'No, no,' said Mr. Winkle, colouring beneath Mr. Pickwick'sgaze; 'there is really nothing. I assure you there is nothing, mydear sir. It will be necessary for me to leave town, for a shorttime, on private business, and I had hoped to have prevailedupon you to allow Sam to accompany me.'

Mr. Pickwick looked more astonished than before.

'I think,' faltered Mr. Winkle, 'that Sam would have had noobjection to do so; but, of course, his being a prisoner here,renders it impossible. So I must go alone.'

As Mr. Winkle said these words, Mr. Pickwick felt, with someastonishment, that Sam's fingers were trembling at the gaiters, asif he were rather surprised or startled. Sam looked up at Mr.Winkle, too, when he had finished speaking; and though theglance they exchanged was instantaneous, they seemed to understandeach other.

'Do you know anything of this, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick sharply.

'No, I don't, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, beginning to button withextraordinary assiduity.

'Are you sure, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Wy, sir,' responded Mr. Weller; 'I'm sure so far, that I'venever heerd anythin' on the subject afore this moment. If I makesany guess about it,' added Sam, looking at Mr. Winkle, 'Ihaven't got any right to say what 'It is, fear it should be awrong 'un.'

'I have no right to make any further inquiry into the privateaffairs of a friend, however intimate a friend,' said Mr. Pickwick,after a short silence; 'at present let me merely say, that I do notunderstand this at all. There. We have had quite enough of thesubject.'

Thus expressing himself, Mr. Pickwick led the conversation todifferent topics, and Mr. Winkle gradually appeared more atease, though still very far from being completely so. They had allso much to converse about, that the morning very quickly passedaway; and when, at three o'clock, Mr. Weller produced upon thelittle dining-table, a roast leg of mutton and an enormous meat-pie, with sundry dishes of vegetables, and pots of porter, whichstood upon the chairs or the sofa bedstead, or where they could,everybody felt disposed to do justice to the meal, notwithstandingthat the meat had been purchased, and dressed, and the piemade, and baked, at the prison cookery hard by.

To these succeeded a bottle or two of very good wine, forwhich a messenger was despatched by Mr. Pickwick to the HornCoffee-house, in Doctors' Commons. The bottle or two, indeed,might be more properly described as a bottle or six, for by thetime it was drunk, and tea over, the bell began to ring forstrangers to withdraw.

But, if Mr. Winkle's behaviour had been unaccountable in themorning, it became perfectly unearthly and solemn when, underthe influence of his feelings, and his share of the bottle or six,he prepared to take leave of his friend. He lingered behind, untilMr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had disappeared, and thenfervently clenched Mr. Pickwick's hand, with an expression offace in which deep and mighty resolve was fearfully blended withthe very concentrated essence of gloom.

'Good-night, my dear Sir!' said Mr. Winkle between his set teeth.

'Bless you, my dear fellow!' replied the warm-hearted Mr.Pickwick, as he returned the pressure of his young friend's hand.

'Now then!' cried Mr. Tupman from the gallery.

'Yes, yes, directly,' replied Mr. Winkle. 'Good-night!'

'Good-night,' said Mr. Pickwick.

There was another good-night, and another, and half a dozenmore after that, and still Mr. Winkle had fast hold of his friend'shand, and was looking into his face with the same strange expression.

'Is anything the matter?' said Mr. Pickwick at last, when hisarm was quite sore with shaking.'Nothing,' said Mr. Winkle.

'Well then, good-night,' said Mr. Pickwick, attempting todisengage his hand.

'My friend, my benefactor, my honoured companion,' murmuredMr. Winkle, catching at his wrist. 'Do not judge meharshly; do not, when you hear that, driven to extremity byhopeless obstacles, I--'

'Now then,' said Mr. Tupman, reappearing at the door. 'Areyou coming, or are we to be locked in?'

'Yes, yes, I am ready,' replied Mr. Winkle. And with a violenteffort he tore himself away.

As Mr. Pickwick was gazing down the passage after them insilent astonishment, Sam Weller appeared at the stair-head, andwhispered for one moment in Mr. Winkle's ear.

'Oh, certainly, depend upon me,' said that gentleman aloud.

