Martin Chuzzlewit
her nuptials would take place on such a day. That she had been much hurt
by the unnatural conduct of herself and daughters, and hoped they might
not have suffered in their consciences. That, being desirous to forgive
her enemies, and make her peace with the world before entering into the
most solemn of covenants with the most devoted of men, she now held out
the hand of friendship. That if the strong-minded women took that hand,
in the temper in which it was extended to her, she, Miss Pecksniff,
did invite her to be present at the ceremony of her marriage, and did
furthermore invite the three red-nosed spinsters, her daughters
(but Miss Pecksniff did not particularize their noses), to attend as
bridesmaids.
The strong-minded women returned for answer, that herself and daughters
were, as regarded their consciences, in the enjoyment of robust health,
which she knew Miss Pecksniff would be glad to hear. That she had
received Miss Pecksniff’s note with unalloyed delight, because she
never had attached the least importance to the paltry and insignificant
jealousies with which herself and circle had been assailed; otherwise
than as she had found them, in the contemplation, a harmless source of
innocent mirth. That she would joyfully attend Miss Pecksniff’s bridal;
and that her three dear daughters would be happy to assist, on so
interesting, and SO VERY UNEXPECTED--which the strong-minded woman
underlined--SO VERY UNEXPECTED an occasion.
On the receipt of this gracious reply, Miss Pecksniff extended her
forgiveness and her invitations to Mr and Mrs Spottletoe; to Mr George
Chuzzlewit the bachelor cousin; to the solitary female who usually had
the toothache; and to the hairy young gentleman with the outline of
a face; surviving remnants of the party that had once assembled in Mr
Pecksniff’s parlour. After which Miss Pecksniff remarked that there was
a sweetness in doing our duty, which neutralized the bitter in our cups.
The wedding guests had not yet assembled, and indeed it was so early
that Miss Pecksniff herself was in the act of dressing at her leisure,
when a carriage stopped near the Monument; and Mark, dismounting from
the rumble, assisted Mr Chuzzlewit to alight. The carriage remained in
waiting; so did Mr Tapley. Mr Chuzzlewit betook himself to Todger’s.
He was shown, by the degenerate successor of Mr Bailey, into the
dining-parlour; where--for his visit was expected--Mrs Todgers
immediately appeared.
‘You are dressed, I see, for the wedding,’ he said.
Mrs Todgers, who was greatly flurried by the preparations, replied in
the affirmative.
‘It goes against my wishes to have it in progress just now, I assure
you, sir,’ said Mrs Todgers; ‘but Miss Pecksniff’s mind was set upon it,
and it really is time that Miss Pecksniff was married. That cannot be
denied, sir.’
‘No,’ said Mr Chuzzlewit, ‘assuredly not. Her sister takes no part in
the proceedings?’
‘Oh, dear no, sir. Poor thing!’ said Mrs Todgers, shaking her head, and
dropping her voice. ‘Since she has known the worst, she has never left
my room; the next room.’
‘Is she prepared to see me?’ he inquired.
‘Quite prepared, sir.’
‘Then let us lose no time.’
Mrs Todgers conducted him into the little back chamber commanding the
prospect of the cistern; and there, sadly different from when it had
first been her lodging, sat poor Merry, in mourning weeds. The room
looked very dark and sorrowful; and so did she; but she had one friend
beside her, faithful to the last. Old Chuffey.
When Mr Chuzzlewit sat down at her side, she took his hand and put it
to her lips. She was in great grief. He too was agitated; for he had not
seen her since their parting in the churchyard.
‘I judged you hastily,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I fear I judged you
cruelly. Let me know that I have your forgiveness.’
She kissed his hand again; and retaining it in hers, thanked him in a
broken voice, for all his kindness to her since.
‘Tom Pinch,’ said Martin, ‘has faithfully related to me all that you
desired him to convey; at a time when he deemed it very improbable that
he would ever have an opportunity of delivering your message. Believe
me, that if I ever deal again with an ill-advised and unawakened
nature, hiding the strength it thinks its weakness, I will have long and
merciful consideration for it.’
‘You had for me; even for me,’ she answered. ‘I quite believe it. I said
the words you have repeated, when my distress was very sharp and hard to
bear; I say them now for others; but I cannot urge them for myself.
You spoke to me after you had seen and watched me day by day. There
was great consideration in that. You might have spoken, perhaps,
more kindly; you might have tried to invite my confidence by greater
gentleness; but the end would have been the same.’
He shook his head in doubt, and not without some inward self-reproach.
‘How can I hope,’ she said, ‘that your interposition would have
prevailed with me, when I know how obdurate I was! I never thought at
all; dear Mr Chuzzlewit, I never thought at all; I had no thought,
no heart, no care to find one; at that time. It has grown out of my
trouble. I have felt it in my trouble. I wouldn’t recall my trouble such
as it is and has been--and it is light in comparison with trials which
hundreds of good people suffer every day, I know--I wouldn’t recall
it to-morrow, if I could. It has been my friend, for without it no one
could have changed me; nothing could have changed me. Do not mistrust me
because of these tears; I cannot help them. I am grateful for it, in my
soul. Indeed I am!’
‘Indeed she is!’ said Mrs Todgers. ‘I believe it, sir.’
