第280章

Such was the account; rapidly furnished in whispers, and interrupted, brief as it was, by many false alarms of Mr. Pecksniff's return; which Martin received of his grandfather's decline, and of that good gentleman's ascendancy. He heard of Tom Pinch too, and Jonas too, with not a little about himself into the bargain; for though lovers are remarkable for leaving a great deal unsaid on all occasions, and very properly desiring to come back and say it, they are remarkable also for a wonderful power of condensation, and can, in one way or other, give utterance to more language--eloquent language--in any given short space of time, than all the six hundred and fifty-eight members in the Commons House of Parliament of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland; who are strong lovers no doubt, but of their country only, which makes all the difference; for in a passion of that kind (which is not always returned), it is the custom to use as many words as possible, and express nothing whatever.

A caution from Mr. Tapley; a hasty interchange of farewells, and of something else which the proverb says must not be told of afterwards; a white hand held out to Mr. Tapley himself, which he kissed with the devotion of a knight-errant; more farewells, more something else's; a parting word from Martin that he would write from London and would do great things there yet (Heaven knows what, but he quite believed it); and Mark and he stood on the outside of the Pecksniffian halls.

`A short interview after such an absence!' said Martin, sorrowfully.

`But we are well out of the house. We might have placed ourselves in a false position by remaining there, even so long, Mark.'

`I don't know about ourselves, sir,' he returned; `but somebody else would have got into a false position, if he had happened to come back again, while we was there. I had the door all ready, sir. If Pecksniff had showed his head, or had only so much as listened behind it, I would have caught him like a walnut. He's the sort of man,' added Mr. Tapley, musing, `as would squeeze soft, I know.'

A person who was evidently going to Mr. Pecksniff's house, passed them at this moment. He raised his eyes at the mention of the architect's name; and when he had gone on a few yards, stopped and gazed at them. Mr. Tapley, also, looked over his shoulder, and so did Martin; for the stranger, as he passed, had looked very sharply at them.

`Who may that be, I wonder!' said Martin. `The face seems familiar to me, but I don't know the man.'

`He seems to have a amiable desire that his face should be tolerable familiar to us,' said Mr. Tapley, `for he's a-staring pretty hard. He'd better not waste his beauty, for he ain't got much to spare.'

Coming in sight of the Dragon, they saw a travelling carriage at the door.

`And a Salisbury carriage, eh?' said Mr. Tapley. `That's what he came in depend upon it. What's in the wind now? A new pupil, I shouldn't wonder.

P'raps it's a order for another grammar-school, of the same pattern as the last.'

Before they could enter at the door, Mrs. Lupin came running out; and beckoning them to the carriage showed them a portmanteau with the name of C HUZZLEWIT upon it.

`Miss Pecksniff's husband that was,' said the good woman to Martin.

`I didn't know what terms you might be on, and was quite in a worry till you came back.'

`He and I have never interchanged a word yet,' observed Martin; `and as I have no wish to be better or worse acquainted with him, I will not put myself in his way. We passed him on the road, I have no doubt. I am glad he timed his coming as he did. Upon my word! Miss Pecksniff's husband travels gaily!'

`A very fine-looking gentleman with him--in the best room now,' whispered Mrs. Lupin, glancing up at the window as they went into the house. `He has ordered everything that can be got for dinner; and has the glossiest moustaches and whiskers ever you saw.'

`Has he?' cried Martin, `why then we'll endeavour to avoid him too, in the hope that our self-denial may be strong enough for the sacrifice.

It is only for a few hours,' said Martin, dropping wearily into a chair behind the little screen in the bar. `Our visit has met with no success, my dear Mrs. Lupin, and I must go to London.'

`Dear, dear!' cried the hostess.

`Yes, one foul wind no more makes a winter, than one swallow makes a summer. I'll try it again. Tom Pinch has succeeded. With his advice to guide me, I may do the same. I took Tom under my protection once, God save the mark!' said Martin, with a melancholy smile; `and promised I would make his fortune. Perhaps Tom will take me under his protection now, and teach me how to earn my bread.'