FOR IT IS THE LAST IN THE BOOK
Todger's was in high feather, and mighty preparations for a late
breakfast were astir in its commercial bowers. The blissful morning
had arrived when Miss Pecksniff was to be united in holy matrimony, to
Augustus.
Miss Pecksniff was in a frame of mind equally becoming to herself and
the occasion. She was full of clemency and conciliation. She had laid
in several caldrons of live coals, and was prepared to heap them on the
heads of her enemies. She bore no spite nor malice in her heart. Not the
least.
Quarrels, Miss Pecksniff said, were dreadful things in families; and
though she never could forgive her dear papa, she was willing to receive
her other relations. They had been separated, she observed, too long.
It was enough to call down a judgment upon the family. She believed the
death of Jonas WAS a judgment on them for their internal dissensions.
And Miss Pecksniff was confirmed in this belief, by the lightness with
which the visitation had fallen on herself.
By way of doing sacrifice--not in triumph; not, of course, in triumph,
but in humiliation of spirit--this amiable young person wrote,
therefore, to her kinswoman of the strong mind, and informed her that
her nuptials would take place on such a day.
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