The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  'And she 'nearly fourteen'!' cried Dick.

  'I don't mean marrying her now'--returned the brother angrily; 'say

  in two year's time, in three, in four. Does the old man look like a

  long-liver?'

  'He don't look like it,' said Dick shaking his head, 'but these old

  people--there's no trusting them, Fred. There's an aunt of mind

  down in Dorsetshire that was going to die when I was eight years

  old, and hasn't kept her word yet. They're so aggravating, so

  unprincipled, so spiteful--unless there's apoplexy in the family, Fred,

  you can't calculate upon 'em, and even then they deceive you just as

  often as not.'

  'Look at the worst side of the question then,' said Trent as steadily

  as before, and keeping his eyes upon his friend. 'Suppose he lives.'

  'To be sure,' said Dick. 'There's the rub.'

  'I say,' resumed his friend, 'suppose he lives, and I persuaded, or if

  the word sounds more feasible, forced Nell to a secret marriage with

  you. What do you think would come of that?'

  'A family and an annual income of nothing, to keep 'em on,' said

  Richard Swiveller after some reflection.

  'I tell you,' returned the other with an increased earnestness, which,

  whether it were real or assumed, had the same effect on his

  companion, 'that he lives for her, that his whole energies and

  thoughts are bound up in her, that he would no more disinherit her

  for an act of disobedience than he would take me into his favour

  again for any act of obedience or virtue that I could possibly be

  guilty of. He could not do it. You or any other man with eyes in his

  head may see that, if he chooses.'

  'It seems improbable certainly,' said Dick, musing.

  'It seems improbable because it is improbable,' his friend returned.

  'If you would furnish him with an additional inducement to forgive

  you, let there be an irreconcilable breach, a most deadly quarrel,

  between you and me--let there be a pretense of such a thing, I mean,

  of course--and he'll do fast enough. As to Nell, constant dropping

  will wear away a stone; you know you may trust to me as far as she

  is concerned. So, whether he lives or dies, what does it come to?

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  That you become the sole inheritor of the wealth of this rich old

  hunks, that you and I spend it together, and that you get into the

  bargain a beautiful young wife.'

  'I suppose there's no doubt about his being rich'--said Dick.

  'Doubt! Did you hear what he left fall the other day when we were

  there? Doubt! What will you doubt next, Dick?'

  It would be tedious to pursue the conversation through all its artful

  windings, or to develope the gradual approaches by which the heart

  of Richard Swiveller was gained. It is sufficient to know that vanity,

  interest, poverty, and every spendthrift consideration urged him to

  look upon the proposal with favour, and that where all other

  inducements were wanting, the habitual carelessness of his

  disposition stepped in and still weighed down the scale on the same

  side. To these impulses must be added the complete ascendancy

  which his friend had long been accustomed to exercise over him--an

  ascendancy exerted in the beginning sorely at the expense of his

  friend's vices, and was in nine cases out of ten looked upon as his

  designing tempter when he was indeed nothing but his thoughtless,

  light-headed tool.

  The motives on the other side were something deeper than any which

  Richard Swiveller entertained or understood, but these being left to

  their own development, require no present elucidation. the

  negotiation was concluded very pleasantly, and Mr Swiveller was in

  the act of stating in flowery terms that he had no insurmountable

  objection to marrying anybody plentifully endowed with money or

  moveables, who could be induced to take him, when he was

  interrupted in his observations by a knock at the door, and the

  consequent necessity of crying 'Come in.'

  The door was opened, but nothing came in except a soapy arm and a

  strong gush of tobacco. The gush of tobacco came from the shop

  downstairs, and the soapy arm proceeded from the body of a servant-girl,

  who being then and

  there engaged in cleaning the stars had just

  drawn it out of a warm pail to take in a letter, which letter she now

  held in her hand, proclaiming aloud with that quick perception of

  surnames peculiar to her class that it was for Mister Snivelling.

  Dick looked rather pale and foolish when he glanced at the direction,

  and still more so when he came to look at the inside, observing that

  it was one of the inconveniences of being a lady's man, and that it

  was very easy to talk as they had been talking, but he had quite

  forgotten her.

  'Her. Who?' demanded Trent.

  'Sophy Wackles,' said Dick.

  'Who's she?'

  'She's all my fancy painted her, sir, that's what she is,' said Mr

  Swiveller, taking a long pull at 'the rosy' and looking gravely at his

  friend. 'She's lovely, she's divine. You know her.'

  'I remember,' said his companion carelessly. 'What of her?'

  'Why, sir,' returned Dick, 'between Miss Sophia Wackles and the

  humble individual who has now the honor to address you, warm and

  tender sentiments have been engendered, sentiments of the most

  honourable and inspiring kind. The Goddess Diana, sir, that calls

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  aloud for the chase, is not more particular in her behavior than

  Sophia Wackles; I can tell you that.'

