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Mr. Pickwick was sitting alone, musing over many things, and thinkingamong other considerations how he could best provide for the youngcouple whose present unsettled condition was matter of constant regretand anxiety to him, when Mary stepped lightly into the room, and,advancing to the table, said, rather hastily--

'Oh, if you please, Sir, Samuel is downstairs, and he says may hisfather see you?'

'Surely,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'Thank you, Sir,' said Mary, tripping towards the door again.

'Sam has not been here long, has he?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Oh, no, Sir,' replied Mary eagerly. 'He has only just come home. He isnot going to ask you for any more leave, Sir, he says.'

Mary might have been conscious that she had communicated this lastintelligence with more warmth than seemed actually necessary, or shemight have observed the good-humoured smile with which Mr. Pickwickregarded her, when she had finished speaking. She certainly held downher head, and examined the corner of a very smart little apron, withmore closeness than there appeared any absolute occasion for.

'Tell them they can come up at once, by all means,' said Mr. Pickwick.

Mary, apparently much relieved, hurried away with her message.

Mr. Pickwick took two or three turns up and down the room; and, rubbinghis chin with his left hand as he did so, appeared lost in thought.

'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, at length in a kind but somewhatmelancholy tone, 'it is the best way in which I could reward him for hisattachment and fidelity; let it be so, in Heaven's name. It is the fateof a lonely old man, that those about him should form new and differentattachments and leave him. I have no right to expect that it shouldbe otherwise with me. No, no,' added Mr. Pickwick more cheerfully,'it would be selfish and ungrateful. I ought to be happy to have anopportunity of providing for him so well. I am. Of course I am.'

Mr. Pickwick had been so absorbed in these reflections, that a knock atthe door was three or four times repeated before he heard it. Hastilyseating himself, and calling up his accustomed pleasant looks, he gavethe required permission, and Sam Weller entered, followed by his father.

'Glad to see you back again, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'How do you do,Mr. Weller?'

'Wery hearty, thank'ee, sir,' replied the widower; 'hope I see you well,sir.'

'Quite, I thank you,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'I wanted to have a little bit o' conwersation with you, sir,' said Mr.Weller, 'if you could spare me five minits or so, sir.'

'Certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'Sam, give your father a chair.'

'Thank'ee, Samivel, I've got a cheer here,' said Mr. Weller, bringingone forward as he spoke; 'uncommon fine day it's been, sir,' added theold gentleman, laying his hat on the floor as he sat himself down.

'Remarkably so, indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'Very seasonable.'

'Seasonablest veather I ever see, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller. Here, theold gentleman was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which, beingterminated, he nodded his head and winked and made several supplicatoryand threatening gestures to his son, all of which Sam Weller steadilyabstained from seeing.

Mr. Pickwick, perceiving that there was some embarrassment on the oldgentleman's part, affected to be engaged in cutting the leaves of a bookthat lay beside him, and waited patiently until Mr. Weller should arriveat the object of his visit.

'I never see sich a aggrawatin' boy as you are, Samivel,' said Mr.Weller, looking indignantly at his son; 'never in all my born days.'

'What is he doing, Mr. Weller?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'He von't begin, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller; 'he knows I ain't ekal toex-pressin' myself ven there's anythin' partickler to be done, and yethe'll stand and see me a-settin' here taking up your walable time, andmakin' a reg'lar spectacle o' myself, rayther than help me out vith asyllable. It ain't filial conduct, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, wiping hisforehead; 'wery far from it.'

'You said you'd speak,' replied Sam; 'how should I know you wos done upat the wery beginnin'?'

'You might ha' seen I warn't able to start,' rejoined his father; 'I'mon the wrong side of the road, and backin' into the palin's, and allmanner of unpleasantness, and yet you von't put out a hand to help me.I'm ashamed on you, Samivel.'

'The fact is, Sir,' said Sam, with a slight bow, 'the gov'nor's beena-drawin' his money.'

