condolingwith by sympathising woman, under my afflicting circumstances; but we’reout in the figure. Change partners, Mooney.”
‘“Monster!” cries Tom’s young lady, clinging to the Gifted.
‘“Miss!” says Tom. “Is _that_ your manners?”
‘“I abjure thee!” cries Tom’s young lady. “I renounce thee. I neverwill be thine. Thou,” she says to the Gifted, “art the object of myfirst and all-engrossing passion. Wrapt in thy sublime visions, thouhast not perceived my love; but, driven to despair, I now shake off thewoman and avow it. Oh, cruel, cruel man!” With which reproach she laidher head upon the Gifted’s breast, and put her arms about him in thetenderest manner possible, gentlemen.
‘“And I,” says the other young lady, in a sort of ecstasy, that made Tomstart—“I hereby abjure my chosen husband too. Hear me, Goblin!”—this wasto the Gifted—“Hear me! I hold thee in the deepest detestation. Themaddening interview of this one night has filled my soul with love—butnot for thee. It is for thee, for thee, young man,” she cries to Tom.“As Monk Lewis finely observes, Thomas, Thomas, I am thine, Thomas,Thomas, thou art mine: thine for ever, mine for ever!” with which words,she became very tender likewise.
‘Tom and the Gifted, gentlemen, as you may believe, looked at each otherin a very awkward manner, and with thoughts not at all complimentary tothe two young ladies. As to the Gifted, I have heard Tom say often, thathe was certain he was in a fit, and had it inwardly.
‘“Speak to me! Oh, speak to me!” cries Tom’s young lady to the Gifted.
‘“I don’t want to speak to anybody,” he says, finding his voice at last,and trying to push her away. “I think I had better go. I’m—I’mfrightened,” he says, looking about as if he had lost something.
‘“Not one look of love!” she cries. “Hear me while I declare—”
‘“I don’t know how to look a look of love,” he says, all in a maze.“Don’t declare anything. I don’t want to hear anybody.”
‘“That’s right!” cries the old gentleman (who it seems had beenlistening). “That’s right! Don’t hear her. Emma shall marry youto-morrow, my friend, whether she likes it or not, and _she_ shall marryMr. Grig.”
‘Gentlemen, these words were no sooner out of his mouth than GalileoIsaac Newton Flamstead (who it seems had been listening too) darts in,and spinning round and round, like a young giant’s top, cries, “Let her.Let her. I’m fierce; I’m furious. I give her leave. I’ll never marryanybody after this—never. It isn’t safe. She is the falsest of thefalse,” he cries, tearing his hair and gnashing his teeth; “and I’ll liveand die a bachelor!”
‘“The little boy,” observed the Gifted gravely, “albeit of tender years,has spoken wisdom. I have been led to the contemplation of woman-kind,and will not adventure on the troubled waters of matrimony.”
‘“What!” says the old gentleman, “not marry my daughter! Won’t you,Mooney? Not if I make her? Won’t you? Won’t you?”
‘“No,” says Mooney, “I won’t. And if anybody asks me any more, I’ll runaway, and never come back again.”
‘“Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, “the stars must be obeyed. You havenot changed your mind because of a little girlish folly—eh, Mr. Grig?”
‘Tom, gentlemen, had had his eyes about him, and was pretty sure that allthis was a device and trick of the waiting-maid, to put him off hisinclination. He had seen her hiding and skipping about the two doors,and had observed that a very little whispering from her pacified theSalamander directly. “So,” thinks Tom, “this is a plot—but it won’tfit.”
‘“Eh, Mr. Grig?” says the old gentleman.
‘“Why, Sir,” says Tom, pointing to the crucible, “if the soup’s nearlyready—”
‘“Another hour beholds the consummation of our labours,” returned the oldgentleman.
‘“Very good,” says Tom, with a mournful air. “It’s only for two months,but I may as well be the richest man in the world even for that time.I’m not particular, I’ll take her, Sir. I’ll take her.”
‘The old gentleman was in a rapture to find Tom still in the same mind,and drawing the young lady towards him by little and little, was joiningtheir hands by main force, when all of a sudden, gentlemen, the crucibleblows up, with a great crash; everybody screams; the room is filled withsmoke; and Tom, not knowing what may happen next, throws himself into aFancy attitude, and says, “Come on, if you’re a man!” without addressinghimself to anybody in particular.
