The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

Dickens, Charles - The Old Curiosity Shop

  Poor Mrs Quilp was thinking, however, in what manner to begin or

  what kind of inquiries she could make; and it was not until the door,

  creaking in a very urgent manner, warned her to proceed without

  further consideration, that the sound of her voice was heard.

  'How very often you have come backwards and forwards lately to

  Mr Quilp, my dear.'

  'I have said so to grandfather, a hundred times,' returned Nell

  innocently.

  'And what has he said to that?'

  'Only sighed, and dropped his head, and seemed so sad and wretched

  that if you could have seen him I am sure you must have cried; you

  could not have helped it more than I, I know. How that door creaks!'

  'It often does.' returned Mrs Quilp, with an uneasy glance towards

  it. 'But your grandfather--he used not to be so wretched?'

  'Oh, no!' said the child eagerly, 'so different! We were once so

  happy and he so cheerful and contented! You cannot think what a sad

  change has fallen on us since.'

  'I am very, very sorry, to hear you speak like this, my dear!' said

  Mrs Quilp. And she spoke the truth.

  'Thank you,' returned the child, kissing her cheek, 'you are always

  kind to me, and it is a pleasure to talk to you. I can speak to no one

  else about him, but poor Kit. I am very happy still, I ought to feel

  happier perhaps than I do, but you cannot think how it grieves me

  sometimes to see him alter so.'

  'He'll alter again, Nelly,' said Mrs Quilp, 'and be what he was

  before.'

  'Oh, if God would only let that come about!' said the child with

  streaming eyes; 'but it is a long time now, since he first began to--I

  thought I saw that door moving!'

  'It's the wind,' said Mrs Quilp, fainly. 'Began to ---'

  'To be so thoughtful and dejected, and to forget our old way ot

  spending the time in the long evenings,' said the child. 'I used to

  read to him by the fireside, and he sat listening, and when I stopped

  and we began to talk, he told me about my mother, and how she

  once looked and spoke just like me when she was a little child. Then

  he used to take me on his knee, and try to make me understand that

  she was not lying in her grave, but had flown to a beautiful country

  beyond the sky where nothing died or ever grew old--we were very

  happy once!'

  'Nelly, Nelly!' said the poor woman, 'I can't bear to see one as

  young as you so sorrowful. Pray don't cry.'

  'I do so very seldom,' said Nell,' but I have kept this to myself a

  long time, and I am not quite well, I think, for the tears come into

  my eyes and I cannot keep them back. I don't mind telling you my

  grief, for I know you will not tell it to any one again.'

  Mrs Quilp turned away her head and made no answer.

  'Then,' said the child, 'we often walked in the fields and among the

  green trees, and when we came home at night, we liked it better for

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  being tired, and said what a happy place it was. And if it was dark

  and rather dull, we used to say, what did it matter to us, for it only

  made us remember our last walk with greater pleasure, and look

  forward to our next one. But now we never have these walks, and

  though it is the same house it is darker and much more gloomy than

  it used to be, indeed!'

  She paused here, but though the door creaked more than once, Mrs

  Quilp said nothing.

  'Mind you don't suppose,' said the child earnestly, 'that grandfather

  is less kind to me than he was. I think he loves me better every day,

  and is kinder and more afectionate than he was the day before. You

  do not know how fond he is of me!'

  'I am sure he loves you dearly,' said Mrs Quilp.

  'Indeed, indeed he does!' cried Nell, 'as dearly as I love him. But I

  have not told you the greatest change of all, and this you must never

  breathe again to any one. He has no sleep or rest, but that which he

  takes by day in his easy chair; for every night and neary all night

  long he is away from home.'

  'Nelly!'

  'Hush!' said the child, laying her finger on her lip and looking

  round. 'When he comes home in the morning, which is generally just

  before day, I let him in. Last night he was very late, and it was quite

  light. I saw that his face was deadly pale, that his eyes were

  bloodshot, and that his legs trembled as he walked. When I had gone

  to bed again, I heard him groan. I got up and ran back to him, and

  heard him say, before he knew that I was there, that he could not

  bear his life much longer, and if it was not for the child, would wish

  to die. What shall I do! Oh! What shall I do!'

  The fountains of her heart were opened; the child, overpowered by

  the weight of her sorrows and anxieties, by the first confidence she

  had ever shown, and the sympathy with which her little tale had been

  received, hid her face in the arms of her helpless friend, and burst

  into a passion of tears.

  In a few minutes Mr Quilp returned, and expressed the utmost

  surprise to find her in this condtiion, which he did very naturally and

  with admirable effect, for that kind of acting had been rendered

  familiar to him by long practice, and he was quite at home in it.

  'She's tired you see, Mrs Quilp,' said the dwarf, squinting in a

  hideous manner to imply that his wife was to follow his lead. 'It's a

  long way from her home to the wharf, and then she was alrmed to

  see a couple of young scoundrels fighting, and was timorous on the

  water besides. All this together has been too much for her. Poor

  Nell!'

