Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 118: what you’re looking at

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106 PICKWICK ABROAD. % . And if the simile be a correct one, the conduct of his niece was likely to make then certainly fury was properly imitated by the speed with which the horse tore _ along the ground. In, six minutes the ani- mal stood panting at the gate of the En- g'lish Ambassador’s hotel. Mr. Scuttle leaped from the vehicle like a chesnut bounding from the hob, and pro- Ree himself into the hotel, through the all, and up the passage to the right hand, and stopped at the door of the chapel to re- cover breath. He then walked leisurely into the sacred building, where he found the clerk occupied in closing registers, ad- justing stools, and preparing to roll up the bishop’s surplice. “What has taken femanded Mr. Scuttle. “A marriage,” was the clerk’s laconic feply. Bo “Between whom?” said Mr. Scutile, panting for the means of respiration. The clerk gave no answer, but opened the register, and pointed to the last entry which had been made in it. Mr. Scuttle darted his glance with lightning force atthe register, as if he intended to scorch it toa cinder: but asthe ink was scarcely yet dry, it did not take a light; and so Mr. Scuttle was enabled to peruse the following words: place here to-day ?” “TJ hereby certify that Nassau Siffkin, of the parish of St. George, Hanover-Square, London, Bachelor, and Sophia Weston, of | upon Mr. Pickwick and the numerous guests assembled to witness the marriage. There remained but one alternative—and that was to tell the truth. Mr. Scuttle was anxiously awaited by all those whom he had left behind; and as he re-entered the apartment, a solemn silence indicated the impatience with which his re- turn had been looked for. “Mr. Pickwick,” said Mr. Scuttle, moving slowly into the centre of the circle which was speedily formed around him; we are ali deceived ; and you are—” “What?” demanded Mr. Pickwick. “Jilted!” returned Mr. Scuttle: “she has married Siff kin.” . “Siffkin !” cried Mr. Tupman. “Siffkin !” exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, “Siffkin !” muttered Mr. Winkle. In the mean time Mr. Pickwick put on his gloves with a very serious countenance, shook hands with Mr. Scuttle, bowed to the remainder of the company, and retired, without uttering another word, followed by Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle. Seer ee CHAPTER XXIII The visit of Mr. Tracy ‘Tupman to a very extra- ordinary professional gentleman.—An odd en- counter brought about in a very odd manner.— Mr. Tupman’s heart melted by lovely woman’s the parish of Saint James, Piccadilly, in O% tears. county of Middlesex, Widow, were marrie in the house of his Britannic Majesty’s Am- Mr. Picxwicx and his three friends, at- bassador at Paris, according to the United | tegded by Mr. Weller, returned home. Not: Church of England and Ireland, &ec. &c. _ “(Signed), “M. H. LUSCOMBEH, BisHop anp “ OHAPLAIN TO THE BRITISH EMBASSY.” Mr. Scuttle could scarcely believe his eyes, as he perused the fatal entry: he there- fore read it a second ‘time to convince himself of its truth. The clerk gazed upon him with astonishment, but said nothing. . “She could scarcely have done this in a fit of absence of mind,” mused Mr. Settle, within himself, as he slowly issued from the Chapel, and regained the cabriolet that was waiting for him. “ But what the deuce can I say to Pickwick 2?” ) Mr. Scuttle now desired the driver to ‘pruceed as slowly as he chose, in order that he (Mr. Scuttle) might have as much time as possible to reflect upon the impression -asyllable had been uttered by either dur- ing their progress from the Rue Taitbout to the Rue Royale; and when they were once more in their own lodgings, the mo- ment was anxiously awaited for Mr. Pick- wick to untie his own tongue and those of _ his followers, by the utterance of some re- mark that might originate a general con- versation. That moment—a moment so anxiously looked for—arrived: the great man laid aside his hat and gloves, and then spoke as follows: “Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Sir,” cried Mr. Weller. “ Lunch,” returned Mr. Pickwick; “and ‘bring up a bottle of our best Madeira.” “Di-rectly, sir,” said Mr. Weller, rejoiced to perceive that his revered master medita- ted a meal instead of a murder upon him self. COMICOOOKS. CoOnn (9)