of brass knobs on his street doorfrom four or five hundred (which
had previously been juggling of theirown accord before his eyes in a very novel manner) to a dozen or so,might in one sense have been said to be coming round the corner, andjust turning it.

  With a sharply delivered warning relative to the cage and the constable,and the stocks and the gallows, Miss Pecksniff was about to close thedoor again, when Mr Pecksniff (being still at the bottom of the steps)raised himself on one elbow, and sneezed.

  'That voice!' cried Miss Pecksniff. 'My parent!'

  At this exclamation, another Miss Pecksniff bounced out of the parlour;and the two Miss Pecksniffs, with many incoherent expressions, draggedMr Pecksniff into an upright posture.

  'Pa!' they cried in concert. 'Pa! Speak, Pa! Do not look so wild mydearest Pa!'

  But as a gentleman's looks, in such a case of all others, are by nomeans under his own control, Mr Pecksniff continued to keep his mouthand his eyes very wide open, and to drop his lower jaw, somewhat afterthe manner of a toy nut-cracker; and as his hat had fallen off, and hisface was pale, and his hair erect, and his coat muddy, the spectacle hepresented was so very doleful, that neither of the Miss Pecksniffs couldrepress an involuntary screech.

  'That'll do,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'I'm better.'

  'He's come to himself!' cried the youngest Miss Pecksniff.

  'He speaks again!' exclaimed the eldest.

  With these joyful words they kissed Mr Pecksniff on either cheek; andbore him into the house. Presently, the youngest Miss Pecksniff ranout again to pick up his hat, his brown paper parcel, his umbrella, hisgloves, and other small articles; and that done, and the door closed,both young ladies applied themselves to tending Mr Pecksniff's wounds inthe back parlour.

  They were not very serious in their nature; being limited to abrasionson what the eldest Miss Pecksniff called 'the knobby parts' of herparent's anatomy, such as his knees and elbows, and to the developmentof an entirely new organ, unknown to phrenologists, on the back of hishead. These injuries having been comforted externally, with patches ofpickled brown paper, and Mr Pecksniff having been comforted internally,with some stiff brandy-and-water, the eldest Miss Pecksniff sat downto make the tea, which was all ready. In the meantime the youngest MissPecksniff brought from the kitchen a smoking dish of ham and eggs, and,setting the same before her father, took up her station on a low stoolat his feet; thereby bringing her eyes on a level with the teaboard.

  It must not be inferred from this position of humility, that theyoungest Miss Pecksniff was so young as to be, as one may say, forced tosit upon a stool, by reason of the shortness of her legs. Miss Pecksniffsat upon a stool because of her simplicity and innocence, which werevery great, very great. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool because she wasall girlishness, and playfulness, and wildness, and kittenish buoyancy.She was the most arch and at the same time the most artless creature,was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, that you can possibly imagine. Itwas her great charm. She was too fresh and guileless, and too full ofchild-like vivacity, was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, to wear combs inher hair, or to turn it up, or to frizzle it, or braid it. She wore itin a crop, a loosely flowing crop, which had so many rows of curls init, that the top row was only one curl. Moderately buxom was her shape,and quite womanly too; but sometimes--yes, sometimes--she even worea pinafore; and how charming THAT was! Oh! she was indeed 'a gushingthing' (as a young gentleman had observed in verse, in the Poet's Cornerof a provincial newspaper), was the youngest Miss Pecksniff!

  Mr Pecksniff was a moral man--a grave man, a man of noble sentiments andspeech--and he had had her christened Mercy. Mercy! oh, what a charmingname for such a pure-souled Being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff! Hersister's name was Charity. There was a good thing! Mercy and Charity!And Charity, with her fine strong sense and her mild, yet notreproachful gravity, was so well named, and did so well set off andillustrate her sister! What a pleasant sight was that the contrastthey presented; to see each loved and loving one sympathizing with, anddevoted to, and leaning on, and yet correcting and counter-checking,and, as it were, antidoting, the other! To behold each damsel in hervery admiration of her sister, setting up in business for herself onan entirely different principle, and announcing no connection withover-the-way, and if the quality of goods at that establishment don'tplease you, you are respectfully invited to favour ME with a call! Andthe crowning circumstance of the whole delightful catalogue was, thatboth the fair creatures were so utterly unconscious of all this!They had no idea of it. They no more thought or dreamed of it than MrPecksniff did. Nature played them off against each other; THEY had nohand in it, the two Miss Pecksniffs.

