ould you?'

She trembled violently, and looked at him with such a proud disdain that
he turned his eyes away. No doubt lest he should be offended with her in
spite of his better self.

'A passive quarrel, my love,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'may be changed into
an active one, remember. It would be sad to blight even a disinherited
young man in his already blighted prospects; but how easy to do it.
Ah, how easy! HAVE I influence with our venerable friend, do you think?
Well, perhaps I have. Perhaps I have.'

He raised his eyes to hers; and nodded with an air of banter that was
charming.

'No,' he continued, thoughtfully. 'Upon the whole, my sweet, if I were
you I'd keep my secret to myself. I am not at all sure--very far from
it--that it would surprise our friend in any way, for he and I have had
some conversation together only this morning, and he is anxious, very
anxious, to establish you in some more settled manner. But whether he
was surprised or not surprised, the consequence of your imparting
it might be the same. Martin junior might suffer severely. I'd have
compassion on Martin junior, do you know?' said Mr Pecksniff, with a
persuasive smile. 'Yes. He don't deserve it, but I would.'

She wept so bitterly now, and was so much distressed, that he thought it
prudent to unclasp her waist, and hold her only by the hand.

'As to our own share in the precious little mystery,' said Mr Pecksniff,
'we will keep it to ourselves, and talk of it between ourselves, and
you shall think it over. You will consent, my love; you will consent,
I know. Whatever you may think; you will. I seem to remember to have
heard--I really don't know where, or how'--he added, with bewitching
frankness, 'that you and Martin junior, when you were children, had a
sort of childish fondness for each other. When we are married, you shall
have the satisfaction of thinking that it didn't last to ruin him, but
passed away to do him good; for we'll see then what we can do to put
some trifling help in Martin junior's way. HAVE I any influence with our
venerable friend? Well! Perhaps I have. Perhaps I have.'

The outlet from the wood in which these tender passages occurred, was
close to Mr Pecksniff's house. They were now so near it that he stopped,
and holding up her little finger, said in playful accents, as a parting
fancy:

'Shall I bite it?'

Receiving no reply he kissed it instead; and then stooping down,
inclined his flabby face to hers--he had a