  Mr Quilp unintentionally adopted the very best means he could have

  devised for the recovery of his young visitor, by patting her on the

  head. Such an application from any other hand might not have

  produced a remarkable effect, but the child shrank so quickly from

  his touch and felt such an instinctive desire to get out of his reach,

  that she rose directly and declared herself ready to return.

  'But you'd better wait, and dine with Mrs Quilp and me.' said the

  dwarf.

  'I have been away too long, sir, already,' returned Nell, drying her

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  eyes.

  'Well,' said Mr Quilp, 'if you will go, you will, Nelly. Here's the

  note. It's only to say that I shall see him to-morrow or maybe next

  day, and that I couldn't do that little business for him this morning.

  Good-bye, Nelly. Here, you sir; take care of her, d'ye hear?'

  Kit, who appeared at the summons, deigned to make no reply to so

  needless an injunction, and after staring at Quilp in a threatening

  manner, as if he doubted whether he might not have been the cause

  of Nelly shedding tears, and felt more than half disposed to revenge

  the fact upon him on the mere suspicion, turned about and followed

  his young mistress, who had by this time taken her leave of Mrs

  Quilp and departed.

  'You're a keen questioner, an't you, Mrs Quilp?' said the dwarf,

  turning upon her as soon as
they were left alone.

  'What more could I do?' returned his wife mildly?

  'What more could you do!' sneered Quilp, 'couldn't you have done

  something less? Couldn't you have done what you had to do, without

  appearing in your favourite part of the crocodile, you minx?'

  'I am very sorry for the child, Quilp,' said his wife. 'Surely I've

  done enough. I've led her on to tell her secret she supposed we were

  alone; and you were by, God forgive me.'

  'You led her on! You did a great deal truly!' said Quilp. 'What did I

  tell you about making me creak the door? It's lucky for you that

  from what she let fall, I've got the clue I want, for if I hadn't, I'd

  have visited the failure upon you, I can tell you.'

  Mrs Quilp being fully persuaded of this, made no reply. Her husband

  added with some exultation,

  'But you may thank your fortunate stars--the same stars that made

  you Mrs Quilp--you may thank them that I'm upon the old

  gentleman's track, and have got a new light. So let me hear no more

  about this matter now or at any other time, and don't get anything

  too nice for dinner, for I shan't be home to it.'

  So saying, Mr Quilp put his hat on and took himself off, and Mrs

  Quilp, who was afflicted beyond measure by the recollection of the

  part she had just acted, shut herself up in her chamber, and

  smothering her head in the bed-clothes bemoaned her fault more

  bitterly than many less tender-hearted persons would have mourned a

  much greater offence; for, in the majority of cases, conscience is an

  elastic and very flexible article, which will bear a deal of stretching

  and adapt itself to a great variety of circumstances. Some people by

  prudent management and leaving it off piece by piece like a flannel

  waistcoat in warm weather, even contrive, in time, to dispense with

  it altogether; but there be others who can assume the garment and

  throw it off at pleasure; and this, being the greatest and most

  convenient improvement, is the one most in vogue.

  CHAPTER 7

  'Fred,' said Mr Swiveller, 'remember the once popular melody of

  Begone dull care; fan the sinking flame of hilarity with the wing of

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  friendship; and pass the rosy wine.'

  Mr Richard Swiveller's apartments were in the neighbourhood of

  Drury Lane, and in addition to this convenience of situation had the

  advantage of being over a tobacconist's shop, so that he was enabled

  to procure a refreshing sneeze at any time by merely stepping out

  upon the staircase, and was saved the trouble and expense of

  maintaining a snuff-box. It was in these apartments that Mr Swiveller

  made use of the expressions above recorded for the consolation and

  encouragement of his desponding friend; and it may not be

  uninteresting or improper to remark that even these brief

  observations partook in a double sense of the figurative and poetical

  character of Mr Swiveller's mind, as the rosy wine was in fact

  represented by one glass of cold gin-and-water, which was

  replenished as occasion required from a bottle and jug upon the

  table, and was passed from one to another, in a scarcity of tumblers

  which, as Mr Swiveller's was a bachelor's establishment, may be

  acknowledged without a blush. By a like pleasant fiction his single

  chamber was always mentioned in a plural number. In its disengaged

  times, the tobacconist had announced it in his window as

  'apartments' for a single gentleman, and Mr Swiveller, following up

  the hint, never failed to speak of it as his rooms, his lodgings, or his

  chambers, conveying to his hearers a notion of indefinite space, and

  leaving their imaginations to wander through long suites of lofty

  halls, at pleasure.