‘“The labours of fifteen years!” says the old gentleman, clasping hishands and looking down upon the Gifted, who was saving the pieces, “aredestroyed in an instant!”—And I am told, gentlemen, by-the-bye, that thissame philosopher’s stone would have been discovered a hundred times atleast, to speak within bounds, if it wasn’t for the one unfortunatecircumstance that the apparatus always blows up, when it’s on the verypoint of succeeding.
‘Tom turns pale when he hears the old gentleman expressing himself tothis unpleasant effect, and stammers out that if it’s quite agreeable toall parties, he would like to know exactly what has happened, and whatchange has really taken place in the prospects of that company.
‘“We have failed for the present, Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman,wiping his forehead. “And I regret it the more, because I have in factinvested my niece’s five thousand pounds in this glorious speculation.But don’t be cast down,” he says, anxiously—“in another fifteen years,Mr. Grig—”
“Oh!” cries Tom, letting the young lady’s hand fall. “Were the starsvery positive about this union, Sir?”
‘“They were,” says the old gentleman.
‘“I’m sorry to hear it,” Tom makes answer, “for it’s no go, Sir.”
‘“No what!” cries the old gentleman.
‘“Go, Sir,” says Tom, fiercely. “I forbid the banns.” And with thesewords—which are the very words he used—he sat himself down in a chair,and, laying his head upon the table, thought with a secret grief of whatwas to come to pass on that day two months.
‘Tom always said, gentlemen, that that waiting-maid was the artfullestminx he had ever seen; and he left it in writing in this country when hewent to colonize abroad, that he was certain in his own mind she and theSalamander had blown up the philosopher’s stone on purpose, and to cuthim out of his property. I believe Tom was in the right, gentlemen; butwhether or no, she comes forward at this point, and says, “May I speak,Sir?” and the old gentleman answering, “Yes, you may,” she goes on to saythat “the stars are no doubt quite right in every respect, but Tom is notthe man.” And she says, “Don’t you remember, Sir, that when the clockstruck five this afternoon, you gave Master Galileo a rap on the headwith your telescope, and told him to get out of the way?” “Yes, I do,”says the old gentleman. “Then,” says the waiting-maid, “I say he’s theman, and the prophecy is fulfilled.” The old gentleman staggers at this,as if somebody had hit him a blow on the chest, and cries, “He! why he’sa boy!” Upon that, gentlemen, the Salamander cries out that he’ll betwenty-one next Lady-day; and complains that his father has always beenso busy with the sun round which the earth revolves, that he has nevertaken any notice of the son that revolves round him; and that he hasn’thad a new suit of clothes since he was fourteen; and that he wasn’t eventaken out of nankeen frocks and trousers till he was quite unpleasant in’em; and touches on a good many more family matters to the same purpose.To make short of a long story, gentlemen, they all talk together, and crytogether, and remind the old gentleman that as to the noble family, hisown grandfather would have been lord mayor if he hadn’t died at a dinnerthe year before; and they show him by all kinds of arguments that if thecousins are married, the prediction comes true every way. At last, theold gentleman being quite convinced, gives in; and joins their hands; andleaves his daughter to marry anybody she likes; and they are all wellpleased; and the Gifted as well as any of them.
‘In the middle of this little family
party, gentlemen, sits Tom all thewhile, as miserable as you like. But, when everything else is arranged,the old gentleman’s daughter says, that their strange conduct was alittle device of the waiting-maid’s to disgust the lovers he had chosenfor ’em, and will he forgive her? and if he will, perhaps he might evenfind her a husband—and when she says that, she looks uncommon hard atTom. Then the waiting-maid says that, oh dear! she couldn’t abear Mr.Grig should think she wanted him to marry her; and that she had even goneso far as to refuse the last lamplighter, who was now a literarycharacter (having set up as a bill-sticker); and that she hoped Mr. Grigwould not suppose she was on her last legs by any means, for the bakerwas very strong in his attentions at that moment, and as to the butcher,he was frantic. And I don’t know how much more she might have said,gentlemen (for, as you know, this kind of young women are rare ones totalk), if the old gentleman hadn’t cut in suddenly, and asked Tom if he’dhave her, with ten pounds to recompense him for his loss of time anddisappointment, and as a kind of bribe to keep the story secret.
‘“It
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