While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat back
in his chair, with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on his
knees, and his whole countenance expressive of absorbing and
overwhelming astonishment. Sam sat opposite him in perfect
silence, waiting, with eager curiosity, for the termination of the scene.
Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his
eyes for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then,
mastering his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket and
buttoned it up. After this, he stirred the fire; after that, he rubbed
his hands and looked at Sam.
'Oh, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence,
in a very low voice, 'here's a sorrowful affliction!'
Sam nodded very slightly.
'For the man of wrath, too!' added Mr. Stiggins; 'it makes a
vessel's heart bleed!'
Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something
relative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heard
him not.
'Do you know, young man,' whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawing
his chair closer to Sam, 'whether she has left Emanuel anything?'
'Who's he?' inquired Sam.
'The chapel,' replied Mr.
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