  It has been remarked that Mr Pecksniff was a moral man. So he was.Perhaps there never was a more moral man than Mr Pecksniff, especiallyin his conversation and correspondence. It was once said of him by ahomely admirer, that he had a Fortunatus's purse of good sentiments inhis inside. In this particular he was like the girl in the fairy tale,except that if they were not actual diamonds which fell from his lips,they were the very brightest paste, and shone prodigiously. He was amost exemplary man; fuller of virtuous precept than a copy book. Somepeople likened him to a direction-post, which is always telling theway to a place, and never goes there; but these were his enemies, theshadows cast by his brightness; that was all. His very throat was moral.You saw a good deal of it. You looked over a very low fence of whitecravat (whereof no man had ever beheld the tie for he fastened itbehind), and there it lay, a valley between two jutting heights ofcollar, serene and whiskerless before you. It seemed to say, on the partof Mr Pecksniff, 'There is no deception, ladies and gentlemen, all ispeace, a holy calm pervades me.' So did his hair, just grizzled withan iron-grey which was all brushed off his forehead, and stood boltupright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with his heavy eyelids.So did his person, which was sleek though free from corpulency. So didhis manner, which was soft and oily. In a word, even his plain blacksuit, and state of widower and dangling double eye-glass, all tended tothe same purpose, and cried aloud, 'Behold the moral Pecksniff!'

  The brazen plate upon the door (which being Mr Pecksniff's, couldnot lie) bore this inscription, 'PECKSNIFF, ARCHITECT,' to which MrPecksniff, on his cards of business, added, AND LAND SURVEYOR.' In onesense, and only one, he may be said to have been a Land Surveyor on apretty large scale, as an extensive prospect lay stretched out beforethe windows of his house. Of his architectural doings, nothing wasclearly known, except that he had never designed or built anything; butit was generally understood that his knowledge of the science was almostawful in its profundity.

  Mr Pecksniff's professional engagements, indeed, were almost, if notentirely, confined to the reception of pupils; for the collection ofrents, with which pursuit he occasionally varied and relieved his gravertoils, can hardly be said to be a strictly architectural employment. Hisgenius lay in ensnaring parents and guardians, and pocketing premiums. Ayoung gentleman's premium being paid, and the young gentleman come toMr Pecksniff's house, Mr Pecksniff borrowed his case of mathematicalinstruments (if silver-mounted or otherwise valuable); entreated him,from that moment, to consider himself one of the family; complimentedhim highly on his parents or guardians, as the case might be; andturned him loose in a spacious room on the two-pair front; where, in thecompany of certain drawing-boards, parallel rulers, very stiff-leggedcompasses, and two, or perhaps three, other young gentlemen, he improvedhimself, for three or five years, according to his articles, in makingelevations of Salisbury Cathedral from every possible point of sight;and in constructing in the air a vast quantity of Castles, Houses ofParliament, and other Public Buildings. Perhaps in no place in theworld were so many gorgeous edifices of this class erected as underMr Pecksniff's auspices; and if but one-twentieth part of the churcheswhich were built in that front room, with one or other of the MissPecksniffs at the altar in the act of marrying the architect, could onlybe made available by the parliamentary commissioners, no more churcheswould be wanted for at least five centuries.

  'Even the worldly goods of which we have just disposed,' said
MrPecksniff, glancing round the table when he had finished, 'even cream,sugar, tea, toast, ham--'

  'And eggs,' suggested Charity in a low voice.

  'And eggs,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'even they have their moral. See how theycome and go! Every pleasure is transitory. We can't even eat, long.If we indulge in harmless fluids, we get the dropsy; if in excitingliquids, we get drunk. What a soothing reflection is that!'

  'Don't say WE get drunk, Pa,' urged the eldest Miss Pecksniff.

  'When I say we, my dear,' returned her father, 'I mean mankind ingeneral; the human race, considered as a body, and not as individuals.There is nothing personal in morality, my love. Even such a thing asthis,' said Mr Pecksniff, laying the fore-finger of his left hand uponthe brown paper patch on the top of his head, 'slight casual baldnessthough it be, reminds us that we are but'--he was going to say 'worms,'but recollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair, hesubstituted 'flesh and blood.'

