We think we have hinted elsewhere, that Mr.Benjamin Allen had a way of becoming sentimental after brandy.The case is not a peculiar one, as we ourself can testify: having, on a few occasions, had to deal with patients who have been afflicted in a similar manner.At this precise period of his existence, Mr.Benjamin Allen had perhaps a greater predisposition to maudlinism than he had ever known before; the cause of which malady was briefly this.He had been staying nearly three weeks with Mr.Bob Sawyer;Mr.Bob Sawyer was not remarkable for temperance, nor was Mr.Benjamin Allen for the ownership of a very strong head; the consequence was, that, during the whole space of time just mentioned, Mr.Benjamin Allen had been wavering between intoxication partial, and intoxication complete.
"My dear friend," said Mr.Ben Allen, taking advantage of Mr.Bob Sawyer's temporary absence behind the counter, whither he had retired to dispense some of the second-hand leeches, previously referred to: "my dear friend, I am very miserable."Mr.Winkle professed his heartfelt regret to hear it, and begged to know whether he could no anything to alleviate the sorrows of the suffering student.
"Nothing, my dear boy, nothing," said Ben."You recollect Arabella, Winkle? My sister Arabella--a little girl, Winkle, with black eyes--when we were down at Wardle's? I don't know whether you happened to notice her, a nice little girl, Winkle.Perhaps my features may recall her countenance to your recollection?"Mr.Winkle required nothing to recall the charming Arabella to his mind;and it was rather fortunate he did not, for the features of her brother Benjamin would unquestionably have proved but an indifferent refresher to his memory.He answered, with as much calmness as he could assume, that he perfectly remembered the young lady referred to, and sincerely trusted she was in good health.
"Our friend Bob is a delightful fellow, Winkle," was the only reply of Mr.Ben Allen.
"Very," said Mr.Winkle; not much relishing this close connexion of the two names.
"I designed 'em for each other; they were made for each other, sent into the world for each other, born for each other, Winkle," said Mr.Ben Allen, setting down his glass with emphasis."There's a special destiny in the matter, my dear sir; there's only five years' difference between 'em, and both their birthdays are in August."Mr.Winkle was too anxious to hear what was to follow, to express much wonderment at this extraordinary coincidence, marvellous as it was; so Mr.Ben Allen, after a tear or two, went on to say, that, notwithstanding all his esteem and respect and veneration for his friend, Arabella had unaccountably and undutifully evinced the most determined antipathy to his person.
"And I think," said Mr.Ben Allen, in conclusion." I think there's a prior attachment.""Have you any idea who the object of it might be?" asked Mr.Winkle, with great trepidation.
Mr.Ben Allen seized the poker, flourished it in a warlike manner above his head, inflicted a savage blow on an imaginary skull, and wound up by saying, in a very expressive manner, that he only wished he could guess;that was all.
"I'd show him what I thought of him," said Mr.Ben Allen.And round went the poker again, more fiercely than before.
All this was, of course, very soothing to the feelings of Mr.Winkle, who remained silent for a few minutes; but at length mustered up resolution to inquire whether Miss Allen was in Kent.
"No, no," said Mr.Ben Allen, laying aside the poker, and looking very cunning; "I didn't think Wardle's exactly the place for a headstrong girl;so, as I am her natural protector and guardian, our parents being dead, I have brought her down into this part of the country to spend a few months at an old aunt's, in a nice dull close place.I think that will cure her, my boy.If it doesn't, I'll take her abroad for a little while, and see what that'll do.""Oh, the aunt's is in Bristol, is it?" faltered Mr.Winkle.
"No, no, not in Bristol," replied Mr.Ben Allen, jerking his thumb over his right shoulder: "over that way; down there.But, hush, here's Bob.
Not a word, my dear friend, not a word."
Short as this conversation was, it roused in Mr.Winkle the highest degree of excitement and anxiety.The suspected prior attachment rankled in his heart.Could he be the object of it? Could it be for him that the fair Arabella had looked scornfully on the sprightly Bob Sawyer, or had he a successful rival? He determined to see her, cost what it might; but here an insurmountable objection presented itself, for whether the explanatory "over that way," and "down there," of Mr.Ben Allen, meant three miles off, or thirty, or three hundred, he could in no wise guess.