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The Old Curiosity Shop

Page 53

by Dickens, Charles


  letting me hear of you or know anything about you?' asked the poor

  little woman, sobbing. 'How could you be so cruel, Quilp?'

  'How could I be so cruel! cruel!' cried the dwarf. 'Because I was

  in the humour. I'm in the humour now. I shall be cruel

  when I like. I'm going away again.'

  'Not again!'

  'Yes, again. I'm going away now. I'm off directly. I mean to go

  and live wherever the fancy seizes me--at the wharf--at the

  counting-house--and be a jolly bachelor. You were a widow in

  anticipation. Damme,' screamed the dwarf, 'I'll be a bachelor in

  earnest.'

  'You can't be serious, Quilp,' sobbed his wife.

  'I tell you,' said the dwarf, exulting in his project, 'that I'll

  be a bachelor, a devil-may-care bachelor; and I'll have my

  bachelor's hall at the counting-house, and at such times come near

  it if you dare. And mind too that I don't pounce in upon you at

  unseasonable hours again, for I'll be a spy upon you, and come and

  go like a mole or a weazel. Tom Scott--where's Tom Scott?'

  'Here I am, master,' cried the voice of the boy, as Quilp threw up

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  the window.

  'Wait there, you dog,' returned the dwarf, 'to carry a bachelor's

  portmanteau. Pack it up, Mrs Quilp. Knock up the dear old lady to

  help; knock her up. Halloa there! Halloa!'

  With these exclamations, Mr Quilp caught up the poker, and hurrying

  to the door of the good lady's sleeping-closet, beat upon it

  therewith until she awoke in inexpressible terror, thinking that

  her amiable son-in-law surely intended to murder her in

  justification of the legs she had slandered. Impressed with this

  idea, she was no sooner fairly awake than she screamed violently,

  and would have quickly precipitated herself out of the window and

  through a neighbouring skylight, if her daughter had not hastened

  in to undeceive her, and implore her assistance. Somewhat

  reassured by her account of the service she was required to render,

  Mrs Jiniwin made her appearance in a flannel dressing-gown; and

  both mother and daughter, trembling with terror and cold--for the

  night was now far advanced--obeyed Mr Quilp's directions in

  submissive silence. Prolonging his preparations as much as

  possible, for their greater comfort, that eccentric gentleman

  superintended the packing of his wardrobe, and having added to it

  with his own hands, a plate, knife and fork, spoon, teacup and

  saucer, and other small household matters of that nature, strapped

  up the portmanteau, took it on his shoulders, and actually marched

  off without another word, and with the case-bottle (which he had

  never once put down) still tightly clasped under his arm.

  Consigning his heavier burden to the care of Tom Scott when he

  reached the street, taking a dram from the bottle for his own

  encouragement, and giving the boy a rap on the head with it as a

  small taste for himself, Quilp very deliberately led the way to the

  wharf, and reached it at between three and four o'clock in the

  morning.

  'Snug!' said Quilp, when he had groped his way to the wooden

  counting-house, and opened the door with a key he carried about

  with him. 'Beautifully snug! Call me at eight, you dog.'

  With no more formal leave-taking or explanation, he clutched the

  portmanteau, shut the door on his attendant, and climbing on the

  desk, and rolling himself up as round as a hedgehog, in an old

  boat-cloak, fell fast asleep.

  Being roused in the morning at the appointed time, and roused with

  difficulty, after his late fatigues, Quilp instructed Tom Scott to

  make a fire in the yard of sundry pieces of old timber, and to

  prepare some coffee for breakfast; for the better furnishing of

  which repast he entrusted him with certain small moneys, to be

  expended in the purchase of hot rolls, butter, sugar, Yarmouth

  bloaters, and other articles of housekeeping; so that in a few

  minutes a savoury meal was smoking on the board. With this

  substantial comfort, the dwarf regaled himself to his heart's

  content; and being highly satisfied with this free and gipsy mode

  of life (which he had often meditated, as offering, whenever he

  chose to avail himself of it, an agreeable freedom from the

  restraints of matrimony, and a choice means of keeping Mrs Quilp

  and her mother in a state of incessant agitation and suspense),

  bestirred himself to improve his retreat, and render it more

  commodious and comfortable.

  With this view, he issued forth to a place hard by, where seastores

  were sold, purchased a second-hand hammock, and had it slung

  in seamanlike fashion from the ceiling of the counting-house. He

  also caused to be erected, in the same mouldy cabin, an old ship's

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  stove with a rusty funnel to carry the smoke through the roof; and

  these arrangements completed, surveyed them with ineffable delight.

