Sam struggled across the Downs against a good high wind,wondering whether it was always necessary to hold your hat onwith both hands in that part of the country, and came to a shadyby-place, about which were sprinkled several little villas of quietand secluded appearance. Outside a stable door at the bottom ofa long back lane without a thoroughfare, a groom in undress wasidling about, apparently persuading himself that he was doingsomething with a spade and a wheel-barrow. We may remark, inthis place, that we have scarcely ever seen a groom near a stable,in his lazy moments, who has not been, to a greater or less extent,the victim of this singular delusion.

Sam thought he might as well talk to this groom as to any oneelse, especially as he was very tired with walking, and there was agood large stone just opposite the wheel-barrow; so he strolleddown the lane, and, seating himself on the stone, opened aconversation with the ease and freedom for which he was remarkable.

'Mornin', old friend,' said Sam.

'Arternoon, you mean,' replied the groom, casting a surly lookat Sam.

'You're wery right, old friend,' said Sam; 'I DO mean arternoon.How are you?'

'Why, I don't find myself much the better for seeing of you,'replied the ill-tempered groom.

'That's wery odd--that is,' said Sam, 'for you look so uncommoncheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it does vun'sheart good to see you.'

The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficientlyso to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately inquired,with a countenance of great anxiety, whether his master's namewas not Walker.

'No, it ain't,' said the groom.

'Nor Brown, I s'pose?' said Sam.

'No, it ain't.'

'Nor Vilson?'

'No; nor that @ither,' said the groom.

'Vell,' replied Sam, 'then I'm mistaken, and he hasn't got thehonour o' my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don't waithere out o' compliment to me,' said Sam, as the groom wheeledin the barrow, and prepared to shut the gate. 'Ease aforeceremony, old boy; I'll excuse you.'

'I'd knock your head off for half-a-crown,' said the surlygroom, bolting one half of the gate.

'Couldn't afford to have it done on those terms,' rejoined Sam.'It 'ud be worth a life's board wages at least, to you, and 'ud becheap at that. Make my compliments indoors. Tell 'em not tovait dinner for me, and say they needn't mind puttin' any by, forit'll be cold afore I come in.'

In reply to this, the groom waxing very wroth, muttered adesire to damage somebody's person; but disappeared withoutcarrying it into execution, slamming the door angrily after him,and wholly unheeding Sam's affectionate request, that he wouldleave him a lock of his hair before he went.

Sam continued to sit on the large stone, meditating upon whatwas best to be done, and revolving in his mind a plan for knockingat all the doors within five miles of Bristol, taking them at ahundred and fifty or two hundred a day, and endeavouring tofind Miss Arabella by that expedient, when accident all of asudden threw in his way what he might have sat there for atwelvemonth and yet not found without it.

Into the lane where he sat, there opened three or four gardengates, belonging to as many houses, which though detached fromeach other, were only separated by their gardens. As these werelarge and long, and well planted with trees, the houses were notonly at some distance off, but the greater part of them werenearly concealed from view. Sam was sitting with his eyes fixedupon the dust-heap outside the next gate to that by which thegroom had disappeared, profoundly turning over in his mind thedifficulties of his present undertaking, when the gate opened, anda female servant came out into the lane to shake some bedside carpets.

Sam was so very busy with his own thoughts, that it is probablehe would have taken no more notice of the young woman thanjust raising his head and remarking that she had a very neat andpretty figure, if his feelings of gallantry had not been moststrongly roused by observing that she had no one to help her, andthat the carpets seemed too heavy for her single strength. Mr.Weller was a gentleman of great gallantry in his own way, and heno sooner remarked this circumstance than he hastily rose fromthe large stone, and advanced towards her.

'My dear,' said Sam, sliding up with an air of great respect,'you'll spile that wery pretty figure out o' all perportion if youshake them carpets by yourself. Let me help you.'

