Don't alarm me at the very beginning. My daughter Bella - Emily

having gone to bed with a headache after she had read Arabella's

letter to me - sat herself down by my side the other evening, and

began to talk over this marriage affair. ‘Well, pa,’ she says, ‘what do

you think of it?’ ‘Why, my dear,’ I said, ‘I suppose it's all very well; I

hope it's for the best.’ I answered in this way because I was sitting

before the fire at the time, drinking my grog rather thoughtfully, and I

knew my throwing in an undecided word now and then, would induce

her to continue talking. Both my girls are pictures of their dear

mother, and as I grow old I like to sit with only them by me; for their

voices and looks carry me back to the happiest period of my life, and

make me, for the moment, as young as I used to be then, though not

quite so light-hearted. ‘It's quite a marriage of affection, pa,’ said

Bella, after a short silence. ‘Yes, my dear,’ said I, ‘but such marriages

do not always turn out the happiest.’'

'I question that, mind!' interposed Mr Pickwick warmly. 'Very good,'

responded Wardle, 'question anything you like when it's your turn to

speak, but don't interrupt me.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Mr Pickwick.

Granted,' replied Wardle. '‘I am sorry to hear you express your

opinion against marriages of affection, pa,’ said Bella, colouring a

little. ‘I was wrong; I ought not to have said so, my dear, either,’ said I,

patting her cheek as kindly as a rough old fellow like me could pat it,

‘

for your mother's was one, and so was yours.’ ‘It's not that I meant,

pa,’ said Bella. ‘The fact is, pa, I wanted to speak to you about Emily.’'

Mr Pickwick started.

What's the matter now?' inquired Wardle, stopping in his narrative.

Nothing,'replied Mr Pickwick. 'Pray go on.'

I never could spin out a story,' said Wardle abruptly. 'It must come

out, sooner or later, and it'll save us all a great deal of time if it comes

at once. The long and the short of it is, then, that Bella at last

mustered up courage to tell me that Emily was very unhappy; that she

and your young friend Snodgrass had been in constant

correspondence and communication ever since last Christmas; that

she had very dutifully made up her mind to run away with him, in

laudable imitation of her old friend and school-fellow; but that having

some compunctions of conscience on the subject, inasmuch as I had

always been rather kindly disposed to both of them, they had thought

it better in the first instance to pay me the compliment of asking

whether I would have any objection to their being married in the usual

matter-of- fact manner. There now, Mr Pickwick, if you can make it

The Pickwick Papers