CHAPTER II - Part The Second
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SNITCHEY AND CRAGGS had a snug little office on the old Battle
Ground, where they drove a snug little business, and fought a great
many small pitched battles for a great many contending parties.
Though it could hardly be said of these conflicts that they were
running fights - for in truth they generally proceeded at a snail's
pace - the part the Firm had in them came so far within the general
denomination, that now they took a shot at this Plaintiff, and now
aimed a chop at that Defendant, now made a heavy charge at an
estate in Chancery, and now had some light skirmishing among an
irregular body of small debtors, just as the occasion served, and
the enemy happened to present himself. The Gazette was an
important and profitable feature in some of their fields, as in
fields of greater renown; and in most of the Actions wherein they
showed their generalship, it was afterwards observed by the
combatants that they had had great difficulty in making each other
out, or in knowing with any degree of distinctness what they were
about, in consequence of the vast amount of smoke by which they
The offices of Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs stood convenient, with
an open door down two smooth steps, in the market-place; so that
any angry farmer inclining towards hot water, might tumble into it
at once. Their special council-chamber and hall of conference was
an old back-room up-stairs, with a low dark ceiling, which seemed
to be knitting its brows gloomily in the consideration of tangled
points of law. It was furnished with some high-backed leathern
chairs, garnished with great goggle-eyed brass nails, of which,
every here and there, two or three had fallen out - or had been
picked out, perhaps, by the wandering thumbs and forefingers of
bewildered clients. There was a framed print of a great judge in
it, every curl in whose dreadful wig had made a man's hair stand on
end. Bales of papers filled the dusty closets, shelves, and
tables; and round the wainscot there were tiers of boxes, padlocked
and fireproof, with people's names painted outside, which anxious
visitors felt themselves, by a cruel enchantment, obliged to spell
backwards and forwards, and to make anagrams of, while they sat,
seeming to listen to Snitchey and Craggs, without comprehending one
word of what they said.
Snitchey and Craggs had each, in private life as in professional
existence, a partner of his own. Snitchey and Craggs were the best
friends in the world, and had a real confidence in one another; but
Mrs. Snitchey, by a dispensation not uncommon in the affairs of
life, was on principle suspicious of Mr. Craggs; and Mrs. Craggs
was on principle suspicious of Mr. Snitchey. 'Your Snitcheys
indeed,' the latter lady would observe, sometimes, to Mr. Craggs;
using that imaginative plural as if in disparagement of an
objectionable pair of pantaloons, or other articles not possessed
of a singular number; 'I don't see what you want with your
Snitcheys, for my part. You trust a great deal too much to your
Snitcheys, I think, and I hope you may never find my words come
true.' While Mrs. Snitchey would observe to Mr. Snitchey, of
Craggs, 'that if ever he was led away by man he was led away by
that man, and that if ever she read a double purpose in a mortal
eye, she read that purpose in Craggs's eye.' Notwithstanding this,
however, they were all very good friends in general: and Mrs.
Snitchey and Mrs. Craggs maintained a close bond of alliance
against 'the office,' which they both considered the Blue chamber,
and common enemy, full of dangerous (because unknown) machinations.
In this office, nevertheless, Snitchey and Craggs made honey for
their several hives. Here, sometimes, they would linger, of a fine
evening, at the window of their council-chamber overlooking the old
battle-ground, and wonder (but that was generally at assize time,
when much business had made them sentimental) at the folly of
mankind, who couldn't always be at peace with one another and go to
law comfortably. Here, days, and weeks, and months, and years,
passed over them: their calendar, the gradually diminishing number
of brass nails in the leathern chairs, and the increasing bulk of
papers on the tables. Here, nearly three years' flight had thinned
the one and swelled the other, since the breakfast in the orchard;
when they sat together in consultation at night.
Not alone; but, with a man of about thirty, or that time of life,
negligently dressed, and somewhat haggard in the face, but well-
made, well-attired, and well-looking, who sat in the armchair of
state, with one hand in his breast, and the other in his
dishevelled hair, pondering moodily. Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs
sat opposite each other at a neighbouring desk. One of the
fireproof boxes, unpadlocked and opened, was upon it; a part of its
contents lay strewn upon the table, and the rest was then in course
of passing through the hands of Mr. Snitchey; who brought it to the
candle, document by document; looked at every paper singly, as he
produced it; shook his head, and handed it to Mr. Craggs; who
looked it over also, shook his head, and laid it down. Sometimes,
they would stop, and shaking their heads in concert, look towards
the abstracted client. And the name on the box being Michael
Warden, Esquire, we may conclude from these premises that the name
and the box were both his, and that the affairs of Michael Warden,
Esquire, were in a bad way.
'That's all,' said Mr. Snitchey, turning up the last paper.
'Really there's no other resource. No other resource.'
'All lost, spent, wasted, pawned, borrowed, and sold, eh?' said the
client, looking up.
'All,' returned Mr. Snitchey.
'Nothing else to be done, you say?'
'Nothing at all.'
The client bit his nails, and pondered again.
'And I am not even personally safe in England? You hold to that,
'In no part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,'
replied Mr. Snitchey.
'A mere prodigal son with no father to go back to, no swine to
keep, and no husks to share with them? Eh?' pursued the client,
rocking one leg over the other, and searching the ground with his
Mr. Snitchey coughed, as if to deprecate the being supposed to
participate in any figurative illustration of a legal position.
Mr. Craggs, as if to express that it was a partnership view of the
subject, also coughed.
'Ruined at thirty!' said the client. 'Humph!'
'Not ruined, Mr. Warden,' returned Snitchey. 'Not so bad as that.
You have done a good deal towards it, I must say, but you are not
ruined. A little nursing - '
'A little Devil,' said the client.
'Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, 'will you oblige me with a pinch of
snuff? Thank you, sir.'
As the imperturbable lawyer applied it to his nose with great
apparent relish and a perfect absorption of his attention in the
proceeding, the client gradually broke into a smile, and, looking
'You talk of nursing. How long nursing?'
'How long nursing?' repeated Snitchey, dusting the snuff from his
fingers, and making a slow calculation in his mind. 'For your
involved estate, sir? In good hands? S. and C.'s, say? Six or
'To starve for six or seven years!' said the client with a fretful
laugh, and an impatient change of his position.
'To starve for six or seven years, Mr. Warden,' said Snitchey,
'would be very uncommon indeed. You might get another estate by
showing yourself, the while. But, we don't think you could do it -
speaking for Self and Craggs - and consequently don't advise it.'
'What DO you advise?'
