Busily the Temple fountain murmured in the moonlight, while Ruth lay sleeping, with her flowers beside her; and John Westlock sketched a portrait—whose?—from memory.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
IN WHICH MISS PECKSNIFF MAKES LOVE, MR JONAS MAKES WRATH, MRS GAMP MAKES TEA, AND MR CHUFFEY MAKES BUSINESS
On the next day’s official duties coming to a close, Tom hurried home without losing any time by the way; and after dinner and a short rest sallied out again, accompanied by Ruth, to pay his projected visit to Todgers’s. Tom took Ruth with him, not only because it was a great pleasure to him to have her for his companion whenever he could, but because he wished her to cherish and comfort poor Merry; which she, for her own part (having heard the wretched history of that young wife from Tom), was all eagerness to do.
‘She was so glad to see me,’ said Tom, ‘that I am sure she will be glad to see you. Your sympathy is certain to be much more delicate and acceptable than mine.’
‘I am very far from being certain of that, Tom,’ she replied; ‘and indeed you do yourself an injustice. Indeed you do. But I hope she may like me, Tom.’
‘Oh, she is sure to do that!’ cried Tom, confidently.
‘What a number of friends I should have, if everybody was of your way of thinking. Shouldn’t I, Tom, dear?’ said his little sister pinching him upon the cheek.
Tom laughed, and said that with reference to this particular case he had no doubt at all of finding a disciple in Merry. ‘For you women,’ said Tom, ‘you women, my dear, are so kind, and in your kindness have such nice perception; you know so well how to be affectionate and full of solicitude without appearing to be; your gentleness of feeling is like your touch so light and easy, that the one enables you to deal with wounds of the mind as tenderly as the other enables you to deal with wounds of the body. You are such—’