“Always,” responded Sir Arthur; with the better alacrity that he remembered he was about to leave England for a year; or, as his bride had more prettily expressed it to a friend, “for twelve honeymoons.”
Mrs. Jericho left the lovers to themselves. We shall imitate the considerate example of Mrs. Jericho. We will not break upon the last hour of single life left them to enjoy together. The last hour: for when next they meet, they meet in the very handsome and very florid structure of St. Shekel’s, there to be made one by the welding ministration of Doctor Cummin.
About to quit Jericho House, Sir Arthur thought himself especially favoured by fortune to meet Doctor Stubbs upon the door-step. “Sir Arthur,” said the courteous physician, “I wish you great joy, though in advance.”
“You’re a kind creature, Stubbs; when I say kind, I was just thinking of you. That is, when I say thinking of you, I mean”—
“My dear Sir Arthur,” and Stubbs looked professionally anxious, “what is the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.—When I say nothing, I never felt so odd in my life. Never was married before you know; and, upon my word, looking at the church steeple there, it goes up and down, and I feel all over sea-sick. Did you feel so, eh?” and Hodmadod took the arm of Stubbs, and turning from the door, the bridegroom and physician walked gently onward. “Quite sea-sick,” repeated the Baronet.
“It’s nothing;” said the physician, “merely your nerves.”
“That’s what I said to myself; only my nerves. Still, it isn’t pleasant, is it, going to be married? Not but what I shall be happy. Eh? Don’t you think I shall be happy?” asked the Baronet; for in all things he liked to be confirmed by another opinion; he had, perhaps, so little faith in his own.
“Miss Pennibacker was made to—to—to make you happy: no doubt of it,” said Stubbs.
“When you say made, of course you mean ordered for me.—And when—but bless me! how that steeple does go up and down, and how my nerves—they are my nerves you say!—tingle too.”