'Wery good, Samivel, wery good,' said Mr. Weller, nodding his head witha satisfied air, 'I didn't mean to speak harsh to you, Sammy. Wery good.That's the vay to begin. Come to the pint at once. Wery good indeed,Samivel.'

Mr. Weller nodded his head an extraordinary number of times, in theexcess of his gratification, and waited in a listening attitude for Samto resume his statement.

'You may sit down, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, apprehending that theinterview was likely to prove rather longer than he had expected.

Sam bowed again and sat down; his father looking round, he continued--

'The gov'nor, sir, has drawn out five hundred and thirty pound.'

'Reduced counsels,' interposed Mr. Weller, senior, in an undertone.

'It don't much matter vether it's reduced counsels, or wot not,' saidSam; 'five hundred and thirty pounds is the sum, ain't it?'

'All right, Samivel,' replied Mr. Weller.

'To vich sum, he has added for the house and bisness--'

'Lease, good-vill, stock, and fixters,' interposed Mr. Weller.

'As much as makes it,' continued Sam, 'altogether, eleven hundred andeighty pound.'

'Indeed!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I am delighted to hear it. I congratulateyou, Mr. Weller, on having done so well.'

'Vait a minit, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, raising his hand in a deprecatorymanner. 'Get on, Samivel.'

'This here money,' said Sam, with a little hesitation, 'he's anxious toput someveres, vere he knows it'll be safe, and I'm wery anxious too,for if he keeps it, he'll go a-lendin' it to somebody, or inwestin'property in horses, or droppin' his pocket-book down an airy, or makin'a Egyptian mummy of his-self in some vay or another.'

'Wery good, Samivel,' observed Mr. Weller, in as complacent a manneras if Sam had been passing the highest eulogiums on his prudence andforesight. 'Wery good.'

'For vich reasons,' continued Sam, plucking nervously at the brim of hishat--'for vich reasons, he's drawn it out to-day, and come here vith meto say, leastvays to offer, or in other vords--'

'To say this here,' said the elder Mr. Weller impatiently, 'that itain't o' no use to me. I'm a-goin' to vork a coach reg'lar, and ha'n'tgot noveres to keep it in, unless I vos to pay the guard for takin'care on it, or to put it in vun o' the coach pockets, vich 'ud be atemptation to the insides. If you'll take care on it for me, sir, Ishall be wery much obliged to you. P'raps,' said Mr. Weller, walking upto Mr. Pickwick and whispering in his ear--'p'raps it'll go a littlevay towards the expenses o' that 'ere conwiction. All I say is, justyou keep it till I ask you for it again.' With these words, Mr. Wellerplaced the pocket-book in Mr. Pickwick's hands, caught up his hat, andran out of the room with a celerity scarcely to be expected from socorpulent a subject.

'Stop him, Sam!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick earnestly. 'Overtake him; bringhim back instantly! Mr. Weller--here--come back!'

Sam saw that his master's injunctions were not to be disobeyed; and,catching his father by the arm as he was descending the stairs, draggedhim back by main force.

'My good friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, taking the old man by the hand,'your honest confidence overpowers me.'

'I don't see no occasion for nothin' o' the kind, Sir,' replied Mr.Weller obstinately.

'I assure you, my good friend, I have more money than I can everneed; far more than a man at my age can ever live to spend,' said Mr.Pickwick.

'No man knows how much he can spend, till he tries,' observed Mr.Weller.

'Perhaps not,' replied Mr. Pickwick; 'but as I have no intention oftrying any such experiments, I am not likely to come to want. I must begyou to take this back, Mr. Weller.' 'Wery well,' said Mr. Weller, witha discontented look. 'Mark my vords, Sammy, I'll do somethin' desperatevith this here property; somethin' desperate!'

'You'd better not,' replied Sam.

Mr. Weller reflected for a short time, and then, buttoning up his coatwith great determination, said--

'I'll keep a pike.'