  'Which,' cried Mr Pecksniff after a pause, during which he seemed tohave been casting about for a new moral, and not quite successfully,'which is also very soothing. Mercy, my dear, stir the fire and throw upthe cinders.'

  The young lady obeyed, and having done so, resumed her stool, reposedone arm upon her father's knee, and laid her blooming cheek uponit. Miss Charity drew her chair nearer the fire, as one prepared forconversation, and looked towards her father.

  'Yes,' said Mr Pecksniff, after a short pause, during which he had beensilently smiling, and shaking his head at the fire--'I have again beenfortunate in the attainment of my object. A new inmate will very shortlycome among us.'

  'A youth, papa?' asked Charity.

  'Ye-es, a youth,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'He will avail himself of theeligible opportunity which now offers, for uniting the advantages of thebest practical architectural education with the comforts of a home, andthe constant association with some who (however humble their sphere,and limited their capacity) are not unmindful of their moralresponsibilities.'

  'Oh Pa!' cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly. 'See advertisement!'

  'Playful--playful warbler,' said Mr Pecksniff. It may be observed inconnection with his calling his daughter a 'warbler,' that she was notat all vocal, but that Mr Pecksniff was in the frequent habit of usingany word that occurred to him as having a good sound, and rounding asentence well without much care for its meaning. And he did this soboldly, and in such an imposing manner, that he would sometimes staggerthe wisest people with his eloquence, and make them gasp again.

  His enemies asserted, by the way, that a strong trustfulness in soundsand forms was the master-key to Mr Pecksniff's character.

  'Is he handsome, Pa?' inquired the younger daughter.

  'Silly Merry!' said the eldest: Merry being fond for Mercy. 'What is thepremium, Pa? tell us that.'

  'Oh, good gracious, Cherry!' cried Miss Mercy, holding up her hands withthe most winning giggle in the world, 'what a mercenary girl you are! ohyou naughty, thoughtful, prudent thing!'

  It was perfectly charming, and worthy of the Pastoral age, to see howthe two Miss Pecksniffs slapped each other after this, and then subsidedinto an embrace expressive of their different dispositions.

  'He is well looking,' said Mr Pecksniff, slowly and distinctly; 'welllooking enough. I do not positively expect any immediate premium withhim.'

  Notwithstanding their different natures, both Charity and Mercyconcurred in opening their eyes uncommonly wide at this announcement,and in looking for the moment as blank as if their thoughts had actuallyhad a direct bearing on the main chance.

  'But what of that!' said Mr Pecksniff, still smiling at the fire. 'Thereis disinterestedness in the world, I hope? We are not all arrayed in twoopposite ranks; the OFfensive and the DEfensive. Some few there arewho walk between; who help the needy as they go; and take no part witheither side. Umph!'

  There was something in these morsels of philanthropy which reassured thesisters. They exchanged glances, and brightened very much.

  'Oh! let us not be for ever calculating, devising, and plotting for thefuture,' said Mr Pecksniff, smiling more and more, and looking at thefire as a man might, who was cracking a joke with it: 'I am weary ofsuch arts. If our inclinations are but good and open-hearted, let usgratify them boldly, though they bring upon us Loss instead of Profit.Eh, Charity?'

  Glancing towards his daughters for the first time since he had begunthese reflections, and seeing that they both smiled, Mr Pecksniff eyedthem for an instant so jocosely (though still with a kind of saintlywaggishness) that the younger one was moved to sit upon his kneeforthwith, put her fair arms round his neck, and kiss him twenty times.During the whole of this affectionate display she laughed to a mostimmoderate extent: in which hilarious indulgence even the prudent Cherryjoined.

  'Tut, tut,' said Mr Pecksniff, pushing his latest-born away and runninghis fingers through his hair, as he resumed his tranquil face. 'Whatfolly is this! Let us take heed how we laugh without reason lest we crywith it. What is the domestic news since yesterday? John Westlock isgone, I hope?'

  'Indeed, no,' said Charity.

  'And why not?' returned her father. 'His term expired yesterday. And hisbox was packed, I know; for I saw it, in the morning, standing in thehall.'

