Mr. Pickwick’s Romantic Adventure to Meet with a Middle-aged Lady in Yellow Curl-Papers by Charles Dickens
That โere your governorโs luggage, Sammy?โ inquired Mr. Weller of his affectionate son, as he entered the yard of the Bull Inn, Whitechapel, with a travelling-bag and a small portmanteau.
โYou might haโ made a worser guess than that, old feller,โ replied Mr. Weller the younger, setting down his burden in the yard, and sitting himself down upon it afterwards. โThe governor hisselfโll be down here presently.โ
โHeโs a-cabbinโ it, I suppose?โ said the father.
โYes, heโs a havinโ two mile oโ danger at eight-pence,โ responded the son. โHowโs mother-in-law this morninโ?โ
โQueer, Sammy, queer,โ replied the elder Mr. Weller, with impressive gravity. โSheโs been gettinโ rayther in the Methodistical order lately, Sammy; and she is uncommon pious, to be sure. Sheโs too good a creetur for me, Sammy. I feel I donโt deserve her.โ
โAh,โ said Mr. Samuel. โthatโs wery self-denyinโ oโ you.โ
โWery,โ replied his parent, with a sigh. โSheโs got hold oโ some inwention for grown-up people being born again, Sammyโthe new birth, I think they calls it. I should wery much like to see that system in haction, Sammy. I should wery much like to see your mother-in-law born again. Wouldnโt I put her out to nurse!โ
โWhat do you think them women does tโother day,โ continued Mr. Weller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly struck the side of his nose with his forefinger some half-dozen times. โWhat do you think they does, tโother day, Sammy?โ
โDonโt know,โ replied Sam, โwhat?โ
โGoes and gets up a grand tea drinkinโ for a feller they calls their shepherd,โ said Mr. Weller. โI was a-standing starinโ in at the pictur shop down at our place, when I sees a little bill about it; โtickets half-a-crown. All applications to be made to the committee. Secretary, Mrs. Wellerโ; and when I got home there was the committee a-sittinโ in our back parlour. Fourteen women; I wish you could haโ heard โem, Sammy. There they was, a-passinโ resolutions, and wotinโ supplies, and all sorts oโ games. Well, what with your mother-in-law a-worrying me to go, and what with my looking forโard to seeinโ some queer starts if I did, I put my name down for a ticket; at six oโclock on the Friday eveninโ I dresses myself out wery smart, and off I goes with the old โooman, and up we walks into a fust-floor where there was tea-things for thirty, and a whole lot oโ women as begins whisperinโ to one another, and lookinโ at me, as if theyโd never seen a rayther stout genโlโmโn of eight-and-fifty afore. By and by, there comes a great bustle downstairs, and a lanky chap with a red nose and a white neckcloth rushes up, and sings out, โHereโs the shepherd a-coming to wisit his faithful flock;โ and in comes a fat chap in black, vith a great white face, a-smilinโ avay like clockwork. Such goinโs on, Sammy! โThe kiss of peace,โ says the shepherd; and then he kissed the women all round, and ven heโd done, the man vith the red nose began. I was just a-thinkinโ whether I hadnโt better begin tooโโspecially as there was a wery nice lady a-sittinโ next meโven in comes the tea, and your mother-in-law, as had been makinโ the kettle bile downstairs. At it they went, tooth and nail. Such a precious loud hymn, Sammy, while the tea was a brewing; such a grace, such eatinโ and drinkinโ! I wish you could haโ seen the shepherd walkinโ into the ham and muffins. I never see such a chap to eat and drinkโnever. The red-nosed man warnโt by no means the sort of person youโd like to grub by contract, but he was nothinโ to the shepherd. Well; arter the tea was over, they sang another hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach: and wery well he did it, considerinโ how heavy them muffins must have lied on his chest. Presently he pulls up, all of a sudden, and hollers out, โWhere is the sinner; where is the misโrable sinner?โ Upon which, all the women looked at me, and began to groan as if they was a-dying. I thought it was rather singโler, but howsoever, I says nothing. Presently he pulls up again, and lookinโ wery hard at me, says, โWhere is the sinner; where is the misโrable sinner?โ and all the women groans again, ten times louder than afore. I got rather savage at this, so I takes a step or two forโard and says, โMy friend,โ says I, โdid you apply that โere obserwation to me?โ โStead of begginโ my pardon as any genโlโmโn would haโ done, he got more abusive than ever:โcalled me a wessel, Sammyโa wessel of wrathโand all sorts oโ names. So my blood being regโlarly up, I first gave him two or three for himself, and then two or three more to hand over to the man with the red nose, and walked off. I wish you could haโ heard how the women screamed, Sammy, ven they picked up the shepherd from underneath the tableโHollo! hereโs the governor, the size of life.โ
As Mr. Weller spoke, Mr. Pickwick dismounted from a cab, and entered the yard.