The young lady, who had been coyly affecting not to knowthat a gentleman was so near, turned round as Sam spoke--nodoubt (indeed she said so, afterwards) to decline this offer from aperfect stranger--when instead of speaking, she started back, anduttered a half-suppressed scream. Sam was scarcely less staggered,for in the countenance of the well-shaped female servant, hebeheld the very features of his valentine, the pretty housemaidfrom Mr. Nupkins's.

'Wy, Mary, my dear!' said Sam.

'Lauk, Mr. Weller,' said Mary, 'how you do frighten one!'

Sam made no verbal answer to this complaint, nor can weprecisely say what reply he did make. We merely know that aftera short pause Mary said, 'Lor, do adun, Mr. Weller!' and that hishat had fallen off a few moments before--from both of whichtokens we should be disposed to infer that one kiss, or more, hadpassed between the parties.

'Why, how did you come here?' said Mary, when the conversationto which this interruption had been offered, wasresumed.

'O' course I came to look arter you, my darlin',' replied Mr.Weller; for once permitting his passion to get the better ofhis veracity.

'And how did you know I was here?' inquired Mary. 'Whocould have told you that I took another service at Ipswich, andthat they afterwards moved all the way here? Who COULD havetold you that, Mr. Weller?'

'Ah, to be sure,' said Sam, with a cunning look, 'that's thepint. Who could ha' told me?'

'It wasn't Mr. Muzzle, was it?' inquired Mary.

'Oh, no.' replied Sam, with a solemn shake of the head, 'itwarn't him.'

'It must have been the cook,' said Mary.

'O' course it must,' said Sam.

'Well, I never heard the like of that!' exclaimed Mary.

'No more did I,' said Sam. 'But Mary, my dear'--here Sam'smanner grew extremely affectionate--'Mary, my dear, I've gotanother affair in hand as is wery pressin'. There's one o' mygovernor's friends--Mr. Winkle, you remember him?'

'Him in the green coat?' said Mary. 'Oh, yes, I remember him.'

'Well,' said Sam, 'he's in a horrid state o' love; reg'larlycomfoozled, and done over vith it.'

'Lor!' interposed Mary.

'Yes,' said Sam; 'but that's nothin' if we could find out theyoung 'ooman;' and here Sam, with many digressions upon thepersonal beauty of Mary, and the unspeakable tortures he hadexperienced since he last saw her, gave a faithful account ofMr. Winkle's present predicament.

'Well,' said Mary, 'I never did!'

'O' course not,' said Sam, 'and nobody never did, nor nevervill neither; and here am I a-walkin' about like the wanderingJew--a sportin' character you have perhaps heerd on Mary, mydear, as vos alvays doin' a match agin' time, and never vent tosleep--looking arter this here Miss Arabella Allen.'

'Miss who?' said Mary, in great astonishment.

'Miss Arabella Allen,' said Sam.

'Goodness gracious!' said Mary, pointing to the garden doorwhich the sulky groom had locked after him. 'Why, it's that veryhouse; she's been living there these six weeks. Their upper house-maid, which is lady's-maid too, told me all about it over thewash-house palin's before the family was out of bed, one mornin'.'

'Wot, the wery next door to you?' said Sam.

'The very next,' replied Mary.

Mr. Weller was so deeply overcome on receiving this intelligencethat he found it absolutely necessary to cling to his fairinformant for support; and divers little love passages had passedbetween them, before he was sufficiently collected to return tothe subject.

'Vell,' said Sam at length, 'if this don't beat cock-fightin'nothin' never vill, as the lord mayor said, ven the chief secretaryo' state proposed his missis's health arter dinner. That wery nexthouse! Wy, I've got a message to her as I've been a-trying all dayto deliver.'

'Ah,' said Mary, 'but you can't deliver it now, because she onlywalks in the garden in the evening, and then only for a very littletime; she never goes out, without the old lady.'

Sam ruminated for a few moments, and finally hit upon thefollowing plan of operations; that he should return just at dusk--the time at which Arabella invariably took her walk--and,being admitted by Mary into the garden of the house to which shebelonged, would contrive to scramble up the wall, beneath theoverhanging boughs of a large pear-tree, which would effectuallyscreen him from observation; would there deliver his message,and arrange, if possible, an interview on behalf of Mr. Winkle forthe ensuing evening at the same hour. Having made this arrangementwith great despatch, he assisted Mary in the long-deferredoccupation of shaking the carpets.

