Mr. SAMUEL WELLER, BEING INTRUSTEDWITH A MISSION OF LOVE, PROCEEDS TOEXECUTE IT; WITH WHAT SUCCESS WILLHEREINAFTER APPEARuring the whole of next day, Sam kept Mr. Winklesteadily in sight, fully determined not to take his eyes offhim for one instant, until he should receive expressinstructions from the fountain-head. However disagreeable Sam’svery close watch and great vigilance were to Mr. Winkle, hethought it better to bear with them, than, by any act of violentopposition, to hazard being carried away by force, which Mr.
Weller more than once strongly hinted was the line of conduct thata strict sense of duty prompted him to pursue. There is littlereason to doubt that Sam would very speedily have quieted hisscruples, by bearing Mr. Winkle back to Bath, bound hand andfoot, had not Mr. Pickwick’s prompt attention to the note, whichDowler had undertaken to deliver, forestalled any suchproceeding. In short, at eight o’clock in the evening, Mr. Pickwickhimself walked into the coffee-room of the Bush Tavern, and toldSam with a smile, to his very great relief, that he had done quiteright, and it was unnecessary for him to mount guard any longer.
‘I thought it better to come myself,’ said Mr. Pickwick,addressing Mr. Winkle, as Sam disencumbered him of his great-coat and travelling-shawl, ‘to ascertain, before I gave my consentto Sam’s employment in this matter, that you are quite in earnestand serious, with respect to this young lady.’
‘Serious, from my heart―from my soul!’ returned Mr. Winkle,with great energy.
‘Remember,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with beaming eyes, ‘we met herat our excellent and hospitable friend’s, Winkle. It would be an illreturn to tamper lightly, and without due consideration, with thisyoung lady’s affections. I’ll not allow that, sir. I’ll not allow it.’
‘I have no such intention, indeed,’ exclaimed Mr. Winklewarmly. ‘I have considered the matter well, for a long time, and Ifeel that my happiness is bound up in her.’
‘That’s wot we call tying it up in a small parcel, sir,’ interposedMr. Weller, with an agreeable smile.
Mr. Winkle looked somewhat stern at this interruption, and Mr.
Pickwick angrily requested his attendant not to jest with one ofthe best feelings of our nature; to which Sam replied, ‘That hewouldn’t, if he was aware on it; but there were so many on ’em,that he hardly know’d which was the best ones wen he heerd ’emmentioned.’
Mr. Winkle then recounted what had passed between himselfand Mr. Ben Allen, relative to Arabella; stated that his object wasto gain an interview with the young lady, and make a formaldisclosure of his passion; and declared his conviction, founded oncertain dark hints and mutterings of the aforesaid Ben, that,wherever she was at present immured, it was somewhere near theDowns. And this was his whole stock of knowledge or suspicion onthe subject.
With this very slight clue to guide him, it was determined thatMr. Weller should start next morning on an expedition ofdiscovery; it was also arranged that Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle,who were less confident of their powers, should parade the townmeanwhile, and accidentally drop in upon Mr. Bob Sawyer in thecourse of the day, in the hope of seeing or hearing something ofthe young lady’s whereabouts.
Accordingly, next morning, Sam Weller issued forth upon hisquest, in no way daunted by the very discouraging prospect beforehim; and away he walked, up one street and down another―wewere going to say, up one hill and down another, only it’s all uphillat Clifton―without meeting with anything or anybody that tendedto throw the faintest light on the matter in hand. Many were thecolloquies into which Sam entered with grooms who were airinghorses on roads, and nursemaids who were airing children inlanes; but nothing could Sam elicit from either the first-mentionedor the last, which bore the slightest reference to the object of hisartfully-prosecuted inquiries. There were a great many youngladies in a great many houses, the greater part whereof wereshrewdly suspected by the male and female domestics to be deeplyattached to somebody, or perfectly ready to become so, ifopportunity afforded. But as none among these young ladies wasMiss Arabella Allen, the information left Sam at exactly the oldpoint of wisdom at which he had stood before.
