Dombey was not yet in the room, but the right-hand man was there, and his dental treasures were, as usual, ready for the Major.
“Well, Sir!” said the Major. “How have you passed the time since I had the happiness of meeting you? Have you walked at all?”
“A saunter of barely half an hour’s duration,” returned Carker. “We have been so much occupied.”
“Business, eh?” said the Major.
“A variety of little matters necessary to be gone through,” replied Carker. “But do you know—this is quite unusual with me, educated in a distrustful school, and who am not generally disposed to be communicative,” he said, breaking off, and speaking in a charming tone of frankness—“but I feel quite confidential with you, Major Bagstock.”
“You do me honour, Sir,” returned the Major. “You may be.”
“Do you know, then,” pursued Carker, “that I have not found my friend—our friend, I ought rather to call him—”
“Meaning Dombey, Sir?” cried the Major. “You see me, Mr. Carker, standing here! J. B.?”
He was puffy enough to see, and blue enough; and Mr. Carker intimated the he had that pleasure.
“Then you see a man, Sir, who would go through fire and water to serve Dombey,” returned Major Bagstock.
Mr. Carker smiled, and said he was sure of it. “Do you know, Major,” he proceeded: “to resume where I left off: that I have not found our friend so attentive to business today, as usual?”
“No?” observed the delighted Major.
“I have found him a little abstracted, and with his attention disposed to wander,” said Carker.
“By Jove, Sir,” cried the Major, “there’s a lady in the case.”
“Indeed, I begin to believe there really is,” returned Carker; “I thought you might be jesting when you seemed to hint at it; for I know you military men—”
The Major gave the horse’s cough, and shook his head and shoulders, as much as to say, “Well! we are gay dogs, there’s no denying.” He then seized Mr. Carker by the buttonhole, and with starting eyes whispered in his ear, that she was a woman of extraordinary charms, Sir. That she was a young widow, Sir. That she was of a fine family, Sir. That Dombey was over head and ears in love with her, Sir, and that it would be a good match on both sides; for she had beauty, blood, and talent, and Dombey had fortune; and what more could any couple have? Hearing Mr. Dombey’s footsteps without, the Major cut himself short by saying, that Mr. Carker would see her tomorrow morning, and would judge for himself; and between his mental excitement, and the exertion of saying all this in wheezy whispers, the Major sat gurgling in the throat and watering at the eyes, until dinner was ready.
The Major, like some other noble animals, exhibited himself to great advantage at feeding-time. On this occasion, he shone resplendent at one end of the table, supported by the milder lustre of Mr. Dombey at the other; while Carker on one side lent his ray to either light, or suffered it to merge into both, as occasion arose.
During the first course or two, the Major was usually grave; for the Native, in obedience to general orders, secretly issued, collected every sauce and cruet round him, and gave him a great deal to do, in taking out the stoppers, and mixing up the contents in his plate. Besides which, the Native had private zests and flavours on a side-table, with which the Major daily scorched himself; to say nothing of strange machines out of which he spirited unknown liquids into the Major’s drink. But on this occasion, Major Bagstock, even amidst these many occupations, found time to be social; and his sociality consisted in excessive slyness for the behoof of Mr. Carker, and the betrayal of Mr. Dombey’s state of mind.
“Dombey,” said the Major, “you don’t eat; what’s the matter?”
“Thank you,” returned the gentleman, “I am doing very well; I have no great appetite today.”
“Why, Dombey, what’s become of it?” asked the Major. “Where’s it gone? You haven’t left it with our friends, I’ll swear, for I can answer for their having none today at luncheon. I can answer for one of ’em, at least: I won’t say which.”
Then the Major winked at Carker, and became so frightfully sly, that his dark attendant was obliged to pat him on the back, without orders, or he would probably have disappeared under the table.
In a later stage of the dinner: that is to say, when the Native stood at the Major’s elbow ready to serve the first bottle of champagne: the Major became still slyer.
“Fill this to the brim, you scoundrel,” said the Major, holding up his glass. “Fill Mr. Carker’s to the brim too. And Mr. Dombey’s too. By Gad, gentlemen,” said the Major, winking at his new friend, while Mr. Dombey looked into his plate with a conscious air, “we’ll consecrate this glass of wine to a Divinity whom Joe is proud to know, and at a distance humbly and reverently to admire. Edith,” said the Major, “is her name; angelic Edith!”
“To angelic Edith!” cried the smiling Carker.
“Edith, by all means,” said Mr. Dombey.
The entrance of the waiters with new dishes caused the Major to be slyer yet, but in a more serious vein. “For though among ourselves, Joe Bagstock mingles jest and earnest on this subject, Sir,” said the Major, laying his finger on his lips, and speaking half apart to Carker, “he holds that name too sacred to be made the property of these fellows, or of any fellows. Not a word, Sir, while they are here!”
This was respectful and becoming on the Major’s part, and
