“Where did he go, ma'am?” asked the traveller, in a gentler voice.
“He went,” said Mrs Lupin, with increased distress, “to America. He was always tender-hearted and kind, and perhaps at this moment may be lying in prison under sentence of death, for taking pity on some miserable black, and helping the poor runaway creetur to escape. How could he ever go to America! Why didn't he go to some of those countries where the savages eat each other fairly, and give an equal chance to every one!”
Quite subdued by this time, Mrs Lupin sobbed, and was retiring to a chair to give her grief free vent, when the traveller caught her in his arms, and she uttered a glad cry of recognition.
“Yes, I will!” cried Mark, “another—one more—twenty more! You didn't know me in that hat and coat? I thought you would have known me anywheres! Ten more!”
“So I should have known you, if I could have seen you; but I couldn't, and you spoke so gruff. I didn't think you could speak gruff to me, Mark, at first coming back.”
“Fifteen more!” said Mr Tapley. “How handsome and how young you look! Six more! The last half-dozen warn't a fair one, and must be done over again. Lord bless you, what a treat it is to see you! One more! Well, I never was so jolly. Just a few more, on account of there not being any credit in it!”
When Mr Tapley stopped in these calculations in simple addition, he did it, not because he was at all tired of the exercise, but because he was out of breath. The pause reminded him of other duties.
“Mr Martin Chuzzlewit's outside,” he said. “I left him under the cartshed, while I came on to see if there was anybody here. We want to keep quiet to-night, till we know the news from you, and what it's best for us to do.”
“There's not a soul in the house, except the kitchen company,” returned the hostess. “If they were to know you had come back, Mark, they'd have a bonfire in the street, late as it is.”
“But they mustn't know it to-night, my precious soul,” said Mark; “so have the house shut, and the kitchen fire made up; and when it's all ready, put a light in the winder, and we'll come in. One more! I long to hear about old friends. You'll tell me all about “em, won't you; Mr Pinch, and the butcher's dog down the street, and the terrier over the way, and the wheelwright's, and every one of “em. When I first caught sight of the church to-night, I thought the steeple would have choked me, I did. One more! Won't you? Not a very little one to finish off with?”
“You have had plenty, I am sure,” said the hostess. “Go along with your foreign manners!”
“That ain't foreign, bless you!” cried Mark. “Native as oysters, that is! One more, because it's native! As a mark of respect for the land we live in! This don't count as between you and me, you understand,” said Mr Tapley. “I ain't a-kissing you now, you'll observe. I have been among the patriots; I'm a-kissin” my country.”
It would have been very unreasonable to complain of the exhibition of his patriotism with which he followed up this explanation, that it was at all lukewarm or indifferent. When he had given full expression to his nationality, he hurried off to Martin; while Mrs Lupin, in a state of great agitation and excitement, prepared for their reception.
The company soon came tumbling out; insisting to each other that the Dragon clock was half an hour too fast, and that the thunder must have affected it. Impatient, wet, and weary though they were, Martin and Mark were overjoyed to see these old faces, and watched them with delighted interest as they departed from the house, and passed close by them.
“There's the old tailor, Mark!” whispered Martin.
“There he goes, sir! A little bandier than he was, I think, sir, ain't he? His figure's so far altered, as it seems to me, that you might wheel a rather larger barrow between his legs as he walks, than you could have done conveniently when we know'd him. There's Sam a-coming out, sir.”
“Ah, to be sure!” cried Martin; “Sam, the hostler. I wonder whether that horse of Pecksniff's is alive still?”
“Not a doubt on it, sir,” returned Mark. “That's a description of animal, sir, as will go on in a bony way peculiar to himself for a long time, and get into the newspapers at last under the title of “Sing'lar Tenacity of Life in a Quadruped.” As if he had ever been alive in all his life, worth mentioning! There's the clerk, sir— wery drunk, as usual.”
“I see him!” said Martin, laughing. “But, my life, how wet you are, Mark!”