Sam struggled across the Downs against a good high wind,wondering whether it was always necessary to hold your hat onwith both hands in that part of the country, and came to a shadyby-place, about which were sprinkled several little villas of quietand secluded appearance. Outside a stable door at the bottom of along back lane without a thoroughfare, a groom in undress wasidling about, apparently persuading himself that he was doingsomething with a spade and a wheel-barrow. We may remark, inthis place, that we have scarcely ever seen a groom near a stable,in his lazy moments, who has not been, to a greater or less extent,the victim of this singular delusion.
Sam thought he might as well talk to this groom as to any oneelse, especially as he was very tired with walking, and there was agood large stone just opposite the wheel-barrow; so he strolleddown the lane, and, seating himself on the stone, opened aconversation with the ease and freedom for which he wasremarkable.
‘Mornin’, old friend,’ said Sam.
‘Arternoon, you mean,’ replied the groom, casting a surly lookat Sam.
‘You’re wery right, old friend,’ said Sam; ‘I do mean arternoon.
How are you?’
‘Why, I don’t find myself much the better for seeing of you,’
replied the ill-tempered groom.
‘That’s wery odd―that is,’ said Sam, ‘for you look souncommon cheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it doesvun’s heart good to see you.’
The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficientlyso to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately inquired,with a countenance of great anxiety, whether his master’s namewas not Walker.
‘No, it ain’t,’ said the groom.
‘Nor Brown, I s’pose?’ said Sam.
‘No, it ain’t.’
‘Nor Vilson?’
‘No; nor that either,’ said the groom.
‘Vell,’ replied Sam, ‘then I’m mistaken, and he hasn’t got thehonour o’ my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don’t waithere out o’ compliment to me,’ said Sam, as the groom wheeled inthe barrow, and prepared to shut the gate. ‘Ease afore ceremony,old boy; I’ll excuse you.’
‘I’d knock your head off for half-a-crown,’ said the surly groom,bolting one half of the gate.
‘Couldn’t afford to have it done on those terms,’ rejoined Sam.
‘It ’ud be worth a life’s board wages at least, to you, and ’ud becheap at that. Make my compliments indoors. Tell ’em not to vaitdinner for me, and say they needn’t mind puttin’ any by, for it’ll becold afore I come in.’
In reply to this, the groom waxing very wroth, muttered adesire to damage somebody’s person; but disappeared withoutcarrying it into execution, slamming the door angrily after him,and wholly unheeding Sam’s affectionate request, that he wouldleave him a lock of his hair before he went.
Sam continued to sit on the large stone, meditating upon whatwas best to be done, and revolving in his mind a plan for knockingat all the doors within five miles of Bristol, taking them at ahundred and fifty or two hundred a day, and endeavouring to findMiss Arabella by that expedient, when accident all of a suddenthrew in his way what he might have sat there for a twelvemonthand yet not found without it.
Into the lane where he sat, there opened three or four gardengates, belonging to as many houses, which though detached fromeach other, were only separated by their gardens. As these werelarge and long, and well planted with trees, the houses were notonly at some distance off, but the greater part of them were nearlyconcealed from view. Sam was sitting with his eyes fixed upon thedust-heap outside the next gate to that by which the groom haddisappeared, profoundly turning over in his mind the difficulties ofhis present undertaking, when the gate opened, and a femaleservant came out into the lane to shake some bedside carpets.
Sam was so very busy with his own thoughts, that it is probablehe would have taken no more notice of the young woman than justraising his head and remarking that she had a very neat and prettyfigure, if his feelings of gallantry had not been most stronglyroused by observing that she had no one to help her, and that thecarpets seemed too heavy for her single strength. Mr. Weller was agentleman of great gallantry in his own way, and he no soonerremarked this circumstance than he hastily rose from the largestone, and advanced towards her.
‘My dear,’ said Sam, sliding up with an air of great respect,‘you’ll spile that wery pretty figure out o’ all perportion if youshake them carpets by yourself. Let me help you.’
