Mrs Lupin shook her head, and heaved a sigh. It was very affecting.
‘Look up there, with me!’ repeated Mr Pecksniff, stretching out his hand; ‘With me, a humble individual who is also an insect like yourselves. Can silver, gold, or precious stones, sparkle like those constellations! I think not. Then do not thirst for silver, gold, or precious stones; but look up there, with me!’
With those words, the good man patted Mrs Lupin’s hand between his own, as if he would have added ‘think of this, my good woman!’ and walked away in a sort of ecstasy or rapture, with his hat under his arm.
Jonas sat in the attitude in which Mr Pecksniff had left him, gazing moodily at his friend; who, surrounded by a heap of documents, was writing something on an oblong slip of paper.
‘You mean to wait at Salisbury over the day after to-morrow, do you, then?’ said Jonas.
‘You heard our appointment,’ returned Montague, without raising his eyes. ‘In any case I should have waited to see after the boy.’
They appeared to have changed places again; Montague being in high spirits; Jonas gloomy and lowering.
‘You don’t want me, I suppose?’ said Jonas.
‘I want you to put your name here,’ he returned, glancing at him with a smile, ‘as soon as I have filled up the stamp. I may as well have your note of hand for that extra capital. That’s all I want. If you wish to go home, I can manage Mr Pecksniff now, alone. There is a perfect understanding between us.’
Jonas sat scowling at him as he wrote, in silence. When he had finished his writing, and had dried it on the blotting paper in his travelling-desk; he looked up, and tossed the pen towards him.