'Nursing, I say,' repeated Snitchey. 'Some few years of nursing by
Self and Craggs would bring it round. But to enable us to make
terms, and hold terms, and you to keep terms, you must go away; you
must live abroad. As to starvation, we could ensure you some
hundreds a-year to starve upon, even in the beginning - I dare say,
'Hundreds,' said the client. 'And I have spent thousands!'
'That,' retorted Mr. Snitchey, putting the papers slowly back into
the cast-iron box, 'there is no doubt about. No doubt about,' he
repeated to himself, as he thoughtfully pursued his occupation.
The lawyer very likely knew HIS man; at any rate his dry, shrewd,
whimsical manner, had a favourable influence on the client's moody
state, and disposed him to be more free and unreserved. Or,
perhaps the client knew HIS man, and had elicited such
encouragement as he had received, to render some purpose he was
about to disclose the more defensible in appearance. Gradually
raising his head, he sat looking at his immovable adviser with a
smile, which presently broke into a laugh.
'After all,' he said, 'my iron-headed friend - '
Mr. Snitchey pointed out his partner. 'Self and - excuse me -
'I beg Mr. Craggs's pardon,' said the client. 'After all, my iron-
headed friends,' he leaned forward in his chair, and dropped his
voice a little, 'you don't know half my ruin yet.'
Mr. Snitchey stopped and stared at him. Mr. Craggs also stared.
'I am not only deep in debt,' said the client, 'but I am deep in -
'Not in love!' cried Snitchey.
'Yes!' said the client, falling back in his chair, and surveying
the Firm with his hands in his pockets. 'Deep in love.'
'And not with an heiress, sir?' said Snitchey.
'Not with an heiress.'
'Nor a rich lady?'
'Nor a rich lady that I know of - except in beauty and merit.'
'A single lady, I trust?' said Mr. Snitchey, with great expression.
'It's not one of Dr. Jeddler's daughters?' said Snitchey, suddenly
squaring his elbows on his knees, and advancing his face at least a
'Yes!' returned the client.
'Not his younger daughter?' said Snitchey.
'Yes!' returned the client.
'Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, much relieved, 'will you oblige me
with another pinch of snuff? Thank you! I am happy to say it
don't signify, Mr. Warden; she's engaged, sir, she's bespoke. My
partner can corroborate me. We know the fact.'
'We know the fact,' repeated Craggs.
'Why, so do I perhaps,' returned the client quietly. 'What of
that! Are you men of the world, and did you never hear of a woman
changing her mind?'
'There certainly have been actions for breach,' said Mr. Snitchey,
'brought against both spinsters and widows, but, in the majority of
cases - '
'Cases!' interposed the client, impatiently. 'Don't talk to me of
cases. The general precedent is in a much larger volume than any
of your law books. Besides, do you think I have lived six weeks in
the Doctor's house for nothing?'
'I think, sir,' observed Mr. Snitchey, gravely addressing himself
to his partner, 'that of all the scrapes Mr. Warden's horses have
brought him into at one time and another - and they have been
pretty numerous, and pretty expensive, as none know better than
himself, and you, and I - the worst scrape may turn out to be, if
he talks in this way, this having ever been left by one of them at
the Doctor's garden wall, with three broken ribs, a snapped collar-
bone, and the Lord knows how many bruises. We didn't think so much
of it, at the time when we knew he was going on well under the
Doctor's hands and roof; but it looks bad now, sir. Bad? It looks
very bad. Doctor Jeddler too - our client, Mr. Craggs.'
'Mr. Alfred Heathfield too - a sort of client, Mr. Snitchey,' said
'Mr. Michael Warden too, a kind of client,' said the careless
visitor, 'and no bad one either: having played the fool for ten or
twelve years. However, Mr. Michael Warden has sown his wild oats
now - there's their crop, in that box; and he means to repent and
be wise. And in proof of it, Mr. Michael Warden means, if he can,
to marry Marion, the Doctor's lovely daughter, and to carry her
away with him.'
'Really, Mr. Craggs,' Snitchey began.
'Really, Mr. Snitchey, and Mr. Craggs, partners both,' said the
client, interrupting him; 'you know your duty to your clients, and
you know well enough, I am sure, that it is no part of it to
interfere in a mere love affair, which I am obliged to confide to
you. I am not going to carry the young lady off, without her own
consent. There's nothing illegal in it. I never was Mr.
Heathfield's bosom friend. I violate no confidence of his. I love
where he loves, and I mean to win where he would win, if I can.'
'He can't, Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, evidently anxious and
discomfited. 'He can't do it, sir. She dotes on Mr. Alfred.'
'Does she?' returned the client.
'Mr. Craggs, she dotes on him, sir,' persisted Snitchey.
'I didn't live six weeks, some few months ago, in the Doctor's
house for nothing; and I doubted that soon,' observed the client.
'She would have doted on him, if her sister could have brought it
about; but I watched them. Marion avoided his name, avoided the
subject: shrunk from the least allusion to it, with evident
'Why should she, Mr. Craggs, you know? Why should she, sir?'
'I don't know why she should, though there are many likely
reasons,' said the client, smiling at the attention and perplexity
expressed in Mr. Snitchey's shining eye, and at his cautious way of
carrying on the conversation, and making himself informed upon the
subject; 'but I know she does. She was very young when she made
the engagement - if it may be called one, I am not even sure of
that - and has repented of it, perhaps. Perhaps - it seems a
foppish thing to say, but upon my soul I don't mean it in that
light - she may have fallen in love with me, as I have fallen in
love with her.'
'He, he! Mr. Alfred, her old playfellow too, you remember, Mr.
Craggs,' said Snitchey, with a disconcerted laugh; 'knew her almost
from a baby!'
'Which makes it the more probable that she may be tired of his
idea,' calmly pursued the client, 'and not indisposed to exchange
it for the newer one of another lover, who presents himself (or is
presented by his horse) under romantic circumstances; has the not
unfavourable reputation - with a country girl - of having lived
thoughtlessly and gaily, without doing much harm to anybody; and
who, for his youth and figure, and so forth - this may seem foppish
again, but upon my soul I don't mean it in that light - might
perhaps pass muster in a crowd with Mr. Alfred himself.'
There was no gainsaying the last clause, certainly; and Mr.
Snitchey, glancing at him, thought so. There was something
naturally graceful and pleasant in the very carelessness of his
air. It seemed to suggest, of his comely face and well-knit
figure, that they might be greatly better if he chose: and that,
once roused and made earnest (but he never had been earnest yet),
he could be full of fire and purpose. 'A dangerous sort of
libertine,' thought the shrewd lawyer, 'to seem to catch the spark
he wants, from a young lady's eyes.'
