Tom Pinch's situation was not made the less dangerous or difficult by the fact of no one word passing between them in reference to Martin. Honourably mindful of his promise, Tom gave her opportunities of all kinds. Early and late he was in the church; in her favourite walks; in the village, in the garden, in the meadows; and in any or all of these places he might have spoken freely. But no: at all such times she carefully avoided him, or never came in his way unaccompanied. It could not be that she disliked or distrusted him, for by a thousand little delicate means, too slight for any notice but his own, she singled him out when others were present, and showed herself the very soul of kindness. Could it be that she had broken with Martin, or had never returned his affection, save in his own bold and heightened fancy? Tom's cheek grew red with self-reproach as he dismissed the thought.
All this time old Martin came and went in his own strange manner or sat among the rest absorbed within himself, and holding little intercourse with any one. Although he was unsocial, he was not wilful in other things, or troublesome, or morose: being never better pleased than when they left him quite unnoticed at his book, and pursued their own amusements in his presence, unreserved. It was impossible to discern in whom he took an interest, or whether he had an interest in any of them. Unless they spoke to him directly, he never showed that he had ears or eyes for anything that passed.
One day the lively Merry, sitting with downcast eyes under a shady tree in the churchyard, whither she had retired after fatiguing herself by the imposition of sundry trials on the temper of Mr. Jonas, felt that a new shadow came between her and the sun. Raising her eves in the expectation of seeing her betrothed, she was not a little surprised to see old Martin instead. Her surprise was not diminished when he took his seat upon the turf beside her, and opened a conversation thus:
`When are you to be married?'
`Oh! dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, my goodness me! I'm sure I don't know. Not yet awhile, I hope.'
`You hope?' said the old man.
It was very gravely said, but she took it for banter, and giggled excessively.
`Come!' said the old man, with unusual kindness, `you are young, good-looking, and I think good-natured! Frivolous you are, and love to be, undoubtedly; but you must have some heart.'
`I have not given it all away, I can tell you,' said Merry, nodding her head shrewdly, and plucking up the grass.
`Have you parted with any of it?'
She threw the grass about, and looked another way, but said nothing.
Martin repeated his question.
`Lor, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit! really you must excuse me! How very odd you are.'
`If it be odd in me to desire to know whether you love the young man whom I understand you are to marry, I am very odd,' said Martin.
`For that is certainly my wish.'
`He's such a monster, you know,' said Merry, pouting.
`Then you don't love him?' returned the old man. `Is that your meaning?'
`Why, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I'm sure I tell him a hundred times a day that I hate him. You must have heard me tell him that.'
`Often,' said Martin.
`And so I do,' cried Merry. `I do positively.'
`Being at the same time engaged to marry him,' observed the old man.
`Oh yes,' said Merry. `But I told the wretch--my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I told him when he asked me--that if I ever did marry him, it should only be that I might hate and tease him all my life.'
She had a suspicion that the old man regarded Jonas with anything but favour, and intended these remarks to be extremely captivating. He did not appear, however, to regard them in that light by any means; for when he spoke again, it was in a tone of severity.
`Look about you,' he said, pointing to the graves; `and remember that from your bridal hour to the day which sees you brought as low as these, and laid in such a bed, there will be no appeal against him. Think, and speak, and act, for once, like an accountable creature. Is any control put upon your inclinations? Are you forced into this match? Are you insidiously advised or tempted to contract it, by any one? I will not ask by whom.
By any one?'
`No,' said Merry, shrugging her shoulders. `I don't know that I am.'
`Don't know that you are! Are you?'
`No,' replied Merry. `Nobody ever said anything to me about it. If any one had tried to make me have him, I wouldn't have had him at all.'
`I am told that he was at first supposed to be your sister's admirer,' said Martin.
`Oh, good gracious! My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, it would be very hard to make him, though he is a monster, accountable for other people's vanity,' said Merry. `And poor dear Cherry is the vainest darling!'
`It was her mistake, then?'
`I hope it was,' cried Merry; `but, all along, the dear child has been so dreadfully jealous, and so cross, that, upon my word and honour, it's impossible to please her, and it's of no use trying.'
`Not forced, persuaded, or controlled,' said Martin, thoughtfully. `And that's true, I see. There is one chance yet. You may have lapsed into this engagement in very giddiness. It may have been the wanton act of a light head. Is that so?'