  'He slept last night at the Dragon,' returned the young lady, 'and hadMr Pinch to dine with him. They spent the evening together, and Mr Pinchwas not home till very late.'

  'And when I saw him on the stairs this morning, Pa,' said Mercy with herusual sprightliness, 'he looked, oh goodness, SUCH a monster! with hisface all manner of colours, and his eyes as dull as if they had beenboiled, and his head aching dreadfully, I am sure from the look ofit, and his clothes smelling, oh it's impossible to say how strong,oh'--here the young lady shuddered--'of smoke and punch.'

  'Now I think,' said Mr Pecksniff with his accustomed gentleness, thoughstill with the air of one who suffered under injury without complaint,'I think Mr Pinch might have done better than choose for his companionone who, at the close of a long intercourse, had endeavoured, as heknew, to wound my feelings. I am not quite sure that this was delicatein Mr Pinch. I am not quite sure that this was kind in Mr Pinch. I willgo further and say, I am not quite sure that this was even ordinarilygrateful in Mr Pinch.'

  'But what can anyone expect from Mr Pinch!' cried Charity, with asstrong and scornful an emphasis on the name as if it would have givenher unspeakable pleasure to express it, in an acted charade, on the calfof that gentleman's leg.

  'Aye, aye,' returned her father, raising his hand mildly: 'it isvery well to say what can we expect from Mr Pinch, but Mr Pinch isa fellow-creature, my dear; Mr Pinch is an item in the vast total ofhumanity, my love; and we have a right, it is our duty, to expect inMr Pinch some development of those better qualities, the possessionof which in our own persons inspires our humble self-respect. No,'continued Mr Pecksniff. 'No! Heaven forbid that I should say, nothingcan be expected from Mr Pinch; or that I should say, nothing can beexpected from any man alive (even the most degraded, which Mr Pinch isnot, no, really); but Mr Pinch has disappointed me; he has hurt me;I think a little the worse of him on this account, but not if humannature. Oh, no, no!'

  'Hark!' said Miss Charity, holding up her finger, as a gentle rap washeard at the street door. 'There is the creature! Now mark my words, hehas come back with John Westlock for his box, and is going to helphim to take it to the mail. Only mark my words, if that isn't hisintention!'

  Even as she spoke, the box appeared to be in progress of conveyance fromthe house, but after a brief murmuring of question and answer, it wasput down again, and somebody knocked at the parlour door.

  'Come in!' cried Mr Pecksniff--not severely; only virtuously. 'Come in!'

  An ungainly, awkward-looking man, extremely short-sighted, andprematurely bald, availed himself of this permission; and seeing thatMr Pecksniff sat with his back towards him, gazing at the fire,stood hesitating, with the door in his hand. He was far from handsomecertainly; and was drest in a sn
uff-coloured suit, of an uncouth make atthe best, which, being shrunk with long wear, was twisted and torturedinto all kinds of odd shapes; but notwithstanding his attire, and hisclumsy figure, which a great stoop in his shoulders, and a ludicroushabit he had of thrusting his head forward, by no means redeemed, onewould not have been disposed (unless Mr Pecksniff said so) to considerhim a bad fellow by any means. He was perhaps about thirty, but he mighthave been almost any age between sixteen and sixty; being one of thosestrange creatures who never decline into an ancient appearance, but looktheir oldest when they are very young, and get it over at once.

  Keeping his hand upon the lock of the door, he glanced from Mr Pecksniffto Mercy, from Mercy to Charity, and from Charity to Mr Pecksniff again,several times; but the young ladies being as intent upon the fire astheir father was, and neither of the three taking any notice of him, hewas fain to say, at last,

  'Oh! I beg your pardon, Mr Pecksniff: I beg your pardon for intruding;but--'

  'No intrusion, Mr Pinch,' said that gentleman very sweetly, but withoutlooking round. 'Pray be seated, Mr Pinch. Have the goodness to shut thedoor, Mr Pinch, if you please.'

  'Certainly, sir,' said Pinch; not doing so, however, but holding itrather wider open than before, and beckoning nervously to somebodywithout: 'Mr Westlock, sir, hearing that you were come home--'

  'Mr Pinch, Mr Pinch!' said Pecksniff, wheeling his chair about, andlooking at him with an aspect of the deepest melancholy, 'I did notexpect this from you. I have not deserved this from you!'