'Now, observe, Snitchey,' he continued, rising and taking him by
the button, 'and Craggs,' taking him by the button also, and
placing one partner on either side of him, so that neither might
evade him. 'I don't ask you for any advice. You are right to keep
quite aloof from all parties in such a matter, which is not one in
which grave men like you could interfere, on any side. I am
briefly going to review in half-a-dozen words, my position and
intention, and then I shall leave it to you to do the best for me,
in money matters, that you can: seeing, that, if I run away with
the Doctor's beautiful daughter (as I hope to do, and to become
another man under her bright influence), it will be, for the
moment, more chargeable than running away alone. But I shall soon
make all that up in an altered life.'
'I think it will be better not to hear this, Mr. Craggs?' said
Snitchey, looking at him across the client.
'I think not,' said Craggs. - Both listened attentively.
'Well! You needn't hear it,' replied their client. 'I'll mention
it, however. I don't mean to ask the Doctor's consent, because he
wouldn't give it me. But I mean to do the Doctor no wrong or harm,
because (besides there being nothing serious in such trifles, as he
says) I hope to rescue his child, my Marion, from what I see - I
KNOW - she dreads, and contemplates with misery: that is, the
return of this old lover. If anything in the world is true, it is
true that she dreads his return. Nobody is injured so far. I am
so harried and worried here just now, that I lead the life of a
flying-fish. I skulk about in the dark, I am shut out of my own
house, and warned off my own grounds; but, that house, and those
grounds, and many an acre besides, will come back to me one day, as
you know and say; and Marion will probably be richer - on your
showing, who are never sanguine - ten years hence as my wife, than
as the wife of Alfred Heathfield, whose return she dreads (remember
that), and in whom or in any man, my passion is not surpassed. Who
is injured yet? It is a fair case throughout. My right is as good
as his, if she decide in my favour; and I will try my right by her
alone. You will like to know no more after this, and I will tell
you no more. Now you know my purpose, and wants. When must I
'In a week,' said Snitchey. 'Mr. Craggs?'
'In something less, I should say,' responded Craggs.
'In a month,' said the client, after attentively watching the two
faces. 'This day month. To-day is Thursday. Succeed or fail, on
this day month I go.'
'It's too long a delay,' said Snitchey; 'much too long. But let it
be so. I thought he'd have stipulated for three,' he murmured to
himself. 'Are you going? Good night, sir!'
'Good night!' returned the client, shaking hands with the Firm.
'You'll live to see me making a good use of riches yet. Henceforth
the star of my destiny is, Marion!'
'Take care of the stairs, sir,' replied Snitchey; 'for she don't
shine there. Good night!'
So they both stood at the stair-head with a pair of office-candles,
watching him down. When he had gone away, they stood looking at
'What do you think of all this, Mr. Craggs?' said Snitchey.
Mr. Craggs shook his head.
'It was our opinion, on the day when that release was executed,
that there was something curious in the parting of that pair; I
recollect,' said Snitchey.
'It was,' said Mr. Craggs.
'Perhaps he deceives himself altogether,' pursued Mr. Snitchey,
locking up the fireproof box, and putting it away; 'or, if he
don't, a little bit of fickleness and perfidy is not a miracle, Mr.
Craggs. And yet I thought that pretty face was very true. I
thought,' said Mr. Snitchey, putting on his great-coat (for the
weather was very cold), drawing on his gloves, and snuffing out one
candle, 'that I had even seen her character becoming stronger and
more resolved of late. More like her sister's.'
'Mrs. Craggs was of the same opinion,' returned Craggs.
'I'd really give a trifle to-night,' observed Mr. Snitchey, who was
a good-natured man, 'if I could believe that Mr. Warden was
reckoning without his host; but, light-headed, capricious, and
unballasted as he is, he knows something of the world and its
people (he ought to, for he has bought what he does know, dear
enough); and I can't quite think that. We had better not
interfere: we can do nothing, Mr. Craggs, but keep quiet.'
'Nothing,' returned Craggs.
'Our friend the Doctor makes light of such things,' said Mr.
Snitchey, shaking his head. 'I hope he mayn't stand in need of his
philosophy. Our friend Alfred talks of the battle of life,' he
shook his head again, 'I hope he mayn't be cut down early in the
day. Have you got your hat, Mr. Craggs? I am going to put the
other candle out.' Mr. Craggs replying in the affirmative, Mr.
Snitchey suited the action to the word, and they groped their way
out of the council-chamber, now dark as the subject, or the law in
My story passes to a quiet little study, where, on that same night,
the sisters and the hale old Doctor sat by a cheerful fireside.
Grace was working at her needle. Marion read aloud from a book
before her. The Doctor, in his dressing-gown and slippers, with
his feet spread out upon the warm rug, leaned back in his easy-
chair, and listened to the book, and looked upon his daughters.
They were very beautiful to look upon. Two better faces for a
fireside, never made a fireside bright and sacred. Something of
the difference between them had been softened down in three years'
time; and enthroned upon the clear brow of the younger sister,
looking through her eyes, and thrilling in her voice, was the same
earnest nature that her own motherless youth had ripened in the
elder sister long ago. But she still appeared at once the lovelier
and weaker of the two; still seemed to rest her head upon her
sister's breast, and put her trust in her, and look into her eyes
for counsel and reliance. Those loving eyes, so calm, serene, and
cheerful, as of old.
'"And being in her own home,"' read Marion, from the book; '"her
home made exquisitely dear by these remembrances, she now began to
know that the great trial of her heart must soon come on, and could
not be delayed. O Home, our comforter and friend when others fall
away, to part with whom, at any step between the cradle and the
'Marion, my love!' said Grace.
'Why, Puss!' exclaimed her father, 'what's the matter?'
She put her hand upon the hand her sister stretched towards her,
and read on; her voice still faltering and trembling, though she
made an effort to command it when thus interrupted.
'"To part with whom, at any step between the cradle and the grave,
is always sorrowful. O Home, so true to us, so often slighted in
return, be lenient to them that turn away from thee, and do not
haunt their erring footsteps too reproachfully! Let no kind looks,
no well-remembered smiles, be seen upon thy phantom face. Let no
ray of affection, welcome, gentleness, forbearance, cordiality,
shine from thy white head. Let no old loving word, or tone, rise
up in judgment against thy deserter; but if thou canst look harshly
and severely, do, in mercy to the Penitent!"'
'Dear Marion, read no more to-night,' said Grace for she was
'I cannot,' she replied, and closed the book. 'The words seem all
The Doctor was amused at this; and laughed as he patted her on the
'What! overcome by a story-book!' said Doctor Jeddler. 'Print and
paper! Well, well, it's all one. It's as rational to make a
serious matter of print and paper as of anything else. But, dry
your eyes, love, dry your eyes. I dare say the heroine has got
home again long ago, and made it up all round - and if she hasn't,
a real home is only four walls; and a fictitious one, mere rags and
ink. What's the matter now?'
