Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/150

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POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

" Now, leave this house instantly I " said Wardle, starting up.

" My dear Sir," urged the little man.

me to make this compromise — not even a regard for my family — if I had not known, that the moment you got any money in that pocket of yours, you'd go to the devil faster, if possible, than you would without it — "
 * ' And mind," said Mr. Wardle, " that nothing should have induced

" My dear Sir," urged the little man again.

" Be quiet, Perker," resumed Wardle. '< Leave the room, Sir."

" Oif directly," said the unabashed Jingle. " Bye — bye — Pickwick."

If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld the countenance of the illustrious man, whose name forms the leading f€>ature of the title of this work, during the latter part of this conversation, he would have been almost induced to wonder that the indignant fire which Hashed from his eyes, did not melt the glasses of his spectacles — so majestic was his wrath. His nostrils dilated, and his fists clenched involuntarily, as ho heard himself addressed by the villain. But he restrained him- self again— he did wo# pulverise him.

<' Here," continued the hardened traitor, tossing the licence at Mr. Pickwick's feet ; " get the name altered — take home the lady— do for Tiippy."

Mr. Pickwick was a philosopher, but philosophers are only men in armour, after all. The shaft had reached him, penetrated through his philosophical harness, to his very heart. Jn the frenzy of his rage, he hurled the inkstand madly forward, and followed it up himself. But Mr. Jingle had disappeared, and he found himself caught in the arms of Sam.

'* Hallo," said that eccentric functionary, " furniter's cheap vere you come from. Self acting ink, that 'ere ; it's wrote your mark upon the wall, old gen'lm'n. Hold still, Sir : wot's the use o' runnin' arter a man as has made his lucky, and got to t' other end of the Borough by this time."

Mr. Pickwick's mind, like those of all truly great men, was open to conviction. He was a quick, and powerful reasoner ; and a moment's reflection sufficed to remind him of the impotency of his rage. It sub- sided as quickly as it had been roused. He panted for breath, and looked benignanfly round upon his friends.

Shall we tell the lamentations that ensued, when Miss Wardle found herself deserted by the faithless Jingle? Shall we extract Mr. Pick- wick's masterly description of that heart-rending scene ? His note- book, blotted with the tears of sympathising humanity, lies open before us ; one word, and it is in the printer's hands. But, no ! we will be resolute I We will not wring the public bosom, with the' delineation of such suffering !

Slowly and sadly did the two friends and the deserted lady, return next day in the Muggleton heavy coach. Dimly and darkly had the sombre shadows of a summer's night fallen upon all around, when they again reached Dingley Dell, and stood within the entrance to Manor Farm.

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