In all their arrangements of such nature, Mr. and Mrs. John Harmon derived much assistance from their eminent solicitor, Mr. Mortimer Lightwood; who laid about him professionally with such unwonted despatch and intention, that a piece of work was vigorously pursued as soon as cut out; whereby Young Blight was acted on as by that transatlantic dram which is poetically named An Eye-Opener, and found himself staring at real clients instead of out of window. The accessibility of Riah proving very useful as to a few hints towards the disentanglement of Eugene’s affairs, Lightwood applied himself with infinite zest to attacking and harassing Mr. Fledgeby: who, discovering himself in danger of being blown into the air by certain explosive transactions in which he had been engaged, and having been sufficiently flayed under his beating, came to a parley and asked for quarter. The harmless Twemlow profited by the conditions entered into, though he little thought it. Mr. Riah unaccountably melted; waited in person on him over the stable yard in Duke Street, St. James’s, no longer ravening but mild, to inform him that payment of interest as heretofore, but henceforth at Mr. Lightwood’s offices, would appease his Jewish rancour; and departed with the secret that Mr. John Harmon had advanced the money and become the creditor. Thus, was the sublime Snigsworth’s wrath averted, and thus did he snort no larger amount of moral grandeur at the Corinthian column in the print over the fireplace, than was normally in his (and the British) constitution.
Mrs. Wilfer’s first visit to the Mendicant’s bride at the new abode of Mendicancy, was a grand event. Pa had been sent for into the City, on the very day of taking possession, and had been stunned with astonishment, and brought-to, and led about the house by one ear, to behold its various treasures, and had been enraptured and enchanted. Pa had also been appointed Secretary, and had been enjoined to give instant notice of resignation to Chicksey, Veneering, and Stobbles, forever and ever. But Ma came later, and came, as was her due, in state.
The carriage was sent for Ma, who entered it with a bearing worthy of the occasion, accompanied, rather than supported, by Miss Lavinia, who altogether declined to recognize the maternal majesty. Mr. George Sampson meekly followed. He was received in the vehicle, by Mrs. Wilfer, as if admitted to the honour of assisting at a funeral in the family, and she then issued the order, “Onward!” to the Mendicant’s menial.
“I wish to goodness, Ma,” said Lavvy, throwing herself back among the cushions, with her arms crossed, “that you’d loll a little.”
“How!” repeated Mrs. Wilfer. “Loll!”
“Yes, Ma.”
“I hope,” said the impressive lady, “I am incapable of it.”
“I am sure you look so, Ma. But why one should go out to dine with one’s own daughter or sister, as if one’s under-petticoat was a backboard, I do not understand.”
“Neither do I understand,” retorted Mrs. Wilfer, with deep scorn, “how a young lady can mention the garment in the name of which you have indulged. I blush for you.”
“Thank you, Ma,” said Lavvy, yawning, “but I can do it for myself, I am obliged to you, when there’s any occasion.”
Here, Mr. Sampson, with the view of establishing harmony, which he never under any circumstances succeeded in doing, said with an agreeable smile: “After all, you know, ma’am, we know it’s there.” And immediately felt that he had committed himself.
“We know it’s there!” said Mrs. Wilfer, glaring.
“Really, George,” remonstrated Miss Lavinia, “I must say that I don’t understand your allusions, and that I think you might be more delicate and less personal.”
“Go it!” cried Mr. Sampson, becoming, on the shortest notice, a prey to despair. “Oh yes! Go it, Miss Lavinia Wilfer!”
“What you may mean, George Sampson, by your omnibus-driving expressions, I cannot pretend to imagine. Neither,” said Miss Lavinia, “Mr. George Sampson, do I wish to imagine. It is enough for me to know in my own heart that I am not going to—” having imprudently got into a sentence without providing a way out of it, Miss Lavinia was constrained to close with “going to it.” A weak conclusion which, however, derived some appearance of strength from disdain.
“Oh yes!” cried Mr. Sampson, with bitterness. “Thus it ever is. I never—”
“If you mean to say,” Miss Lavvy cut him short, “that you never brought up a young gazelle, you may save yourself the trouble, because nobody in this carriage supposes that you ever did. We know you better.” (As if this were a home-thrust.)
“Lavinia,” returned Mr. Sampson, in a dismal vein, “I did not mean to say so. What I did mean to say, was, that I never expected to retain my favoured place in this family, after Fortune shed her beams upon it. Why do you take me,” said Mr. Sampson, “to the glittering halls with which I can never compete, and then taunt me with my moderate salary? Is it generous? Is it kind?”
The stately lady, Mrs. Wilfer, perceiving her opportunity of delivering a few remarks from the throne, here took up