'It's only me, Mister,' said Clemency, putting in her head at the
'And what's the matter with YOU?' said the Doctor.
'Oh, bless you, nothing an't the matter with me,' returned Clemency
- and truly too, to judge from her well-soaped face, in which there
gleamed as usual the very soul of good-humour, which, ungainly as
she was, made her quite engaging. Abrasions on the elbows are not
generally understood, it is true, to range within that class of
personal charms called beauty-spots. But, it is better, going
through the world, to have the arms chafed in that narrow passage,
than the temper: and Clemency's was sound and whole as any
beauty's in the land.
'Nothing an't the matter with me,' said Clemency, entering, 'but -
come a little closer, Mister.'
The Doctor, in some astonishment, complied with this invitation.
'You said I wasn't to give you one before them, you know,' said
A novice in the family might have supposed, from her extraordinary
ogling as she said it, as well as from a singular rapture or
ecstasy which pervaded her elbows, as if she were embracing
herself, that 'one,' in its most favourable interpretation, meant a
chaste salute. Indeed the Doctor himself seemed alarmed, for the
moment; but quickly regained his composure, as Clemency, having had
recourse to both her pockets - beginning with the right one, going
away to the wrong one, and afterwards coming back to the right one
again - produced a letter from the Post-office.
'Britain was riding by on a errand,' she chuckled, handing it to
the Doctor, 'and see the mail come in, and waited for it. There's
A. H. in the corner. Mr. Alfred's on his journey home, I bet. We
shall have a wedding in the house - there was two spoons in my
saucer this morning. Oh Luck, how slow he opens it!'
All this she delivered, by way of soliloquy, gradually rising
higher and higher on tiptoe, in her impatience to hear the news,
and making a corkscrew of her apron, and a bottle of her mouth. At
last, arriving at a climax of suspense, and seeing the Doctor still
engaged in the perusal of the letter, she came down flat upon the
soles of her feet again, and cast her apron, as a veil, over her
head, in a mute despair, and inability to bear it any longer.
'Here! Girls!' cried the Doctor. 'I can't help it: I never could
keep a secret in my life. There are not many secrets, indeed,
worth being kept in such a - well! never mind that. Alfred's
coming home, my dears, directly.'
'Directly!' exclaimed Marion.
'What! The story-book is soon forgotten!' said the Doctor,
pinching her cheek. 'I thought the news would dry those tears.
Yes. "Let it be a surprise," he says, here. But I can't let it be
a surprise. He must have a welcome.'
'Directly!' repeated Marion.
'Why, perhaps not what your impatience calls "directly,"' returned
the doctor; 'but pretty soon too. Let us see. Let us see. To-day
is Thursday, is it not? Then he promises to be here, this day
'This day month!' repeated Marion, softly.
'A gay day and a holiday for us,' said the cheerful voice of her
sister Grace, kissing her in congratulation. 'Long looked forward
to, dearest, and come at last.'
She answered with a smile; a mournful smile, but full of sisterly
affection. As she looked in her sister's face, and listened to the
quiet music of her voice, picturing the happiness of this return,
her own face glowed with hope and joy.
And with a something else; a something shining more and more
through all the rest of its expression; for which I have no name.
It was not exultation, triumph, proud enthusiasm. They are not so
calmly shown. It was not love and gratitude alone, though love and
gratitude were part of it. It emanated from no sordid thought, for
sordid thoughts do not light up the brow, and hover on the lips,
and move the spirit like a fluttered light, until the sympathetic
Dr. Jeddler, in spite of his system of philosophy - which he was
continually contradicting and denying in practice, but more famous
philosophers have done that - could not help having as much
interest in the return of his old ward and pupil as if it had been
a serious event. So he sat himself down in his easy-chair again,
stretched out his slippered feet once more upon the rug, read the
letter over and over a great many times, and talked it over more
'Ah! The day was,' said the Doctor, looking at the fire, 'when you
and he, Grace, used to trot about arm-in-arm, in his holiday time,
like a couple of walking dolls. You remember?'
'I remember,' she answered, with her pleasant laugh, and plying her
'This day month, indeed!' mused the Doctor. 'That hardly seems a
twelve month ago. And where was my little Marion then!'
'Never far from her sister,' said Marion, cheerily, 'however
little. Grace was everything to me, even when she was a young
'True, Puss, true,' returned the Doctor. 'She was a staid little
woman, was Grace, and a wise housekeeper, and a busy, quiet,
pleasant body; bearing with our humours and anticipating our
wishes, and always ready to forget her own, even in those times. I
never knew you positive or obstinate, Grace, my darling, even then,
on any subject but one.'
'I am afraid I have changed sadly for the worse, since,' laughed
Grace, still busy at her work. 'What was that one, father?'
'Alfred, of course,' said the Doctor. 'Nothing would serve you but
you must be called Alfred's wife; so we called you Alfred's wife;
and you liked it better, I believe (odd as it seems now), than
being called a Duchess, if we could have made you one.'
'Indeed?' said Grace, placidly.
'Why, don't you remember?' inquired the Doctor.
'I think I remember something of it,' she returned, 'but not much.
It's so long ago.' And as she sat at work, she hummed the burden
of an old song, which the Doctor liked.
'Alfred will find a real wife soon,' she said, breaking off; 'and
that will be a happy time indeed for all of us. My three years'
trust is nearly at an end, Marion. It has been a very easy one. I
shall tell Alfred, when I give you back to him, that you have loved
him dearly all the time, and that he has never once needed my good
services. May I tell him so, love?'