  'No, but upon my word, sir--' urged Pinch.

  'The less you say, Mr Pinch,' interposed the other, 'the better. I utterno complaint. Make no defence.'

  'No, but do have the goodness, sir,' cried Pinch, with greatearnestness, 'if you please. Mr Westlock, sir, going away for good andall, wishes to leave none but friends behind him. Mr Westlock and you,sir, had a little difference the other day; you have had many littledifferences.'

  'Little differences!' cried Charity.

  'Little differences!' echoed Mercy.

  'My loves!' said Mr Pecksniff, with the same serene upraising of hishand; 'My dears!' After a solemn pause he meekly bowed to Mr Pinch, aswho should say, 'Proceed;' but Mr Pinch was so very much at a loss howto resume, and looked so helplessly at the two Miss Pecksniffs, thatthe conversation would most probably have terminated there, if agood-looking youth, newly arrived at man's estate, had not steppedforward from the doorway and taken up the thread of the discourse.

  'Come, Mr Pecksniff,' he said, with a smile, 'don't let there be anyill-blood between us, pray. I am sorry we have ever differed, andextremely sorry I have ever given you offence. Bear me no ill-will atparting, sir.'

  'I bear,' answered Mr Pecksniff, mildly, 'no ill-will to any man onearth.'

  'I told you he didn't,' said Pinch, in an undertone; 'I knew he didn't!He always says he don't.'

  'Then you will shake hands, sir?' cried Westlock, advancing a step ortwo, and bespeaking Mr Pinch's close attention by a glance.

  'Umph!' said Mr Pecksniff, in his most winning tone.

  'You will shake hands, sir.'

  'No, John,' said Mr Pecksniff, with a calmness quite ethereal; 'no, Iwill not shake hands, John. I have forgiven you. I had already forgivenyou, even before you ceased to reproach and taunt me. I have embracedyou in the spirit, John, which is better than shaking hands.'

  'Pinch,' said the youth, turning towards him, with a hearty disgust ofhis late master, 'what did I tell you?'

  Poor Pinch looked down uneasily at Mr Pecksniff, whose eye was fixedupon him as it had been from the first; and looking up at the ceilingagain, made no reply.

  'As to your forgiveness, Mr Pecksniff,' said the youth, 'I'll not haveit upon such terms. I won't be forgiven.'

  'Won't you, John?' retorted Mr Pecksniff, with a smile. 'You must. Youcan't help it. Forgiveness is a high quality; an exalted virtue; farabove YOUR control or influence, John. I WILL forgive you. You cannotmove me to remember any wrong you have ever done me, John.'

  'Wrong!' cried the other, with all the heat and impetuosity of his age.'Here's a pretty fellow! Wrong! Wrong I have done him! He'll not evenremember the five hundred pounds he had with me under false pretences;or the seventy pounds a year for board and lodging that would have beendear at seventeen! Here's a martyr!'

  'Money, John,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'is the root of all evil. I grieveto see that it is already bearing evil fruit in you. But I will notremember its existence. I will not even remember the conduct of thatmisguided person'--and here, although he spoke like one at peace withall the world, he used an emphasis that plainly said "I have my eyeupon the rascal now"--'that misguided person who has brought you hereto-night, seeking to disturb (it is a happiness to say, in vain) theheart's repose and peace of one who would have shed his dearest blood toserve him.'

  The voice of Mr Pecksniff trembled as he spoke, and sobs were heard fromhis daughters. Sounds floated on the air, moreover, as if two spiritvoices had exclaimed: one, 'Beast!' the other, 'Savage!'

  'Forgiveness,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'entire and pure forgiveness is notincompatible with a wounded heart; perchance when the heart is wounded,it becomes a greater virtue. With my breast still wrung and grieved toits inmost core by the ingratitude of that person, I am proud and gladto say that I forgive him. Nay! I beg,' cried Mr Pecksniff, raising hisvoice, as Pinch appeared about to speak, 'I beg that individual not tooffer a remark; he will truly oblige me by not uttering one word, justnow. I am not sure that I am equal to the trial. In a very short spaceof time, I shall have sufficient fortitude, I trust to converse withhim as if these events had never happened. But not,' said Mr Pecksniff,turning round again towards the fire, and waving his hand in thedirection of the door, 'not now.'

