“Do, my love,” said John, “whatever is natural to you on the impulse of the moment, and I am sure it will be right.”
He had hardly time to say thus much, and Ruth had hardly time to—just to get a little farther off upon the sofa, when Tom and Mr. Chuzzlewit came in. Mr. Chuzzlewit came first, and Tom was a few seconds behind him.
Now Ruth had hastily resolved that she would beckon Tom upstairs after a short time, and would tell him in his little bedroom. But when she saw his dear old face come in, her heart was so touched that she ran into his arms, and laid her head down on his breast and sobbed out, “Bless me, Tom! My dearest brother!”
Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John Westlock close beside him, holding out his hand.
“John!” cried Tom. “John!”
“Dear Tom,” said his friend, “give me your hand. We are brothers, Tom.”
Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fervently, and put her in John Westlock’s arms.
“Don’t speak to me, John. Heaven is very good to us. I—” Tom could find no further utterance, but left the room; and Ruth went after him.
And when they came back, which they did by-and-by, she looked more beautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that were possible) than ever. And though Tom could not speak upon the subject even now; being yet too newly glad, he put both his hands in both of John’s with emphasis sufficient for the best speech ever spoken.
“I am glad you chose today,” said Mr. Chuzzlewit to John; with the same knowing smile as when they had left him. “I thought you would. I hoped Tom and I lingered behind a discreet time. It’s so long since I had any practical knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, I assure you.”
“Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir,” returned John, laughing, “if it led you to foresee what would happen today.”
“Why, I am not sure, Mr. Westlock,” said the old man, “that any great spirit of prophecy was needed, after seeing you and Ruth together. Come hither, pretty one. See what Tom and I purchased this morning, while you were dealing in exchange with that young merchant there.”
The old man’s way of seating her beside him, and humouring his voice as if she were a child, was whimsical enough, but full of tenderness, and not ill adapted, somehow, to little Ruth.
“See here!” he said, taking a case from his pocket, “what a beautiful necklace. Ah! How it glitters! Earrings, too, and bracelets, and a zone for your waist. This set is yours, and Mary has another like it. Tom couldn’t understand why I wanted two. What a shortsighted Tom! Earrings and bracelets, and a zone for your waist! Ah! Beautiful! Let us see how brave they look. Ask Mr. Westlock to clasp them on.”
It was the prettiest thing to see her holding out her round, white arm; and John (oh deep, deep John!) pretending that the bracelet was very hard to fasten; it was the prettiest thing to see her girding on the precious little zone, and yet obliged to have assistance because her fingers were in such terrible perplexity; it was the prettiest thing to see her so confused and bashful, with the smiles and blushes playing brightly on her face, like the sparkling light upon the jewels; it was the prettiest thing that you would see, in the common experiences of a twelvemonth, rely upon it.
“The set of jewels and the wearer are so well matched,” said the old man, “that I don’t know which becomes the other most. Mr. Westlock could tell me, I have no doubt, but I’ll not ask him, for he is bribed. Health to wear them, my dear, and happiness to make you forgetful of them, except as a remembrance from a loving friend!”
He patted her upon the cheek, and said to Tom:
“I must play the part of a father here, Tom, also. There are not many fathers who marry two such daughters on the same day; but we will overlook the improbability for the gratification of an old man’s fancy. I may claim that much indulgence,” he added, “for I have gratified few fancies enough in my life tending to the happiness of others, Heaven knows!”
These various proceedings had occupied so much time, and they fell into such a pleasant conversation now, that it was within a quarter of an hour of the time appointed for dinner before any of them thought about it. A hackney-coach soon carried them to the Temple, however; and there they found everything prepared for their reception.
Mr. Tapley having been furnished with unlimited credentials relative to the ordering of dinner, had so exerted himself for the honour of the party, that a prodigious banquet was served, under the joint direction of himself and his Intended. Mr. Chuzzlewit would have had them of the party, and Martin urgently seconded his wish, but Mark could by no means be persuaded to sit down at table; observing, that in having the honour of attending to their comforts, he felt himself, indeed, the landlord of the Jolly Tapley, and could almost delude himself into the belief that the entertainment was actually being held under the Jolly Tapley’s roof.
For the better encouragement of himself in this fable, Mr. Tapley took it upon him to issue divers general directions to the waiters from the hotel, relative to the disposal of the dishes and so forth; and as they were usually in direct opposition to all precedent, and were always issued in his most facetious form of thought and speech, they occasioned great merriment among those attendants; in which Mr. Tapley participated, with an infinite enjoyment of his own humour. He likewise entertained them with short anecdotes of his travels appropriate to the occasion; and now and then with some comic passage or other between himself and Mrs. Lupin; so that explosive laughs
