第208章

No physiognomist that ever dwelt on earth could have construed Tom's face when he heard these words. Wonder was in it, and a mild look of reproach, but certainly no fear or guilt, although a host of strong emotions struggled to display themselves. He bowed, and without saying one word, good or bad, withdrew.

`Pecksniff,' cried Martin, in a tremble, `what does all this mean? You are not going to do anything in haste, you may regret!'

`No, my good sir,' said Mr. Pecksniff, firmly, `No. But I have a duty to discharge which I owe to society; and it shall be discharged, my friend, at any cost!'

Oh late-remembered, much-forgotten, mouthing, braggart duty, always owed, and seldom paid in any other coin than punishment and wrath, when will mankind begin to know thee! When will men acknowledge thee in thy neglected cradle, and thy stunted youth, and not begin their recognition in thy sinful manhood and thy desolate old age! Oh ermined Judge whose duty to society is, now, to doom the ragged criminal to punishment and death, hadst thou never, Man, a duty to discharge in barring up the hundred open gates that wooed him to the felon's dock, and throwing but ajar the portals to a decent life! Oh prelate, prelate, whose duty to society it is to mourn in melancholy phrase the sad degeneracy of these bad times in which thy lot of honours has been cast, did nothing go before thy elevation to the lofty seat, from which thou dealest out thy homilies to other tarriers for dead men's shoes, whose duty to society has not begun! Oh magistrate, so rare a country gentleman and brave a squire, had you no duty to society, before the ricks were blazing and the mob were mad; or did it spring up, armed and booted from the earth, a corps of yeomanry, full-grown!

Mr. Pecksniff's duty to society could not be paid till Tom came back.

The interval which preceded the return of that young man, he occupied in a close conference with his friend; so that when Tom did arrive, he found the two quite ready to receive him. Mary was in her own room above, whither Mr. Pecksniff, always considerate, had besought old Martin to entreat her to remain some half-hour longer, that her feelings might be spared.

When Tom came back, he found old Martin sitting by the window, and Mr. Pecksniff in an imposing attitude at the table. On one side of him was his pocket-handkerchief; and on the other a little heap (a very little heap) of gold and silver, and odd pence. Tom saw, at a glance, that it was his own salary for the current quarter.

`Have you fastened the vestry-window, Mr. Pinch?' said Pecksniff.

`Yes, sir.'

`Thank you. Put down the keys if you please, Mr. Pinch.'

Tom placed them on the table. He held the bunch by the key of the organ-loft (though it was one of the smallest), and looked hard at it as he laid it down. It had been an old, old friend of Tom's; a kind companion to him, many and many a day.

`Mr. Pinch,' said Pecksniff, shaking his head: `Oh, Mr. Pinch! I wonder you can look me in the face!'

Tom did it though: and notwithstanding that he has been described as stooping generally, he stood as upright then as man could stand.

`Mr. Pinch,' said Pecksniff, taking up his handkerchief, as if he felt that he should want it soon, `I will not dwell upon the past. I will spare you, and I will spare myself, that pain at least.'

Tom's was not a very bright eye, but it was a very expressive one when he looked at Mr. Pecksniff, and said:

`Thank you, sir. I am very glad you will not refer to the past.'

`The present is enough,' said Mr. Pecksniff, dropping a penny, `and the sooner that is past, the better. Mr. Pinch, I will not dismiss you without a word of explanation. Even such a course would be quite justifiable under the circumstances; but it might wear an appearance of hurry, and I will not do it; for I am,' said Mr. Pecksniff, knocking down another penny, `perfectly self-possessed. Therefore I will say to you, what I have already said to Mr. Chuzzlewit.'

Tom glanced at the old gentleman, who nodded now and then as approving of Mr. Pecksniff's sentences and sentiments, but interposed between them in no other way.

`From fragments of a conversation which I overheard in the church, just now, Mr. Pinch,' said Pecksniff, `between yourself and Miss Graham--I say fragments, because I was slumbering at a considerable distance from you, when I was roused by your voices--and from what I saw, I ascertained (I would have given a great deal not to have ascertained, Mr. Pinch) that you, forgetful of all ties of duty and of honour, sir; regardless of the sacred laws of hospitality, to which you were pledged as an inmate of this house; have presumed to address Miss Graham with un-returned professions of attachment and proposals of love.'

Tom looked at him steadily.

`Do you deny it, sir?' asked Mr. Pecksniff, dropping one pound two and fourpence, and making a great business of picking it up again.

`No, sir,' replied Tom. `I do not.'

`You do not,' said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing at the old gentleman. `Oblige me by counting this money, Mr. Pinch, and putting your name to this receipt.

You do not?'

No, Tom did not. He scorned to deny it. He saw that Mr. Pecksniff having overheard his own disgrace, cared not a jot for sinking lower yet in his contempt. He saw that he had devised this fiction as the readiest means of getting rid of him at once, but that it must end in that any way. He saw that Mr. Pecksniff reckoned on his not denying it, because his doing so and explaining would incense the old man more than ever against Martin and against Mary: while Pecksniff himself would only have been mistaken in his `fragments.' Deny it! No.

`You find the amount correct, do you, Mr. Pinch?' said Pecksniff. `Quite correct, sir,' answered Tom.

`A person is waiting in the kitchen,' said Mr. Pecksniff, `to carry your luggage wherever you please. We part, Mr. Pinch, at once, and are strangers from this time.'