a much younger man than he, but he sat in deep and painful meditation until the morning was bright. Nor did he even then seek any prolonged repose, but merely slumbered in his chair, until seven o'clock, when Mr. Tapley had appointed to come to him by his desire: and came—as fresh and clean and cheerful as the morning itself.
"You are punctual," said Mr. Chuzzlewit, opening the door to him in reply to his light knock, which had roused him instantly.
"My wishes, Sir," replied Mr. Tapley, whose mind would appear from the context to have been running on the matrimonial service, "is to love, honour, and obey. The clock's a striking now, Sir."
"Come in!"
"Thank 'ee, Sir," rejoined Mr. Tapley, "what could I do for you first, Sir?"
"You gave my message to Martin?" said the old man bending his eyes upon him.
"I did, Sir," returned Mark; "and you never see a gentleman more surprised in all your born days than he was."
"What more did you tell him?" Mr. Chuzzlewit inquired.
"Why, Sir," said Mr. Tapley, smiling, "I should have liked to tell him a deal more, but not being able, Sir, I didn't tell it him."
"You told him all you knew?"
"But it was precious little, Sir," retorted Mr. Tapley. "There was very little respectin' you that I was able to tell him, Sir. I only mentioned my opinion that Mr. Pecksniif would find himself deceived, Sir, and that you would find yourself deceived, and that he would find himself deceived, Sir."
"In what?" asked Mr. Chuzzlewit.
"Meaning him, Sir?"
"Meaning both him and me."
"Well, Sir," said Mr. Tapley. "In your old opinions of each other. As to him, Sir, and his opinions, I know he's a altered man. I know it. I know'd it long afore he spoke to you t'other day, and I must say it. Nobody don't know half as much of him as I do. Nobody can't. There was always a deal of good in him, but a little of it got crusted over somehow. I can't say who rolled the paste of that 'ere crust myself, but"
"Go on," said Martin. "Why do you stop?"
"But it—well! I beg your pardon, but I think it may have been you, Sir. Unintentional I think it may have been you. I don't believe that neither of you gave the other quite a fair chance. There! Now I 've got rid on it," said Mr. Tapley in a fit of desperation: "I can't go a carryin' it about in my own mind, bustin' myself with it; yesterday was quite long enough. It's out now. I can't help it. I'm sorry for it. Don't wisit it on him, Sir, that's all."
It was clear that Mark expected to be ordered out immediately, and was quite prepared to go.
"So you think," said Martin, "that his old faults are, in some degree, of my creation, do you?"
"Well, Sir," retorted Mr. Tapley, "I'm wery sorry, but I can't unsay it. It's hardly fair of you, Sir, to make a ignorant man conwict himself