'Tell him, dear Grace,' replied Marion, 'that there never was a
trust so generously, nobly, steadfastly discharged; and that I have
loved YOU, all the time, dearer and dearer every day; and O! how
'Nay,' said her cheerful sister, returning her embrace, 'I can
scarcely tell him that; we will leave my deserts to Alfred's
imagination. It will be liberal enough, dear Marion; like your
With that, she resumed the work she had for a moment laid down,
when her sister spoke so fervently: and with it the old song the
Doctor liked to hear. And the Doctor, still reposing in his easy-
chair, with his slippered feet stretched out before him on the rug,
listened to the tune, and beat time on his knee with Alfred's
letter, and looked at his two daughters, and thought that among the
many trifles of the trifling world, these trifles were agreeable
Clemency Newcome, in the meantime, having accomplished her mission
and lingered in the room until she had made herself a party to the
news, descended to the kitchen, where her coadjutor, Mr. Britain,
was regaling after supper, surrounded by such a plentiful
collection of bright pot-lids, well-scoured saucepans, burnished
dinner-covers, gleaming kettles, and other tokens of her
industrious habits, arranged upon the walls and shelves, that he
sat as in the centre of a hall of mirrors. The majority did not
give forth very flattering portraits of him, certainly; nor were
they by any means unanimous in their reflections; as some made him
very long-faced, others very broad-faced, some tolerably well-
looking, others vastly ill-looking, according to their several
manners of reflecting: which were as various, in respect of one
fact, as those of so many kinds of men. But they all agreed that
in the midst of them sat, quite at his ease, an individual with a
pipe in his mouth, and a jug of beer at his elbow, who nodded
condescendingly to Clemency, when she stationed herself at the same
'Well, Clemmy,' said Britain, 'how are you by this time, and what's
Clemency told him the news, which he received very graciously. A
gracious change had come over Benjamin from head to foot. He was
much broader, much redder, much more cheerful, and much jollier in
all respects. It seemed as if his face had been tied up in a knot
before, and was now untwisted and smoothed out.
'There'll be another job for Snitchey and Craggs, I suppose,' he
observed, puffing slowly at his pipe. 'More witnessing for you and
me, perhaps, Clemmy!'
'Lor!' replied his fair companion, with her favourite twist of her
favourite joints. 'I wish it was me, Britain!'
'Wish what was you?'
'A-going to be married,' said Clemency.
Benjamin took his pipe out of his mouth and laughed heartily.
'Yes! you're a likely subject for that!' he said. 'Poor Clem!'
Clemency for her part laughed as heartily as he, and seemed as much
amused by the idea. 'Yes,' she assented, 'I'm a likely subject for
that; an't I?'
'YOU'LL never be married, you know,' said Mr. Britain, resuming his
'Don't you think I ever shall though?' said Clemency, in perfect
Mr. Britain shook his head. 'Not a chance of it!'
'Only think!' said Clemency. 'Well! - I suppose you mean to,
Britain, one of these days; don't you?'
A question so abrupt, upon a subject so momentous, required
consideration. After blowing out a great cloud of smoke, and
looking at it with his head now on this side and now on that, as if
it were actually the question, and he were surveying it in various
aspects, Mr. Britain replied that he wasn't altogether clear about
it, but - ye-es - he thought he might come to that at last.
'I wish her joy, whoever she may be!' cried Clemency.
'Oh she'll have that,' said Benjamin, 'safe enough.'
'But she wouldn't have led quite such a joyful life as she will
lead, and wouldn't have had quite such a sociable sort of husband
as she will have,' said Clemency, spreading herself half over the
table, and staring retrospectively at the candle, 'if it hadn't
been for - not that I went to do it, for it was accidental, I am
sure - if it hadn't been for me; now would she, Britain?'
'Certainly not,' returned Mr. Britain, by this time in that high
state of appreciation of his pipe, when a man can open his mouth
but a very little way for speaking purposes; and sitting
luxuriously immovable in his chair, can afford to turn only his
eyes towards a companion, and that very passively and gravely.
'Oh! I'm greatly beholden to you, you know, Clem.'
'Lor, how nice that is to think of!' said Clemency.
At the same time, bringing her thoughts as well as her sight to
bear upon the candle-grease, and becoming abruptly reminiscent of
its healing qualities as a balsam, she anointed her left elbow with
a plentiful application of that remedy.
'You see I've made a good many investigations of one sort and
another in my time,' pursued Mr. Britain, with the profundity of a
sage, 'having been always of an inquiring turn of mind; and I've
read a good many books about the general Rights of things and
Wrongs of things, for I went into the literary line myself, when I
'Did you though!' cried the admiring Clemency.
'Yes,' said Mr. Britain: 'I was hid for the best part of two years
behind a bookstall, ready to fly out if anybody pocketed a volume;
and after that, I was light porter to a stay and mantua maker, in
which capacity I was employed to carry about, in oilskin baskets,
nothing but deceptions - which soured my spirits and disturbed my
confidence in human nature; and after that, I heard a world of
discussions in this house, which soured my spirits fresh; and my
opinion after all is, that, as a safe and comfortable sweetener of
the same, and as a pleasant guide through life, there's nothing
like a nutmeg-grater.'
Clemency was about to offer a suggestion, but he stopped her by
'Com-bined,' he added gravely, 'with a thimble.'
'Do as you wold, you know, and cetrer, eh!' observed Clemency,
folding her arms comfortably in her delight at this avowal, and
patting her elbows. 'Such a short cut, an't it?'
'I'm not sure,' said Mr. Britain, 'that it's what would be
considered good philosophy. I've my doubts about that; but it
wears well, and saves a quantity of snarling, which the genuine
article don't always.'
'See how you used to go on once, yourself, you know!' said
'Ah!' said Mr. Britain. 'But the most extraordinary thing, Clemmy,
is that I should live to be brought round, through you. That's the
strange part of it. Through you! Why, I suppose you haven't so
much as half an idea in your head.'
Clemency, without taking the least offence, shook it, and laughed
and hugged herself, and said, 'No, she didn't suppose she had.'
'I'm pretty sure of it,' said Mr. Britain.
'Oh! I dare say you're right,' said Clemency. 'I don't pretend to
none. I don't want any.'
Benjamin took his pipe from his lips, and laughed till the tears
ran down his face. 'What a natural you are, Clemmy!' he said,
shaking his head, with an infinite relish of the joke, and wiping
his eyes. Clemency, without the smallest inclination to dispute
it, did the like, and laughed as heartily as he.
'I can't help liking you,' said Mr. Britain; 'you're a regular good
creature in your way, so shake hands, Clem. Whatever happens, I'll
always take notice of you, and be a friend to you.'
'Will you?' returned Clemency. 'Well! that's very good of you.'
'Yes, yes,' said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the
ashes out of it; 'I'll stand by you. Hark! That's a curious
'Noise!' repeated Clemency.
'A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it sounded
like,' said Britain. 'Are they all abed up-stairs?'
'Yes, all abed by this time,' she replied.
'Didn't you hear anything?'
They both listened, but heard nothing.
'I tell you what,' said Benjamin, taking down a lantern. 'I'll
have a look round, before I go to bed myself, for satisfaction's
sake. Undo the door while I light this, Clemmy.'
Clemency complied briskly; but observed as she did so, that he
would only have his walk for his pains, that it was all his fancy,
and so forth. Mr. Britain said 'very likely;' but sallied out,
nevertheless, armed with the poker, and casting the light of the
lantern far and near in all directions.
