to which Emily responded that she was a foolish girl, but turned very red, notwithstanding; and Mr.Snodgrass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the crimson rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly wished in the inmost recesses of his own heart that the young lady aforesaid, with her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the top, were all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county.
But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr.Pickwick; and Emma bestowed a half-demure, half-impudent, and all pretty, look of recognition, on Mr.
Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the passage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them.
The old lady was seated in customary state in the front parlour, but she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most particularly deaf.She never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldn't.So, bless her old soul, she sat as upright as she could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might be--and that was benevolent after all.
"Mother," said Wardle, "Mr.Pickwick.You recollect him?""Never mind," replied the old lady with great dignity."Don't trouble Mr.Pickwick about an old creetur like me.Nobody cares about me now, and it's very nat'ral they shouldn't." Here the old lady tossed her head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress, with trembling hands.
"Come, come, ma'am," said Mr.Pickwick, "I can't let you cut an old friend in this way.I have come down expressly to have a long talk, and another rubber with you; and we'll show these boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before they're eight-and-forty hours older."The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it all at once; so she only said, "Ah! I can't hear him!""Nonsense, mother," said Wardle."Come, come, don't be cross, there's a good soul.Recollect Bella; come, you must keep her spirits up, poor girl."The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son said it.
But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought round yet.So, she smoothed down the lavender-coloured dress again, and turning to Mr.Pickwick said, "Ah, Mr.Pickwick, young people was very different, when I was a girl.""No doubt of that, ma'am," said Mr.Pickwick, "and that's the reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the old stock,"--and saying this, Mr.Pickwick gently pulled Bella towards him, and bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit down on the little stool at her grandmother's feet.Whether the expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old lady's face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr.Pickwick's affectionate good nature, or whatever was the cause, she was fairly melted; so she threw herself on her grand-daughter's neck, and all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush of silent tears.
A happy party they were, that night.Sedate and solemn were the score of rubbers in which Mr.Pickwick and the old lady played together; uproarious was the mirth of the round table.Long after the ladies had retired, did the hot elder wine, well qualified with brandy and spice, go round, and round, and round again; and sound was the sleep and pleasant were the dreams that followed.It is a remarkable fact that those of Mr.Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily Wardle; and that the principal figure in Mr.
Winkle's visions was a young lady with black eyes, an arch smile, and a pair of remarkably nice boots with fur round the tops.
Mr.Pickwick was awakened, early in the morning, by a hum of voices and a pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from his heavy slumbers.He sat up in bed and listened.The female servants and female visitors were running constantly to and fro; and there were such multitudinous demands for hot water, such repeated outcries for needles and thread, and so many half-suppressed entreaties of "Oh, do come and tie me, there's a dear!" that Mr.Pickwick in his innocence began to imagine that something dreadful must have occurred: when he grew more awake, and remembered the wedding.The occasion being an important one he dressed himself with peculiar care, and descended to the breakfast room.
There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of pink muslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about the house in a state of excitement and agitation which it would be impossible to describe.The old lady was dressed out in a brocaded gown which had not seen the light for twenty years, saving and excepting such truant rays as had stolen through the chinks in the box in which it had been lain by, during the whole time.
Mr.Trundle was in high feather and spirits, but a little nervous withal.
The hearty old landlord was trying to look very cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in the attempt.All the girls were in tears and white muslin, except a select two or three who were being honoured with a private view of the bride and bridesmaids, up-stairs.All the Pickwickians were in most blooming array; and there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front of the house, occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobbledehoys attached to the farm, each of whom had got a white bow in his button-hole, and all of whom were cheering with might and main: being incited thereunto, and stimulated therein, by the precept and example of Mr.Samuel Weller, who had managed to become mighty popular already, and was as much at home as if he had been born on the land.