  'Am I to believe there's anything real in what you say?' demanded

  his friend; 'you don't mean to say that any love-making has been

  going on?'

  'Love-making, yes. Promising, no,' said Dick. 'There can be no

  action for breach, that's one comfort. I've never committed myself in

  writing, Fred.'

  'And what's in the letter, pray?'

  'A reminder, Fred, for to-night--a small party of twenty, making two

  hundred light fantastic toes in all, supposing every lady and

  gentleman to have the proper complement. It must go, if it's only to

  begin breaking off the affair--I'll do it, don't you be afraid. I should

  like to know whether she left this herself. If she did, unconscious of

  any bar to her happiness, it's affecting, Fred.'

  To solve this question, Mr Swiveller summoned the handmaid and

  ascertained that Miss Sophy Wackles had indeed left the letter with

  her own hands; and that she had come accompanied, for decorum's

  sake no doubt, by a younger Miss Wackles; and that on learning that

  Mr Swiveller was at home and being requested to walk upstairs, she

  was extremely shocked and professed that she would rather die. Mr

  Swiveller heard this account with a degree of admiration not

  altogether consistent with the project in which he had just concurred,

  but his friend attached very little importance to his behavior in this

  respect, probably because he knew that he had influence sufficient to

  control Richard Swiveller's proceedings in this o
r any other matter,

  whenever he deemed it necessary, for the advancement of his own

  purposes, to exert it.

  CHAPTER 8

  Business disposed of, Mr Swiveller was inwardly reminded of its

  being nigh dinner-time, and to the intent that his health might not be

  endangered by longer abstinence, dispached a message to the nearest

  eating-house requiring an immediate supply of boiled beef and greens

  for two. With this demand, however, the eating-house (having

  experience of its customer) declined to comply, churlishly sending

  back for answer that if Mr Swiveller stood in need of beef perhaps

  he would be so obliging as to come there and eat it, bringing with

  him, as grace before meat, the amount of a certin small account

  which had long been outstanding. Not at all intimidated by this

  rebuff, but rather sharpened in wits and appetite, Mr Swiveller

  forwarded the same message to another and more distant eating-house,

  adding to it by way of rider that the gentleman was induced to

  send so far, not only by the great fame and popularity its beef had

  acquired, but in consequence of the extreme toughness of the beef

  retailed at the obdurant cook's shop, which rendered it quite unfit not

  merely for gentlemanly food, but for any human consumption. The

  good effect of this politic course was demonstrated by the speedy

  arrive of a small pewter pyramid, curously constructed of platters

  and covers, whereof the boiled-beef-plates formed the base, and a

  foaming quart-pot the apex; the structure being resolved into its

  component parts afforded all things requisite and necessary for a

  hearty meal, to which Mr Swiveller and his friend applied

  themselves with great keenness and enjoyment.

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  'May the present moment,' said Dick, sticking his fork into a large

  carbuncular potato, 'be the worst of our lives! I like the plan of

  sending 'em with the peel on; there's a charm in drawing a poato

  from its native element (if I may so express it) to which the rich and

  powerful are strangers. Ah! 'Man wants but little here below, nor

  wants that little long!' How true that it!--after dinner.'

  'I hope the eating-house keeper will want but little and that he may

  not want that little long,' returned his companion; but I suspect

  you've no means of paying for this!'

  'I shall be passing present, and I'll call,' said Dick, winking his eye

  significantly. 'The waiter's quite helpless. The goods are gone, Fred,

  and there's an end of it.'

  In point of fact, it would seem that the waiter felt this wholesome

  truth, for when he returned for the empty plates and dishes and was

  informed by Mr Swiveller with dignified carelessness that he would

  call and setle when he should be passing presently, he displayed

  some pertubation of spirit and muttered a few remarks about

  'payment on delivery' and 'no trust,' and other unpleasant subjects,

  but was fain to content himself with inquiring at what hour it was

  likely that the gentleman would call, in order that being presently

  responsible for the beef , greens, and sundries, he might take to be in

  the way at the time. Mr Swiveller, after mentally calculating his

  engagements to a nicety, replied that he should look in at from two

  minutes before six and seven minutes past; and the man disappearing

  with this feeble consolation, Richards Swiveller took a greasy

  memorandum-book from his pocket and made an entry therein.

  'Is that a reminder, in case you should forget to call?' said Trent

  with a sneer.

  'Not exactly, Fred,' replied the imperturable Richard, continuing to

  write with a businesslike air. 'I enter in this little book the names of

  the streets that I can't go down while the shops are open. This dinner

  today closes Long Acre. I bought a pair of boots in Great Queen

  Street last week, and made that no throughfare too. There's only one

  avenue to the Strand left often now, and I shall have to stop up that

  to-night with a pair of gloves. The roads are closing so fast in every

  direction, that in a month's time, unless my aunt sends me a

  remittance, I shall have to go three or four miles out of town to get

  over the way.'

