Martin Chuzzlewit
happy tear or two for anything the history knows to the contrary; but
it was all over now; and a brighter face than Tom’s, or a brighter face
than Ruth’s, the bright sun had not looked on since he went to bed last
night.
‘My dear girl,’ said Tom, coming so abruptly on the subject, that he
interrupted himself in the act of cutting a slice of bread, and left
the knife sticking in the loaf, ‘what a queer fellow our landlord is!
I don’t believe he has been home once since he got me into that
unsatisfactory scrape. I begin to think he will never come home again.
What a mysterious life that man does lead, to be sure!’
‘Very strange. Is it not, Tom?’
‘Really,’ said Tom, ‘I hope it is only strange. I hope there may be
nothing wrong in it. Sometimes I begin to be doubtful of that. I must
have an explanation with him,’ said Tom, shaking his head as if this
were a most tremendous threat, ‘when I can catch him!’
A short double knock at the door put Tom’s menacing looks to flight, and
awakened an expression of surprise instead.
‘Heyday!’ said Tom. ‘An early hour for visitors! It must be John, I
suppose.’
‘I--I--don’t think it was his knock, Tom,’ observed his little sister.
‘No?’ said Tom. ‘It surely can’t be my employer suddenly arrived in
town; directed here by Mr Fips; and come for the key of the office. It’s
somebody inquiring for me, I declare! Come in, if you please!’
But when the person came in, Tom Pinch, instead of saying, ‘Did you
wish to speak with me, sir?’ or, ‘My name is Pinch, sir; what is your
business, may I ask?’ or addressing him in any such distant terms; cried
out, ‘Good gracious Heaven!’ and seized him by both hands, with the
liveliest manifestations of astonishment and pleasure.
The visitor was not less moved than Tom himself, and they shook hands a
great many times, without another word being spoken on either side. Tom
was the first to find his voice.
‘Mark Tapley, too!’ said Tom, running towards the door, and shaking
hands with somebody else. ‘My dear Mark, come in. How are you, Mark? He
don’t look a day older than he used to do at the Dragon. How ARE you,
Mark?’
‘Uncommonly jolly, sir, thank’ee,’ returned Mr Tapley, all smiles and
bows. ‘I hope I see you well, sir.’
‘Good gracious me!’ cried Tom, patting him tenderly on the back. ‘How
delightful it is to hear his old voice again! My dear Martin, sit down.
My sister, Martin. Mr Chuzzlewit, my love. Mark Tapley from the Dragon,
my dear. Good gracious me, what a surprise this is! Sit down. Lord,
bless me!’
Tom was in such a state of excitement that he couldn’t keep himself
still for a moment, but was constantly running between Mark and Martin,
shaking hands with them alternately, and presenting them over and over
again to his sister.
‘I remember the day we parted, Martin, as well as if it were yesterday,’
said Tom. ‘What a day it was! and what a passion you were in! And don’t
you remember my overtaking you in the road that morning, Mark, when I
was going to Salisbury in the gig to fetch him, and you were looking out
for a situation? And don’t you recollect the dinner we had at Salisbury,
Martin, with John Westlock, eh! Good gracious me! Ruth, my dear,
Mr Chuzzlewit. Mark Tapley, my love, from the Dragon. More cups and
saucers, if you please. Bless my soul, how glad I am to see you both!’
And then Tom (as John Westlock had done on his arrival) ran off to the
loaf to cut some bread and butter for them; and before he had spread a
single slice, remembered something else, and came running back again to
tell it; and then he shook hands with them again; and then he introduced
his sister again; and then he did everything he had done already all
over again; and nothing Tom could do, and nothing Tom could say, was
half sufficient to express his joy at their safe return.
Mr Tapley was the first to resume his composure. In a very short space
of time he was discovered to have somehow installed himself in office as
waiter, or attendant upon the party; a fact which was first suggested to
them by his temporary absence in the kitchen, and speedy return with a
kettle of boiling water, from which he replenished the tea-pot with a
self-possession that was quite his own.
‘Sit down, and take your breakfast, Mark,’ said Tom. ‘Make him sit down
and take his breakfast, Martin.’
‘Oh! I gave him up, long ago, as incorrigible,’ Martin replied. ‘He
takes his own way, Tom. You would excuse him, Miss Pinch, if you knew
his value.’
‘She knows it, bless you!’ said Tom. ‘I have told her all about Mark
Tapley. Have I not, Ruth?’
‘Yes, Tom.’
‘Not all,’ returned Martin, in a low voice. ‘The best of Mark Tapley is
only known to one man, Tom; and but for Mark he would hardly be alive to
tell it!’
‘Mark!’ said Tom Pinch energetically; ‘if you don’t sit down this
minute, I’ll swear at you!’
‘Well, sir,’ returned Mr Tapley, ‘sooner than you should do that, I’ll
com-ply. It’s a considerable invasion of a man’s jollity to be made so
partickler welcome, but a Werb is a word as signifies to be, to do,
or to suffer (which is all the grammar, and enough too, as ever I wos
taught); and if there’s a Werb alive, I’m it. For I’m always a-bein’,
sometimes a-doin’, and continually a-sufferin’.’
‘Not jolly yet?’ asked Tom, with a smile.
‘Why, I was rather so, over the water, sir,’ returned Mr Tapley; ‘and
not entirely without credit. But Human Natur’ is in a conspiracy again’
me; I can’t get on. I shall have to leave it in my will, sir, to be
wrote upon my tomb: “He was a man as might have come out strong if he
could have got a chance. But it was denied him.”’