  'I've got a country-house like Robinson Crusoe," said the dwarf,

  ogling the accommodations; 'a solitary, sequestered,

  desolate-island sort of spot, where I can be quite alone when I

  have business on hand, and be secure from all spies and listeners.

  Nobody near me here, but rats, and they are fine stealthy secret

  fellows. I shall be as merry as a grig among these gentry. I'll

  look out for one like Christopher, and poison him--ha, ha, ha!

  Business though--business--we must be mindful of business in the

  midst of pleasure, and the time has flown this morning, I declare.'

  Enjoining Tom Scott to await his return, and not to stand upon his

  head, or throw a summerset, or so much as walk upon his hands

  meanwhile, on pain of lingering torments, the dwarf threw himself

  into a boat, and crossing to the other side of the river, and then

  speeding away on foot, reached Mr Swiveller's usual house of

  entertainment in Bevis Marks, just as that gentleman sat down alone

  to dinner in its dusky parlour.

  'Dick'- said the dwarf, thrusting his head in at the door, 'my pet,

  my pupil, the apple of my eye, hey, hey!'

  'Oh you're there, are you?' returned Mr Swiveller; 'how are you?'

  'How's Dick?' retorted Quilp. 'How's the cream of clerkship, eh?'

  'Why, rather sour, sir,' replied Mr Swiveller. 'Beginning to

  border upon cheesiness, in fact.'

  'What's the matter?' said the dwarf, advancing. 'Has Sally proved

  unkind. "Of all the girls that are so smart, there's none like--"

  eh, Dick!'

  'Certainly not,' replied Mr Swiveller, eating his dinner with great

  gravity, 'none like her. She's the sphynx of private life, is

  Sally B.'

  'You're out of spirits,' said Quilp, drawing up a chair. 'What's

  the matter?'

  'The law don't agree with me,' returned Dick. 'It isn't moist

  enough, and there's too much confinement. I have been thinking of

  running away.'

  'Bah!' said the dwarf. 'Where would you run to, Dick?'

  'I don't know' returned Mr Swiveller. 'Towards Highgate, I

 
; suppose. Perhaps the bells might strike up "Turn again Swiveller,

  Lord Mayor of London." Whittington's name was Dick. I wish cats

  were scarcer."

  Quilp looked at his companion with his eyes screwed up into a

  comical expression of curiosity, and patiently awaited his further

  explanation; upon which, however, Mr Swiveller appeared in no hurry

  to enter, as he ate a very long dinner in profound silence, finally

  pushed away his plate, threw himself back into his chair, folded

  his arms, and stared ruefully at the fire, in which some ends of

  cigars were smoking on their own account, and sending up a fragrant

  odour.

  'Perhaps you'd like a bit of cake'--said Dick, at last turning to

  the dwarf. 'You're quite welcome to it. You ought to be, for it's

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  of your making.'

  'What do you mean?' said Quilp.

  Mr Swiveller replied by taking from his pocket a small and very

  greasy parcel, slowly unfolding it, and displaying a little slab of

  plum-cake extremely indigestible in appearance, and bordered with

  a paste of white sugar an inch and a half deep.

  'What should you say this was?' demanded Mr Swiveller.

  'It looks like bride-cake,' replied the dwarf, grinning.

  'And whose should you say it was?' inquired Mr Swiveller, rubbing

  the pastry against his nose with a dreadful calmness. 'Whose?'

  'Not--'

  'Yes,' said Dick, 'the same. You needn't mention her name.

  There's no such name now. Her name is Cheggs now, Sophy Cheggs.

  Yet loved I as man never loved that hadn't wooden legs, and my

  heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Sophy Cheggs.'

  With this extemporary adaptation of a popular ballad to the

  distressing circumstances of his own case, Mr Swiveller folded up

  the parcel again, beat it very flat between the palms of his hands,

  thrust it into his breast, buttoned his coat over it, and folded

  his arms upon the whole.

  'Now, I hope you're satisfied, sir,' said Dick; 'and I hope Fred's

  satisfied. You went partners in the mischief, and I hope you like

  it. This is the triumph I was to have, is it? It's like the old

  country-dance of that name, where there are two gentlemen to one

  lady, and one has her, and the other hasn't, but comes limping up

  behind to make out the figure. But it's Destiny, and mine's a

  crusher.'

