The Lamplighter | Page 9

'"Too clearly," cries Tom, sinking into a chair, and giving one hand to the old gentleman,
and one to the Gifted. "The orb of day has set on Thomas Grig for ever!"
'At this affecting remark, the Gifted shed tears again, and the other two mingled their
tears with his, in a kind - if I may use the expression - of Mooney and Co.'s entire. But
the old gentleman recovering first, observed that this was only a reason for hastening the
marriage, in order that Tom's distinguished race might be transmitted to posterity; and
requesting the Gifted to console Mr. Grig during his temporary absence, he withdrew to
settle the preliminaries with his niece immediately.
'And now, gentlemen, a very extraordinary and remarkable occurrence took place; for as
Tom sat in a melancholy way in one chair, and the Gifted sat in a melancholy way in

another, a couple of doors were thrown violently open, the two young ladies rushed in,
and one knelt down in a loving attitude at Tom's feet, and the other at the Gifted's. So far,
perhaps, as Tom was concerned - as he used to say - you will say there was nothing
strange in this: but you will be of a different opinion when you understand that Tom's
young lady was kneeling to the Gifted, and the Gifted's young lady was kneeling to Tom.
'"Halloa! stop a minute!" cries Tom; "here's a mistake. I need condoling with by
sympathising woman, under my afflicting circumstances; but we're out 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 never will be thine. Thou,"
she says to the Gifted, "art the object of my first and all-engrossing passion. Wrapt in thy
sublime visions, thou hast not perceived my love; but, driven to despair, I now shake off
the woman and avow it. Oh, cruel, cruel man!" With which reproach she laid her head
upon the Gifted's breast, and put her arms about him in the tenderest manner possible,
gentlemen.
'"And I," says the other young lady, in a sort of ecstasy, that made Tom start - "I hereby
abjure my chosen husband too. Hear me, Goblin!" - this was to the Gifted - "Hear me! I
hold thee in the deepest detestation. The maddening interview of this one night has filled
my soul with love - but not 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 other in a very
awkward manner, and with thoughts not at all complimentary to the two young ladies. As
to the Gifted, I have heard Tom say often, that he 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'm frightened," 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 been listening). "That's right!
Don't hear her. Emma shall marry you to-morrow, my friend, whether she likes it or not,
and SHE shall marry Mr. Grig."

'Gentlemen, these words were no sooner out of his mouth than Galileo Isaac 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 marry anybody after this - never. It isn't safe. She is the falsest of the false," he
cries, tearing his hair and gnashing his teeth; "and I'll live and 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 run away, and never
come back again."
'"Mr. Grig," says the old gentleman,