known your brother for so many years—I refused Augustus three times. He is of a most amiable and sensitive nature, always ready to shed tears if you look at him, which is extremely charming; and he has never recovered the effect of that cruelty. For it WAS cruel,” said Miss Pecksniff, with a self-conviction candour that might have adorned the diadem of her own papa. “There is no doubt of it. I look back upon my conduct now with blushes. I always liked him. I felt that he was not to me what the crowd of young men who had made proposals had been, but something very different. Then what right had I to refuse him three times?”
“It was a severe trial of his fidelity, no doubt,” said Ruth.
“My dear,” returned Miss Pecksniff. “It was wrong. But such is the caprice and thoughtlessness of our sex! Let me be a warning to you. Don't try the feelings of any one who makes you an offer, as I have tried the feelings of Augustus; but if you ever feel towards a person as I really felt towards him, at the very time when I was driving him to distraction, let that feeling find expression, if that person throws himself at your feet, as Augustus Moddle did at mine. Think,” said Miss Pecksniff, “what my feelings would have been, if I had goaded him to suicide, and it had got into the papers!”
Ruth observed that she would have been full of remorse, no doubt.
“Remorse!” cried Miss Pecksniff, in a sort of snug and comfortable penitence. “What my remorse is at this moment, even after making reparation by accepting him, it would be impossible to tell you! Looking back upon my giddy self, my dear, now that I am sobered down and made thoughtful, by treading on the very brink of matrimony; and contemplating myself as I was when I was like what you are now; I shudder. I shudder. What is the consequence of my past conduct? Until Augustus leads me to the altar he is not sure of me. I have blighted and withered the affections of his heart to that extent that he is not sure of me. I see that preying on his mind and feeding on his vitals. What are the reproaches of my conscience, when I see this in the man I love!”
Ruth endeavoured to express some sense of her unbounded and flattering confidence; and presumed that she was going to be married soon.
“Very soon indeed,” returned Miss Pecksniff. “As soon as our house is ready. We are furnishing now as fast as we can.”
In the same vein of confidence Miss Pecksniff ran through a general inventory of the articles that were already bought with the articles that remained to be purchased; what garments she intended to be married in, and where the ceremony was to be performed; and gave Miss Pinch, in short (as she told her), early and exclusive information on all points of interest connected with the event.
While this was going forward in the rear, Tom and Mr Moddle walked on, arm in arm, in the front, in a state of profound silence, which Tom at last broke; after thinking for a long time what he could say that should refer to an indifferent topic, in respect of which he might rely, with some degree of certainty, on Mr Moddle's bosom being unruffled.
“I wonder,” said Tom, “that in these crowded streets the footpassengers are not oftener run over.”
Mr Moddle, with a dark look, replied:
“The drivers won't do it.”
“Do you mean?” Tom began—
“That there are some men,” interrupted Moddle, with a hollow laugh, “who can't get run over. They live a charmed life. Coal waggons recoil from them, and even cabs refuse to run them down. Ah!” said Augustus, marking Tom's astonishment. “There are such men. One of “em is a friend of mine.”
“Upon my word and honour,” thought Tom, “this young gentleman is in a state of mind which is very serious indeed!” Abandoning all idea of conversation, he did not venture to say another word, but he was careful to keep a tight hold upon Augustus's arm, lest he should fly into the road, and making another and a more successful attempt, should get up a private little Juggernaut before the eyes of his betrothed. Tom was so afraid of his committing this rash act, that he had scarcely ever experienced such mental relief as when they arrived in safety at Mrs Jonas Chuzzlewit's house.
“Walk up, pray, Mr Pinch,” said Miss Pecksniff. For Tom halted, irresolutely, at the door.
“I am doubtful whether I should be welcome,” replied Tom, “or, I ought rather to say, I have no doubt about it. I will send up a message, I think.”
“But what nonsense that is!” returned Miss Pecksniff, speaking apart to Tom. “He is not at home, I am certain. I know he is not; and Merry hasn't the least idea that you ever—”
“No,” interrupted Tom. “Nor would I have her know it, on any account. I am not so proud of that scuffle, I assure you.”
