'I say! How nice you look!'



This was said in an admiring manner, and was, so far,



gratifying; but still there was enough of the cannibal in the young



gentleman's eyes to render the compliment a double one.



'Dear me, Joseph,' said Mary, affecting to blush, 'what do you



mean?'



The fat boy, gradually recovering his former position, replied



with a heavy sigh, and, remaining thoughtful for a few moments,



drank a long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat, he



sighed again, and applied himself assiduously to the pie.



'What a nice young lady Miss Emily is!' said Mary, after a long



silence.



The fat boy had by this time finished the pie. He fixed his eyes



on Mary, and replied―'I knows a nicerer.'



'Indeed!' said Mary.



'Yes, indeed!' replied the fat boy, with unwonted vivacity.



'What's her name?' inquired Mary.



'What's yours?'



'Mary.'



'So's hers,' said the fat boy. 'You're her.' The boy grinned to add



point to the compliment, and put his eyes into something between



a squint and a cast, which there is reason to believe he intended



for an ogle.



'You mustn't talk to me in that way,' said Mary; 'you don't mean



it.'



'Don't I, though?' replied the fat boy. 'I say?'



'Well?'



'Are you going to come here regular?'



'No,' rejoined Mary, shaking her head, 'I'm going away again to-



night. Why?'



'Oh,' said the fat boy, in a tone of strong feeling; 'how we should



have enjoyed ourselves at meals, if you had been!'



'I might come here sometimes, perhaps, to see you,' said Mary,



plaiting the table-cloth in assumed coyness, 'if you would do me a



favour.'



The fat boy looked from the pie-dish to the steak, as if he



thought a favour must be in a manner connected with something



to eat; and then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it



nervously.



'Don't you understand me?' said Mary, looking slyly in his fat



face.



Again he looked at the half-crown, and said faintly, 'No.'



'The ladies want you not to say anything to the old gentleman



about the young gentleman having been upstairs; and I want you



too.'



'Is that all?' said the fat boy, evidently very much relieved, as he



pocketed the half-crown again. 'Of course I ain't a-going to.'



'You see,' said Mary, 'Mr. Snodgrass is very fond of Miss Emily,



and Miss Emily's very fond of him, and if you were to tell about it,



the old gentleman would carry you all away miles into the country,



where you'd see nobody.'



'No, no, I won't tell,' said the fat boy stoutly.



'That's a dear,' said Mary. 'Now it's time I went upstairs, and



got my lady ready for dinner.'



'Don't go yet,' urged the fat boy.



'I must,' replied Mary. 'Good-bye, for the present.'



The fat boy, with elephantine playfulness, stretched out his



arms to ravish a kiss; but as it required no great agility to elude



him, his fair enslaver had vanished before he closed them again;



upon which the apathetic youth ate a pound or so of steak with a



sentimental countenance, and fell fast asleep.



There was so much to say upstairs, and there were so many



plans to concert for elopement and matrimony in the event of old



Wardle continuing to be cruel, that it wanted only half an hour of



dinner when Mr. Snodgrass took his final adieu. The ladies ran to



Emily's bedroom to dress, and the lover, taking up his hat, walked



out of the room. He had scarcely got outside the door, when he



heard Wardle's voice talking loudly, and looking over the banisters



beheld him, followed by some other gentlemen, coming straight



upstairs. Knowing nothing of the house, Mr. Snodgrass in his



confusion stepped hastily back into the room he had just quitted,



and passing thence into an inner apartment (Mr. Wardle's



bedchamber), closed the door softly, just as the persons he had



caught a glimpse of entered the sitting-room. These were Mr.



Wardle, Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle, and Mr. Benjamin



Allen, whom he had no difficulty in recognising by their voices.



'Very lucky I had the presence of mind to avoid them,' thought



Mr. Snodgrass with a smile, and walking on tiptoe to another door



near the bedside; 'this opens into the same passage, and I can walk



quietly and comfortably away.'



There was only one obstacle to his walking quietly and



comfortably away, which was that the door was locked and the key



gone.



'Let us have some of your best wine to-day, waiter,' said old



Wardle, rubbing his hands.



'You shall have some of the very best, sir,' replied the waiter.



'Let the ladies know we have come in.'



'Yes, sir.'



Devoutly and ardently did Mr. Snodgrass wish that the ladies



could know he had come in. He ventured once to whisper,



'Waiter!' through the keyhole, but the probability of the wrong



waiter coming to his relief, flashed upon his mind, together with a



sense of the strong resemblance between his own situation and



that in which another gentleman had been recently found in a



neighbouring hotel (an account of whose misfortunes had



appeared under the head of 'Police' in that morning's paper), he



sat himself on a portmanteau, and trembled violently.



'We won't wait a minute for Perker,' said Wardle, looking at his



watch; 'he is always exact. He will be here, in time, if he means to



come; and if he does not, it's of no use waiting. Ha! Arabella!'



