One marriage guest there was, in reference to whose presence Mr Meagles
felt a nearer interest and concern than in the attendance of the most
elevated Barnacle expected; though he was far from insensible of the
honour of having such company. This guest was Clennam. But Clennam had
made a promise he held sacred, among the trees that summer night, and,
in the chivalry of his heart, regarded it as binding him to many implied
obligations. In forgetfulness of himself, and delicate service to her on
all occasions, he was never to fail; to begin it, he answered Mr Meagles
cheerfully, 'I shall come, of course.'
His partner, Daniel Doyce, was something of a stumbling-block in Mr
Meagles's way, the worthy gentleman being not at all clear in his own
anxious mind but that the mingling of Daniel with official Barnacleism
might produce some explosive combination, even at a marriage breakfast.
The national offender, however, lightened him of his uneasiness by
coming down to Twickenham to represent that he begged, with the freedom
of an old friend, and as a favour to one, that he might not be invited.
'For,' said he, 'as my business with this set of gentlemen was to do a
public duty and a public service, and as their business with me was to
prevent it by wearing my soul out, I think we had better not eat and
drink together with a show of being of one mind.' Mr Meagles was much
amused by his friend's oddity; and patronised him with a more protecting
air of allowance than usual, when he rejoined: 'Well, well, Dan, you
shall have your own crotchety way.'