The young lady, who had been coyly affecting not to know thata gentleman was so near, turned round as Sam spoke―no doubt(indeed she said so, afterwards) to decline this offer from a perfectstranger―when instead of speaking, she started back, and uttereda half-suppressed scream. Sam was scarcely less staggered, for inthe countenance of the well-shaped female servant, he beheld thevery features of his valentine, the pretty housemaid from Mr.
Nupkins’s.
‘Wy, Mary, my dear!’ said Sam.
‘Lauk, Mr. Weller,’ said Mary, ‘how you do frighten one!’
Sam made no verbal answer to this complaint, nor can weprecisely say what reply he did make. We merely know that after ashort pause Mary said, ‘Lor, do adun, Mr. Weller!’ and that his hathad fallen off a few moments before―from both of which tokenswe should be disposed to infer that one kiss, or more, had passedbetween the parties.
‘Why, how did you come here?’ said Mary, when theconversation to which this interruption had been offered, wasresumed.
‘O’ course I came to look arter you, my darlin’,’ replied Mr.
Weller; for once permitting his passion to get the better of hisveracity.
‘And how did you know I was here?’ inquired Mary. ‘Who couldhave told you that I took another service at Ipswich, and that theyafterwards moved all the way here? Who could have told you that,Mr. Weller?’
‘Ah, to be sure,’ said Sam, with a cunning look, ‘that’s the pint.
Who could ha’ told me?’
‘It wasn’t Mr. Muzzle, was it?’ inquired Mary.
‘Oh, no.’ replied Sam, with a solemn shake of the head, ‘itwarn’t him.’
‘It must have been the cook,’ said Mary.
‘O’ course it must,’ said Sam.
‘Well, I never heard the like of that!’ exclaimed Mary.
‘No more did I,’ said Sam. ‘But Mary, my dear’―here Sam’smanner grew extremely affectionate―‘Mary, my dear, I’ve gotanother affair in hand as is wery pressin’. There’s one o’ mygovernor’s friends―Mr. Winkle, you remember him?’
‘Him in the green coat?’ said Mary. ‘Oh, yes, I remember him.’
‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘he’s in a horrid state o’ love; reg’larlycomfoozled, and done over vith it.’
‘Lor!’ interposed Mary. ‘Yes,’ said Sam; ‘but that’s nothin’ if we could find out theyoung ‘ooman;’ and here Sam, with many digressions upon thepersonal beauty of Mary, and the unspeakable tortures he hadexperienced since he last saw her, gave a faithful account of Mr.
Winkle’s present predicament.
‘Well,’ said Mary, ‘I never did!’
‘O’ course not,’ said Sam, ‘and nobody never did, nor never villneither; and here am I a-walkin’ about like the wandering Jew―asportin’ character you have perhaps heerd on Mary, my dear, asvos alvays doin’ a match agin’ time, and never vent to sleep―looking arter this here Miss Arabella Allen.’
‘Miss who?’ said Mary, in great astonishment.
‘Miss Arabella Allen,’ said Sam.
‘Goodness gracious!’ said Mary, pointing to the garden doorwhich the sulky groom had locked after him. ‘Why, it’s that veryhouse; she’s been living there these six weeks. Their upper house-maid, which is lady’s-maid too, told me all about it over the wash-house palin’s before the family was out of bed, one mornin’.’
‘Wot, the wery next door to you?’ said Sam.
‘The very next,’ replied Mary.
Mr. Weller was so deeply overcome on receiving thisintelligence that he found it absolutely necessary to cling to his fairinformant for support; and divers little love passages had passedbetween them, before he was sufficiently collected to return to thesubject.
‘Vell,’ said Sam at length, ‘if this don’t beat cock-fightin’ nothin’
never vill, as the lord mayor said, ven the chief secretary o’ stateproposed his missis’s health arter dinner. That wery next house!
Wy, I’ve got a message to her as I’ve been a-trying all day todeliver.’
