The String of Pearls (1850), p. 44

"Take a drop of something, Mr. Lupin; " you have got the hiccups."
"Yes; I—I rather think I have a little. Isn't it a shame that anybody so intimate with the Lord should have the hiccups? What a lot of lights you have got burning, Mrs. Oakley!"
"A lot of lights, Mr. Lupin! Why, there is only one; but perhaps you allude to the lights of the gospel?"
"No; I—I don't, just at present; damn the lights of the gospel—that is to say, I mean damn all backsliders! But there is a light of lighs, and no mistake,
Mrs. Oakley. Give me a drop of something, I'm as dry as dust."
"There is some more mulled wine, Mr. Lupin; but I am surprised that you think there is more than one light."
"It's a miracle, madam, in consequence of my great faith. I have faith in s—s—s—six lights, and here they are."
"Do you see that, Johanna?" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, "are you not convinced now of the holiness of Mr. Lupin?"
"I am convinced of his drunkenness, mother, and entreat of you to let me leave the room at once."
"Tell her of the honour," said Mr. Lupin—"tell her of the honour."
"I don't know, Mr. Lupin; but don't you think it would be better to take some other opportunity?"
"Very well, then, this is the opportunity."
"If it's your pleasure, Mr. Lupin, I will. You must know, then, Johanna, that Mr. Lupin has been kind enough to consent to save my soul, on condition that you marry him, and I am quite sure you can have no reasonable objection; indeed, I think it's the least you can do, whether you have any objection or not."
"Well put," said Mr. Lupin, "excellently well put."
"Mother," said Johanna, "if you are so far gone in superstition, as to believe this miserable drunkard ought to come between you and heaven, I am so lost as not to be able to reject the offer with more scorn and contempt than ever I thought I could have entertained for any human being; but hypocrisy never, to my mind, wears so disgusting a garb as when it attires itself in the outward show of religion."
"This conduct is unbearable," cried Mrs. Oakley; "am I to have one of the Lord's saints insulted under my own roof?"
"If he were ten times a saint, mother, instead of being nothing but a miserable, drunken profligate, it would be better that he should be insulted ten times over, than that you should permit your own child to have passed through the indignity of having to reject such a proposition as that which has just been made. I must claim the protection of my father; he will not suffer one, towards whom he has ever shown an affection, the remembrance of which sinks deep into my heart, to meet with so cruel an insult beneath his roof."
"That's right, my dear," cried Mr. Oakley, at that moment pushing open the parlour-door. "That's right, my dear; you never spoke truer words in all your life."
A faint scream came from Mrs. Oakley, and the Rev. Mr. Lupin immediately seized upon the fresh jug of mulled wine, and finished it at a draught.
"Get behind me, Satan," he said. "Mr. Oakley, you will be damned if you say a word to me."
"It's all the same, then," said Mr. Oakley; "for I'll be damned if I don't. Then, Ben! Ben! come—come in, Ben."
"I'm a coming," said a deep voice, and a man about six feet four inches in height, and nearly two-thirds of that amount in width, entered the parlour. "I'm coming, Oakley, my boy. Put on your blessed spectacles, and tell me which is the fellow."
"I could have sworn it," said Mrs. Oakley, as she gave the table a knock with her fist,—"I could have sworn when you came in, Oakley—I could have sworn you little snivelling, shrivelled-up wretch, you'd no more have dared to come into