'It's as quiet as a churchyard,' said Clemency, looking after him;
'and almost as ghostly too!'
Glancing back into the kitchen, she cried fearfully, as a light
figure stole into her view, 'What's that!'
'Hush!' said Marion in an agitated whisper. 'You have always loved
me, have you not!'
'Loved you, child! You may be sure I have.'
'I am sure. And I may trust you, may I not? There is no one else
just now, in whom I CAN trust.'
'Yes,' said Clemency, with all her heart.
'There is some one out there,' pointing to the door, 'whom I must
see, and speak with, to-night. Michael Warden, for God's sake
retire! Not now!'
Clemency started with surprise and trouble as, following the
direction of the speaker's eyes, she saw a dark figure standing in
'In another moment you may be discovered,' said Marion. 'Not now!
Wait, if you can, in some concealment. I will come presently.'
He waved his hand to her, and was gone. 'Don't go to bed. Wait
here for me!' said Marion, hurriedly. 'I have been seeking to
speak to you for an hour past. Oh, be true to me!'
Eagerly seizing her bewildered hand, and pressing it with both her
own to her breast - an action more expressive, in its passion of
entreaty, than the most eloquent appeal in words, - Marion
withdrew; as the light of the returning lantern flashed into the
'All still and peaceable. Nobody there. Fancy, I suppose,' said
Mr. Britain, as he locked and barred the door. 'One of the effects
of having a lively imagination. Halloa! Why, what's the matter?'
Clemency, who could not conceal the effects of her surprise and
concern, was sitting in a chair: pale, and trembling from head to
'Matter!' she repeated, chafing her hands and elbows, nervously,
and looking anywhere but at him. 'That's good in you, Britain,
that is! After going and frightening one out of one's life with
noises and lanterns, and I don't know what all. Matter! Oh, yes!'
'If you're frightened out of your life by a lantern, Clemmy,' said
Mr. Britain, composedly blowing it out and hanging it up again,
'that apparition's very soon got rid of. But you're as bold as
brass in general,' he said, stopping to observe her; 'and were,
after the noise and the lantern too. What have you taken into your
head? Not an idea, eh?'
But, as Clemency bade him good night very much after her usual
fashion, and began to bustle about with a show of going to bed
herself immediately, Little Britain, after giving utterance to the
original remark that it was impossible to account for a woman's
whims, bade her good night in return, and taking up his candle
strolled drowsily away to bed.
When all was quiet, Marion returned.
'Open the door,' she said; 'and stand there close beside me, while
I speak to him, outside.'
Timid as her manner was, it still evinced a resolute and settled
purpose, such as Clemency could not resist. She softly unbarred
the door: but before turning the key, looked round on the young
creature waiting to issue forth when she should open it.
The face was not averted or cast down, but looking full upon her,
in its pride of youth and beauty. Some simple sense of the
slightness of the barrier that interposed itself between the happy
home and honoured love of the fair girl, and what might be the
desolation of that home, and shipwreck of its dearest treasure,
smote so keenly on the tender heart of Clemency, and so filled it
to overflowing with sorrow and compassion, that, bursting into
tears, she threw her arms round Marion's neck.
'It's little that I know, my dear,' cried Clemency, 'very little;
but I know that this should not be. Think of what you do!'
'I have thought of it many times,' said Marion, gently.
'Once more,' urged Clemency. 'Till to-morrow.' Marion shook her
'For Mr. Alfred's sake,' said Clemency, with homely earnestness.
'Him that you used to love so dearly, once!'
She hid her face, upon the instant, in her hands, repeating 'Once!'
as if it rent her heart.
'Let me go out,' said Clemency, soothing her. 'I'll tell him what
you like. Don't cross the door-step to-night. I'm sure no good
will come of it. Oh, it was an unhappy day when Mr. Warden was
ever brought here! Think of your good father, darling - of your
'I have,' said Marion, hastily raising her head. 'You don't know
what I do. I MUST speak to him. You are the best and truest
friend in all the world for what you have said to me, but I must
take this step. Will you go with me, Clemency,' she kissed her on
her friendly face, 'or shall I go alone?'
Sorrowing and wondering, Clemency turned the key, and opened the
door. Into the dark and doubtful night that lay beyond the
threshold, Marion passed quickly, holding by her hand.
In the dark night he joined her, and they spoke together earnestly
and long; and the hand that held so fast by Clemeney's, now
trembled, now turned deadly cold, now clasped and closed on hers,
in the strong feeling of the speech it emphasised unconsciously.
When they returned, he followed to the door, and pausing there a
moment, seized the other hand, and pressed it to his lips. Then,
The door was barred and locked again, and once again she stood
beneath her father's roof. Not bowed down by the secret that she
brought there, though so young; but, with that same expression on
her face for which I had no name before, and shining through her
Again she thanked and thanked her humble friend, and trusted to
her, as she said, with confidence, implicitly. Her chamber safely
reached, she fell upon her knees; and with her secret weighing on
her heart, could pray!
Could rise up from her prayers, so tranquil and serene, and bending
over her fond sister in her slumber, look upon her face and smile -
though sadly: murmuring as she kissed her forehead, how that Grace
had been a mother to her, ever, and she loved her as a child!
Could draw the passive arm about her neck when lying down to rest -
it seemed to cling there, of its own will, protectingly and
tenderly even in sleep - and breathe upon the parted lips, God
Could sink into a peaceful sleep, herself; but for one dream, in
which she cried out, in her innocent and touching voice, that she
was quite alone, and they had all forgotten her.
A month soon passes, even at its tardiest pace. The month
appointed to elapse between that night and the return, was quick of
foot, and went by, like a vapour.
The day arrived. A raging winter day, that shook the old house,
sometimes, as if it shivered in the blast. A day to make home
doubly home. To give the chimney-corner new delights. To shed a
ruddier glow upon the faces gathered round the hearth, and draw
each fireside group into a closer and more social league, against
the roaring elements without. Such a wild winter day as best
prepares the way for shut-out night; for curtained rooms, and
cheerful looks; for music, laughter, dancing, light, and jovial
All these the Doctor had in store to welcome Alfred back. They
knew that he could not arrive till night; and they would make the
night air ring, he said, as he approached. All his old friends
should congregate about him. He should not miss a face that he had
known and liked. No! They should every one be there!
So, guests were bidden, and musicians were engaged, and tables
spread, and floors prepared for active feet, and bountiful
provision made, of every hospitable kind. Because it was the
Christmas season, and his eyes were all unused to English holly and
its sturdy green, the dancing-room was garlanded and hung with it;
and the red berries gleamed an English welcome to him, peeping from
among the leaves.
