I must not, however, conclude this part of my long history, without adverting to what befell the surviving partners of Mr. Gammon, namely, Messrs. Quirk and Snap. The former had horrible misgivings as to the true cause of Mr. Gammon's death—having a strange inward persuasion that he had destroyed himself. When he heard of the event, very suddenly, from the laundress, he was seized with a fit of trembling which lasted for several days. He dared not attend the funeral—or go to Mr. Gammon's chambers, while his corpse lay there. Mr. Snap, however, had younger and firmer nerves; and resolved to gratify his natural and very delicate curiosity, by seeing "how Mr. Gammon looked in his coffin." The day after the enlightened coroner's inquest had been held, therefore, he went to the chambers for that purpose, and was shown by the sobbing laundress into the silent and gloomy bedroom where the remains of Mr. Gammon lay awaiting burial. The coffin lay on trestles near the window, which of course was darkened; and Mr. Snap, having taken off his hat, removed the coffin-lid and the face-cloth, and there was the cold stern countenance of Mr. Gammon, before him! In spite of himself, Mr. Snap trembled as he looked, and for a moment doubted whether in gazing at the yellow effigy of him that was, he really beheld the late Mr. Gammon; so fixed, so rigid, were the features—so contracted of their proportions, and disfigured by the close-fitting frilled cap. What determination was yet visible in the compressed lips! The once keen and searching eyes of Mr. Gammon were now hid forever beneath the heavy and clammy eyelids; and the ample brow was no longer furrowed by the workings of the active and powerful spirit which had "jumped the world to come!" Mr. Snap gazed for several minutes in silence, and his heart beat a little quicker than usual.
"Oh, sir!" sobbed the laundress at length, as she, too, advanced to look again at the countenance of her deceased master, and from which she seldom took her eyes long together when alone—"he was the kindest and best of men! He was indeed!" Mr. Snap said nothing, but presently took hold of the cold, thin, stiff fingers of Mr. Gammon's right hand, squeezed them gently, and then replaced the hand in its former position.
"I hope he's happy, dear soul!" cried the laundress, gazing at him through her tears.
"Yes, of course he is—no doubt," replied Mr. Snap, in a somewhat lower tone of voice than he had spoken in before, and slowly returned to the sitting-room; whither the laundress followed him as soon as she had replaced the face-cloth and coffin-lid.
"Got a drop of brandy in the room, Mrs. Brown?" he inquired, and passed his hand across his face, which had grown very pale.
She gave him what he asked for; he drank it, and sighed.
"Devilish ugly look that cap gives him—eh, Mrs. Brown? Hardly knew him."
"Ay, poor soul; but it don't much signify how the face looks if the heart's all right. He was always so kind to me; I shall never get another master like him!"
"Died very suddenly, Mrs. Brown; didn't he?"