  'Bah!' cried John Westlock, with the utmost disgust and disdain themonosyllable is capable of expressing. 'Ladies, good evening. Come,Pinch, it's not worth thinking of. I was right and you were wrong.That's small matter; you'll be wiser another time.'

  So saying, he clapped that dejected companion on the shoulder, turnedupon his heel, and walked out into the passage, whither poor MrPinch, after lingering irresolutely in the parlour for a few seconds,expressing in his countenance the deepest mental misery and gloomfollowed him. Then they took up the box between them, and sallied out tomeet the mail.

  That fleet conveyance passed, every night, the corner of a lane at somedistance; towards which point they bent their steps. For some minutesthey walked along in silence, until at length young Westlock burst intoa loud laugh, and at intervals into another, and another. Still therewas no response from his companion.

  'I'll tell you what, Pinch!' he said abruptly, after another lengthenedsilence--'You haven't half enough of the devil in you. Half enough! Youhaven't any.'

  'Well!' said Pinch with a sigh, 'I don't know, I'm sure. It's complimentto say so. If I haven't, I suppose, I'm all the better for it.'

  'All the better!' repeated his companion tartly: 'All the worse, youmean to say.'

  'And yet,' said Pinch, pursuing his own thoughts and not this lastremark on the part of his friend, 'I must have a good deal of whatyou call the devil in me, too, or how could I make Pecksniff souncomfortable? I wouldn't have occasioned him so much distress--don'tlaugh, please--for a mine of money; and Heaven knows I could find gooduse for it too, John. How grieved he was!'

  'HE grieved!' returned the other.

  'Why didn't you observe that the tears were almost starting out of hiseyes!' cried Pinch. 'Bless my soul, John, is it nothing to see a manmoved to that extent and know one's self to be the cause! And did youhear him say that he could have shed his blood for me?'

  'Do you WANT any blood shed for you?' returned his friend, withconsiderable irritation. 'Does he shed anything for you that you DOwant? Does he shed employment for you, instruction for you, pocketmoney for you? Does he shed even legs of mutton for you in any decentproportion to potatoes and garden stuff?'

  'I am afraid,' said Pinch, sighing again,
'that I am a great eater; Ican't disguise from myself that I'm a great eater. Now, you know that,John.'

  'You a great eater!' retorted his companion, with no less indignationthan before. 'How do you know you are?'

  There appeared to be forcible matter in this inquiry, for Mr Pinch onlyrepeated in an undertone that he had a strong misgiving on the subject,and that he greatly feared he was.

  'Besides, whether I am or no,' he added, 'that has little or nothing todo with his thinking me ungrateful. John, there is scarcely a sin in theworld that is in my eyes such a crying one as ingratitude; and whenhe taxes me with that, and believes me to be guilty of it, he makes memiserable and wretched.'

  'Do you think he don't know that?' returned the other scornfully.'But come, Pinch, before I say anything more to you, just run over thereasons you have for being grateful to him at all, will you? Changehands first, for the box is heavy. That'll do. Now, go on.'

  'In the first place,' said Pinch, 'he took me as his pupil for much lessthan he asked.'

  'Well,' rejoined his friend, perfectly unmoved by this instance ofgenerosity. 'What in the second place?'

  'What in the second place?' cried Pinch, in a sort of desperation, 'why,everything in the second place. My poor old grandmother died happy tothink that she had put me with such an excellent man. I have grown upin his house, I am in his confidence, I am his assistant, he allows me asalary; when his business improves, my prospects are to improve too.All this, and a great deal more, is in the second place. And in the veryprologue and preface to the first place, John, you must consider this,which nobody knows better than I: that I was born for much plainer andpoorer things, that I am not a good hand for his kind of business, andhave no talent for it, or indeed for anything else but odds and endsthat are of no use or service to anybody.'

  He said this with so much earnestness, and in a tone so full of feeling,that his companion instinctively changed his manner as he sat down onthe box (they had by this time reached the finger-post at the end of thelane); motioned him to sit down beside him; and laid his hand upon hisshoulder.

  'I believe you are one of the best fellows in the world,' he said, 'TomPinch.'

  'Not at all,' rejoined Tom. 'If you only knew Pecksniff as well as I do,you might say it of him, indeed, and say it truly.'

