embraced Mrs. Todgers on the smallest provocation: and it was a way he had: it was a part of the gentle placidity of his disposition. Before any thought of matrimony was in his mind, he had bestowed on Mary many little tokens of his spiritual admiration. They had been indignantly received, but that was nothing. True, as the idea expanded within him, these had become too ardent to escape the piercing eye of Cherry, who read his scheme at once; but he had always felt the power of Mary's charms. So Interest and Inclination made a pair, and drew the curricle of Mr. Pecksniff's plan.
As to any thought of revenging himself on young Martin for his insolent expressions when they parted, and of shutting him out still more effectually from any hope of reconciliation with his grandfather, Mr. Pecksniff was much too meek and forgiving to be suspected of harbouring it. As to being refused by Mary, Mr. Pecksniff was quite satisfied that in her position she could never hold out if he and Mr. Chuzzlewit were both against her. As to consulting the wishes of her heart in such a case, it formed no part of Mr. Pecksniff's moral code; for he knew what a good man he was, and what a blessing he must be, to anybody. His daughter having broken the ice, and the murder being out between them, Mr. Pecksniff had now only to pursue his design as cleverly as he could, and by the craftiest approaches.
"Well, my good Sir," said Mr. Pecksniff meeting old Martin in the garden, for it was his habit to walk in and out by that way, as the fancy took him: "and how is my dear friend this delicious morning?"
"Do you mean me?" asked the old man.
"Ah!" said Mr. Pecksniff, "one of his deaf days, I see. Could I mean any one else, my dear Sir!"
"You might have meant Mary," said the old man.
"Indeed I might. Quite true. I might speak of her as a dear, dear friend, I hope?" observed Mr. Pecksniff.
"I hope so," returned old Martin. "I think she deserves it."
"Think!" cried Pecksniff. "Think, Mr. Chuzzlewit!"
"You are speaking I know," returned Martin, "but I don't catch what you say. Speak up!"
"He's getting deafer than a flint," said Pecksniff. "I was saying, my dear Sir, that I am afraid I must make up my mind to part with Cherry."
"What has she been doing?" asked the old man.
"He puts the most ridiculous questions I ever heard!" muttered Mr. Pecksniff. "He's a child to-day." After which he added, in a mild roar; "She hasn't been doing anything, my dear friend."
"What are you going to part with her for!" demanded Martin.
"She hasn't her health by any means," said Mr. Pecksniff. "She misses her sister, my dear Sir; they doated on each other from the cradle. And I think of giving her a run in London for a change. A good long run Sir, if I find she likes it."
"Quite right," cried Martin. "It's judicious."
"I am glad to hear you say so. I hope you mean to bear me company in this dull part, while she's away?" said Mr. Pecksniff.