‘And so do I!’ said Mr Chuzzlewit. ‘Now, attend to me, my dear. Your
late husband’s estate, if not wasted by the confession of a large debt
to the broken office (which document, being useless to the runaways,
has been sent over to England by them; not so much for the sake of the
creditors as for the gratification of their dislike to him, whom they
suppose to be still living), will be seized upon by law; for it is not
exempt, as I learn, from the claims of those who have suffered by the
fraud in which he was engaged. Your father’s property was all, or nearly
all, embarked in the same transaction. If there be any left, it will be
seized on, in like manner. There is no home THERE.’
‘I couldn’t return to him,’ she said, with an instinctive reference to
his having forced her marriage on. ‘I could not return to him.’
‘I know it,’ Mr Chuzzlewit resumed; ‘and I am here because I know
it. Come with me! From all who are about me, you are certain (I
have ascertained it) of a generous welcome. But until your health is
re-established, and you are sufficiently composed to bear that welcome,
you shall have your abode in any quiet retreat of your own choosing,
near London; not so far removed but that this kind-hearted lady may
still visit you as often as she pleases. You have suffered much; but you
are young, and have a brighter and a better future stretching out before
you. Come with me. Your sister is careless of you, I know. She hurries
on and publishes her marriage, in a spirit which (to say no more of it)
is barely decent, is unsisterly, and bad. Leave the house before her
guests arrive. She means to give you pain. Spare her the offence, and
come with me!’
Mrs Todgers, though most unwilling to part with her, added her
persuasions. Even poor old Chuffey (of course included in the project)
added his. She hurriedly attired herself, and was ready to depart, when
Miss Pecksniff dashed into the room.
Miss Pecksniff dashed in so suddenly, that she was placed in an
embarrassing position. For though she had completed her bridal toilette
as to her head, on which she wore a bridal bonnet with orange flowers,
she had not completed it as to her skirts, which displayed no choicer
decoration than a dimity bedgown. She had dashed in, in fact, about
half-way through, to console her sister, in her affliction, with a sight
of the aforesaid bonnet; and being quite unconscious of the presence of
a visitor, until she found Mr Chuzzlewit standing face to face with her,
her surprise was an uncomfortable one.
‘So, young lady!’ said the old man, eyeing her with strong disfavour.
‘You are to be married to-day!’
‘Yes, sir,’ returned Miss Pecksniff, modestly. ‘I am. I--my dress is
rather--really, Mrs Todgers!’
‘Your delicacy,’ said old Martin, ‘is troubled, I perceive. I am not
surprised to find it so. You have chosen the period of your marriage
unfortunately.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mr Chuzzlewit,’ retorted Cherry; very red and angry
in a moment; ‘but if you have anything to say on that subject, I must
beg to refer you to Augustus. You will scarcely think it manly, I hope,
to force an argument on me, when Augustus is at all times ready to
discuss it with you. I have nothing to do with any deceptions that may
have been practiced on my parent,’ said Miss Pecksniff, pointedly; ‘and
as I wish to be on good terms with everybody at such a time, I should
have been glad if you would have favoured us with your company at
breakfast. But I will not ask you as it is; seeing that you have been
prepossessed and set against me in another quarter. I hope I have my
natural affections for another quarter, and my natural pity for
another quarter; but I cannot always submit to be subservient to it, Mr
Chuzzlewit. That would be a little too much. I trust I have more respect
for myself, as well as for the man who claims me as his Bride.’
‘Your sister, meeting--as I think; not as she says, for she has said
nothing about it--with little consideration from you, is going away with
me,’ said Mr Chuzzlewit.
‘I am very happy to find that she has some good fortune at last,’
returned Miss Pecksniff, tossing her head. ‘I congratulate her, I
am sure. I am not surprised that this event should be painful to
her--painful to her--but I can’t help that, Mr Chuzzlewit. It’s not my
fault.’
‘Come, Miss Pecksniff!’ said the old man, quietly. ‘I should like to see
a better parting between you. I should like to see a better parting on
your side, in such circumstances. It would make me your friend. You may
want a friend one day or other.’
‘Every relation of life, Mr Chuzzlewit, begging your pardon; and every
friend in life,’ returned Miss Pecksniff, with dignity, ‘is now bound up
and cemented in Augustus. So long as Augustus is my own, I cannot want
a friend. When you speak of friends, sir, I must beg, once for all, to
refer you to Augustus. That is my impression of the religious ceremony
in which I am so soon to take a part at that altar to which Augustus
will conduct me. I bear no malice at any time, much less in a moment of
triumph, towards any one; much less towards my sister. On the contrary,
I congratulate her. If you didn’t hear me say so, I am not to blame.
And as I owe it to Augustus, to be punctual on an occasion when he may
naturally be supposed to be--to be impatient--really, Mrs Todgers!--I
must beg your leave, sir, to retire.’
After these words the bridal bonnet disappeared; with as much state as
the dimity bedgown left in it.
Old Martin gave his arm to the younger sister without speaking; and led
her out. Mrs Todgers, with her holiday garments fluttering in the wind,
accompanied them to the carriage, clung round Merry’s neck at parting,
and ran back to her own dingy house, crying the whole way. She had
a lean, lank body, Mrs Todgers, but a well-conditioned soul within.
Perhaps the good Samaritan was lean and lank, and found it hard to live.
Who knows!
Mr Chuzzlewit followed her so closely with his eyes, that, until she had
shut her own door, they did not encounter Mr Tapley’s face.
‘Why, Mark!’ he said, as soon as he observed it, ‘what’s the matter?’