“I should have been the better for something of this kind, in my last garden expedition, at night; eh, Sam?” said Mr. Pickwick, looking good-humouredly round at his follower, who was trudging behind.
“Wery nice things, if they’re managed properly, Sir,” replied Mr. Weller; “but wen you don’t want to be seen, I think they’re more useful arter the candle’s gone out, than wen it’s alight.”
Mr. Pickwick appeared struck by Sam’s remarks, for he put the lantern into his pocket again, and they walked on in silence.
“Down here, Sir,” said Sam. “Let me lead the way. This is the lane, Sir.”
Down the lane they went, and dark enough it was. Mr. Pickwick brought out the lantern, once or twice, as they groped their way along, and threw a very brilliant little tunnel of light before them, about a foot in diameter. It was very pretty to look at, but seemed to have the effect of rendering surrounding objects rather darker than before.
At length they arrived at the large stone. Here Sam recommended his master and Mr. Winkle to seat themselves, while he reconnoitred, and ascertained whether Mary was yet in waiting.
After an absence of five or ten minutes, Sam returned to say that the gate was opened, and all quiet. Following him with stealthy tread, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle soon found themselves in the garden. Here everybody said, “Hush!” a good many times; and that being done, no one seemed to have any very distinct apprehension of what was to be done next.
“Is Miss Allen in the garden yet, Mary?” inquired Mr. Winkle, much agitated.
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the pretty housemaid. “The best thing to be done, sir, will be for Mr. Weller to give you a hoist up into the tree, and perhaps Mr. Pickwick will have the goodness to see that nobody comes up the lane, while I watch at the other end of the garden. Goodness gracious, what’s that?”
“That ’ere blessed lantern ’ull be the death on us all,” exclaimed Sam peevishly. “Take care wot you’re a-doin’ on, sir; you’re a-sendin’ a blaze o’ light, right into the back parlour winder.”
“Dear me!” said Mr. Pickwick, turning hastily aside, “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Now, it’s in the next house, sir,” remonstrated Sam.
“Bless my heart!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning round again.
“Now, it’s in the stable, and they’ll think the place is afire,” said Sam. “Shut it up, sir, can’t you?”
“It’s the most extraordinary lantern I ever met with, in all my life!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, greatly bewildered by the effects he had so unintentionally produced. “I never saw such a powerful reflector.”
“It’ll be vun too powerful for us, if you keep blazin’ avay in that manner, sir,” replied Sam, as Mr. Pickwick, after various unsuccessful efforts, managed to close the slide. “There’s the young lady’s footsteps. Now, Mr. Winkle, sir, up vith you.”
“Stop, stop!” said Mr. Pickwick, “I must speak to her first. Help me up, Sam.”
“Gently, Sir,” said Sam, planting his head against the wall, and making a platform of his back. “Step atop o’ that ’ere flowerpot, Sir. Now then, up vith you.”
“I’m afraid I shall hurt you, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick.
“Never mind me, Sir,” replied Sam. “Lend him a hand, Mr. Winkle, sir. Steady, sir, steady! That’s the time o’ day!”
As Sam spoke, Mr. Pickwick, by exertions almost supernatural in a gentleman of his years and weight, contrived to get upon Sam’s back; and Sam gently raising himself up, and Mr. Pickwick holding on fast by the top of the wall, while Mr. Winkle clasped him tight by the legs, they contrived by these means to bring his spectacles just above the level of the coping.
“My dear,” said Mr. Pickwick, looking over the wall, and catching sight of Arabella, on the other side, “don’t be frightened, my dear, it’s only me.”
“Oh, pray go away, Mr. Pickwick,” said Arabella. “Tell them all to go away. I am so dreadfully frightened. Dear, dear Mr. Pickwick, don’t stop there. You’ll fall down and kill yourself, I know you will.”
“Now, pray don’t alarm yourself, my dear,” said Mr. Pickwick soothingly. “There is not the least cause for fear, I assure you. Stand firm, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, looking down.
“All right, sir,” replied Mr. Weller. “Don’t be longer than you can conweniently help, sir. You’re rayther heavy.”
“Only another moment, Sam,” replied Mr. Pickwick.
“I merely wished you to know, my dear, that I should not have allowed my young friend to see you in this clandestine way, if the situation in which you are placed had left him any alternative; and, lest the impropriety of this step should cause you any uneasiness, my love, it may be a satisfaction to you, to know that I am present. That’s all, my dear.”
“Indeed, Mr. Pickwick, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness and consideration,” replied Arabella, drying her tears with her handkerchief. She would probably have said much more, had not Mr. Pickwick’s head disappeared with great swiftness, in consequence of a false step on Sam’s shoulder which brought him suddenly to the ground. He was up again in an instant however; and bidding Mr. Winkle make haste and get the interview over, ran out into the lane to keep watch, with all the courage and ardour of youth. Mr. Winkle himself, inspired by the occasion, was on the wall in a moment, merely pausing to request Sam to be careful of his master.
“I’ll take care on him, sir,” replied Sam. “Leave him to me.”
“Where is he? What’s he doing, Sam?” inquired Mr. Winkle.
“Bless his old gaiters,” rejoined Sam, looking out at the garden door.