'Wot!' exclaimed Sam.

'A pike!' rejoined Mr. Weller, through his set teeth; 'I'll keep a pike.Say good-bye to your father, Samivel. I dewote the remainder of my daysto a pike.'

This threat was such an awful one, and Mr. Weller, besides appearingfully resolved to carry it into execution, seemed so deeply mortified byMr. Pickwick's refusal, that that gentleman, after a short reflection,said--

'Well, well, Mr. Weller, I will keep your money. I can do more good withit, perhaps, than you can.'

'Just the wery thing, to be sure,' said Mr. Weller, brightening up; 'o'course you can, sir.'

'Say no more about it,' said Mr. Pickwick, locking the pocket-book inhis desk; 'I am heartily obliged to you, my good friend. Now sit downagain. I want to ask your advice.'

The internal laughter occasioned by the triumphant success of his visit,which had convulsed not only Mr. Weller's face, but his arms, legs, andbody also, during the locking up of the pocket-book, suddenly gave placeto the most dignified gravity as he heard these words.

'Wait outside a few minutes, Sam, will you?' said Mr. Pickwick.

Sam immediately withdrew.

Mr. Weller looked uncommonly wise and very much amazed, when Mr.Pickwick opened the discourse by saying--

'You are not an advocate for matrimony, I think, Mr. Weller?'

Mr. Weller shook his head. He was wholly unable to speak; vague thoughtsof some wicked widow having been successful in her designs on Mr.Pickwick, choked his utterance.

'Did you happen to see a young girl downstairs when you came in just nowwith your son?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Yes. I see a young gal,' replied Mr. Weller shortly.

'What did you think of her, now? Candidly, Mr. Weller, what did youthink of her?'

'I thought she wos wery plump, and vell made,' said Mr. Weller, with acritical air.

'So she is,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'so she is. What did you think of hermanners, from what you saw of her?'

'Wery pleasant,' rejoined Mr. Weller. 'Wery pleasant and comformable.'

The precise meaning which Mr. Weller attached to this last-mentionedadjective, did not appear; but, as it was evident from the tone in whichhe used it that it was a favourable expression, Mr. Pickwick was as wellsatisfied as if he had been thoroughly enlightened on the subject.

'I take a great interest in her, Mr. Weller,' said Mr. Pickwick.

Mr. Weller coughed.

'I mean an interest in her doing well,' resumed Mr. Pickwick; 'a desirethat she may be comfortable and prosperous. You understand?'

'Wery clearly,' replied Mr. Weller, who understood nothing yet.

'That young person,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'is attached to your son.'

'To Samivel Veller!' exclaimed the parent.

'Yes,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'It's nat'ral,' said Mr. Weller, after some consideration, 'nat'ral, butrayther alarmin'. Sammy must be careful.'

'How do you mean?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Wery careful that he don't say nothin' to her,' responded Mr. Weller.'Wery careful that he ain't led avay, in a innocent moment, to sayanythin' as may lead to a conwiction for breach. You're never safe vith'em, Mr. Pickwick, ven they vunce has designs on you; there's no knowin'vere to have 'em; and vile you're a-considering of it, they have you. Iwos married fust, that vay myself, Sir, and Sammy wos the consekens o'the manoover.'

'You give me no great encouragement to conclude what I have to say,'observed Mr. Pickwick, 'but I had better do so at once. This youngperson is not only attached to your son, Mr. Weller, but your son isattached to her.'

'Vell,' said Mr. Weller, 'this here's a pretty sort o' thing to come toa father's ears, this is!'

'I have observed them on several occasions,' said Mr. Pickwick, makingno comment on Mr. Weller's last remark; 'and entertain no doubt at allabout it. Supposing I were desirous of establishing them comfortably asman and wife in some little business or situation, where they might hopeto obtain a decent living, what should you think of it, Mr. Weller?'