It is not half as innocent a thing as it looks, that shaking littlepieces of carpet--at least, there may be no great harm in theshaking, but the folding is a very insidious process. So long as theshaking lasts, and the two parties are kept the carpet's lengthapart, it is as innocent an amusement as can well be devised;but when the folding begins, and the distance between them getsgradually lessened from one half its former length to a quarter,and then to an eighth, and then to a sixteenth, and then to athirty-second, if the carpet be long enough, it becomes dangerous.We do not know, to a nicety, how many pieces of carpet werefolded in this instance, but we can venture to state that as manypieces as there were, so many times did Sam kiss the pretty housemaid.

Mr. Weller regaled himself with moderation at the nearesttavern until it was nearly dusk, and then returned to the lanewithout the thoroughfare. Having been admitted into thegarden by Mary, and having received from that lady sundryadmonitions concerning the safety of his limbs and neck, Sammounted into the pear-tree, to wait until Arabella should comeinto sight.

He waited so long without this anxiously-expected eventoccurring, that he began to think it was not going to take placeat all, when he heard light footsteps upon the gravel, andimmediately afterwards beheld Arabella walking pensively downthe garden. As soon as she came nearly below the tree, Sambegan, by way of gently indicating his presence, to make sundrydiabolical noises similar to those which would probably benatural to a person of middle age who had been afflicted with acombination of inflammatory sore throat, croup, and whooping-cough, from his earliest infancy.

Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards thespot whence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previousalarm being not at all diminished when she saw a man among thebranches, she would most certainly have decamped, and alarmedthe house, had not fear fortunately deprived her of the power ofmoving, and caused her to sink down on a garden seat, whichhappened by good luck to be near at hand.

'She's a-goin' off,' soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. 'Wota thing it is, as these here young creeturs will go a-faintin' avayjust ven they oughtn't to. Here, young 'ooman, Miss Sawbones,Mrs. Vinkle, don't!'

Whether it was the magic of Mr. Winkle's name, or the coolnessof the open air, or some recollection of Mr. Weller's voice,that revived Arabella, matters not. She raised her head andlanguidly inquired, 'Who's that, and what do you want?'

'Hush,' said Sam, swinging himself on to the wall, and crouchingthere in as small a compass as he could reduce himself to,'only me, miss, only me.'

'Mr. Pickwick's servant!' said Arabella earnestly.

'The wery same, miss,' replied Sam. 'Here's Mr. Vinklereg'larly sewed up vith desperation, miss.'

'Ah!' said Arabella, drawing nearer the wall.

'Ah, indeed,' said Sam. 'Ve thought ve should ha' beenobliged to strait-veskit him last night; he's been a-ravin' all day;and he says if he can't see you afore to-morrow night's over, hevishes he may be somethin' unpleasanted if he don't drownd hisself.'

'Oh, no, no, Mr. Weller!' said Arabella, clasping her hands.

'That's wot he says, miss,' replied Sam coolly. 'He's a man ofhis word, and it's my opinion he'll do it, miss. He's heerd allabout you from the sawbones in barnacles.'

'From my brother!' said Arabella, having some faint recognitionof Sam's description.

'I don't rightly know which is your brother, miss,' replied Sam.'Is it the dirtiest vun o' the two?'

'Yes, yes, Mr. Weller,' returned Arabella, 'go on. Make haste, pray.'

'Well, miss,' said Sam, 'he's heerd all about it from him; andit's the gov'nor's opinion that if you don't see him wery quick,the sawbones as we've been a-speakin' on, 'ull get as much extralead in his head as'll rayther damage the dewelopment o' theorgins if they ever put it in spirits artervards.'

'Oh, what can I do to prevent these dreadful quarrels!'exclaimed Arabella.

'It's the suspicion of a priory 'tachment as is the cause of it all,'replied Sam. 'You'd better see him, miss.'

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 229408 times

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