โFine morninโ, Sir,โ said Mr. Weller, senior.
โBeautiful indeed,โ replied Mr. Pickwick.
โBeautiful indeed,โ echoes a red-haired man with an inquisitive nose and green spectacles, who had unpacked himself from a cab at the same moment as Mr. Pickwick. โGoing to Ipswich, Sir?โ
โI am,โ replied Mr. Pickwick.
โExtraordinary coincidence. So am I.โ
Mr. Pickwick bowed.
โGoing outside?โ said the red-haired man.
Mr. Pickwick bowed again.
โBless my soul, how remarkableโI am going outside, too,โ said the red-haired man; โwe are positively going together.โ And the red-haired man, who was an important-looking, sharp-nosed, mysterious-spoken personage, with a bird-like habit of giving his head a jerk every time he said anything, smiled as if he had made one of the strangest discoveries that ever fell to the lot of human wisdom.
โI am happy in the prospect of your company, Sir,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โAh,โ said the new-comer, โitโs a good thing for both of us, isnโt it? Company, you seeโcompanyโisโisโitโs a very different thing from solitudeโainโt it?โ
โThereโs no denying that โere,โ said Mr. Weller, joining in the conversation, with an affable smile. โThatโs what I call a self-evident proposition, as the dogโs-meat man said, when the housemaid told him he warnโt a gentleman.โ
โAh,โ said the red-haired man, surveying Mr. Weller from head to foot with a supercilious look. โFriend of yours, sir?โ
โNot exactly a friend,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, in a low tone. โThe fact is, he is my servant, but I allow him to take a good many liberties; for, between ourselves, I flatter myself he is an original, and I am rather proud of him.โ
โAh,โ said the red-haired man, โthat, you see, is a matter of taste. I am not fond of anything original; I donโt like it; donโt see the necessity for it. Whatโs your name, sir?โ
โHere is my card, sir,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, much amused by the abruptness of the question, and the singular manner of the stranger.
โAh,โ said the red-haired man, placing the card in his pocket-book, โPickwick; very good. I like to know a manโs name, it saves so much trouble. Thatโs my card, sir. Magnus, you will perceive, sirโMagnus is my name. Itโs rather a good name, I think, sir.โ
โA very good name, indeed,โ said Mr. Pickwick, wholly unable to repress a smile.
โYes, I think it is,โ resumed Mr. Magnus. โThereโs a good name before it, too, you will observe. Permit me, sirโif you hold the card a little slanting, this way, you catch the light upon the up-stroke. ThereโPeter Magnusโsounds well, I think, sir.โ
โVery,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โCurious circumstance about those initials, sir,โ said Mr. Magnus. โYou will observeโP.M.โpost meridian. In hasty notes to intimate acquaintance, I sometimes sign myself โAfternoon.โ It amuses my friends very much, Mr. Pickwick.โ
โIt is calculated to afford them the highest gratification, I should conceive,โ said Mr. Pickwick, rather envying the ease with which Mr. Magnusโs friends were entertained.
โNow, genโlโmโn,โ said the hostler, โcoach is ready, if you please.โ
โIs all my luggage in?โ inquired Mr. Magnus.
