Mr. Tapley was the first to resume his composure. In a very short space of time he was discovered to have somehow installed himself in office as waiter, or attendant upon the party; a fact which was first suggested to them by his temporary absence in the kitchen, and speedy return with a kettle of boiling water, from which he replenished the teapot with a self-possession that was quite his own.
“Sit down, and take your breakfast, Mark,” said Tom. “Make him sit down and take his breakfast, Martin.”
“Oh! I gave him up, long ago, as incorrigible,” Martin replied. “He takes his own way, Tom. You would excuse him, Miss Pinch, if you knew his value.”
“She knows it, bless you!” said Tom. “I have told her all about Mark Tapley. Have I not, Ruth?”
“Yes, Tom.”
“Not all,” returned Martin, in a low voice. “The best of Mark Tapley is only known to one man, Tom; and but for Mark he would hardly be alive to tell it!”
“Mark!” said Tom Pinch energetically; “if you don’t sit down this minute, I’ll swear at you!”
“Well, sir,” returned Mr. Tapley, “sooner than you should do that, I’ll comply. It’s a considerable invasion of a man’s jollity to be made so partickler welcome, but a Werb is a word as signifies to be, to do, or to suffer (which is all the grammar, and enough too, as ever I wos taught); and if there’s a Werb alive, I’m it. For I’m always a-bein’, sometimes a-doin’, and continually a-sufferin’.”
“Not jolly yet?” asked Tom, with a smile.
“Why, I was rather so, over the water, sir,” returned Mr. Tapley; “and not entirely without credit. But Human Natur’ is in a conspiracy again’ me; I can’t get on. I shall have to leave it in my will, sir, to be wrote upon my tomb: ‘He was a man as might have come out strong if he could have got a chance. But it was denied him.’ ”
Mr. Tapley took this occasion of looking about him with a grin, and subsequently attacking the breakfast, with an appetite not at all expressive of blighted hopes, or insurmountable despondency.
In the meanwhile, Martin drew his chair a little nearer to Tom and his sister, and related to them what had passed at Mr. Pecksniff’s house; adding in few words a general summary of the distresses and disappointments he had undergone since he left England.
“For your faithful stewardship in the trust I left with you, Tom,” he said, “and for all your goodness and disinterestedness, I can never thank you enough. When I add Mary’s thanks to mine—”
Ah, Tom! The blood retreated from his cheeks, and came rushing back, so violently, that it was pain to feel it; ease though, ease, compared with the aching of his wounded heart.
“When I add Mary’s thanks to mine,” said Martin, “I have made the only poor acknowledgment it is in our power to offer; but if you knew how much we feel, Tom, you would set some store by it, I am sure.”
And if they had known how much Tom felt—but that no human creature ever knew—they would have set some store by him. Indeed they would.
Tom changed the topic of discourse. He was sorry he could not pursue it, as it gave Martin pleasure; but he was unable, at that moment. No drop of envy or bitterness was in his soul; but he could not master the firm utterance of her name.
He inquired what Martin’s projects were.
“No longer to make your fortune, Tom,” said Martin, “but to try to live. I tried that once in London, Tom; and failed. If you will give me the benefit of your advice and friendly counsel, I may succeed better under your guidance. I will do anything Tom, anything, to gain a livelihood by my own exertions. My hopes do not soar above that, now.”
High-hearted, noble Tom! Sorry to find the pride of his old companion humbled, and to hear him speaking in this altered strain at once, at once, he drove from his breast the inability to contend with its deep emotions, and spoke out bravely.
“Your hopes do not soar above that!” cried Tom. “Yes they do. How can you talk so! They soar up to the time when you will be happy with her, Martin. They soar up to the time when you will be able to claim her, Martin. They soar up to the time when you will not be able to believe that you were ever cast down in spirit, or poor in pocket, Martin. Advice, and friendly counsel! Why, of course. But you shall have better advice and counsel (though you cannot have more friendly) than mine. You shall consult John Westlock. We’ll go there immediately. It is yet so early that I shall have time to take you to his chambers before I go to business; they are in my way; and I can leave you there, to talk over your affairs with him. So come along. Come along. I am a man of occupation now, you know,” said Tom, with his pleasantest smile; “and have no time to lose. Your hopes don’t soar higher than that? I dare say they don’t. I know you, pretty well. They’ll be soaring out of sight soon, Martin, and leaving all the rest of us leagues behind.”
“Aye! But I may be a little changed,” said Martin, “since you knew me pretty well, Tom.”
“What nonsense!” exclaimed Tom. “Why should you be changed? You talk as if you were an old man. I never heard such a fellow! Come to John Westlock’s, come. Come along, Mark Tapley. It’s Mark’s doing, I have no doubt; and it serves you right for having such a grumbler for your companion.”
“There’s no credit to be got through being jolly with you, Mr. Pinch, anyways,” said Mark, with his face all wrinkled up with grins. “A parish doctor might be jolly with you. There’s nothing short of goin’ to the U‑nited States for a second trip,
