The youngest gentleman in company is pale, but collected, and still sits apart; for his spirit loves to hold communion with itself, and his soul recoils from noisy revellers. She has a consciousness of his presence and adoration. He sees it flashing sometimes in the corner of her eye. Have a care, Jinkins, ere you provoke a desperate man to frenzy!
Mr. Pecksniff had followed his younger friends up-stairs, and taken a chair at the side of Mrs. Todgers. He had also spilt a cup of coffee over his legs without appearing to be aware of the circumstance; nor did he seem to know that there was muffin on his knee.
`And how have they used you down-stairs, sir?' asked the hostess. `Their conduct has been such, my dear madam,' said Mr. Pecksniff, `as I can never think of without emotion, or remember without a tear. Oh, Mrs. Todgers!'
`My goodness!' exclaimed that lady. `How low you are in your spirits, sir!'
`I am a man, my dear madam,' said Mr. Pecksniff, shedding tears and speaking with an imperfect articulation, `but I am also a father. I am also a widower. My feelings, Mrs. Todgers, will not consent to be entirely smothered, like the young children in the Tower. They are grown up, and the more I press the bolster on them, the more they look round the corner of it.'
He suddenly became conscious of the bit of muffin, and stared at it intently: shaking his head the while, in a forlorn and imbecile manner, as if he regarded it as his evil genius, and mildly reproached it.
`She was beautiful, Mrs. Todgers,' he said, turning his glazed eye again upon her, without the least preliminary notice. `She had a small property.'
`So I have heard,' cried Mrs. Todgers with great sympathy.
`Those are her daughters,' said Mr. Pecksniff, pointing out the young ladies, with increased emotion.
Mrs. Todgers had no doubt about it.
`Mercy and Charity,' said Mr. Pecksniff, `Charity and Mercy. Not unholy names, I hope?'
`Mr. Pecksniff!' cried Mrs. Todgers. `What a ghastly smile! Are you ill, sir?'
He pressed his hand upon her arm, and answered in a solemn manner, and a faint voice, `Chronic.'
`Cholic?' cried the frightened Mrs. Todgers.
`Chron-ic,' he repeated with some difficulty. `Chron-ic. A chronic disorder.
I have been its victim from childhood. It is carrying me to my grave.'
`Heaven forbid!' cried Mrs. Todgers.
`Yes, it is,' said Mr. Pecksniff, reckless with despair. `I am rather glad of it, upon the whole. You are like her, Mrs. Todgers.'
`Don't squeeze me so tight, pray, Mr. Pecksniff. If any of the gentlemen should notice us.'
`For her sake,' said Mr. Pecksniff. `Permit me. In honour of her memory.
For the sake of a voice from the tomb. You are very like her Mrs.
Todgers! What a world this is!'
`Ah! Indeed you may say that!' cried Mrs. Todgers.
`I'm afraid it is a vain and thoughtless world,' said Mr. Pecksniff, overflowing with despondency. `These young people about us. Oh! what sense have they of their responsibilities? None. Give me your, other hand, Mrs.
Todgers.'
The lady hesitated, and said `she didn't like.'
`Has a voice from the grave no influence?' said Mr. Pecksniff, with, dismal tenderness. `This is irreligious! My dear creature.'
`Hush!' urged Mrs. Todgers. `Really you mustn't.'
`It's not me,' said Mr. Pecksniff. `Don't suppose it's me: it's the voice; it's her voice.'
Mrs. Pecksniff deceased, must have had an unusually thick and husky voice for a lady, and rather a stuttering voice, and to say the truth somewhat of a drunken voice, if it had ever borne much resemblance to that in which Mr. Pecksniff spoke just then. But perhaps this was delusion on his part.
`It has been a day of enjoyment, Mrs. Todgers, but still it has been a day of torture. It has reminded me of my loneliness. What am I in the world?'
`An excellent gentleman, Mr. Pecksniff,' said Mrs. Todgers.
`There is consolation in that too,' cried Mr. Pecksniff. `Am I?'
`There is no better man living,' said Mrs. Todgers, `I am sure.'
Mr. Pecksniff smiled through his tears, and slightly shook his head.
`You are very good,' he said, `thank you. It is a great happiness to me, Mrs. Todgers, to make young people happy. The happiness of my pupils is my chief object. I dote upon 'em. They dote upon me too. Sometimes.'
`Always,' said Mrs. Todgers.
`When they say they haven't improved, ma'am,' whispered Mr. Pecksniff, looking at her with profound mystery, and motioning to her to advance her ear a little closer to his mouth. `When they say they haven't improved, ma'am, and the premium was too high, they lie! I shouldn't wish it to be mentioned; you will understand me; but I say to you as to an old friend, they lie.'
`Base wretches they must be!' said Mrs. Todgers.
`Madam,' said Mr. Pecksniff, `you are right. I respect you for that observation. A word in your ear. To Parents and Guardians. This is in confidence, Mrs. Todgers?'
`The strictest, of course!' cried that lady.
`To Parents and Guardians,' repeated Mr. Pecksniff. `An eligible opportunity now offers, which unites the advantages of the best practical architectural education with the comforts of a home, and the constant association with some, who, however humble their sphere and limited their capacity -- observe!
-- are not unmindful of their moral responsibilities.'