'Thank'ee, sir. You won't forget, sir?' said Sam.'Of course not,' replied Mr. Winkle.

'Wish you luck, Sir,' said Sam, touching his hat. 'I should verymuch liked to ha' joined you, Sir; but the gov'nor, o' course,is paramount.'

'It is very much to your credit that you remain here,'said Mr. Winkle. With these words they disappeared down the stairs.

,Very extraordinary,' said Mr. Pickwick, going back into hisroom, and seating himself at the table in a musing attitude.'What can that young man be going to do?'

He had sat ruminating about the matter for some time, whenthe voice of Roker, the turnkey, demanded whether he mightcome in.

'By all means,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'I've brought you a softer pillow, Sir,' said Mr. Roker, 'insteadof the temporary one you had last night.'

'Thank you,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Will you take a glass of wine?'

'You're wery good, Sir,' replied Mr. Roker, accepting theproffered glass. 'Yours, sir.'

'Thank you,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'I'm sorry to say that your landlord's wery bad to-night, Sir,'said Roker, setting down the glass, and inspecting the lining ofhis hat preparatory to putting it on again.

'What! The Chancery prisoner!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

'He won't be a Chancery prisoner wery long, Sir,' repliedRoker, turning his hat round, so as to get the maker's nameright side upwards, as he looked into it.

'You make my blood run cold,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'What doyou mean?'

'He's been consumptive for a long time past,' said Mr. Roker,'and he's taken wery bad in the breath to-night. The doctor said,six months ago, that nothing but change of air could save him.'

'Great Heaven!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick; 'has this man beenslowly murdered by the law for six months?'

'I don't know about that,' replied Roker, weighing the hat bythe brim in both hands. 'I suppose he'd have been took the same,wherever he was. He went into the infirmary, this morning; thedoctor says his strength is to be kept up as much as possible; andthe warden's sent him wine and broth and that, from his ownhouse. It's not the warden's fault, you know, sir.'

'Of course not,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily.

'I'm afraid, however,' said Roker, shaking his head, 'that it'sall up with him. I offered Neddy two six-penn'orths to one uponit just now, but he wouldn't take it, and quite right. Thank'ee, Sir.Good-night, sir.'

'Stay,' said Mr. Pickwick earnestly. 'Where is this infirmary?'

'Just over where you slept, sir,' replied Roker. 'I'll show you, ifyou like to come.' Mr. Pickwick snatched up his hat withoutspeaking, and followed at once.

The turnkey led the way in silence; and gently raising thelatch of the room door, motioned Mr. Pickwick to enter. It wasa large, bare, desolate room, with a number of stump bedsteadsmade of iron, on one of which lay stretched the shadow of a man--wan, pale, and ghastly. His breathing was hard and thick, andhe moaned painfully as it came and went. At the bedside sat ashort old man in a cobbler's apron, who, by the aid of a pair ofhorn spectacles, was reading from the Bible aloud. It was thefortunate legatee.

The sick man laid his hand upon his attendant's arm, andmotioned him to stop. He closed the book, and laid it on the bed.

'Open the window,' said the sick man.

He did so. The noise of carriages and carts, the rattle ofwheels, the cries of men and boys, all the busy sounds of a mightymultitude instinct with life and occupation, blended into onedeep murmur, floated into the room. Above the hoarse loudhum, arose, from time to time, a boisterous laugh; or a scrap ofsome jingling song, shouted forth, by one of the giddy crowd,would strike upon the ear, for an instant, and then be lost amidstthe roar of voices and the tramp of footsteps; the breaking of thebillows of the restless sea of life, that rolled heavily on, without.These are melancholy sounds to a quiet listener at any time; buthow melancholy to the watcher by the bed of death!

'There is no air here,' said the man faintly. 'The place pollutesit. It was fresh round about, when I walked there, years ago; butit grows hot and heavy in passing these walls. I cannot breathe it.'

'We have breathed it together, for a long time,' said the oldman. 'Come, come.'

There was a short silence, during which the two spectatorsapproached the bed. The sick man drew a hand of his old fellow-prisoner towards him, and pressing it affectionately between bothhis own, retained it in his grasp.