‘Ah,’ said Mary, ‘but you can’t deliver it now, because she onlywalks in the garden in the evening, and then only for a very littletime; she never goes out, without the old lady.’
Sam ruminated for a few moments, and finally hit upon thefollowing plan of operations; that he should return just at dusk―the time at which Arabella invariably took her walk―and, beingadmitted by Mary into the garden of the house to which shebelonged, would contrive to scramble up the wall, beneath theoverhanging boughs of a large pear-tree, which would effectuallyscreen him from observation; would there deliver his message,and arrange, if possible, an interview on behalf of Mr. Winkle forthe ensuing evening at the same hour. Having made thisarrangement with great despatch, he assisted Mary in the long-deferred occupation of shaking the carpets.
It is not half as innocent a thing as it looks, that shaking littlepieces of carpet―at least, there may be no great harm in theshaking, but the folding is a very insidious process. So long as theshaking lasts, and the two parties are kept the carpet’s lengthapart, it is as innocent an amusement as can well be devised; butwhen the folding begins, and the distance between them getsgradually lessened from one half its former length to a quarter,and then to an eighth, and then to a sixteenth, and then to a thirty-second, if the carpet be long enough, it becomes dangerous. We donot know, to a nicety, how many pieces of carpet were folded inthis instance, but we can venture to state that as many pieces asthere were, so many times did Sam kiss the pretty housemaid.
Mr. Weller regaled himself with moderation at the nearesttavern until it was nearly dusk, and then returned to the lanewithout the thoroughfare. Having been admitted into the gardenby Mary, and having received from that lady sundry admonitionsconcerning the safety of his limbs and neck, Sam mounted into thepear-tree, to wait until Arabella should come into sight.
He waited so long without this anxiously-expected eventoccurring, that he began to think it was not going to take place atall, when he heard light footsteps upon the gravel, andimmediately afterwards beheld Arabella walking pensively downthe garden. As soon as she came nearly below the tree, Sambegan, by way of gently indicating his presence, to make sundrydiabolical noises similar to those which would probably be naturalto a person of middle age who had been afflicted with acombination of inflammatory sore throat, croup, and whooping-cough, from his earliest infancy.
Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards thespot whence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previousalarm being not at all diminished when she saw a man among thebranches, she would most certainly have decamped, and alarmedthe house, had not fear fortunately deprived her of the power ofmoving, and caused her to sink down on a garden seat, whichhappened by good luck to be near at hand.
‘She’s a-goin’ off,’ soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. ‘Wot athing it is, as these here young creeturs will go a-faintin’ avay justven they oughtn’t to. Here, young ’ooman, Miss Sawbones, Mrs.
Vinkle, don’t!’
Whether it was the magic of Mr. Winkle’s name, or the coolnessof the open air, or some recollection of Mr. Weller’s voice, thatrevived Arabella, matters not. She raised her head and languidlyinquired, ‘Who’s that, and what do you want?’
‘Hush,’ said Sam, swinging himself on to the wall, andcrouching there in as small a compass as he could reduce himselfto, ‘only me, miss, only me.’
‘Mr. Pickwick’s servant!’ said Arabella earnestly.
‘The wery same, miss,’ replied Sam. ‘Here’s Mr. Vinkle reg’larlysewed up vith desperation, miss.’
‘Ah!’ said Arabella, drawing nearer the wall.
‘Ah, indeed,’ said Sam. ‘Ve thought ve should ha’ been obligedto strait-veskit him last night; he’s been a-ravin’ all day; and hesays if he can’t see you afore to-morrow night’s over, he vishes hemay be somethin’ unpleasanted if he don’t drownd hisself.’
‘Oh, no, no, Mr. Weller!’ said Arabella, clasping her hands.
‘That’s wot he says, miss,’ replied Sam coolly. ‘He’s a man of hisword, and it’s my opinion he’ll do it, miss. He’s heerd all about youfrom the sawbones in barnacles.’
‘From my bro............