“Nothing more to arrange, I think,” said the officer. “I am not aware of anything more,” replied Mr. Winkle. “Good morning.” “Good morning:” and the officer whistled a lively air as he strode away. That morning’s breakfast passed heavily off. Mr. Tupman was not in a condition to rise, after the unwonted dissipation of the previous night; Mr. Snodgrass appeared to labour under a poetical depression of spirits; and even Mr. Pickwick evinced an unusual attachment to silence and soda-water. Mr. Winkle eagerly watched his opportunity; it was not long wanting. Mr. Snodgrass proposed a visit to the castle, and as Mr. Winkle was the only other member of the party disposed to walk, they went out together. “Snodgrass,” said Mr. Winkle, when they had turned out of the public street, “Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your secrecy?” As he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped he could not. “You can,” replied Mr. Snodgrass. “Hear me swear——” swear——” “No, no,” interrupted Winkle, terrified at the idea of his companion’s unconsciously pledging himself not to give information; “don’t swear, don’t swear; it’s quite unnecessary.” Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, in the spirit of poesy, raised towards the clouds as he made the above appeal, and assumed an attitude of attention. “I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an affair of honour,” said Mr. Winkle. “You shall have it,” replied Mr. Snodgrass, clasping his friend’s hand. “With a Doctor—Doctor Slammer, of the Ninety-seventh,”[32] said Mr. Winkle, wishing to make the matter appear as solemn as possible; “an affair with an officer, seconded by another officer, at sunset this evening, in a lonely field beyond Fort Pitt.” [32] “I will attend you,” said Mr. Snodgrass. He was astonished, but by no means dismayed. It is extraordinary how cool any party but the principal can be in such cases. Mr. Winkle had forgotten this. He had judged of his friend’s feelings by his own. “The consequences may be dreadful,” said Mr.
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