Martin Chuzzlewit - The Original Classic Edition. Dickens Charles

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СКАЧАТЬ about to partake of that simple refreshment with his children, when he knocked at the door.

       'Your daughters are well?' said old Martin, laying down his hat and stick.

       Mr Pecksniff endeavoured to conceal his agitation as a father when he answered Yes, they were. They were good girls, he said, very good. He would not venture to recommend Mr Chuzzlewit to take the easy-chair, or to keep out of the draught from the door. If he made any such suggestion, he would expose himself, he feared, to most unjust suspicion. He would, therefore, content himself with remarking that there was an easy-chair in the room, and that the door was far from being air-tight. This latter imperfection, he might perhaps venture to add, was not uncommonly to be met with in old houses.

       The old man sat down in the easy-chair, and after a few moments' silence, said:

       'In the first place, let me thank you for coming to London so promptly, at my almost unexplained request; I need scarcely add, at my

       cost.'

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       'At YOUR cost, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, in a tone of great surprise.

       'It is not,' said Martin, waving his hand impatiently, 'my habit to put my--well! my relatives--to any personal expense to gratify my caprices.'

       'Caprices, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff

       'That is scarcely the proper word either, in this instance,' said the old man. 'No. You are right.' Mr Pecksniff was inwardly very much relieved to hear it, though he didn't at all know why.

       'You are right,' repeated Martin. 'It is not a caprice. It is built up on reason, proof, and cool comparison. Caprices never are. Moreover, I am not a capricious man. I never was.'

       'Most assuredly not,' said Mr Pecksniff.

       'How do you know?' returned the other quickly. 'You are to begin to know it now. You are to test and prove it, in time to come. You

       and yours are to find that I can be constant, and am not to be diverted from my end. Do you hear?'

       'Perfectly,' said Mr Pecksniff.

       'I very much regret,' Martin resumed, looking steadily at him, and speaking in a slow and measured tone; 'I very much regret that you and I held such a conversation together, as that which passed between us at our last meeting. I very much regret that I laid open to you what were then my thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The intentions that I bear towards you now are of another kind; deserted by all in whom I have ever trusted; hoodwinked and beset by all who should help and sustain me; I fly to you for refuge. I confide

       in you to be my ally; to attach yourself to me by ties of Interest and Expectation'--he laid great stress upon these words, though Mr Pecksniff particularly begged him not to mention it; 'and to help me to visit the consequences of the very worst species of meanness, dissimulation, and subtlety, on the right heads.'

       'My noble sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, catching at his outstretched hand. 'And YOU regret the having harboured unjust thoughts of me! YOU with those grey hairs!'

       'Regrets,' said Martin, 'are the natural property of grey hairs; and I enjoy, in common with all other men, at least my share of such inheritance. And so enough of that. I regret having been severed from you so long. If I had known you sooner, and sooner used you as you well deserve, I might have been a happier man.'

       Mr Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and clasped his hands in rapture.

       'Your daughters,' said Martin, after a short silence. 'I don't know them. Are they like you?'

       'In the nose of my eldest and the chin of my youngest, Mr Chuzzlewit,' returned the widower, 'their sainted parent (not myself, their mother) lives again.'

       'I don't mean in person,' said the old man. 'Morally, morally.'

       ''Tis not for me to say,' retorted Mr Pecksniff with a gentle smile. 'I have done my best, sir.'

       'I could wish to see them,' said Martin; 'are they near at hand?'

       They were, very near; for they had in fact been listening at the door from the beginning of this conversation until now, when they precipitately retired. Having wiped the signs of weakness from his eyes, and so given them time to get upstairs, Mr Pecksniff opened the door, and mildly cried in the passage,

       'My own darlings, where are you?'

       'Here, my dear pa!' replied the distant voice of Charity.

       'Come down into the back parlour, if you please, my love,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'and bring your sister with you.'

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       'Yes, my dear pa,' cried Merry; and down they came directly (being all obedience), singing as they came.

       Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two Miss Pecksniffs when they found a stranger with their dear papa. Nothing could surpass their mute amazement when he said, 'My children, Mr Chuzzlewit!' But when he told them that Mr Chuzzlewit and he were friends, and that Mr Chuzzlewit had said such kind and tender words as pierced his very heart, the two Miss Pecksniffs cried with one accord, 'Thank Heaven for this!' and fell upon the old man's neck. And when they had embraced him with such fervour of affection that no words can describe it, they grouped themselves about his chair, and hung over him, as figuring to themselves no earthly joy like that of ministering to his wants, and crowding into the remainder of his life, the love they would have diffused over their whole existence, from infancy, if he--dear obdurate!--had but consented to receive the precious offering.

       The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and then at Mr Pecksniff, several times.

       'What,' he asked of Mr Pecksniff, happening to catch his eye in its descent; for until now it had been piously upraised, with something of that expression which the poetry of ages has attributed to a domestic bird, when breathing its last amid the ravages of an electric storm: 'What are their names?'

       Mr Pecksniff told him, and added, rather hastily; his caluminators would have said, with a view to any testamentary thoughts that might be flitting through old Martin's mind; 'Perhaps, my dears, you had better write them down. Your humble autographs are of no value in themselves, but affection may prize them.'

       'Affection,' said the old man, 'will expend itself on the living originals. Do not trouble yourselves, my girls, I shall not so easily forget you, Charity and Mercy, as to need such tokens of remembrance. Cousin!'

       'Sir!' said Mr Pecksniff, with alacrity.

       'Do you never sit down?'

       'Why--yes--occasionally, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, who had been standing all this time.

       'Will you do so now?'

       'Can you ask me,' returned Mr Pecksniff, slipping into a chair immediately, 'whether I will do anything that you desire?'

       'You talk confidently,' said Martin, 'and you mean well; but I fear you don't know what an old man's humours are. You don't know what it is to be required to court his likings and dislikings; to adapt yourself to his prejudices; to do his bidding, be it what it may; to bear with his distrusts and jealousies; and always still be zealous in his service. When I remember how numerous these failings are in me, and judge of their occasional enormity by the injurious thoughts I lately entertained of you, I hardly dare to claim you for my friend.'

       'My worthy sir,' returned his relative, СКАЧАТЬ