'My sister!' exclaimed Mr. Benjamin Allen, folding her in a most



romantic embrace.



'Oh, Ben, dear, how you do smell of tobacco,' said Arabella,



rather overcome by this mark of affection.



'Do I?' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 'Do I, Bella? Well, perhaps I



do.'



Perhaps he did, having just left a pleasant little smoking-party



of twelve medical students, in a small back parlour with a large



fire.



'But I am delighted to see you,' said Mr. Ben Allen. 'Bless you,



Bella!'



'There,' said Arabella, bending forward to kiss her brother;



'don't take hold of me again, Ben, dear, because you tumble me



so.'



At this point of the reconciliation, Mr. Ben Allen allowed his



feelings and the cigars and porter to overcome him, and looked



round upon the beholders with damp spectacles.



'Is nothing to be said to me?' cried Wardle, with open arms.



'A great deal,' whispered Arabella, as she received the old



gentleman's heartycaress and congratulation. 'You are a hard-



hearted, unfeeling, cruel monster.'



'You are a little rebel,' replied Wardle, in the same tone, 'and I



am afraid I shall be obliged to forbid you the house. People like



you, who get married in spite of everybody, ought not to be let



loose on society. But come!' added the old gentleman aloud,



'here's the dinner; you shall sit by me. Joe; why, damn the boy,



he's awake!'



To the great distress of his master, the fat boy was indeed in a



state of remarkable vigilance, his eyes being wide open, and



looking as if they intended to remain so. There was an alacrity in



his manner, too, which was equally unaccountable; every time his



eyes met those of Emily or Arabella, he smirked and grinned;



once, Wardle could have sworn, he saw him wink.



This alteration in the fat boy's demeanour originated in his



increased sense of his own importance, and the dignity he



acquired from having been taken into the confidence of the young



ladies; and the smirks, and grins, and winks were so many



condescending assurances that they might depend upon his



fidelity. As these tokens were rather calculated to awaken



suspicion than allay it, and were somewhat embarrassing besides,



they were occasionally answered by a frown or shake of the head



from Arabella, which the fat boy, considering as hints to be on his



guard, expressed his perfect understanding of, by smirking,



grinning, and winking, with redoubled assiduity.



'Joe,' said Mr. Wardle, after an unsuccessful search in all his



pockets, 'is my snuff-box on the sofa?'



'No, sir,' replied the fat boy.



'Oh, I recollect; I left it on my dressing-table this morning,' said



Wardle. 'Run into the next room and fetch it.'



The fat boy went into the next room; and, having been absent



about a minute, returned with the snuff-box, and the palest face



that ever a fat boy wore.



'What's the matter with the boy?' exclaimed Wardle.



'Nothen's the matter with me,' replied Joe nervously.



'Have you been seeing any spirits?' inquired the old gentleman.



'Or taking any?' added Ben Allen.



'I think you're right,' whispered Wardle across the table. 'He is



intoxicated, I'm sure.'



Ben Allen replied that he thought he was; and, as that



gentleman had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle



was confirmed in an impression which had been hovering about



his mind for half an hour, and at once arrived at the conclusion



that the fat boy was drunk.



'Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes,' murmured



Wardle. 'We shall soon find out whether he is or not.'



The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words



with Mr. Snodgrass, that gentleman having implored him to make



a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed



him out with the snuff-box, lest his prolonged absence should lead



to a discovery. He ruminated a little with a most disturbed



expression of face, and left the room in search of Mary.



But Mary had gone home after dressing her mistress, and the



fat boy came back again more disturbed than before.



Wardle and Mr. Ben Allen exchanged glances. 'Joe!' said



Wardle.



'Yes, sir.'



'What did you go away for?'



The fat boy looked hopelessly in the face of everybody at table,



and stammered out that he didn't know.



'Oh,' said Wardle, 'you don't know, eh? Take this cheese to Mr.



Pickwick.'



Now, Mr. Pickwick being in the very best health and spirits,



had been making himself perfectly delightful all dinner-time, and



was at this moment engaged in an energetic conversation with



Emily and Mr. Winkle; bowing his head, courteously, in the



emphasis of his discourse, gently waving his left hand to lend force



to his observations, and all glowing with placid smiles. He took a



piece of cheese from the plate, and was on the point of turning



round to renew the conversation, when the fat boy, stooping so as



to bring his head on a level with that of Mr. Pickwick, pointed with



his thumb over his shoulder, and made the most horrible and



hideous face that was ever seen out of a Christmas pantomime.



'Dear me!' said Mr. Pickwick, starting, 'what a very―Eh?' He



stopped, for the fat boy had drawn himself up, and was, or



pretended to be, fast asleep.



'What's the matter?' inquired Wardle.



'This is such an extremely singular lad!' replied Mr. Pickwick,



looking uneasily at the boy. 'It seems an odd thing to say, but upon



my word I am afraid that, at times, he is a little deranged.'