Mr Tapley took this occasion of looking about him with a grin, and
subsequently attacking the breakfast, with an appetite not at all
expressive of blighted hopes, or insurmountable despondency.
In the meanwhile, Martin drew his chair a little nearer to Tom and his
sister, and related to them what had passed at Mr Pecksniff’s
house; adding in few words a general summary of the distresses and
disappointments he had undergone since he left England.
‘For your faithful stewardship in the trust I left with you, Tom,’ he
said, ‘and for all your goodness and disinterestedness, I can never
thank you enough. When I add Mary’s thanks to mine--’
Ah, Tom! The blood retreated from his cheeks, and came rushing back, so
violently, that it was pain to feel it; ease though, ease, compared with
the aching of his wounded heart.
‘When I add Mary’s thanks to mine,’ said Martin, ‘I have made the only
poor acknowledgment it is in our power to offer; but if you knew how
much we feel, Tom, you would set some store by it, I am sure.’
And if they had known how much Tom felt--but that no human creature ever
knew--they would have set some store by him. Indeed they would.
Tom changed the topic of discourse. He was sorry he could not pursue it,
as it gave Martin pleasure; but he was unable, at that moment. No drop
of envy or bitterness was in his soul; but he could not master the firm
utterance of her name.
He inquired what Martin’s projects were.
‘No longer to make your fortune, Tom,’ said Martin, ‘but to try to live.
I tried that once in London, Tom; and failed. If you will give me the
benefit of your advice and friendly counsel, I may succeed better under
your guidance. I will do anything Tom, anything, to gain a livelihood by
my own exertions. My hopes do not soar above that, now.’
High-hearted, noble Tom! Sorry to find the pride of his old companion
humbled, and to hear him speaking in this altered strain at once, at
once, he drove from his breast the inability to contend with its deep
emotions, and spoke out bravely.
‘Your hopes do not soar above that!’ cried Tom. ‘Yes they do. How can
you talk so! They soar up to the time when you will be happy with her,
Martin. They soar up to the time when you will be able to claim her,
Martin. They soar up to the time when you will not be able to believe
that you were ever cast down in spirit, or poor in pocket, Martin.
Advice, and friendly counsel! Why, of course. But you shall have better
advice and counsel (though you cannot have more friendly) than mine. You
shall consult John Westlock. We’ll go there immediately. It is yet so
early that I shall have time to take you to his chambers before I go to
business; they are in my way; and I can leave you there, to talk
over your affairs with him. So come along. Come along. I am a man of
occupation now, you know,’ said Tom, with his pleasantest smile; ‘and
have no time to lose. Your hopes don’t soar higher than that? I dare
say they don’t. I know you, pretty well. They’ll be soaring out of sight
soon, Martin, and leaving all the rest of us leagues behind.’
‘Aye! But I may be a little changed,’ said Martin, ‘since you knew me
pretty well, Tom.’
‘What nonsense!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Why should you be changed? You talk
as if you were an old man. I never heard such a fellow! Come to John
Westlock’s, come. Come along, Mark Tapley. It’s Mark’s doing, I have
no doubt; and it serves you right for having such a grumbler for your
companion.’
‘There’s no credit to be got through being jolly with YOU, Mr Pinch,
anyways,’ said Mark, with his face all wrinkled up with grins. ‘A parish
doctor might be jolly with you. There’s nothing short of goin’ to the
U-nited States for a second trip, as would make it at all creditable to
be jolly, arter seein’ you again!’
Tom laughed, and taking leave of his sister, hurried Mark and Martin out
into the street, and away to John Westlock’s by the nearest road; for
his hour of business was very near at hand, and he prided himself on
always being exact to his time.
John Westlock was at home, but, strange to say, was rather embarrassed
to see them; and when Tom was about to go into the room where he
was breakfasting, said he had a stranger there. It appeared to be a
mysterious stranger, for John shut that door as he said it, and led them
into the next room.
He was very much delighted, though, to see Mark Tapley; and received
Martin with his own frank courtesy. But Martin felt that he did not
inspire John Westlock with any unusual interest; and twice or
thrice observed that he looked at Tom Pinch doubtfully; not to say
compassionately. He thought, and blushed to think, that he knew the
cause of this.
‘I apprehend you are engaged,’ said Martin, when Tom had announced the
purport of their visit. ‘If you will allow me to come again at your own
time, I shall be glad to do so.’
‘I AM engaged,’ replied John, with some reluctance; ‘but the matter on
which I am engaged is one, to say the truth, more immediately demanding
your knowledge than mine.’
‘Indeed!’ cried Martin.
‘It relates to a member of your family, and is of a serious nature. If
you will have the kindness to remain here, it will be a satisfaction to
me to have it privately communicated to you, in order that you may judge
of its importance for yourself.’
‘And in the meantime,’ said Tom, ‘I must really take myself off, without
any further ceremony.’
‘Is your business so very particular,’ asked Martin, ‘that you cannot
remain with us for half an hour? I wish you could. What IS your
business, Tom?’
It was Tom’s turn to be embarrassed now; but he plainly said, after a
little hesitation:
‘Why, I am not at liberty to say what it is, Martin; though I hope
soon to be in a condition to do so, and am aware of no other reason
to prevent my doing so now, than the request of my employer. It’s an
awkward position to be placed in,’ said Tom, with an uneasy sense of
seeming to doubt his friend, ‘as I feel every day; but I really cannot
help it, can I, John?’
John Westlock replied in the negative; and Martin, expressing himself
perfectly satisfied, begged them not to say another word; though he