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Always frail subject through life to distressing illness it would not be fair to ask of this woman an optimism of the Mark Tapley stripe. In part, the grave outlook was physical, temperamental: but also it was an expression of a swiftly approaching mood of the late nineteenth century.
Several ladies prepared their pocket handkerchiefs for waving; and a stray teacher belonging to the charity school being much cheered by mistake, was immensely groaned at when detected. 'Perhaps he has Tom Pinch with him, Martin whispered Mr Tapley. 'It would be rather too much of a treat for him, wouldn't it, sir? whispered Mr Tapley in return.
There was one psalm penitential I presume of about twenty-two verses, an especial favorite. This was probably, the most soul-depressing melody that has been chanted since the days of The Captivity. The mournful tone bore you down irresistibly; Mark Tapley would have subsided into melancholy gloom, before the slow versicles were half dragged through.
'Is that his name? asked Martin 'That's his name, sir, rejoined Mark. And the negro grinning assent from under a leathern portmanteau, than which his own face was many shades deeper, hobbled downstairs with his portion of their worldly goods; Mark Tapley having already gone before with his share.
Under the name, said Martin, who never hammered upon an idea that wasn't red hot, 'under the name of Chuzzlewit and Tapley. 'Lord love you, sir, cried Mark, 'don't have my name in it. I ain't acquainted with the business, sir. I must be Co., I must. I've often thought, he added, in a low voice, 'as I should like to know a Co.; but I little thought as ever I should live to be one.
'What do you call this? said Martin. But Mr Tapley made no answer; merely plunging a reed into the mixture which caused a pleasant commotion among the pieces of ice and signifying by an expressive gesture that it was to be pumped up through that agency by the enraptured drinker. Martin took the glass with an astonished look; applied his lips to the reed; and cast up his eyes once in ecstasy.
With which ejaculations Mr Tapley not only pointed to a decent-looking man and woman standing by, but commenced embracing them alternately, over and over again, in Monument Yard. 'Neighbours, WHERE? old Martin shouted; almost maddened by his ineffectual efforts to get out at the coach-door. 'Neighbours in America! Neighbours in Eden! cried Mark.
'Then why on earth didn't you marry her at first, Mark, instead of wandering abroad, and losing all this time, and leaving her alone by herself, liable to be courted by other people? 'Why, sir, retorted Mr Tapley, in a spirit of unbounded confidence, 'I'll tell you how it come about. You know me, Mr Pinch, sir; there ain't a gentleman alive as knows me better.
He was an anomaly, a person who howled in beer-houses, and who would presently be regulated, either by the statesmen or by the police. When our old friend, Mark Tapley, was making with his master a homeward voyage to Britain, what did he know or even care about the politics of France, or Germany, or Austria, or Russia? Not the slightest, you may be sure.
'Why I thought such a connection wouldn't suit you, Mark, on any terms! cried Tom. 'Well, sir! I used to think so myself, once, said Mark. 'But I ain't so clear about it now. A dear, sweet creetur, sir! 'A dear, sweet creature? To be sure she is, cried Tom. 'But she always was a dear, sweet creature, was she not? 'WAS she not! assented Mr Tapley.
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