Our Mutual Friend
well satisfied as if that gentleman had been barbarously murdered, and
he (Mr Inspector) had pocketed the government reward.
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, for ever 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 the altercation.
‘Mr Sampson,’ she began, ‘I cannot permit you to misrepresent the
intentions of a child of mine.’
‘Let him alone, Ma,’ Miss Lavvy interposed with haughtiness. ‘It is
indifferent to me what he says or does.’
‘Nay, Lavinia,’ quoth Mrs Wilfer, ‘this touches the blood of the family.
If Mr George Sampson attributes, even to my youngest daughter—’
(‘I don’t see why you should use the word “even”, Ma,’ Miss Lavvy
interposed, ‘because I am quite as important as any of the others.’)
‘Peace!’ said Mrs Wilfer, solemnly. ‘I repeat, if Mr George Sampson
attributes, to my youngest daughter, grovelling motives, he attributes
them equally to the mother of my youngest daughter. That mother
repudiates them, and demands of Mr George Sampson, as a youth of honour,
what he WOULD have? I may be mistaken—nothing is more likely—but Mr
George Sampson,’ proceeded Mrs Wilfer, majestically waving her gloves,
‘appears to me to be seated in a first-class equipage. Mr George Sampson
appears to me to be on his way, by his own admission, to a residence
that may be termed Palatial. Mr George Sampson appears to me to be
invited to participate in the—shall I say the—Elevation which has
descended on the family with which he is ambitious, shall I say to
Mingle? Whence, then, this tone on Mr Sampson’s part?’
‘It is only, ma’am,’ Mr Sampson explained, in exceedingly low spirits,
‘because, in a pecuniary sense, I am painfully conscious of my
unworthiness. Lavinia is now highly connected. Can I hope that she will
still remain the same Lavinia as of old? And is it not pardonable if
I feel sensitive, when I see a disposition on her part to take me up
short?’
‘If you are not satisfied with your position, sir,’ observed Miss
Lavinia, with much politeness, ‘we can set you down at any turning you
may please to indicate to my sister’s coachman.’
‘Dearest Lavinia,’ urged Mr Sampson, pathetically, ‘I adore you.’
‘Then if you can’t do it in a more agreeable manner,’ returned the young
lady, ‘I wish you wouldn’t.’
‘I also,’ pursued Mr Sampson, ‘respect you, ma’am, to an extent which
must ever be below your merits, I am well aware, but still up to an
uncommon mark. Bear with a wretch, Lavinia, bear with a wretch, ma’am,
who feels the noble sacrifices you make for him, but is goaded almost to
madness,’ Mr Sampson slapped his forehead, ‘when he thinks of competing
with the rich and influential.’
‘When you have to compete with the rich and influential, it will
probably be mentioned to you,’ said Miss Lavvy, ‘in good time. At least,
it will if the case is MY case.’
Mr Sampson immediately expressed his fervent Opinion that this was ‘more
than human’, and was brought upon his knees at Miss Lavinia’s feet.
It was the crowning addition indispensable to the full enjoyment of both
mother and daughter, to bear Mr Sampson, a grateful captive, into the
glittering halls he had mentioned, and to parade him through the same,
at once a living witness of their glory, and a bright instance of their
condescension. Ascending the staircase, Miss Lavinia permitted him to
walk at her side, with the air of saying: ‘Notwithstanding all these
surroundings, I am yours as yet, George. How long it may last is another
question, but I am yours as yet.’ She also benignantly intimated to him,
aloud, the nature of the objects upon which he looked, and to which he
was unaccustomed: as, ‘Exotics, George,’ ‘An aviary, George,’ ‘An
ormolu clock, George,’ and the like. While, through the whole of the
decorations, Mrs Wilfer led the way with the bearing of a Savage Chief,
who would feel himself compromised by manifesting the slightest token of
surprise or admiration.
Indeed, the bearing of this impressive woman, throughout the day, was a
pattern to all impressive women under similar circumstances. She renewed
the acquaintance of Mr and Mrs Boffin, as if Mr and Mrs Boffin had said
of her what she had said of them, and as if Time alone could quite wear
her injury out. She regarded every servant who approached her, as her
sworn enemy, expressly intending to offer her affronts with the dishes,
and to pour forth outrages on her moral feelings from the decanters.
She sat erect at table, on the right hand of her son-in-law, as half
suspecting poison in the viands, and as bearing up with native force of
character against other deadly ambushes. Her carriage towards Bella was
as a carriage towards a young lady of good position, whom she had met in
society a few years ago. Even when, slightly thawing under the influence
of sparkling champagne, she related to her son-in-law some passages of
domestic interest concerning her papa, she infused into the narrative
such Arctic suggestions of her having been an unappreciated blessing to
mankind, since her papa’s days, and also of that gentleman’s having
been a frosty impersonation of a frosty race, as struck cold to the
very soles of the feet of the hearers. The Inexhaustible being produced,
staring, and evidently intending a weak and washy smile shortly, no
sooner beheld her, than it was stricken spasmodic and inconsolable. When
she took her leave at last, it would have been hard to say whether it
was with the air of going to the scaffold herself, or of leaving the
inmates of the house for immediate execution. Yet, John Harmon enjoyed
it all merrily, and told his wife, when he and she were alone, that her
natural ways had never seemed so dearly natural as beside this foil,
and that although he did not dispute her being her father’s daughter,
he should ever remain stedfast in the faith that she could not be her
mother’s.
This visit was, as has been said, a grand event. Another event, not
grand but deemed in the house a special one, occurred at about the same
period; and this was, the first interview between Mr Sloppy and Miss
Wren.
The dolls’ dressmaker, being at work for the Inexhaustible upon a
full-dressed doll some two sizes larger than that young person, Mr
Sloppy undertook to call for it, and did so.
‘Come in, sir,’ said Miss Wren, who was working at her bench. ‘And who
may you be?’
Mr Sloppy introduced himself by name and buttons.
‘Oh indeed!’ cried Jenny. ‘Ah! I have been looking forward to knowing
you. I heard of your distinguishing yourself.’
‘Did you, Miss?’ grinned Sloppy. ‘I am sure I am glad to hear it, but I
don’t know how.’
‘Pitching somebody into a mud-cart,’ said Miss Wren.
‘Oh! That way!’ cried Sloppy. ‘Yes, Miss.’ And threw back his head and
laughed.
‘Bless us!’ exclaimed Miss Wren, with a start. ‘Don’t open your mouth