It was a busy day for all of them: a busier day for none of them
than Grace, who noiselessly presided everywhere, and was the
cheerful mind of all the preparations. Many a time that day (as
well as many a time within the fleeting month preceding it), did
Clemency glance anxiously, and almost fearfully, at Marion. She
saw her paler, perhaps, than usual; but there was a sweet composure
on her face that made it lovelier than ever.
At night when she was dressed, and wore upon her head a wreath that
Grace had proudly twined about it - its mimic flowers were Alfred's
favourites, as Grace remembered when she chose them - that old
expression, pensive, almost sorrowful, and yet so spiritual, high,
and stirring, sat again upon her brow, enhanced a hundred-fold.
'The next wreath I adjust on this fair head, will be a marriage
wreath,' said Grace; 'or I am no true prophet, dear.'
Her sister smiled, and held her in her arms.
'A moment, Grace. Don't leave me yet. Are you sure that I want
Her care was not for that. It was her sister's face she thought
of, and her eyes were fixed upon it, tenderly.
'My art,' said Grace, 'can go no farther, dear girl; nor your
beauty. I never saw you look so beautiful as now.'
'I never was so happy,' she returned.
'Ay, but there is a greater happiness in store. In such another
home, as cheerful and as bright as this looks now,' said Grace,
'Alfred and his young wife will soon be living.'
She smiled again. 'It is a happy home, Grace, in your fancy. I
can see it in your eyes. I know it WILL be happy, dear. How glad
I am to know it.'
'Well,' cried the Doctor, bustling in. 'Here we are, all ready for
Alfred, eh? He can't be here until pretty late - an hour or so
before midnight - so there'll be plenty of time for making merry
before he comes. He'll not find us with the ice unbroken. Pile up
the fire here, Britain! Let it shine upon the holly till it winks
again. It's a world of nonsense, Puss; true lovers and all the
rest of it - all nonsense; but we'll be nonsensical with the rest
of 'em, and give our true lover a mad welcome. Upon my word!' said
the old Doctor, looking at his daughters proudly, 'I'm not clear
to-night, among other absurdities, but that I'm the father of two
'All that one of them has ever done, or may do - may do, dearest
father - to cause you pain or grief, forgive her,' said Marion,
'forgive her now, when her heart is full. Say that you forgive
her. That you will forgive her. That she shall always share your
love, and -,' and the rest was not said, for her face was hidden on
the old man's shoulder.
'Tut, tut, tut,' said the Doctor gently. 'Forgive! What have I to
forgive? Heyday, if our true lovers come back to flurry us like
this, we must hold 'em at a distance; we must send expresses out to
stop 'em short upon the road, and bring 'em on a mile or two a day,
until we're properly prepared to meet 'em. Kiss me, Puss.
Forgive! Why, what a silly child you are! If you had vexed and
crossed me fifty times a day, instead of not at all, I'd forgive
you everything, but such a supplication. Kiss me again, Puss.
There! Prospective and retrospective - a clear score between us.
Pile up the fire here! Would you freeze the people on this bleak
December night! Let us be light, and warm, and merry, or I'll not
forgive some of you!'
So gaily the old Doctor carried it! And the fire was piled up, and
the lights were bright, and company arrived, and a murmuring of
lively tongues began, and already there was a pleasant air of
cheerful excitement stirring through all the house.
More and more company came flocking in. Bright eyes sparkled upon
Marion; smiling lips gave her joy of his return; sage mothers
fanned themselves, and hoped she mightn't be too youthful and
inconstant for the quiet round of home; impetuous fathers fell into
disgrace for too much exaltation of her beauty; daughters envied
her; sons envied him; innumerable pairs of lovers profited by the
occasion; all were interested, animated, and expectant.
Mr. and Mrs. Craggs came arm in arm, but Mrs. Snitchey came alone.
'Why, what's become of HIM?' inquired the Doctor.
The feather of a Bird of Paradise in Mrs. Snitchey's turban,
trembled as if the Bird of Paradise were alive again, when she said
that doubtless Mr. Craggs knew. SHE was never told.
'That nasty office,' said Mrs. Craggs.
'I wish it was burnt down,' said Mrs. Snitchey.
'He's - he's - there's a little matter of business that keeps my
partner rather late,' said Mr. Craggs, looking uneasily about him.
'Oh-h! Business. Don't tell me!' said Mrs. Snitchey.
'WE know what business means,' said Mrs. Craggs.
But their not knowing what it meant, was perhaps the reason why
Mrs. Snitchey's Bird of Paradise feather quivered so portentously,
and why all the pendant bits on Mrs. Craggs's ear-rings shook like
'I wonder YOU could come away, Mr. Craggs,' said his wife.
'Mr. Craggs is fortunate, I'm sure!' said Mrs. Snitchey.
'That office so engrosses 'em,' said Mrs. Craggs.
'A person with an office has no business to be married at all,'
said Mrs. Snitchey.
Then, Mrs. Snitchey said, within herself, that that look of hers
had pierced to Craggs's soul, and he knew it; and Mrs. Craggs
observed to Craggs, that 'his Snitcheys' were deceiving him behind
his back, and he would find it out when it was too late.
Still, Mr. Craggs, without much heeding these remarks, looked
uneasily about until his eye rested on Grace, to whom he
immediately presented himself.
'Good evening, ma'am,' said Craggs. 'You look charmingly. Your -
Miss - your sister, Miss Marion, is she - '
'Oh, she's quite well, Mr. Craggs.'
'Yes - I - is she here?' asked Craggs.
'Here! Don't you see her yonder? Going to dance?' said Grace.
Mr. Craggs put on his spectacles to see the better; looked at her
through them, for some time; coughed; and put them, with an air of
satisfaction, in their sheath again, and in his pocket.
Now the music struck up, and the dance commenced. The bright fire
crackled and sparkled, rose and fell, as though it joined the dance
itself, in right good fellowship. Sometimes, it roared as if it
would make music too. Sometimes, it flashed and beamed as if it
were the eye of the old room: it winked too, sometimes, like a
knowing patriarch, upon the youthful whisperers in corners.
Sometimes, it sported with the holly-boughs; and, shining on the
leaves by fits and starts, made them look as if they were in the
cold winter night again, and fluttering in the wind. Sometimes its
genial humour grew obstreperous, and passed all bounds; and then it
cast into the room, among the twinkling feet, with a loud burst, a
shower of harmless little sparks, and in its exultation leaped and
bounded, like a mad thing, up the broad old chimney.
Another dance was near its close, when Mr. Snitchey touched his
partner, who was looking on, upon the arm.
Mr. Craggs started, as if his familiar had been a spectre.
'Is he gone?' he asked.