  In this flight of fancy, Mr Swiveller was assisted by a deceptive

  piece of furniture, in reality a bedstead, but in semblance a bookcase,

  which occupied a prominent situation in his chamber and seemed to

  defy suspicion and challenge inquiry. There is no doubt that by day

  Mr Swiveller firmly believed this secret convenience to be a

  bookcase and nothing more; that he closed his eyes to the bed,

  resolutely denied the existence of the blankets, and spurned the

  bolster from his thoughts. No word of its real use, no hint of its

  nightly service, no allusion to its peculiar properties, had ever passed

  between him and his most intimate friends. Implicit faith in the

  deception was the first article of his creed. To be the friend of

  Swiveller you must reject all circumstantial evidence, all reason,

  observation, and experience, and repose a blind belief in the

  bookcase. It was his pet weakness, and he cherished it.

  'Fred!' said Mr Swiveller, finding that his former adjuration had

  been productive of no effect. 'Pass the rosy.'

  Young Trent with an impatient gesture pushed the glass towards him,

  and fell again in the the moddy attitude from which he had been

  unwillingly roused.

  'I'll give you, Fred,' said his friend, stirring the mixture, 'a little

  sentiment appropriate to the occasion. Here's May the ---'

  'Pshaw!' interposed the other. 'You worry me to death with your

  chattering. You can be merry under any circumstances.'

  'Why, Mr Trent,' returned Dick, 'there is a proverb which talks

  about being merry and wise. There are some people who can be

  merry and can't be wise, and some who can be wise (or think they

  can) and can't be merry. I'm one of the first sort. If the proverb's a

  good 'un, I supose it's better to keep to half of it than none; at all

  events, I'd rather be merry and not wise, than like you, neither one

  nor t'other.'

  'Bah!' muttered his friend, peevishly.

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  'With all my heart,' said Mr Swiveller. 'In the polite circles I believe

  this sort of thing isn't usually said to a gentleman in his own

  apartments, but never mind that. Make yourself at home,' adding to

  this retort an observation to the effect that his friend appeared to be

  rather 'cranky' in point of temper, Richards Swiveller finished the

  rosy and applied himself to the composition of another glassful, in

  which, after tasting it with great relish, he proposed a toast to an

  imaginary company.

  'Gentlemen, I'll give you, if you please, Success to the ancient

  family of the Swivellers, and good luck to Mr Richard in particular--Mr

  Richard, gentlemen,'

  said Dick with great emphasis, 'who spends

  all his money on his friends and is Bah!'d for his pains. Hear, hear!'

  'Dick!' said the other, returning to his seat after having paced the

  room twice or thrice, 'will you talk seriously for two minutes, if I

  show you a way to make your fortune with very little trouble?'

  'You've shown me so many,' returned Dick; 'and nothing has come

  of any one of 'em but empty pockets ---'

  'You'll tell a different story of this one, before a very long time is

  over,' said his companion, drawing his chair to the table. 'You saw

  my sister Nell?'

  'W
hat about her?' returned Dick.

  'She has a pretty face, has she not?'

  'Why, certainly,' replied Dick. 'I must say for her that there's not

  any very strong family likeness between her and you.'

  'Has she a pretty face,' repeated his friend impatiently.

  'Yes,' said Dick, 'she has a pretty face, a very pretty face. What of

  that?'

  'I'll tell you,' returned his friend. 'It's very plain that the old man

  and I will remain at daggers drawn to the end of our lives, and that I

  have nothing to expect from him. You see that, I suppose?'

  'A bat might see that, with the sun shining,' said Dick.

  'It's equally plain that the money which the old flint--rot him--first

  taught me to expect that I should share with her at his death, will all

  be hers, is it not?'

  'I should said it was,' replied Dick; 'unless the way in which I put

  the case to him, made an impression. It may have done so. It was

  powerful, Fred. 'Here is a jolly old grandfather'--that was strong, I

  thought--very friendly and natural. Did it strike you in that way?'

  It didn't strike him,' returned the other, 'so we needn't discuss it.

  Now look here. Nell is nearly fourteen.'

  'Fine girl of her age, but small,' observed Richard Swiveller

  parenthetically.

  'If I am to go on, be quiet for one minute,' returned Trent, fretting at

  the slight interest the other appeared to take in the conversation.

  'Now I'm coming to the point.'

  'That's right,' said Dick.

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  'The girl has strong affections, and brought up as she has been, may,

  at her age, be easily influenced and persuaded. If I take her in hand,

  I will be bound by a very little coaxing and threatening to bend her

  to my will. Not to beat about the bush (for the advantages of the

  scheme would take a week to tell) what's to prevent your marrying

  her?'

  Richard Swiveller, who had been looking over the rim of the tumbler

  while his companion addressed the foregoing remarks to him with

  great energy and earnestness of manner, no sooner heard these words

  than he evinced the utmost consternation, and with difficulty

  ejaculated the monosyllable:

  'What!'

  'I say, what's to prevent,' repeated the other with a steadiness of

  manner, of the effect of which upon his companion he was well

  assured by long experience, 'what's to prevent your marrying her?'