  'I'll say anything of him, you like,' returned the other, 'and notanother word to his disparagement.'

  'It's for my sake, then; not his, I am afraid,' said Pinch, shaking hishead gravely.

  'For whose you please, Tom, so that it does please you. Oh! He's afamous fellow! HE never scraped and clawed into his pouch all your poorgrandmother's hard savings--she was a housekeeper, wasn't she, Tom?'

  'Yes,' said Mr Pinch, nursing one of his large knees, and nodding hishead; 'a gentleman's housekeeper.'

  'HE never scraped and clawed into his pouch all her hard savings;dazzling her with prospects of your happiness and advancement, which heknew (and no man better) never would be realised! HE never speculatedand traded on her pride in you, and her having educated you, and on herdesire that you at least should live to be a gentleman. Not he, Tom!'

  'No,' said Tom, looking into his friend's face, as if he were a littledoubtful of his meaning. 'Of course not.'

  'So I say,' returned the youth, 'of course he never did. HE didn't takeless than he had asked, because that less was all she had, and more thanhe expected; not he, Tom! He doesn't keep you as his assistantbecause you are of any use to him; because your wonderful faith in hispretensions is of inestimable service in all his mean disputes; becauseyour honesty reflects honesty on him; because your wandering about thislittle place all your spare hours, reading in ancient books and foreigntongues, gets noised abroad, even as far as Salisbury, making of him,Pecksniff the master, a man of learning and of vast importance. HE getsno credit from you, Tom, not he.'

  'Why, of course he don't,' said Pinch, gazing at his friend with a moretroubled aspect than before. 'Pecksniff get credit from me! Well!'

  'Don't I say that it's ridiculous,' rejoined the other, 'even to thinkof such a thing?'

  'Why, it's madness,' said Tom.

  'Madness!' returned young Westlock. 'Certainly it's madness. Who buta madman would suppose he cares to hear it said on Sundays, that thevolunteer who plays the organ in the church, and practises on summerevenings in the dark, is Mr Pecksniff's young man, eh, Tom? Who but amadman would suppose it is the game of such a man as he, to have hisname in everybody's mouth, connected with the thousand useless odds andends you do (and which, of course, he taught you), eh, Tom? Who but amadman would suppose you advertised him hereabouts, much cheaper andmuch better than a chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom? As well mightone suppose that he doesn't on all occasions pour out his whole heartand soul to you; that he doesn't make you a very liberal and indeedrather an extravagant allowance; or, to be more wild and monstrousstill, if that be possible, as well might one suppose,' and here, atevery word, he struck him lightly on the breast, 'that Pecksniff tradedin your nature, and that your nature was to be timid and distrustfulof yourself, and trustful of all other men, but most of all, of him wholeast deserves it. There would be madness, Tom!'

  Mr Pinch had listened to all this with looks of bewilderment, whichseemed to be in part occasioned by the matter of his companion's speech,and in part by his rapid and vehement manner. Now that he had come to aclose, he drew a very long breath; and gazing wistfully in his face asif he were unable to settle in his own mind what expression it wore, andwere desirous to draw from it as good a clue to his real meaning as itwas possible to obtain in the dark, was about to answer, when the soundof the mail guard's horn came cheerily upon their ears, puttingan immediate end to the conference; greatly as it seemed to thesatisfaction of the younger man, who jumped up briskly, and gave hishand to his companion.

  'Both hands, Tom. I shall write to you from London, mind!'

  'Yes,' said Pinch. 'Yes. Do, please. Good-bye. Good-bye. I can hardlybelieve you're going. It seems, now, but yesterday that you came.Good-bye! my dear old fellow!'

  John Westlock returned his parting words with no less heartiness ofmanner, and sprung up to his seat upon the roof. Off went the mail ata canter down the dark road; the lamps gleaming brightly, and the hornawakening all the echoes, far and wide.

  'Go your ways,' said Pinch, apostrophizing the coach; 'I can hardlypersuade myself but you're alive, and are some great monster who visitsthis place at certain intervals, to bear my friends away into the world.You're more exulting and rampant than usual tonight, I think; and youmay well crow over your prize; for he is a fine lad, an ingenuous lad,and has but one fault that I know of; he don't mean it, but he is mostcruelly unjust to Pecksniff!'