Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 102: what you’re looking at

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ip 3 ‘iy f a 90 . | PICKWICK ABROAD. © -«VellySir,” returned that faithful follower. “I really don’t knot: rejoined r. Pick. © You need not join in the conversation | wick, abstractedly conducting his fair com- till you are desired to do so,” suggested his | panion into the arbor. master, f' vy “Nor. J,” said Mrs. Weston, as she sank it That’s vot I call a broad hint,” muttered | upon a chair in the recesses of the summer Sam to himself, “ as the gen’leman said ven| house.' re they told him he’d stole the dimond ring.” “Well—here are seats, after all” whis — By this time the party had arrived at the inn, and in a few minutes dinner was served up, to the inexpressible delight of those who were destined to partake of it. Mr. Weller was accommodated with a similar repast in the kitchen ; and so merrily passed the hours, that the clock might have struck twelve at midnight before even Mrs. Weston would have expressed the slightest melination tu re- turn to Paris. 7 It was in the garden at the back of the house, that. the ever memorable conversa- tion took place between Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Weston. It seems that at about half- past eight o’clock, Mr. Winkle proposed to quit the room in which the party had dined, and smoke a cigar in the open air—a sug-. gestion that was immediately agreed to by every one present, save Mr. Pickwick and the lady. Mrs. Weston accordingly assent- ed to that gentleman’s offer, to take a stroll in the garden; and although Mr. Nassau | d Siff kin felt the influence of the green-eyed monster, and attempted to look Mr. Pick- wick through and through, the great maa was glance-proof, and the widow accom. panied him to the botanical territories in the rear of the tavern. : “What a beautiful evening,” exclaimed Mrs. Weston, as they drew near a secluded ‘ arbor at the bottom of the garden. “Very,” said Mr. Pickwick, feeling him- self quite overcome with philanthropy and wine. “And what a beautiful summer- house there appears to be here,” he added, after a momentary pause. * “Is there? Well—I declare, so there is,” cried the fair widow, who had been ad- miring it for the previous five minutes. “The weather is still rather close,” ob- served Mr, Pickwick, looking towards the arbor with a wistful eye. “Do you think so ?” returned Mrs. West- on. “Perhaps—that is, may be the walk fatigues you 2” or “Teertainly chink it would be more agree- able to sit down somewhere,” said Mr. Pick- wick. \. * il “ But where could we find a seat in this | pered Mr. Pickwick, as he settled himself on a high stool next to his fair companion’s chair. Cae A pause of five minutes ensued, during which Mrs. Weston looked down upon the cround, and Mr. Pickwick watched the mo- tions of a snail that was winding its per- pendicular way up a post. ~ “Your uncle is a very singular man, Mrs, Weston,” said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly re- lapsing from his agreeable occupation of studying the efforts of animated nature. “So very eccentric,” observed the lady. “One would scarcely take you for: his niece,” continued Mr. Fickwick, accidentally laying his right hand upon Mrs. Weston’s left. | eur Indeed !” said the widow, gazing tim- oe w. idly round. . As “No, indeed,” added Mr. Pickwick, gen- tly pressing the hand, which was not with’ rawn, “So, you don’t think I’m like my uncle ?” said Mrs. Weston, with no other idea than that of saying something. ZN “T do not,” returned Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh; for at that moment his memory re- tained not the fact of Mrs. Weston’s being a widow: he had a good dinner, and a couple of bottles of strong Burgundy only upon his conscience. tenia aioss OM “Do you intend to remain long in Paris, Mr. Pickwick ?” inquired the lady, after an- other pause. os hie 8 a “Only as long as it is agreeable to you,” murmured this most extraordinary man, the motives of whose actions invariably turned upon so important a pivot. RR 4 “Lor, Mr. Pickwick!” said the widow, returning in her confusion the 2 ad of that gentleman’s hand. a ‘Mrs. Weston—adorable woman,” cried the impassioned hero of these. memoirs, falling, as he spoke, upon one knee and a thistle at the same time : “my feelings over- “power me,—and I must now seek an ex- planation. That heart—that enviable heart of yours——” Ra gies (a “My heart, Mr. Pickwick ?” sighed the ‘ yarden ?” asked Mrs. Weston, hastening | lady, gently. straight towards the summer-house. “Your heart,” reiterated the great man, * » (C(O) L0)(YO) (9) (C(O)