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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
tears and a chorus
of sobs.
Bless my soul, cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick; Mrs.
Bardell, my good woman--dear me, what a situation--pray
consider.--Mrs. Bardell, dont--if anybody should come--
Oh, let them come, exclaimed Mrs. Bardell frantically; Ill
never leave you --dear, kind, good soul; and, with these words,
Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter.
Mercy upon me, said Mr. Pickwick, struggling violently, I
hear somebody coming up the stairs. Dont, dont, theres a good
creature, dont. But entreaty and remonstrance were alike
unavailing; for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pickwicks arms;
and before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair, Master
Bardell entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle,
and Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless and speechless. He stood
with his lovely burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the
countenances of his friends, without the slightest attempt at
recognition or explanation. They, in their turn, stared at him;
and Master Bardell, in his turn, stared at everybody.
The astonishment of the Pickwickians was so absorbing, and
the perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might
have remained in exactly the same relative situations until the
suspended animation of the lady was restored, had it not been for
a most beautiful and touching expression of filial affection on the
part of her youthful son. Clad in a tight suit of corduroy,
spangled with brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first
stood at the door astounded and uncertain; but by degrees, the
impression that his mother must have suffered some personal
damage pervaded his partially developed mind, and considering
Mr. Pickwick as the aggressor, he set up an appalling and semi-
earthly kind of howling, and butting forward with his head,
commenced assailing that immortal gentleman about the back
and legs, with such blows and pinches as the strength of his arm,
and the violence of his excitement, allowed.
Take this little villain away, said the agonised Mr. Pickwick,
hes mad.
What is the matter? said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians.
I dont know, replied Mr. Pickwick pettishly. Take away the
boy. (Here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming
and struggling, to the farther end of the apartment.) Now help
me, lead this woman downstairs.
Oh, I am better now, said Mrs. Bardell faintly.
Let me lead you downstairs, said the ever-gallant Mr. Tupman.
Thank you, sir--thank you; exclaimed Mrs. Bardell hysterically.
And downstairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by
her affectionate son.
I cannot conceive, said Mr. Pickwick when his friend
returned--I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that
woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping
a man-servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in
which you found her. Very extraordinary thing.
Very, said his three friends.
Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation,
continued Mr. Pickwick.
Very, was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly,
and looked dubiously at each other.
This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked
their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.
There is a man in the passage now, said Mr. Tupman.
Its the man I spoke to you about, said Mr. Pickwick; I sent
for him to the Borough this morning. Have the goodness to call
him up, Snodgrass.
Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired; and Mr. Samuel Weller
forthwith presented himself.
Oh--you remember me, I suppose? said Mr. Pickwick.
I should think so, replied Sam, with a patronising wink.
Queer start that ere, but he was one too many for you, warnt
he? Up to snuff and a pinch or two over--eh?
Never mind that matter now, said Mr. Pickwick hastily;
I want to speak to you about something else. Sit down.
Thankee, sir, said Sam. And down he sat without further
bidding, having previously deposited his old white hat on the
landing outside the door. Taint a wery good un to look at,
said Sam, but its an astonishin un to wear; and afore the brim
went, it was a wery handsome tile. Howsever its lighter without
it, thats one thing, and every hole lets in some air, thats another
--wentilation gossamer I calls it. On the delivery of this sentiment,
Mr. Weller smiled agreeably upon the assembled Pickwickians.
Now with regard to the matter on which I, with the concurrence
of these gentlemen, sent for you, said Mr. Pickwick.
Thats the pint, sir, interposed Sam; out vith it, as the father
said to his child, when he swallowed a farden.
We want to know, in the first place, said Mr. The Pickwick Papers page 74 The Pickwick Papers page 76 |