โAll right, sir.โ
โIs the red bag in?โ
โAll right, Sir.โ
โAnd the striped bag?โ
โFore boot, Sir.โ
โAnd the brown-paper parcel?โ
โUnder the seat, Sir.โ
โAnd the leather hat-box?โ
โTheyโre all in, Sir.โ
โNow, will you get up?โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โExcuse me,โ replied Magnus, standing on the wheel. โExcuse me, Mr. Pickwick. I cannot consent to get up, in this state of uncertainty. I am quite satisfied from that manโs manner, that the leather hat-box is not in.โ
The solemn protestations of the hostler being wholly unavailing, the leather hat-box was obliged to be raked up from the lowest depth of the boot, to satisfy him that it had been safely packed; and after he had been assured on this head, he felt a solemn presentiment, first, that the red bag was mislaid, and next that the striped bag had been stolen, and then that the brown-paper parcel โhad come untied.โ At length when he had received ocular demonstration of the groundless nature of each and every of these suspicions, he consented to climb up to the roof of the coach, observing that now he had taken everything off his mind, he felt quite comfortable and happy.
โYouโre given to nervousness, ainโt you, Sir?โ inquired Mr. Weller, senior, eyeing the stranger askance, as he mounted to his place.
โYes; I always am rather about these little matters,โ said the stranger, โbut I am all right nowโquite right.โ
โWell, thatโs a blessinโ, said Mr. Weller. โSammy, help your master up to the box; tโother leg, Sir, thatโs it; give us your hand, Sir. Up with you. You was a lighter weight when you was a boy, sir.โ
True enough, that, Mr. Weller,โ said the breathless Mr. Pickwick good-humouredly, as he took his seat on the box beside him.
โJump up in front, Sammy,โ said Mr. Weller. โNow Villam, run โem out. Take care oโ the archvay, genโlโmโn. โHeads,โ as the pieman says. Thatโll do, Villam. Let โem alone.โ And away went the coach up Whitechapel, to the admiration of the whole population of that pretty densely populated quarter.
โNot a wery nice neighbourhood, this, Sir,โ said Sam, with a touch of the hat, which always preceded his entering into conversation with his master.
โIt is not indeed, Sam,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the crowded and filthy street through which they were passing.
โItโs a wery remarkable circumstance, Sir,โ said Sam, โthat poverty and oysters always seem to go together.โ
โI donโt understand you, Sam,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โWhat I mean, sir,โ said Sam, โis, that the poorer a place is, the greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look here, sir; hereโs a oyster-stall to every half-dozen houses. The streetโs lined vith โem. Blessed if I donโt think that ven a manโs wery poor, he rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters in regโlar desperation.โ
โTo be sure he does,โ said Mr. Weller, senior; โand itโs just the same vith pickled salmon!โ
โThose are two very remarkable facts, which never occurred to me before,โ said Mr. Pickwick. โThe very first place we stop at, Iโll make a note of them.โ
By this time they had reached the turnpike at Mile End; a profound silence prevailed until they had got two or three miles farther on, when Mr. Weller, senior, turning suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, saidโ
โWery queer life is a pike-keeperโs, sir.โ
โA what?โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โA pike-keeper.โ
โWhat do you mean by a pike-keeper?โ inquired Mr. Peter Magnus.
โThe old โun means a turnpike-keeper, genโlโmโn,โ observed Mr. Samuel Weller, in explanation.
โOh,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โI see. Yes; very curious life. Very uncomfortable.โ
โTheyโre all on โem men as has met vith some disappointment in life,โ said Mr. Weller, senior.
โAy, ay,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โYes. Consequence of vich, they retires from the world, and shuts themselves up in pikes; partly with the view of being solitary, and partly to rewenge themselves on mankind by takinโ tolls.โ
โDear me,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โI never knew that before.โ
โFact, Sir,โ said Mr. Weller; โif they was genโlโmโn, youโd call โem misanthropes, but as it is, they only takes to pike-keepinโ.โ
With such conversation, possessing the inestimable charm of blending amusement with instruction, did Mr. Weller beguile the tediousness of the journey, during the greater part of the day. Topics of conversation were never wanting, for even when any pause occurred in Mr. Wellerโs loquacity, it was abundantly supplied by the desire evinced by Mr. Magnus to make himself acquainted with the whole of the personal history of his fellow-travellers, and his loudly-expressed anxiety at every stage, respecting the safety and well-being of the two bags, the leather hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel.
In the main street of Ipswich, on the left-hand side of the way, a short distance after you have passed through the open space fronting the Town Hall, stands an inn known far and wide by the appellation of the Great White Horse, rendered the more conspicuous by a stone statue of some rampacious animal with flowing mane and tail, distantly resembling an insane cart-horse, which is elevated above the principal door. The Great White Horse is famous in the neighbourhood, in the same degree as a prize ox, or a county-paper-chronicled turnip, or unwieldy pigโfor its enormous size. Never was such labyrinths of uncarpeted passages, such clusters of mouldy, ill-lighted rooms, such huge numbers of small dens for eating or sleeping in, beneath any one roof, as are collected together between the four walls of the Great White Horse at Ipswich.
It was at the door of this overgrown tavern that the London coach stopped, at the same hour every evening; and it was from this same London coach that Mr. Pickwick, Sam Weller, and Mr. Peter Magnus dismounted, on the particular evening to which this chapter of our history bears reference.
โDo you stop here, sir?โ inquired Mr. Peter Magnus, when the striped bag, and the red bag, and the brown-paper parcel, and the leather hat-box, had all been deposited in the passage. โDo you stop here, sir?โ
โI do,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โDear me,โ said Mr. Magnus, โI never knew anything like these extraordinary coincidences. Why, I stop here too. I hope we dine together?โ
โWith pleasure,โ replied Mr. Pickwick. โI am not quite certain whether I have any friends here or not, though. Is there any gentleman of the name of Tupman here, waiter?โ
A corpulent man, with a fortnightโs napkin under his arm, and coeval stockings on his legs, slowly desisted from his occupation of staring down the street, on this question being put to him by Mr. Pickwick; and, after minutely inspecting that gentlemanโs appearance, from the crown of his hat to the lowest button of his gaiters, replied emphaticallyโ
โNo!โ
โNor any gentleman of the name of Snodgrass?โ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
โNo!โ
โNor Winkle?โ
โNo!โ
โMy friends have not arrived to-day, Sir,โ said Mr. Pickwick. โWe will dine alone, then. Show us a private room, waiter.โ
On this request being preferred, the corpulent man condescended to order the boots to bring in the gentlemenโs luggage; and preceding them down a long, dark passage, ushered them into a large, badly-furnished apartment, with a dirty grate, in which a small fire was making a wretched attempt to be cheerful, but was fast sinking beneath the dispiriting influence of the place. After the lapse of an hour, a bit of fish and a steak was served up to the travellers, and when the dinner was cleared away, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Peter Magnus drew their chairs up to the fire, and having ordered a bottle of the worst possible port wine, at the highest possible price, for the good of the house, drank brandy-and-water for their own.
Mr. Peter Magnus was naturally of a very communicative disposition, and the brandy-and-water operated with wonderful effect in warming into life the deepest hidden secrets of his bosom. After sundry accounts of himself, his family, his connections, his friends, his jokes, his business, and his brothers (most talkative men have a great deal to say about their brothers), Mr. Peter Magnus took a view of Mr. Pickwick through his coloured spectacles for several minutes, and then said, with an air of modestyโ
โAnd what do you thinkโwhat do you think, Mr. PickwickโI have come down here for?โ
โUpon my word,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โit is wholly impossible for me to guess; on business, perhaps.โ
โPartly right, Sir,โ replied Mr. Peter Magnus, โbut partly wrong at the same time; try again, Mr. Pickwick.โ
โReally,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โI must throw myself on your mercy, to tell me or not, as you may think best; for I should never guess, if I were to try all night.โ
โWhy, then, he-he-he!โ said Mr. Peter Magnus, with a bashful titter, โwhat should you think, Mr. Pickwick, if I had come down here to make a proposal, Sir, eh? He, he, he!โ
โThink! That you are very likely to succeed,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, with one of his beaming smiles.
โAh!โ said Mr. Magnus. โBut do you really think so, Mr. Pickwick? Do you, though?โ
โCertainly,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โNo; but youโre joking, though.โ
โI am not, indeed.โ
โWhy, then,โ said Mr. Magnus, โto let you into a little secret, I think so too. I donโt mind telling you, Mr. Pickwick, although Iโm dreadful jealous by natureโhorridโthat the lady is in this house.โ Here Mr. Magnus took off his spectacles, on purpose to wink, and then put them on again.
โThatโs what you were running out of the room for, before dinner, then, so often,โ said Mr. Pickwick archly.
โHush! Yes, youโre right, that was it; not such a fool as to see her, though.โ
โNo!โ
โNo; wouldnโt do, you know, after having just come off a journey. Wait till to-morrow, sir; double the chance then. Mr. Pickwick, Sir, there is a suit of clothes in that bag, and a hat in that box, which, I expect, in the effect they will produce, will be invaluable to me, sir.โ
โIndeed!โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โYes; you must have observed my anxiety about them to-day. I do not believe that such another suit of clothes, and such a hat, could be bought for money, Mr. Pickwick.โ
Mr. Pickwick congratulated the fortunate owner of the irresistible garments on their acquisition; and Mr. Peter Magnus remained a few moments apparently absorbed in contemplation.
โSheโs a fine creature,โ said Mr. Magnus.
โIs she?โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โVery,โ said Mr. Magnus. โVery. She lives about twenty miles from here, Mr. Pickwick. I heard she would be here to-night and all to-morrow forenoon, and came down to seize the opportunity. I think an inn is a good sort of a place to propose to a single woman in, Mr. Pickwick. She is more likely to feel the loneliness of her situation in travelling, perhaps, than she would be at home. What do you think, Mr. Pickwick?โ
โI think it is very probable,โ replied that gentleman.
โI beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick,โ said Mr. Peter Magnus, โbut I am naturally rather curious; what may you have come down here for?โ
โOn a far less pleasant errand, Sir,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, the colour mounting to his face at the recollection. โI have come down here, Sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual, upon whose truth and honour I placed implicit reliance.โ
โDear me,โ said Mr. Peter Magnus, โthatโs very unpleasant. It is a lady, I presume? Eh? ah! Sly, Mr. Pickwick, sly. Well, Mr. Pickwick, sir, I wouldnโt probe your feelings for the world. Painful subjects, these, sir, very painful. Donโt mind me, Mr. Pickwick, if you wish to give vent to your feelings. I know what it is to be jilted, Sir; I have endured that sort of thing three or four times.โ
โI am much obliged to you, for your condolence on what you presume to be my melancholy case,โ said Mr. Pickwick, winding up his watch, and laying it on the table, โbutโโ
โNo, no,โ said Mr. Peter Magnus, โnot a word more; itโs a painful subject. I see, I see. Whatโs the time, Mr. Pickwick?โ
Past twelve.โ
โDear me, itโs time to go to bed. It will never do, sitting here. I shall be pale to-morrow, Mr. Pickwick!โ
At the bare notion of such a calamity, Mr. Peter Magnus rang the bell for the chambermaid; and the striped bag, the red bag, the leather hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, having been conveyed to his bedroom, he retired in company with a japanned candlestick to one side of the house, while Mr. Pickwick, and another japanned candlestick, were conducted through a multitude of tortuous windings to another.
โThis is your room, sir,โ said the chambermaid.
โVery well,โ replied Mr. Pickwick, looking round him. It was a tolerably large double-bedded room, with a fire; upon the whole, a more comfortable-looking apartment than Mr. Pickwickโs short experience of the accommodations of the Great White Horse had led him to expect.
โNobody sleeps in the other bed, of course,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โOh, no, sir.โ
โVery good. Tell my servant to bring me up some hot water at half-past eight in the morning, and that I shall not want him any more to-night.โ
โYes, sir.โ And bidding Mr. Pickwick good-night, the chambermaid retired, and left him alone.
Mr. Pickwick sat himself down in a chair before the fire, and fell into a train of rambling meditations. First he thought of his friends, and wondered when they would join him; then his mind reverted to Mrs. Martha Bardell; and from that lady it wandered, by a natural process, to the dingy counting-house of Dodson and Fogg. From Dodson and Foggโs it flew off at a tangent, to the very centre of the history of the queer client; and then it came back to the Great White Horse at Ipswich, with sufficient clearness to convince Mr. Pickwick that he was falling asleep; so he roused himself, and began to undress, when he recollected he had left his watch on the table down-stairs.
Now, this watch was a special favorite with Mr. Pickwick, having been carried about, beneath the shadow of his waistcoat, for a greater number of years than we feel called upon to state at present. The possibility of going to sleep unless it were ticking gently beneath his pillow, or in his watch-pocket over his head, had never entered Mr. Pickwickโs brain. So as it was pretty late now, and he was unwilling to ring his bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his coat, of which he had just divested himself, and, taking the japanned candlestick in his hand, walked quietly down-stairs.
The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs there seemed to be to descend; and again and again, when Mr. Pickwick got into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself on having gained the ground-floor, did another flight of stairs appear before his astonished eyes. At last he reached a stone hall, which he remembered to have seen when he entered the house. Passage after passage did he explore; room after room did he peep into; at length, just as he was on the point of giving up the search in despair, he opened the door of the identical room in which he had spent the evening, and beheld his missing property on the table.
Mr. Pickwick seized the watch in triumph, and proceeded to retrace his steps to his bed-chamber. If his progress downwards had been attended with difficulties and uncertainty, his journey back was infinitely more perplexing. Rows of doors garnished with boots of every shape, make, and size, branched off in every possible direction. A dozen times did he softly turn the handle of some bedroom door which resembled his own, when a gruff cry from within, of โWho the devilโs that?โ or โWhat do you want here?โ caused him to steal away, on tiptoe, with a marvellous celerity. He was reduced to the verge of despair, when an open door attracted his attention. He peeped inโright at last! There were the two beds, whose situation he perfectly remembered, and the fire still burning. His candle, not a long one when he first received it, had flickered away in the draughts of air through which he had passed, and sunk into the socket just as he closed the door after him. โNo matter,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โI can undress myself just as well, by the light of the fire.โ
The bedsteads stood, one on each side of the door; and on the inner side of each was a little path, terminating in a rush-bottomed chair, just wide enough to admit of a personโs getting into or out of bed on that side, if he or she thought proper. Having carefully drawn the curtains of his bed on the outside, Mr. Pickwick sat down on the rush-bottomed chair, and leisurely divested himself of his shoes and gaiters. He then took off and folded up his coat, waistcoat, and neck-cloth, and, slowly tying on his tasselled nightcap, secured it firmly on his head, by tying beneath his chin the strings which he had always attached to that article of dress. It was at this moment that the absurdity of his recent bewilderment struck upon his mind; and throwing himself back in the rush-bottomed chair, Mr. Pickwick laughed to himself so heartily, that it would have been quite delightful to any man of well-constituted mind to have watched the smiles which expanded his amiable features as they shone forth from beneath the nightcap.
โIt is the best idea,โ said Mr. Pickwick to himself, smiling till he almost cracked the nightcap strings,โโit is the best idea, my losing myself in this place, and wandering about those staircases, that I ever heard of. Droll, droll, very droll.โ Here Mr. Pickwick smiled again, a broader smile than before, and was about to continue the process of undressing, in the very best possible humor, when he was suddenly stopped by a most unexpected interruption; to wit, the entrance into the room of some person with a candle, who, after locking the door, advanced to the dressing-table, and set down the light upon it.
The smile that played on Mr. Pickwickโs features was instantaneously lost in a look of the most unbounded and wonder-stricken surprise. The person, whoever it was, had come in so suddenly and with so little noise, that Mr. Pickwick had no time to call out, or oppose their entrance. Who could it be? A robber! Some evil-minded person who had seen him come up-stairs with a handsome watch in his hand, perhaps. What was he to do?
The only way in which Mr. Pickwick could catch a glimpse of his mysterious visitor, with the least danger of being seen himself, was by creeping on to the bed, and peeping out from between the curtains on the opposite side. To this manลuvre he accordingly resorted. Keeping the curtains carefully closed with his hand, so that nothing more of him could be seen than his face and nightcap, and putting on his spectacles, he mustered up courage, and looked out.
Mr. Pickwick almost fainted with horror and dismay. Standing before the dressing-glass was a middle-aged lady in yellow curl-papers, busily engaged in brushing what ladies call their โback hair.โ However the unconscious middle-aged lady came into that room, it was quite clear that she contemplated remaining there for the night; for she had brought a rushlight and shade with her, which, with praiseworthy precaution against fire, she had stationed in a basin on the floor, where it was glimmering away like a gigantic light-house in a particularly small piece of water.
โBless my soul,โ thought Mr. Pickwick, โwhat a dreadful thing!โ
โHem!โ said the lady; and in went Mr. Pickwickโs head with automaton-like rapidity.
โI never met any thing so awful as this,โ thought poor Mr. Pickwick, the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his nightcap. โNever. This is fearful.โ
It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was going forward. So out went Mr. Pickwickโs head again. The prospect was worse than before. The middle-aged lady had finished arranging her hair, and carefully enveloped it in a muslin nightcap with a small plaited border, and was gazing pensively on the fire.
โThis matter is growing alarming,โ reasoned Mr. Pickwick with himself. โI canโt allow things to go in this way. By the self-possession of that lady, itโs clear to me that I must have come into the wrong room. If I call out, sheโll alarm the house; but if I remain here, the consequence will be still more frightful!โ
Mr. Pickwick, it is quite necessary to say, was one of the most modest and delicate-minded of mortals. The very idea of exhibiting his nightcap to a lady overpowered him; but he had tied those confounded strings in a knot, and, do what he would, he couldnโt get it off. The disclosure must be made. There was only one other way of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and called out very loudly,โ
โHaโhum.โ
That the lady started at this unexpected sound, was evident by her falling up against the rushlight shade; that she persuaded herself it must have been the effect of imagination, was equally clear, for when Mr. Pickwick, under the impression that she had fainted away, stone dead from fright, ventured to peep out again, she was gazing pensively on the fire as before.
โMost extraordinary female this,โ thought Mr. Pickwick, popping in again. โHaโhum.โ
These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible to be again mistaken for the workings of fancy.
โGracious Heaven!โ said the middle-aged lady, โwhatโs that?โ
โItโsโitโsโonly a gentleman, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick from behind the curtains.
โA gentleman!โ said the lady with a terrific scream.
โItโs all over,โ thought Mr. Pickwick.
โA strange man!โ shrieked the lady. Another instant, and the house would be alarmed. Her garments rustled as she rushed towards the door.
โMaโamโโsaid Mr. Pickwick, thrusting out his head, in the extremity of his desperation, โmaโam.โ
Now, although Mr. Pickwick was not actuated by any definite object in putting out his head, it was instantaneously productive of a good effect. The lady, as we have already stated, was near the door. She must pass it to reach the staircase; and she would most undoubtedly have done so, by this time, had not the sudden apparition of Mr. Pickwickโs nightcap driven her back, into the remotest corner of the apartment, where she stood staring wildly at Mr. Pickwick, while Mr. Pickwick in his turn stared wildly at her.
โWretch,โ said the lady, covering her eyes with her hands, โwhat do you want here?โ
โNothing, maโam,โnothing whatever, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick earnestly.
โNothing!โ said the lady looking up.
โNothing, maโam, upon my honor,โ said Mr. Pickwick, nodding his head so energetically, that the tassel of his nightcap danced again. โI am almost ready to sink, maโam, beneath the confusion of addressing a lady in my nightcap (here the lady hastily snatched off hers), but I canโt get it off, maโam (here Mr. Pickwick gave it a tremendous tug in proof of the statement). It is evident to me, maโam, now, that I have mistaken this bedroom for my own. I had not been here five minutes, maโam, when you suddenly entered it.โ
โIf this improbable story be really true, sir,โ said the lady, sobbing violently, โyou will leave it instantly.โ
โI will, maโam, with the greatest pleasure,โ replied Mr. Pickwick.
โInstantly, sir,โ said the lady.
โCertainly, maโam,โ interposed Mr. Pickwick, very quickly. โCertainly, maโam. IโIโam very sorry, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick, making his appearance at the bottom of the bed, โto have been the innocent occasion of this alarm and emotion; deeply sorry, maโam.โ
The lady pointed to the door. One excellent quality of Mr. Pickwickโs character was beautifully displayed at this moment, under the most trying circumstances. Although he had hastily put on his hat over his nightcap, after the manner of the old patrol; although he carried his shoes and gaiters in his hand, and his coat and waistcoat over his arm, nothing could subdue his native politeness.
โI am exceedingly sorry, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low.
โIf you are, sir, you will at once leave the room,โ said the lady.
โImmediately, maโam; this instant, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick, opening the door, and dropping both his shoes with a loud crash in so doing.
โI trust, maโam,โ resumed Mr. Pickwick, gathering up his shoes, and turning round to bow again, โI trust, maโam, that my unblemished character, and the devoted respect I entertain for your sex, will plead as some slight excuse for thisโโBut before Mr. Pickwick could conclude the sentence, the lady had thrust him into the passage, and locked and bolted the door behind him.