At first, Mr. Weller received with wry faces a proposition involving themarriage of anybody in whom he took an interest; but, as Mr. Pickwickargued the point with him, and laid great stress on the fact that Marywas not a widow, he gradually became more tractable. Mr. Pickwickhad great influence over him, and he had been much struck with Mary'sappearance; having, in fact, bestowed several very unfatherly winks uponher, already. At length he said that it was not for him to oppose Mr.Pickwick's inclination, and that he would be very happy to yield tohis advice; upon which, Mr. Pickwick joyfully took him at his word, andcalled Sam back into the room.

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, clearing his throat, 'your father and I havebeen having some conversation about you.'

'About you, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, in a patronising and impressivevoice.

'I am not so blind, Sam, as not to have seen, a long time since, thatyou entertain something more than a friendly feeling towards Mrs.Winkle's maid,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'You hear this, Samivel?' said Mr. Weller, in the same judicial form ofspeech as before.

'I hope, Sir,' said Sam, addressing his master, 'I hope there's noharm in a young man takin' notice of a young 'ooman as is undeniablygood-looking and well-conducted.'

'Certainly not,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Not by no means,' acquiesced Mr. Weller, affably but magisterially.

'So far from thinking there is anything wrong in conduct so natural,'resumed Mr. Pickwick, 'it is my wish to assist and promote your wishesin this respect. With this view, I have had a little conversation withyour father; and finding that he is of my opinion--'

'The lady not bein' a widder,' interposed Mr. Weller in explanation.

'The lady not being a widow,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. 'I wish tofree you from the restraint which your present position imposes uponyou, and to mark my sense of your fidelity and many excellent qualities,by enabling you to marry this girl at once, and to earn an independentlivelihood for yourself and family. I shall be proud, Sam,' said Mr.Pickwick, whose voice had faltered a little hitherto, but now resumedits customary tone, 'proud and happy to make your future prospects inlife my grateful and peculiar care.'

There was a profound silence for a short time, and then Sam said, in alow, husky sort of voice, but firmly withal--

'I'm very much obliged to you for your goodness, Sir, as is only likeyourself; but it can't be done.'

'Can't be done!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick in astonishment.

'Samivel!' said Mr. Weller, with dignity.

'I say it can't be done,' repeated Sam in a louder key. 'Wot's to becomeof you, Sir?'

'My good fellow,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'the recent changes among myfriends will alter my mode of life in future, entirely; besides, I amgrowing older, and want repose and quiet. My rambles, Sam, are over.'

'How do I know that 'ere, sir?' argued Sam. 'You think so now! S'poseyou wos to change your mind, vich is not unlikely, for you've the spirito' five-and-twenty in you still, what 'ud become on you vithout me? Itcan't be done, Sir, it can't be done.'

'Wery good, Samivel, there's a good deal in that,' said Mr. Wellerencouragingly.

'I speak after long deliberation, Sam, and with the certainty that Ishall keep my word,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head. 'New sceneshave closed upon me; my rambles are at an end.'

'Wery good,' rejoined Sam. 'Then, that's the wery best reason wy youshould alvays have somebody by you as understands you, to keep you upand make you comfortable. If you vant a more polished sort o' feller,vell and good, have him; but vages or no vages, notice or no notice,board or no board, lodgin' or no lodgin', Sam Veller, as you tookfrom the old inn in the Borough, sticks by you, come what may; and letev'rythin' and ev'rybody do their wery fiercest, nothin' shall everperwent it!'

At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with great emotion, theelder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and, forgetting all considerationsof time, place, or propriety, waved his hat above his head, and gavethree vehement cheers.

'My good fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller had sat down again,rather abashed at his own enthusiasm, 'you are bound to consider theyoung woman also.'

'I do consider the young 'ooman, Sir,' said Sam. 'I have considered theyoung 'ooman. I've spoke to her. I've told her how I'm sitivated; she'sready to vait till I'm ready, and I believe she vill. If she don't,she's not the young 'ooman I take her for, and I give her up vithreadiness. You've know'd me afore, Sir. My mind's made up, and nothin'can ever alter it.'