'Oh! Mr. Pickwick, pray don't say so,' cried Emily and Arabella,



both at once.



'I am not certain, of course,' said Mr. Pickwick, amidstprofound



silence and looks of general dismay; 'but his manner to me this



moment really was very alarming. Oh!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick,



suddenly jumping up with a short scream. 'I beg your pardon,



ladies, but at that moment he ran some sharp instrument into my



leg. Really, he is not safe.'



'He's drunk,' roared old Wardle passionately. 'Ring the bell!



Call the waiters! He's drunk.'



'I ain't,' said the fat boy, falling on his knees as his master



seized him by the collar. 'I ain't drunk.'



'Then you're mad; that's worse. Call the waiters,' said the old



gentleman.



'I ain't mad; I'm sensible,' rejoined the fat boy, beginning to cry.



'Then, what the devil did you run sharp instruments into Mr.



Pickwick's legs for?' inquired Wardle angrily.



'He wouldn't look at me,' replied the boy. 'I wanted to speak to



him.'



'What did you want to say?' asked half a dozen voices at once.



The fat boy gasped, looked at the bedroom door, gasped again,



and wiped two tears away with the knuckle of each of his



forefingers.



'What did you want to say?' demanded Wardle, shaking him.



'Stop!' said Mr. Pickwick; 'allow me. What did you wish to



communicate to me, my poor boy?'



'I want to whisper to you,' replied the fat boy.



'You want to bite his ear off, I suppose,' said Wardle. 'Don't



come near him; he's vicious; ring the bell, and let him be taken



downstairs.'



Just as Mr. Winkle caught the bell-rope in his hand, it was



arrested by a general expression of astonishment; the captive



lover, his face burning with confusion, suddenly walked in from



the bedroom, and made a comprehensive bow to the company.



'Hollo!' cried Wardle, releasing the fat boy's collar, and



staggering back. 'What's this?'



'I have been concealed in the next room, sir, since you



returned,' explained Mr. Snodgrass.



'Emily, my girl,' said Wardle reproachfully, 'I detest meanness



and deceit; this is unjustifiable and indelicate in the highest



degree. I don't deserve this at your hands, Emily, indeed!'



'Dear papa,' said Emily, 'Arabella knows―everybody here



knows―Joe knows―that I was no party to this concealment.



Augustus, for He aven's sake, explain it!'



Mr. Snodgrass, who had only waited for a hearing, at once



recounted how he had been placed in his then distressing



predicament; how the fear of giving rise to domestic dissensions



had alone prompted him to avoid Mr. Wardle on his entrance; how



he merely meant to depart by another door, but, finding it locked,



had been compelled to stay against his will. It was a painful



situation to be placed in; but he now regretted it the less,



inasmuch as it afforded him an opportunity of acknowledging,



before their mutual friends, that he loved Mr. Wardle's daughter



deeply and sincerely; that he was proud to avow that the feeling



was mutual; and that if thousands of miles were placed between



them, or oceans rolled their waters, he could never for an instant



forget those happy days, when first―et cetera, et cetera.



Having delivered himself to this effect, Mr. Snodgrass bowed



again, looked into the crown of his hat, and stepped towards the



door.



'Stop!' shouted Wardle. 'Why, in the name of all that's―'



'Inflammable,' mildly suggested Mr. Pickwick, who thought



something worse was coming.



'Well―that's inflammable,' said Wardle, adopting the



substitute; 'couldn't you say all this to me in the first instance?'



'Or confide in me?' added Mr. Pickwick.



'Dear, dear,' said Arabella, taking up the defence, 'what is the



use of asking all that now, especially when you know you had set



your covetous old heart on a richer son-in-law, and are so wild and



fierce besides, that everybody is afraid of you, except me? Shake



hands with him, and order him some dinner, for goodness



gracious' sake, for he looks half starved; and pray have your wine



up at once, for you'll not be tolerable until you have taken two



bottles at least.'



The worthy old gentleman pulled Arabella's ear, kissed her



without the smallest scruple, kissed his daughter also with great



affection, and shook Mr. Snodgrass warmly by the hand.



'She is right on one point at all events,' said the old gentleman



cheerfully. 'Ring for the wine!'



The wine came, and Perker came upstairs at the same moment.



Mr. Snodgrass had dinner at a side table, and, when he had



despatched it, drew his chair next Emily, without the smallest



opposition on the old gentleman's part.



The evening was excellent. Little Mr. Perker came out



wonderfully, told various comic stories, and sang a serious song



which was almost as funny as the anecdotes. Arabella was very



charming, Mr. Wardle very jovial, Mr. Pickwick very harmonious,



Mr. Ben Allen very uproarious, the lovers very silent, Mr. Winkle



very talkative, and all of them very happy.

关键字:匹克威克外传

生词表: