WHEREIN Mr. PETER MAGNUS GROWSJEALOUS, AND THE MIDDLE-AGED LADYAPPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THEPICKWICKIANS WITHIN THEGRASP OF THE LAWhen Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which heand Mr. Peter Magnus had spent the precedingevening, he found that gentleman with the major partof the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box, and thebrown-paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage on hisperson, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in astate of the utmost excitement and agitation.

　　‘Good-morning, sir,’ said Mr. Peter Magnus. ‘What do you thinkof this, sir?’

　　‘Very effective indeed,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying thegarments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile.

　　‘Yes, I think it’ll do,’ said Mr. Magnus. ‘Mr. Pickwick, sir, I havesent up my card.’

　　‘Have you?’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me ateleven―at eleven, sir; it only wants a quarter now.’

　　‘Very near the time,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Yes, it is rather near,’ replied Mr. Magnus, ‘rather too near tobe pleasant―eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir?’

　　‘Confidence is a great thing in these cases,’ observed Mr.

　　Pickwick.

　　‘I believe it is, sir,’ said Mr. Peter Magnus. ‘I am very confident,sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel anyfear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, sir? There’s nothing to beashamed of; it’s a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more.

　　Husband on one side, wife on the other. That’s my view of thematter, Mr. Pickwick.’

　　‘It is a very philosophical one,’ replied Mr. Pickwick. ‘Butbreakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come.’

　　Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstandingthe boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a veryconsiderable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, apropensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery,and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock, every othersecond, were among the principal symptoms.

　　‘He-he-he,’ tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness, andgasping with agitation. ‘It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick.

　　Am I pale, sir?’

　　‘Not very,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.

　　There was a brief pause.

　　‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick; but have you ever done thissort of thing in your time?’ said Mr. Magnus.

　　‘You mean proposing?’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Yes.’

　　‘Never,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy, ‘never.’

　　‘You have no idea, then, how it’s best to begin?’ said Mr.

　　Magnus.

　　‘Why,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘I may have formed some ideas uponthe subject, but, as I have never submitted them to the test ofexperience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate yourproceedings by them.’

　　‘I should feel very much obliged to you, for any advice, sir,’ saidMr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of whichwas verging on the five minutes past.

　　‘Well, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity withwhich that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarksso deeply impressive. ‘I should commence, sir, with a tribute to thelady’s beauty and excellent qualities; from them, sir, I shoulddiverge to my own unworthiness.’

　　‘Very good,’ said Mr. Magnus.

　　‘Unworthiness for her only, mind, sir,’ resumed Mr. Pickwick;‘for to show that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take abrief review of my past life, and present condition. I should argue,by analogy, that to anybody else, I must be a very desirable object.

　　I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth ofmy devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand.’

　　‘Yes, I see,’ said Mr. Magnus; ‘that would be a very great point.’

　　‘I should then, sir,’ continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer asthe subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him―‘Ishould then, sir, come to the plain and simple question, “Will youhave me?” I think I am justified in assuming that upon this, shewould turn away her head.’

　　‘You think that may be taken for granted?’ said Mr. Magnus;‘because, if she did not do that at the right place, it would beembarrassing.’

　　‘I think she would,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Upon this, sir, I shouldsqueeze her hand, and I think―I think, Mr. Magnus―that after Ihad done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gentlydraw away the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge ofhuman nature leads me to suppose the lady would be applying toher eyes at the moment, and steal a respectful kiss. I think I shouldkiss her, Mr. Magnus; and at this particular point, I am decidedlyof opinion that if the lady were going to take me at all, she wouldmurmur into my ears a bashful acceptance.’

　　Mr. Magnus started; gazed on Mr. Pickwick’s intelligent face,for a short time in silence; and then (the dial pointing to the tenminutes past) shook him warmly by the hand, and rusheddesperately from the room.

　　Mr. Pickwick had taken a few strides to and fro; and the smallhand of the clock following the latter part of his example, hadarrived at the figure which indicates the half-hour, when the doorsuddenly opened. He turned round to meet Mr. Peter Magnus, andencountered, in his stead, the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, theserene countenance of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineamentsof Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. PeterMagnus tripped into the room.

　　‘My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of―Mr. Magnus,’

　　said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Your servant, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Magnus, evidently in a highstate of excitement; ‘Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you onemoment, sir.’

　　As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr.

　　Pickwick’s buttonhole, and, drawing him to a window recess,said―‘Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick; I followed your advice to thevery letter.’

　　‘And it was all correct, was it?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘It was, sir. Could not possibly have been better,’ replied Mr.

　　Magnus. ‘Mr. Pickwick, she is mine.’

　　‘I congratulate you, with all my heart,’ replied Mr. Pickwick,warmly shaking his new friend by the hand.

　　‘You must see her. sir,’ said Mr. Magnus; ‘this way, if youplease. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen.’ Hurrying on in thisway, Mr. Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. Hepaused at the next door in the passage, and tapped gently thereat.

　　‘Come in,’ said a female voice. And in they went.

　　‘Miss Witherfield,’ said Mr. Magnus, ‘allow me to introduce myvery particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to makeyou known to Miss Witherfield.’

　　The lady was at the upper end of the room. As Mr. Pickwickbowed, he took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, and putthem on; a process which he had no sooner gone through, than,uttering an exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreatedseveral paces, and the lady, with a half-suppressed scream, hid herface in her hands, and dropped into a chair; whereupon Mr. PeterMagnus was stricken motionless on the spot, and gazed from oneto the other, with a countenance expressive of the extremities ofhorror and surprise. This certainly was, to all appearance, veryunaccountable behaviour; but the fact is, that Mr. Pickwick nosooner put on his spectacles, than he at once recognised in thefuture Mrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he had sounwarrantably intruded on the previous night; and the spectacleshad no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick’s nose, than the lady at onceidentified the countenance which she had seen surrounded by allthe horrors of a nightcap. So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pickwickstarted.

　　‘Mr. Pickwick!’ exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment,‘what is the meaning of this, sir? What is the meaning of it, sir?’

　　added Mr. Magnus, in a threatening, and a louder tone.

　　‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very suddenmanner in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself intothe imperative mood, ‘I decline answering that question.’

　　‘You decline it, sir?’ said Mr. Magnus.

　　‘I do, sir,’ replied Mr. Pickwick; ‘I object to say anything whichmay compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections inher breast, without her consent and permission.’

　　‘Miss Witherfield,’ said Mr. Peter Magnus, ‘do you know thisperson?’

　　‘Know him!’ repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating.

　　‘Yes, know him, ma’am; I said know him,’ replied Mr. Magnus,with ferocity.

　　‘I have seen him,’ replied the middle-aged lady.

　　‘Where?’ inquired Mr. Magnus, ‘where?’

　　‘That,’ said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, andaverting her head―‘that I would not reveal for worlds.’

　　‘I understand you, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘and respect yourdelicacy; it shall never be revealed by me depend upon it.’

　　‘Upon my word, ma’am,’ said Mr. Magnus, ‘considering thesituation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carrythis matter off with tolerable coolness―tolerable coolness, ma’am.’

　　‘Cruel Mr. Magnus!’ said the middle-aged lady; here she weptvery copiously indeed.

　　‘Address your observations to me, sir,’ interposed Mr. Pickwick;‘I alone am to blame, if anybody be.’

　　‘Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?’ said Mr. Magnus; ‘I―I―see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, doyou?’

　　‘My determination!’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Your determination, sir. Oh! don’t stare at me, sir,’ said Mr.

　　Magnus; ‘I recollect your words last night, sir. You came downhere, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual onwhose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance―eh?’

　　Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer; and takingoff his green spectacles―which he probably found superfluous inhis fit of jealousy―rolled his little eyes about, in a manner frightfulto behold.

　　‘Eh?’ said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer withincreased effect. ‘But you shall answer it, sir.’

　　‘Answer what?’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Never mind, sir,’ replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down theroom. ‘Never mind.’

　　There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of‘Never mind,’ for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed aquarrel in the street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, inwhich it has not been the standard reply to all belligerentinquiries. ‘Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir?’―‘Never mind,sir.’ ‘Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir?’―‘Nevermind, sir.’ ‘Do you want your head knocked up against that wall,sir?’―‘Never mind, sir.’ It is observable, too, that there wouldappear to be some hidden taunt in this universal ‘Never mind,’

　　which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individualaddressed, than the most lavish abuse could possibly awaken.

　　We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity tohimself, struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick’s soul,which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merelyrecord the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door, andabruptly called out, ‘Tupman, come here!’

　　Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of veryconsiderable surprise.

　　‘Tupman,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘a secret of some delicacy, inwhich that lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference whichhas just arisen between this gentleman and myself. When I assurehim, in your presence, that it has no relation to himself, and is notin any way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you totake notice that if he continue to dispute it, he expresses a doubt ofmy veracity, which I shall consider extremely insulting.’ As Mr.

　　Pickwick said this, he looked encyclopedias at Mr. Peter Magnus.

　　Mr. Pickwick’s upright and honourable bearing, coupled withthat force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguishedhim, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind; but,unfortunately, at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. PeterMagnus was in anything but reasonable order. Consequently,instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick’s explanation as he ought tohave done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a red-hot,scorching, consuming passion, and to talk about what was due tohis own feelings, and all that sort of thing; adding force to hisdeclamation by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair―amusements which he would vary occasionally, by shaking his fistin Mr. Pickwick’s philanthropic countenance.

　　Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence andrectitude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved themiddle-aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietlydisposed as was his wont. The consequence was, that words ranhigh, and voices higher; and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr.

　　Pickwick he should hear from him; to which Mr. Pickwick replied,with laudable politeness, that the sooner he heard from him thebetter; whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror from theroom, out of which Mr. Tupman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leavingMr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation.

　　If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world,or had profited at all by the manners and customs of those whomake the laws and set the fashions, she would have known thatthis sort of ferocity is the most harmless thing in nature; but as shehad lived for the most part in the country, and never read theparliamentary debates, she was little versed in these particularrefinements of civilised life. Accordingly, when she had gained herbedchamber, bolted herself in, and began to meditate on the sceneshe had just witnessed, the most terrific pictures of slaughter anddestruction presented themselves to her imagination; amongwhich, a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus borne home byfour men, with the embellishment of a whole barrelful of bullets inhis left side, was among the very least. The more the middle-agedlady meditated, the more terrified she became; and at length shedetermined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate ofthe town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwickand Mr. Tupman without delay.

　　To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a varietyof considerations, the chief of which was the incontestable proof itwould afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus, and her anxietyfor his safety. She was too well acquainted with his jealoustemperament to venture the slightest allusion to the real cause ofher agitation on beholding Mr. Pickwick; and she trusted to herown influence and power of persuasion with the little man, to quellhis boisterous jealousy, supposing that Mr. Pickwick wereremoved, and no fresh quarrel could arise. Filled with thesereflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed herself in her bonnetand shawl, and repaired to the mayor’s dwelling straightway.

　　Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrateaforesaid, was as grand a personage as the fastest walker wouldfind out, between sunrise and sunset, on the twenty-first of June,which being, according to the almanacs, the longest day in thewhole year, would naturally afford him the longest period for hissearch. On this particular morning, Mr. Nupkins was in a state ofthe utmost excitement and irritation, for there had been arebellion in the town; all the day-scholars at the largest day-schoolhad conspired to break the windows of an obnoxious apple-seller,and had hooted the beadle and pelted the constabulary―anelderly gentleman in top-boots, who had been called out to repressthe tumult, and who had been a peace-officer, man and boy, forhalf a century at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his easy-chair, frowning with majesty, and boiling with rage, when a ladywas announced on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr.

　　Nupkins looked calmly terrible, and commanded that the ladyshould be shown in; which command, like all the mandates ofemperors, and magistrates, and other great potentates of theearth, was forthwith obeyed; and Miss Witherfield, interestinglyagitated, was ushered in accordingly.

　　‘Muzzle!’ said the magistrate.

　　Muzzle was an undersized footman, with a long body and shortlegs.

　　‘Muzzle!’

　　‘Yes, your Worship.’

　　‘Place a chair, and leave the room.’

　　‘Yes, your Worship.’

　　‘Now, ma’am, will you state your business?’ said the magistrate.

　　‘It is of a very painful kind, sir,’ said Miss Witherfield.

　　‘Very likely, ma’am,’ said the magistrate. ‘Compose yourfeelings, ma’am.’ Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. ‘And thentell me what legal business brings you here, ma’am.’ Here themagistrate triumphed over the man; and he looked stern again.

　　‘It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information,’ saidMiss Witherfield, ‘but I fear a duel is going to be fought here.’

　　‘Here, ma’am?’ said the magistrate. ‘Where, ma’am?’

　　‘In Ipswich.’

　　‘In Ipswich, ma’am! A duel in Ipswich!’ said the magistrate,perfectly aghast at the notion. ‘Impossible, ma’am; nothing of thekind can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless mysoul, ma’am, are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy?

　　Do you happen to have heard, ma’am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the fourth of May last, attended by onl............