Who could combat this resolution? Not Mr. Pickwick. He derived, atthat moment, more pride and luxury of feeling from the disinterestedattachment of his humble friends, than ten thousand protestations fromthe greatest men living could have awakened in his heart.

While this conversation was passing in Mr. Pickwick's room, a littleold gentleman in a suit of snuff-coloured clothes, followed by a portercarrying a small portmanteau, presented himself below; and, aftersecuring a bed for the night, inquired of the waiter whether oneMrs. Winkle was staying there, to which question the waiter of courseresponded in the affirmative.

'Is she alone?' inquired the old gentleman.

'I believe she is, Sir,' replied the waiter; 'I can call her own maid,Sir, if you--'

'No, I don't want her,' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Show me to herroom without announcing me.'

'Eh, Sir?' said the waiter.

'Are you deaf?' inquired the little old gentleman.

'No, sir.'

'Then listen, if you please. Can you hear me now?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'That's well. Show me to Mrs. Winkle's room, without announcing me.'

As the little old gentleman uttered this command, he slipped fiveshillings into the waiter's hand, and looked steadily at him.

'Really, sir,' said the waiter, 'I don't know, sir, whether--'

'Ah! you'll do it, I see,' said the little old gentleman. 'You hadbetter do it at once. It will save time.'

There was something so very cool and collected in the gentleman'smanner, that the waiter put the five shillings in his pocket, and ledhim upstairs without another word.

'This is the room, is it?' said the gentleman. 'You may go.' The waitercomplied, wondering much who the gentleman could be, and what he wanted;the little old gentleman, waiting till he was out of sight, tapped atthe door.

'Come in,' said Arabella.

'Um, a pretty voice, at any rate,' murmured the little old gentleman;'but that's nothing.' As he said this, he opened the door and walkedin. Arabella, who was sitting at work, rose on beholding a stranger--alittle confused--but by no means ungracefully so.

'Pray don't rise, ma'am,' said the unknown, walking in, and closing thedoor after him. 'Mrs. Winkle, I believe?'

Arabella inclined her head.

'Mrs. Nathaniel Winkle, who married the son of the old man atBirmingham?' said the stranger, eyeing Arabella with visible curiosity.

Again Arabella inclined her head, and looked uneasily round, as ifuncertain whether to call for assistance.

'I surprise you, I see, ma'am,' said the old gentleman.

'Rather, I confess,' replied Arabella, wondering more and more.

'I'll take a chair, if you'll allow me, ma'am,' said the stranger.

He took one; and drawing a spectacle-case from his pocket, leisurelypulled out a pair of spectacles, which he adjusted on his nose.

'You don't know me, ma'am?' he said, looking so intently at Arabellathat she began to feel alarmed.

'No, sir,' she replied timidly.

'No,' said the gentleman, nursing his left leg; 'I don't know how youshould. You know my name, though, ma'am.'

'Do I?' said Arabella, trembling, though she scarcely knew why. 'May Iask what it is?'

'Presently, ma'am, presently,' said the stranger, not having yet removedhis eyes from her countenance. 'You have been recently married, ma'am?'

'I have,' replied Arabella, in a scarcely audible tone, laying aside herwork, and becoming greatly agitated as a thought, that had occurred toher before, struck more forcibly upon her mind.

'Without having represented to your husband the propriety of firstconsulting his father, on whom he is dependent, I think?' said thestranger.

Arabella applied her handkerchief to her eyes.

'Without an endeavour, even, to ascertain, by some indirect appeal, whatwere the old man's sentiments on a point in which he would naturallyfeel much interested?' said the stranger.

'I cannot deny it, Sir,' said Arabella.

'And without having sufficient property of your own to afford yourhusband any permanent assistance in exchange for the worldly advantageswhich you knew he would have gained if he had married agreeably to hisfather's wishes?' said the old gentleman. 'This is what boys and girlscall disinterested affection, till they have boys and girls of theirown, and then they see it in a rougher and very different light!'

