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'Oh, you're not going, Mr Lillyvick, sir, interposed Miss Petowker, with her most bewitching smile. 'Why should I stop here, my dears? said Mr Lillyvick; 'I'm not wanted here. 'Oh, do not speak so cruelly, uncle, sobbed Mrs Kenwigs, 'unless you wish to kill me. 'I shouldn't wonder if some people were to say I did, replied Mr Lillyvick, glancing angrily at Kenwigs. 'Out of temper! 'Oh!
'I never will believe it, said Miss Petowker; 'I cannot really. It's of no use talking, I never can make up my mind to go through with such a trial! 'I might feel it was a great blow, said Miss Snevellicci, 'to break up old associations and what-do-you-callems of that kind, but I would submit, my dear, I would indeed.
'If I was blessed with a a child said Miss Petowker, blushing, 'of such genius as that, I would have her out at the Opera instantly. Mrs Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr Kenwigs, who shook his head, and observed that he was doubtful about it. 'Kenwigs is afraid, said Mrs K. 'What of? inquired Miss Petowker, 'not of her failing?
The company crowded and squeezed themselves at the table as well as they could, and fell to, immediately: Miss Petowker blushing very much when anybody was looking, and eating very much when anybody was NOT looking; and Mr Lillyvick going to work as though with the cool resolve, that since the good things must be paid for by him, he would leave as little as possible for the Crummleses to eat up afterwards.
'What do you call it, when Lords break off door-knockers and beat policemen, and play at coaches with other people's money, and all that sort of thing? 'Aristocratic? suggested the collector. 'Ah! aristocratic, replied Miss Petowker; 'something very aristocratic about him, isn't there?
Mrs Kenwigs was so overpowered by this supposition, that it needed all the tender attentions of Miss Petowker, of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, to restore her to anything like a state of calmness; not to mention the assiduity of Mr Kenwigs, who held a fat smelling-bottle to his lady's nose, until it became matter of some doubt whether the tears which coursed down her face were the result of feelings or SAL VOLATILE.
I cannot express my regret that the words of this poem are not given; for Dickens would have been quite as capable of writing "The Blood Drinker's Burial" as Miss Petowker was of reciting it. This strain existed in Dickens alongside of his happy laughter; both were allied to the same robust romance. Here as elsewhere Dickens is close to all the permanent human things.
Crummles, the Phenomenon and the ladies of their company, when after they had recited from their star parts, Morleena had the soles of her shoes chalked and danced her fancy dance, and Henrietta Petowker took down her back hair and repeated "The Blooddrinker's Burial." The old man looked over the wall, too, and threw garden vegetables and languishing glances at Mrs.
'There is nothing like the married state, sir, depend upon it. 'Indeed! said Nicholas, laughing. 'Ah! nothing like it, sir, replied Mr Lillyvick solemnly. 'How do you think, whispered the collector, drawing him aside, 'how do you think she looks tonight? 'As handsome as ever, replied Nicholas, glancing at the late Miss Petowker.
Reassured by this cheering intelligence, the company in some degree recovered from their fears, which had been productive of some most singular instances of a total want of presence of mind; thus, the bachelor friend had, for a long time, supported in his arms Mrs Kenwigs's sister, instead of Mrs Kenwigs; and the worthy Mr Lillyvick had been actually seen, in the perturbation of his spirits, to kiss Miss Petowker several times, behind the room-door, as calmly as if nothing distressing were going forward.
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