“Ah, but then you are so modest, you see,” returned Miss Pecksniff, with a smile. “But pray walk up. If you don't wish her to know it, and do wish to speak to her, pray walk up. Pray walk up, Miss Pinch. Don't stand here.”
Tom still hesitated for he felt that he was in an awkward position. But Cherry passing him at this juncture, and leading his sister upstairs, and the house-door being at the same time shut behind them, he followed without quite knowing whether it was well or illjudged so to do.
“Merry, my darling!” said the fair Miss Pecksniff, opening the door of the usual sitting-room. “Here are Mr Pinch and his sister come to see you! I thought we should find you here, Mrs Todgers! How do you do, Mrs Gamp? And how do you do, Mr Chuffey, though it's of no use asking you the question, I am well aware.”
Honouring each of these parties, as she severally addressed them, with an acid smile, Miss Charity presented “Mr Moddle.”
“I believe you have seen HIM before,” she pleasantly observed. “Augustus, my sweet child, bring me a chair.”
The sweet child did as he was told; and was then about to retire into a corner to mourn in secret, when Miss Charity, calling him in an audible whisper a “little pet,” gave him leave to come and sit beside her. It is to be hoped, for the general cheerfulness of mankind, that such a doleful little pet was never seen as Mr Moddle looked when he complied. So despondent was his temper, that he showed no outward thrill of ecstasy when Miss Pecksniff placed her lily hand in his, and concealed this mark of her favour from the vulgar gaze by covering it with a corner of her shawl. Indeed, he was infinitely more rueful then than he had been before; and, sitting uncomfortably upright in his chair, surveyed the company with watery eyes, which seemed to say, without the aid of language, “Oh, good gracious! look here! Won't some kind Christian help me!”
But the ecstasies of Mrs Gamp were sufficient to have furnished forth a score of young lovers; and they were chiefly awakened by the sight of Tom Pinch and his sister. Mrs Gamp was a lady of that happy temperament which can be ecstatic without any other stimulating cause than a general desire to establish a large and profitable connection. She added daily so many strings to her bow, that she made a perfect harp of it; and upon that instrument she now began to perform an extemporaneous concerto.
“Why, goodness me!” she said, “Mrs Chuzzlewit! To think as I should see beneath this blessed “ouse, which well I know it, Miss Pecksniff, my sweet young lady, to be a “ouse as there is not a many like, worse luck, and wishin” it were not so, which then this tearful walley would be changed into a flowerin” guardian, Mr Chuffey; to think as I should see beneath this indiwidgle roof, identically comin”, Mr Pinch (I take the liberty, though almost unbeknown), and do assure you of it, sir, the smilinest and sweetest face as ever, Mrs Chuzzlewit, I see exceptin” yourn, my dear good lady, and YOUR good lady's too, sir, Mr Moddle, if I may make so bold as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as needn't look through millstones, Mrs Todgers, to find out wot is wrote upon the wall behind. Which no offence is meant, ladies and gentlemen; none bein” took, I hope. To think as I should see that smilinest and sweetest face which me and another friend of mine, took notice of among the packages down London Bridge, in this promiscous place, is a surprige in-deed!”
Having contrived, in this happy manner, to invest every member of her audience with an individual share and immediate personal interest in her address, Mrs Gamp dropped several curtseys to Ruth, and smilingly shaking her head a great many times, pursued the thread of her discourse:
“Now, ain't we rich in beauty this here joyful arternoon, I'm sure. I knows a lady, which her name, I'll not deceive you, Mrs Chuzzlewit, is Harris, her husband's brother bein” six foot three, and marked with a mad bull in Wellington boots upon his left arm, on account of his precious mother havin” been worrited by one into a shoemaker's shop, when in a sitiwation which blessed is the man as has his quiver full of sech, as many times I've said to Gamp when words has roge betwixt us on account of the expense—and often have I said to Mrs Harris, “Oh, Mrs Harris, ma'am! your countenance is quite a angel's!” Which, but for Pimples, it would be. “No, Sairey Gamp,” says she, “you best of hard-working and industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any price, which underpaid
