Our Mutual Friend

(Here Mr. Sampson delivered himself captive, and said, with an uneasy movement on his chair, that three was a large number, and it must have been highly entertaining.) “Among the most prominent members of that distinguished circle, was a gentleman measuring six feet four in height. He was not an engraver.” (Here Mr. Sampson said, with no reason whatever, Of course not.) “This gentleman was so obliging as to honour me with attentions which I could not fail to understand.” (Here Mr. Sampson murmured that when it came to that, you could always tell.) “I immediately announced to both my parents that those attentions were misplaced, and that I could not favour his suit. They inquired was he too tall? I replied it was not the stature, but the intellect was too lofty. At our house, I said, the tone was too brilliant, the pressure was too high, to be maintained by me, a mere woman, in everyday domestic life. I well remember mamma’s clasping her hands, and exclaiming ‘This will end in a little man!’ ” (Here Mr. Sampson glanced at his host and shook his head with despondency.) “She afterwards went so far as to predict that it would end in a little man whose mind would be below the average, but that was in what I may denominate a paroxysm of maternal disappointment. Within a month,” said Mrs. Wilfer, deepening her voice, as if she were relating a terrible ghost story, “within a-month, I first saw R. W. my husband. Within a year, I married him. It is natural for the mind to recall these dark coincidences on the present day.”

Mr. Sampson at length released from the custody of Mrs. Wilfer’s eye, now drew a long breath, and made the original and striking remark that there was no accounting for these sort of presentiments. R. W. scratched his head and looked apologetically all round the table until he came to his wife, when observing her as it were shrouded in a more sombre veil than before, he once more hinted, “My dear, I am really afraid you are not altogether enjoying yourself?” To which she once more replied, “On the contrary, R. W. Quite so.”

The wretched Mr. Sampson’s position at this agreeable entertainment was truly pitiable. For, not only was he exposed defenceless to the harangues of Mrs. Wilfer, but he received the utmost contumely at the hands of Lavinia; who, partly to show Bella that she (Lavinia) could do what she liked with him, and partly to pay him off for still obviously admiring Bella’s beauty, led him the life of a dog. Illuminated on the one hand by the stately graces of Mrs. Wilfer’s oratory, and shadowed on the other by the checks and frowns of the young lady to whom he had devoted himself in his destitution, the sufferings of this young gentleman were distressing to witness. If his mind for the moment reeled under them, it may be urged, in extenuation of its weakness, that it was constitutionally a knock-knee’d mind and never very strong upon its legs.

The rosy hours were thus beguiled until it was time for Bella to have Pa’s escort back. The dimples duly tied up in the bonnet-strings and the leave-taking done, they got out into the air, and the cherub drew a long breath as if he found it refreshing.

“Well, dear Pa,” said Bella, “the anniversary may be considered over.”

“Yes, my dear,” returned the cherub, “there’s another of ’em gone.”

Bella drew his arm closer through hers as they walked along, and gave it a number of consolatory pats. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, as if she had spoken; “I am all right, my dear. Well, and how do you get on, Bella?”

“I am not at all improved, Pa.”

“Ain’t you really though?”

“No, Pa. On the contrary, I am worse.”

“Lor!” said the cherub.

“I am worse, Pa. I make so many calculations how much a year I must have when I marry, and what is the least I can manage to do with, that I am beginning to get wrinkles over my nose. Did you notice any wrinkles over my nose this evening, Pa?”

Pa laughing at this, Bella gave him two or three shakes.

“You won’t laugh, sir, when you see your lovely woman turning haggard. You had better be prepared in time, I can tell you. I shall not be able to keep my greediness for money out of my eyes long, and when you see it there you’ll be sorry, and serve you right for not being warned in time. Now, sir, we entered into a bond of confidence. Have you anything to impart?”

“I thought it was you who was to impart, my love.”

“Oh! did you indeed, sir? Then why didn’t you ask me, the moment we came out? The confidences of lovely women are not to be slighted. However, I forgive you this once, and look here, Pa; that’s”⁠—Bella laid the little forefinger of her right glove on her lip, and then laid it on her father’s lip⁠—“that’s a kiss for you. And now I am going seriously to tell you⁠—let me see how many⁠—four secrets. Mind! Serious, grave, weighty secrets. Strictly between ourselves.”

“Number one, my dear?” said her father, settling her arm comfortably and confidentially.

“Number one,” said Bella, “will electrify you, Pa. Who do you think has”⁠—she was confused here in spite of her merry way of beginning “has made an offer to me?”

Pa looked in her face, and looked at the ground, and looked in her face again, and declared he could never guess.

“Mr. Rokesmith.”

“You don’t tell me so, my dear!”

“Mis⁠—ter Roke⁠—smith, Pa,” said Bella separating the syllables for emphasis. “What do you say to that?”

Pa answered quietly with the counter-question, “What did you say to that, my love?”

“I said No,” returned Bella sharply. “Of course.”

“Yes. Of course,” said her father, meditating.

“And I told him why I thought it a betrayal of trust on his part, and an affront to me,” said Bella.

“Yes. To