  'There's no fear of failing, in the end?' said Trent.

  'Why, I hope not,' returned Mr Swiveller, 'but the average number

  of letters it take to soften her is six, and this time we have got as far

  as eight without any effect at all. I'll write another tom-morrow

  morning. I mean to blot it a good deal and shake some water over it

  out of the pepper-castor to make it look penitent. 'I'm in such a state

  of mind that I hardly know what I write'--blot--' if you could see me

  at this minute shedding tears for my past misconduct'--pepper-castor--

  my hand trembles when I think'--blot again--if that don't produce

  the effect, it's all over.'

  By this time, Mr Swiveller had finished his entry, and he now

  replaced his pencil in its little sheath and closed the book, in a

  perfectly grave and serious frame of mind. His friend discovered that

  it was time for him to fulfil some other engagement, and Richard

  Swiveller was accordingly left alone, in company with the rosy wine

  and his own meditations touching Miss Sophy Wackles.

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  'It's rather sudden,' said Dick shaking his head with a look of

  infinite wisdom, and running on (as he was accustomed to do) with

  scraps of verse as if they were only prose in a hurry; 'when the heart

  of a man is depressed with fears, the mist is dispelled when Miss

  Wackles appears; she's a very nice girl. She's like the red red rose

  that's newly sprung in June--there's no denying that--she's also like a

  melody that's sweetly played in tune. It's really very sudden. Not

  that there's any need, on account of Fred's little sister, to turn cool

  directly, but its better not to go too far. If I begin to cool at all I

  must begin at once, I see that. There's the chance of an action for

  breach, that's another. There's the chance of--no, there's no chance

  of that, but it's as well to be on the safe side.'

  This undeveloped was the possibility, which Richard Swiveller

  sought to conceal even from himself, of his not being proof against

  the charms of Miss Wackles, and in some unguarded moment, by

  linking his fortunes to hers forever, of putting it out of his own

  power to further their notable scheme to which he had so readily

  become a party. For all these reasons, he decided to pick a quarrel

  with Miss Wackles without delay, and casting about for a pretext

  determined in favour of groundless jealousy. Having made up his

  mind on this important point, he circulated the glass (from his right

  hand to left, and back again) pretty freely, to enable him to act his

  part with the greater discretion, and then, after making some slight

  improvements in his toilet, bent his steps towards the spot hallowed

  by the fair object of his meditations.

  The spot was at Chesea, for there Miss Sophia Wackles resided with


  her widowed mother and two sisters, in conjunction with whom she

  maintained a very small day-school for young ladies of proportionate

  dimensions; a circumstance which was made known to the

  neighbourhood by an oval board over the front first-floor windows,

  whereupon appeared in circumbmbient flourishes the words 'Ladies'

  Seminary'; and which was further published and proclaimed at

  intervals between the hours of half-past nine and ten in the morning,

  by a straggling and solitrary young lady of tender years standing on

  the scraper on the tips of her toes and making futile attempts to reach

  the knocker with spelling-book. The several duties of instruction in

  this establishment were this discharged. English grammar,

  composition, geography, and the use of the dumb-bells, by Miss

  Melissa Wackles; writing, arthmetic, dancing, music, and general

  fascination, by Miss Sophia Wackles; the art of needle-work,

  marking, and samplery, by Miss Jane Wackles; corporal punishment,

  fasting, and other tortures and terrors, by Mrs Wackles. Miss

  Melissa Wackles was the eldest daughter, Miss Sophy the next, and

  Miss Jane the youngest. Miss Melissa might have seen five-and-thirty

  summers or thereabouts, and verged on the autumnal; Miss Sophy

  was a fresh, good humoured, busom girl of twenty; and Miss Jane

  numbered scarcely sixteen years. Mrs Wackles was an excellent

  but rather vemenous old lady of three-score.

  To this Ladies' Seminary, then, Richard Swiveller hied, with designs

  obnoxious to the peace of the fair Sophia, who, arrayed in virgin

  white, embelished by no ornament but one blushing rose, received

  him on his arrival, in the midst of very elegant not to say brilliant

  preparations; such as the embellishment of the room with the little

  flower-pots which always stood on the window-sill outside, save in

  windy weather when they blew into the area; the choice attire of the

  day-scholars who were allowed to grace the festival; the unwonted

  curls of Miss Jane Wackles who had kept her head during the whole

  of the preceding day screwed up tight in a yellow play-bill; and the

  solemn gentility and stately bearing of the old lady and her eldest

  daughter, which struck Mr Swiveller as being uncommon but made

  no further impression upon him.

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  The truth is--and, as there is no accounting for tastes, even a taste so