`I don't mean to say that is a right feeling,' pursued John Westlock `because it was no fault of mine; and I can quite understand -- you for instance, fully appreciating him, and yet being forced by circumstances to remain there. I tell you simply what my feeling is; and even now, when, as you say, it's all over; and when I have the satisfaction of knowing that he always hated me, and we always quarrelled, and I always told him my mind; even now, I feel sorry that I didn't yield to an impulse I often had, as a boy, of running away from him and going abroad.'
`Why abroad?' asked Martin, turning his eyes upon the speaker.
`In search,' replied John Westlock, shrugging his shoulders, `of the livelihood I couldn't have earned at home. There would have been something spirited in that. But, come! Fill your glass, and let us forget him.'
`As soon as you please,' said Martin. `In reference to myself and my connexion with him, I have only to repeat what I said before. I have taken my own way with him so far, and shall continue to do so, even more than ever; for the fact is, to tell you the truth, that I believe he looks to me to supply his defects, and couldn't afford to lose me. I had a notion of that in first going there. Your health!'
`Thank you,' returned young Westlock. `Yours. And may the new pupil turn out as well as you can desire!'
`What new pupil?'
`The fortunate youth, born under an auspicious star,' returned John Westlock, laughing; `whose parents, or guardians, are destined to be hooked by the advertisement. What! Don't you know that he has advertised again?'
`No.'
`Oh, yes. I read it just before dinner in the old newspaper. I know it to be his; having some reason to remember the style. Hush! Here's Pinch.
Strange, is it not, that the more he likes Pecksniff (if he can like him better than he does), the greater reason one has to like him ? Not a word more, or we shall spoil his whole enjoyment.'
Tom entered as the words were spoken, with a radiant smile upon his face; and rubbing his hands, more from a sense of delight than because he was cold (for he had been running fast), sat down in his warm corner again, and was as happy as only Tom Pinch could be. There is no other simile that will express his state of mind.
`And so,' he said, when he had gazed at his friend for some time in silent pleasure, `so you really are a gentleman at last, John. Well, to be sure!'
`Trying to be, Tom; trying to be,' he rejoined good-humouredly. `There is no saying what I may turn out, in time.'
`I suppose you wouldn't carry your own box to the mail now?' said Tom Pinch, smiling; `although you lost it altogether by not taking it.'
`Wouldn't I?' retorted John. `That's all you know about it, Pinch. It must be a very heavy box that I wouldn't carry to get away from Pecksniff's, Tom.'
`There!' cried Pinch, turning to Martin, `I told you so. The great fault in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff. You mustn't mind a word he says on that subject. His prejudice is most extraordinary.'
`The absence of anything like prejudice on Tom's part, you know,' said John Westlock, laughing heartily, as he laid his hand on Mr. Pinch's shoulder, `is perfectly wonderful. If one man ever had a profound knowledge of another, and saw him in a true light, and in his own proper colours, Tom has that knowledge of Mr. Pecksniff.'
`Why, of course I have,' cried Tom. `That's exactly what I have so often said to you. If you knew him as well as I do -- John, I'd give almost any money to bring that about -- you'd admire, respect, and reverence him.
You couldn't help it. Oh, how you wounded his feelings when you went away!'
`If I had known whereabout his feelings lay,' retorted young Westlock, `I'd have done my best, Tom, with that end in view, you may depend upon it. But as I couldn't wound him in what he has not, and in what he knows nothing of, except in his ability to probe them to the quick in other people, I am afraid I can lay no claim to your compliment.'
Mr. Pinch, being unwilling to protract a discussion which might possibly corrupt Martin, forbore to say anything in reply to this speech; but John Westlock, whom nothing short of an iron gag would have silenced when Mr. Pecksniff's merits were once in question, continued notwithstanding.
` His feelings! oh, he's a tender-hearted man. His feelings!
Oh, he's a considerate, conscientious, self-examining, moral vagabond, he is! His feelings! Oh! -- what's the matter, Tom?'
Mr. Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug, buttoning his coat with great energy.
`I can't bear it,' said Tom, shaking his head. `No. I really cannot.
You must excuse me, John. I have a great esteem and friendship for you;
I love you very much; and have been perfectly charmed and overjoyed to-day, to find you just the same as ever; but I cannot listen to this.'
`Why, it's my old way, Tom; and you say yourself that you are glad to find me unchanged.'
`Not in this respect,' said Tom Pinch. `You must excuse me, John. I cannot, really; I will not. It's very wrong; you should be more guarded in your expressions. It was bad enough when you and I used to be alone together, but under existing circumstances, I can't endure it, really.
No. I cannot, indeed.'
`You are quite right!' exclaimed the other, exchanging looks with Martin.
`and I am quite wrong, Tom. I don't know how the deuce we fell on this unlucky theme. I beg your pardon with all my heart.'
`You have a free and manly temper, I know,' said Pinch; `and therefore, your being so ungenerous in this one solitary instance, only grieves me the more. It's not my pardon you have to ask, John. You have done me nothing but kindnesses.'
`Well! Pecksniff's pardon then,' said young Westlock. `Anything Tom, or anybody. Pecksniff's pardon. Will that do? Here! let us drink Pecksniff's health!'
`Thank you,' cried Tom, shaking hands with him eagerly, and filling a bumper. `Thank you; I'll drink it with all my heart, John. Mr. Pecksniff's health, and prosperity to him!'