'I hope,' he gasped after a while, so faintly that they bent theirears close over the bed to catch the half-formed sounds his palelips gave vent to--'I hope my merciful Judge will bear in mindmy heavy punishment on earth. Twenty years, my friend, twentyyears in this hideous grave! My heart broke when my child died,and I could not even kiss him in his little coffin. My lonelinesssince then, in all this noise and riot, has been very dreadful. MayGod forgive me! He has seen my solitary, lingering death.'

He folded his hands, and murmuring something more theycould not hear, fell into a sleep--only a sleep at first, for they sawhim smile.

They whispered together for a little time, and the turnkey,stooping over the pillow, drew hastily back. 'He has got hisdischarge, by G--!' said the man.

He had. But he had grown so like death in life, that they knewnot when he died.

CHAPTER XLIVDESCRIPTIVE OF AN AFFECTING INTERVIEW BETWEEN Mr.SAMUEL WELLER AND A FAMILY PARTY. Mr. PICKWICKMAKES A TOUR OF THE DIMINUTIVE WORLD HEINHABITS, AND RESOLVES TO MIX WITH IT, IN FUTURE,AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE

A few mornings after his incarceration, Mr. Samuel Weller,having arranged his master's room with all possible care, andseen him comfortably seated over his books and papers, withdrewto employ himself for an hour or two to come, as he best could.It was a fine morning, and it occurred to Sam that a pint ofporter in the open air would lighten his next quarter of an houror so, as well as any little amusement in which he could indulge.

Having arrived at this conclusion, he betook himself to thetap. Having purchased the beer, and obtained, moreover, theday-but-one-before-yesterday's paper, he repaired to the skittle-ground, and seating himself on a bench, proceeded to enjoyhimself in a very sedate and methodical manner.

First of all, he took a refreshing draught of the beer, and thenhe looked up at a window, and bestowed a platonic wink on ayoung lady who was peeling potatoes thereat. Then he openedthe paper, and folded it so as to get the police reports outwards;and this being a vexatious and difficult thing to do, when there isany wind stirring, he took another draught of the beer when hehad accomplished it. Then, he read two lines of the paper, andstopped short to look at a couple of men who were finishing agame at rackets, which, being concluded, he cried out 'werygood,' in an approving manner, and looked round upon thespectators, to ascertain whether their sentiments coincided withhis own. This involved the necessity of looking up at the windowsalso; and as the young lady was still there, it was an act ofcommon politeness to wink again, and to drink to her goodhealth in dumb show, in another draught of the beer, which Samdid; and having frowned hideously upon a small boy who hadnoted this latter proceeding with open eyes, he threw one leg overthe other, and, holding the newspaper in both hands, began toread in real earnest.

He had hardly composed himself into the needful state ofabstraction, when he thought he heard his own name proclaimedin some distant passage. Nor was he mistaken, for it quicklypassed from mouth to mouth, and in a few seconds the airteemed with shouts of 'Weller!''Here!' roared Sam, in a stentorian voice. 'Wot's the matter?Who wants him? Has an express come to say that his countryhouse is afire?'

'Somebody wants you in the hall,' said a man who was standing by.

'Just mind that 'ere paper and the pot, old feller, will you?'said Sam. 'I'm a-comin'. Blessed, if they was a-callin' me to thebar, they couldn't make more noise about it!'

Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the younggentleman before noticed, who, unconscious of his close vicinity tothe person in request, was screaming 'Weller!' with all his might,Sam hastened across the ground, and ran up the steps into the hall.Here, the first object that met his eyes was his beloved father sittingon a bottom stair, with his hat in his hand, shouting out 'Weller!' inhis very loudest tone, at half-minute intervals.

'Wot are you a-roarin' at?' said Sam impetuously, when the oldgentleman had discharged himself of another shout; 'makingyourself so precious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. Wot's the matter?'

'Aha!' replied the old gentleman, 'I began to be afeerd thatyou'd gone for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy.'

'Come,' said Sam, 'none o' them taunts agin the wictim o'avarice, and come off that 'ere step. Wot arc you a-settin' downthere for? I don't live there.'

'I've got such a game for you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr.Weller, rising.

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 230347 times

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