'Hush! He has been with me,' said Snitchey, 'for three hours and
more. He went over everything. He looked into all our
arrangements for him, and was very particular indeed. He - Humph!'
The dance was finished. Marion passed close before him, as he
spoke. She did not observe him, or his partner; but, looked over
her shoulder towards her sister in the distance, as she slowly made
her way into the crowd, and passed out of their view.
'You see! All safe and well,' said Mr. Craggs. 'He didn't recur
to that subject, I suppose?'
'Not a word.'
'And is he really gone? Is he safe away?'
'He keeps to his word. He drops down the river with the tide in
that shell of a boat of his, and so goes out to sea on this dark
night! - a dare-devil he is - before the wind. There's no such
lonely road anywhere else. That's one thing. The tide flows, he
says, an hour before midnight - about this time. I'm glad it's
over.' Mr. Snitchey wiped his forehead, which looked hot and
'What do you think,' said Mr. Craggs, 'about - '
'Hush!' replied his cautious partner, looking straight before him.
'I understand you. Don't mention names, and don't let us, seem to
be talking secrets. I don't know what to think; and to tell you
the truth, I don't care now. It's a great relief. His self-love
deceived him, I suppose. Perhaps the young lady coquetted a
little. The evidence would seem to point that way. Alfred not
'Not yet,' said Mr. Craggs. 'Expected every minute.'
'Good.' Mr. Snitchey wiped his forehead again. 'It's a great
relief. I haven't been so nervous since we've been in partnership.
I intend to spend the evening now, Mr. Craggs.'
Mrs. Craggs and Mrs. Snitchey joined them as he announced this
intention. The Bird of Paradise was in a state of extreme
vibration, and the little bells were ringing quite audibly.
'It has been the theme of general comment, Mr. Snitchey,' said Mrs.
Snitchey. 'I hope the office is satisfied.'
'Satisfied with what, my dear?' asked Mr. Snitchey.
'With the exposure of a defenceless woman to ridicule and remark,'
returned his wife. 'That is quite in the way of the office, THAT
'I really, myself,' said Mrs. Craggs, 'have been so long accustomed
to connect the office with everything opposed to domesticity, that
I am glad to know it as the avowed enemy of my peace. There is
something honest in that, at all events.'
'My dear,' urged Mr. Craggs, 'your good opinion is invaluable, but
I never avowed that the office was the enemy of your peace.'
'No,' said Mrs. Craggs, ringing a perfect peal upon the little
bells. 'Not you, indeed. You wouldn't be worthy of the office, if
you had the candour to.'
'As to my having been away to-night, my dear,' said Mr. Snitchey,
giving her his arm, 'the deprivation has been mine, I'm sure; but,
as Mr. Craggs knows - '
Mrs. Snitchey cut this reference very short by hitching her husband
to a distance, and asking him to look at that man. To do her the
favour to look at him!
'At which man, my dear?' said Mr. Snitchey.
'Your chosen companion; I'M no companion to you, Mr. Snitchey.'
'Yes, yes, you are, my dear,' he interposed.
'No, no, I'm not,' said Mrs. Snitchey with a majestic smile. 'I
know my station. Will you look at your chosen companion, Mr.
Snitchey; at your referee, at the keeper of your secrets, at the
man you trust; at your other self, in short?'
The habitual association of Self with Craggs, occasioned Mr.
Snitchey to look in that direction.
'If you can look that man in the eye this night,' said Mrs.
Snitchey, 'and not know that you are deluded, practised upon, made
the victim of his arts, and bent down prostrate to his will by some
unaccountable fascination which it is impossible to explain and
against which no warning of mine is of the least avail, all I can
say is - I pity you!'
At the very same moment Mrs. Craggs was oracular on the cross
subject. Was it possible, she said, that Craggs could so blind
himself to his Snitcheys, as not to feel his true position? Did he
mean to say that he had seen his Snitcheys come into that room, and
didn't plainly see that there was reservation, cunning, treachery,
in the man? Would he tell her that his very action, when he wiped
his forehead and looked so stealthily about him, didn't show that
there was something weighing on the conscience of his precious
Snitcheys (if he had a conscience), that wouldn't bear the light?
Did anybody but his Snitcheys come to festive entertainments like a
burglar? - which, by the way, was hardly a clear illustration of
the case, as he had walked in very mildly at the door. And would
he still assert to her at noon-day (it being nearly midnight), that
his Snitcheys were to be justified through thick and thin, against
all facts, and reason, and experience?
Neither Snitchey nor Craggs openly attempted to stem the current
which had thus set in, but, both were content to be carried gently
along it, until its force abated. This happened at about the same
time as a general movement for a country dance; when Mr. Snitchey
proposed himself as a partner to Mrs. Craggs, and Mr. Craggs
gallantly offered himself to Mrs. Snitchey; and after some such
slight evasions as 'why don't you ask somebody else?' and 'you'll
be glad, I know, if I decline,' and 'I wonder you can dance out of
the office' (but this jocosely now), each lady graciously accepted,
and took her place.
It was an old custom among them, indeed, to do so, and to pair off,
in like manner, at dinners and suppers; for they were excellent
friends, and on a footing of easy familiarity. Perhaps the false
Craggs and the wicked Snitchey were a recognised fiction with the
two wives, as Doe and Roe, incessantly running up and down
bailiwicks, were with the two husbands: or, perhaps the ladies had
instituted, and taken upon themselves, these two shares in the
business, rather than be left out of it altogether. But, certain
it is, that each wife went as gravely and steadily to work in her
vocation as her husband did in his, and would have considered it
almost impossible for the Firm to maintain a successful and
respectable existence, without her laudable exertions.
But, now, the Bird of Paradise was seen to flutter down the middle;
and the little bells began to bounce and jingle in poussette; and
the Doctor's rosy face spun round and round, like an expressive
pegtop highly varnished; and breathless Mr. Craggs began to doubt
already, whether country dancing had been made 'too easy,' like the
rest of life; and Mr. Snitchey, with his nimble cuts and capers,
footed it for Self and Craggs, and half-a-dozen more.
Now, too, the fire took fresh courage, favoured by the lively wind
the dance awakened, and burnt clear and high. It was the Genius of
the room, and present everywhere. It shone in people's eyes, it
sparkled in the jewels on the snowy necks of girls, it twinkled at
their ears as if it whispered to them slyly, it flashed about their
waists, it flickered on the ground and made it rosy for their feet,
it bloomed upon the ceiling that its glow might set off their
bright faces, and it kindled up a general illumination in Mrs.
Craggs's little belfry.
Now, too, the lively air that fanned it, grew less gentle as the
music quickened and the dance proceeded with