Arabella's tears flowed fast, as she pleaded in extenuation that she wasyoung and inexperienced; that her attachment had alone induced her totake the step to which she had resorted; and that she had been deprivedof the counsel and guidance of her parents almost from infancy.

'It was wrong,' said the old gentleman in a milder tone, 'very wrong. Itwas romantic, unbusinesslike, foolish.'

'It was my fault; all my fault, Sir,' replied poor Arabella, weeping.

'Nonsense,' said the old gentleman; 'it was not your fault that hefell in love with you, I suppose? Yes it was, though,' said the oldgentleman, looking rather slily at Arabella. 'It was your fault. Hecouldn't help it.'

This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way of payingit, or his altered manner--so much kinder than it was, at first--or allthree together, forced a smile from Arabella in the midst of her tears.

'Where's your husband?' inquired the old gentleman, abruptly; stopping asmile which was just coming over his own face.

'I expect him every instant, sir,' said Arabella. 'I persuaded him totake a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at not havingheard from his father.'

'Low, is he?' said the old gentlemen. 'Serve him right!'

'He feels it on my account, I am afraid,' said Arabella; 'and indeed,Sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of bringing himto his present condition.'

'Don't mind it on his account, my dear,' said the old gentleman. 'Itserves him right. I am glad of it--actually glad of it, as far as he isconcerned.'

The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips, when footstepswere heard ascending the stairs, which he and Arabella seemed both torecognise at the same moment. The little gentleman turned pale; and,making a strong effort to appear composed, stood up, as Mr. Winkleentered the room.

'Father!' cried Mr. Winkle, recoiling in amazement.

'Yes, sir,' replied the little old gentleman. 'Well, Sir, what have yougot to say to me?'

Mr. Winkle remained silent.

'You are ashamed of yourself, I hope, Sir?' said the old gentleman.

Still Mr. Winkle said nothing.

'Are you ashamed of yourself, Sir, or are you not?' inquired the oldgentleman.

'No, Sir,' replied Mr. Winkle, drawing Arabella's arm through his. 'I amnot ashamed of myself, or of my wife either.'

'Upon my word!' cried the old gentleman ironically.

'I am very sorry to have done anything which has lessened your affectionfor me, Sir,' said Mr. Winkle; 'but I will say, at the same time, that Ihave no reason to be ashamed of having this lady for my wife, nor you ofhaving her for a daughter.'

'Give me your hand, Nat,' said the old gentleman, in an altered voice.'Kiss me, my love. You are a very charming little daughter-in-law afterall!'

In a few minutes' time Mr. Winkle went in search of Mr. Pickwick, andreturning with that gentleman, presented him to his father, whereuponthey shook hands for five minutes incessantly.

'Mr. Pickwick, I thank you most heartily for all your kindness to myson,' said old Mr. Winkle, in a bluff, straightforward way. 'I ama hasty fellow, and when I saw you last, I was vexed and taken bysurprise. I have judged for myself now, and am more than satisfied.Shall I make any more apologies, Mr. Pickwick?'

'Not one,' replied that gentleman. 'You have done the only thing wantingto complete my happiness.'

Hereupon there was another shaking of hands for five minutes longer,accompanied by a great number of complimentary speeches, which, besidesbeing complimentary, had the additional and very novel recommendation ofbeing sincere.

Sam had dutifully seen his father to the Belle Sauvage, when, onreturning, he encountered the fat boy in the court, who had been chargedwith the delivery of a note from Emily Wardle.

'I say,' said Joe, who was unusually loquacious, 'what a pretty girlMary is, isn't she? I am SO fond of her, I am!'

Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply; but eyeing the fat boy fora moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led him by the collarto the corner, and dismissed him with a harmless but ceremonious kick.After which, he walked home, whistling.