“I am! What do you consider yourself, sir?”
“Oh, not half as bad,” said his fellow-traveller, with an air of great vexation. “I told you not to keep on the windy side, Mark, but to let us change and change about. The rain has been beating on you ever since it began.”
“You don't know how it pleases me, sir,” said Mark, after a short silence, “if I may make so bold as say so, to hear you a-going on in that there uncommon considerate way of yours; which I don't mean to attend to, never, but which, ever since that time when I was floored in Eden, you have showed.”
“Ah, Mark!” sighed Martin, “the less we say of that the better. Do I see the light yonder?”
“That's the light!” cried Mark. “Lord bless her, what briskness she possesses! Now for it, sir. Neat wines, good beds, and first-rate entertainment for man or beast.”
The kitchen fire burnt clear and red, the table was spread out, the kettle boiled; the slippers were there, the boot-jack too, sheets of ham were there, cooking on the gridiron; half-a-dozen eggs were there, poaching in the frying-pan; a plethoric cherry-brandy bottle was there, winking at a foaming jug of beer upon the table; rare provisions were there, dangling from the rafters as if you had only to open your mouth, and something exquisitely ripe and good would be glad of the excuse for tumbling into it. Mrs Lupin, who for their sakes had dislodged the very cook, high priestess of the temple, with her own genial hands was dressing their repast.
It was impossible to help it—a ghost must have hugged her. The Atlantic Ocean and the Red Sea being, in that respect, all one, Martin hugged her instantly. Mr Tapley (as if the idea were quite novel, and had never occurred to him before), followed, with much gravity, on the same side.
“Little did I ever think,” said Mrs Lupin, adjusting her cap and laughing heartily; yes, and blushing too; “often as I have said that Mr Pecksniff's young gentlemen were the life and soul of the Dragon, and that without them it would be too dull to live in—little did I ever think I am sure, that any one of them would ever make so free as you, Mr Martin! And still less that I shouldn't be angry with him, but should be glad with all my heart to be the first to welcome him home from America, with Mark Tapley for his—”
“For his friend, Mrs Lupin,” interposed Martin.
“For his friend,” said the hostess, evidently gratified by this distinction, but at the same time admonishing Mr Tapley with a fork to remain at a respectful distance. “Little did I ever think that! But still less, that I should ever have the changes to relate that I shall have to tell you of, when you have done your supper!”
“Good Heaven!” cried Martin, changing colour, “what changes?”
“SHE,” said the hostess, “is quite well, and now at Mr Pecksniff's. Don't be at all alarmed about her. She is everything you could wish. It's of no use mincing matters, or making secrets, is it?” added Mrs Lupin. “I know all about it, you see!”
“My good creature,” returned Martin, “you are exactly the person who ought to know all about it. I am delighted to think you DO know about that! But what changes do you hint at? Has any death occurred?”
“No, no!” said the hostess. “Not as bad as that. But I declare now that I will not be drawn into saying another word till you have had your supper. If you ask me fifty questions in the meantime, I won't answer one.”
She was so positive, that there was nothing for it but to get the supper over as quickly as possible; and as they had been walking a great many miles, and had fasted since the middle of the day, they did no great violence to their own inclinations in falling on it tooth and nail. It took rather longer to get through than might have been expected; for, half-a-dozen times, when they thought they had finished, Mrs Lupin exposed the fallacy of that impression triumphantly. But at last, in the course of time and nature, they gave in. Then, sitting with their slippered feet stretched out upon the kitchen hearth (which was wonderfully comforting, for the night had grown by this time raw and chilly), and looking with involuntary admiration at their dimpled, buxom, blooming hostess, as the firelight sparkled in her eyes and glimmered in her raven hair, they composed themselves to listen to her news.
Many were the exclamations of surprise which interrupted her, when she told them of the separation between Mr Pecksniff and his daughters, and between the same good gentleman and Mr Pinch. But these were nothing to the indignant demonstrations of Martin, when she related, as the common talk of the neighbourhood,
