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Updated: May 26, 2025
And you, he said to Chuffey, 'for the love of your old friend, speak out, good fellow! 'I have been silent for his love! cried the old man. 'He urged me to it. He made me promise it upon his dying bed. I never would have spoken, but for your finding out so much.
'He bought the stuff, said Chuffey, stretching out his arm towards Jonas while an unwonted fire shone in his eye, and lightened up his face; 'he bought the stuff, no doubt, as you have heard, and brought it home.
The sight brought him back, instantly, to the occupation he had forgotten. 'Look here! Do you know of this? Is it found? Do you suspect ME? A hand upon the door. 'What's that! 'A pleasant evenin', said the voice of Mrs Gamp, 'though warm, which, bless you, Mr Chuzzlewit, we must expect when cowcumbers is three for twopence. How does Mr Chuffey find his self to-night, sir?
'and then Mr Chuffey retires into safe keeping, does he? 'He needs to be kep safe, I do assure you, Mrs Gamp replied with a mysterious air. 'Other people besides me has had a happy deliverance from Betsey Prig. I little know'd that woman. She'd have let it out! 'Let HIM out, you mean, said John. 'Do I! retorted Mrs Gamp. 'Oh!
'I am sorry for it, cried the old man, looking humbly round the room. 'I know I'm in the way. I ask pardon, but I've nowhere else to go to. Where is she? Merry went to him. 'Ah! said the old man, patting her on the check. 'Here she is. Here she is! She's never hard on poor old Chuffey. Poor old Chuff!
It was foul, foul, cruel, bad; but not as you suppose. Stay, stay! He put his hands up to his head, as if it throbbed or pained him. After looking about him in a wandering and vacant manner for some moments, his eyes rested upon Jonas, when they kindled up with sudden recollection and intelligence. 'Yes! cried old Chuffey, 'yes! That's how it was. It's all upon me now.
So through the narrow streets and winding city ways, went Anthony Chuzzlewit's funeral; Mr Jonas glancing stealthily out of the coach-window now and then, to observe its effect upon the crowd; Mr Mould as he walked along, listening with a sober pride to the exclamations of the bystanders; the doctor whispering his story to Mr Pecksniff, without appearing to come any nearer the end of it; and poor old Chuffey sobbing unregarded in a corner.
'I loved him, cried the old man, sinking down upon the grave when all was done. 'He was very good to me. Oh, my dear old friend and master! 'Come, come, Mr Chuffey, said the doctor, 'this won't do; it's a clayey soil, Mr Chuffey. You mustn't, really.
In short, the whole of that strange week was a round of dismal joviality and grim enjoyment; and every one, except poor Chuffey, who came within the shadow of Anthony Chuzzlewit's grave, feasted like a Ghoul. At length the day of the funeral, pious and truthful ceremony that it was, arrived.
He never spoke unkindly to me, and I always understood him. I could always see him too, though my sight was dim. Well, well! He's dead, he's dead. He was very good to me, my dear old master! He shook his head mournfully over the brother's hand. At this moment Mark, who had been glancing out of the window, left the room. 'I couldn't turn against his only son, you know, said Chuffey.
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