Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards the spot whence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previous alarm being not at all diminished when she saw a man among the branches, she would most certainly have decamped, and alarmed the house, had not fear fortunately deprived her of the power of moving, and caused her to sink down on a garden seat, which happened by good luck to be near at hand.
“She’s a-goin’ off,” soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. “Wot a thing it is, as these here young creeturs will go a-faintin’ avay just ven they oughtn’t to. Here, young ’ooman, Miss Sawbones, Mrs. Vinkle, don’t!”
Whether it was the magic of Mr. Winkle’s name, or the coolness of the open air, or some recollection of Mr. Weller’s voice, that revived Arabella, matters not. She raised her head and languidly inquired, “Who’s that, and what do you want?”
“Hush,” said Sam, swinging himself on to the wall, and crouching there in as small a compass as he could reduce himself to, “only me, miss, only me.”
“Mr. Pickwick’s servant!” said Arabella earnestly.
“The wery same, miss,” replied Sam. “Here’s Mr. Vinkle reg’larly sewed up vith desperation, miss.”
“Ah!” said Arabella, drawing nearer the wall.
“Ah, indeed,” said Sam. “Ve thought ve should ha’ been obliged to strait-veskit him last night; he’s been a-ravin’ all day; and he says if he can’t see you afore tomorrow night’s over, he vishes he may be somethin’ unpleasanted if he don’t drownd hisself.”
“Oh, no, no, Mr. Weller!” said Arabella, clasping her hands.
“That’s wot he says, miss,” replied Sam coolly. “He’s a man of his word, and it’s my opinion he’ll do it, miss. He’s heerd all about you from the sawbones in barnacles.”
“From my brother!” said Arabella, having some faint recognition of Sam’s description.
“I don’t rightly know which is your brother, miss,” replied Sam. “Is it the dirtiest vun o’ the two?”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Weller,” returned Arabella, “go on. Make haste, pray.”
“Well, miss,” said Sam, “he’s heerd all about it from him; and it’s the gov’nor’s opinion that if you don’t see him wery quick, the sawbones as we’ve been a-speakin’ on, ’ull get as much extra lead in his head as’ll rayther damage the dewelopment o’ the orgins if they ever put it in spirits artervards.”
“Oh, what can I do to prevent these dreadful quarrels!” exclaimed Arabella.
“It’s the suspicion of a priory ’tachment as is the cause of it all,” replied Sam. “You’d better see him, miss.”
“But how?—where?” cried Arabella. “I dare not leave the house alone. My brother is so unkind, so unreasonable! I know how strange my talking thus to you may appear, Mr. Weller, but I am very, very unhappy—” and here poor Arabella wept so bitterly that Sam grew chivalrous.
“It may seem wery strange talkin’ to me about these here affairs, miss,” said Sam, with great vehemence; “but all I can say is, that I’m not only ready but villin’ to do anythin’ as’ll make matters agreeable; and if chuckin’ either o’ them sawboneses out o’ winder ’ull do it, I’m the man.” As Sam Weller said this, he tucked up his wristbands, at the imminent hazard of falling off the wall in so doing, to intimate his readiness to set to work immediately.
Flattering as these professions of good feeling were, Arabella resolutely declined (most unaccountably, as Sam thought) to avail herself of them. For some time she strenuously refused to grant Mr. Winkle the interview Sam had so pathetically requested; but at length, when the conversation threatened to be interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of a third party, she hurriedly gave him to understand, with many professions of gratitude, that it was barely possible she might be in the garden an hour later, next evening. Sam understood this perfectly well; and Arabella, bestowing upon him one of her sweetest smiles, tripped gracefully away, leaving Mr. Weller in a state of very great admiration of her charms, both personal and mental.
Having descended in safety from the wall, and not forgotten to devote a few moments to his own particular business in the same department, Mr. Weller then made the best of his way back to the Bush, where his prolonged absence had occasioned much speculation and some alarm.
“We must be careful,” said Mr. Pickwick, after listening attentively to Sam’s tale, “not for our sakes, but for that of the young lady. We must be very cautious.”
“We!” said Mr. Winkle, with marked emphasis.
Mr. Pickwick’s momentary look of indignation at the tone of this remark, subsided into his characteristic expression of benevolence, as he replied—
“We, Sir! I shall accompany you.”
“You!” said Mr. Winkle.
“I,” replied Mr. Pickwick mildly. “In affording you this interview, the young lady has taken a natural, perhaps, but still a very imprudent step. If I am present at the meeting—a mutual friend, who is old enough to be the father of both parties—the voice of calumny can never be raised against her hereafter.”
Mr. Pickwick’s eyes lightened with honest exultation at his own foresight, as he spoke thus. Mr. Winkle was touched by this little trait of his delicate respect for the young protégée of his friend, and took his hand with a feeling of regard, akin to veneration.
“You shall go,” said Mr. Winkle.
“I will,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Sam, have my greatcoat and shawl ready, and order a conveyance to be at the door tomorrow evening, rather earlier than is absolutely necessary, in order that we may be in good time.”
Mr. Weller touched his hat, as an earnest of his obedience, and withdrew to make all needful preparations for the expedition.
The coach was punctual to the time appointed; and Mr. Weller, after duly installing Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle inside, took his seat on the box by the driver. They alighted, as had been agreed on, about a quarter of a mile from the place of rendezvous, and desiring the coachman to await their return, proceeded the remaining distance on foot.
It was at this stage