  Disguising his secret joy in Mr Swiveller's defeat, Daniel Quilp

  adopted the surest means of soothing him, by ringing the bell, and

  ordering in a supply of rosy wine (that is to say, of its usual

  representative), which he put about with great alacrity, calling

  upon Mr Swiveller to pledge him in various toasts derisive of

  Cheggs, and eulogistic of the happiness of single men. Such was

  their impression on Mr Swiveller, coupled with the reflection that

  no man could oppose his destiny, that in a very short space of time

  his spirits rose surprisingly, and he was enabled to give the dwarf

  an account of the receipt of the cake, which, it appeared, had been

  brought to Bevis Marks by the two surviving Miss Wackleses in

  person, and delivered at the office door with much giggling and

  joyfulness.

  'Ha!' said Quilp. 'It will be our turn to giggle soon. And that

  reminds me--you spoke of young Trent--where is he?'

  Mr Swiveller explained that his respectable friend had recently

  accepted a responsible situation in a locomotive gaming-house, and

  was at that time absent on a professional tour among the

  adventurous spirits of Great Britain.

  'That's unfortunate,' said the dwarf, 'for I came, in fact, to ask

  you about him. A thought has occurred to me, Dick; your friend

  over the way--'

  'Which friend?'

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  'In the first floor.'

  'Yes?'

  'Your friend in the first floor, Dick, may know him.'

  'No, he don't,' said Mr Swiveller, shaking his head.

  'Don't! No, because he has never seen him,' rejoined Quilp; 'but

  if we were to bring them together, who knows, Dick, but Fred,

  properly introduced, would serve his turn almost as well as little

  Nell or her grandfather--who knows but it might make the young

  fellow's fortune, and, through him, yours, eh?'

  'Why, the fact is, you see,' said Mr Swiveller, 'that they HAVE

  been brought together.'

  'Have been!' cried the dwarf, looking suspiciously at his

  companion. 'Through whose means?'

  'Through mine,' said Dick, slightly confused. 'Didn't I mention it

  to you the last time you called over yonder?'

  'You know you didn't,' returned the dwarf.

  'I believe you're right,' said Dick. 'No. I didn't, I recollect.

  Oh yes, I brought 'em together that very day. It was Fred's

  suggestion.'

  'And what came of it?'

  'Why, instead of my friend's bursting into tears when he knew who

  Fred was, embracing him kindly, and telling him that he was his

  grandfather, or his grandmother in disguise (which we fully

  expected), he flew into a tremendous passion; called him all manner

  of names; said it was in a great measure his fault that little Nell

  and the old gentleman had ever been brought to poverty; didn't hint

  at our taking anything to drink; and--and in short rather turned

  us out of the room than otherwise.'

  'That's strange,' said the dwarf, musing.

  'So we remarked to each other at the time,' returned Dick coolly,

  'but quite true.'

  Quilp was plainly staggered by this intelligence, over which he

  brooded for some time in moody silence, often raising his eyes to

  Mr Swiveller's face, and sharply scanning its expression. As he

  could read in it, however, no additional information or anything to

  lead him to believe he had spoken falsely; and as Mr Swiveller,

  left to his own meditations, sighed deeply, and was evidently

  growing maudlin on the subject of Mrs Cheggs; the dwarf soon broke

  up the conference and took his departure, leaving the bereaved one

  to his melancholy ruminations.

  'Have been brought together, eh?' said the dwarf as he walked the

  streets alone. 'My friend has stolen a march upon me. It led him

  to nothing, and therefore is no great matter, save in the

  intention. I'm glad he has lost his mistress. Ha ha! The

  blockhead mustn't leave the law at present. I'm sure of him where

  he is, whenever I want him for my own purposes, and, besides, he's

  a good unconscious spy on Brass, and tells, in his cups, all that

  he sees and hears. You're useful to me, Dick, and cost nothing but

  a little treating now and then. I am not sure that it may not be

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  worth while, before long, to take credit with the stranger, Dick,

  by discovering your designs upon the child; but for the present

  we'll remain the best friends in the world, with your good leave.'

  Pursuing these thoughts, and gasping as he went along, after his

  own peculiar fashion, Mr Quilp once more crossed the Tha
mes, and

  shut himself up in his Bachelor's Hall, which, by reason of its

  newly-erected chimney depositing the smoke inside the room and

  carrying none of it off, was not quite so agreeable as more

  fastidious people might have desired. Such inconveniences,

  however, instead of disgusting the dwarf with his new abode, rather

  suited his humour; so, after dining luxuriously from the

  public-house, he lighted his pipe, and smoked against the chimney

  until nothing of him was visible through the mist but a pair of red

  and highly inflamed eyes, with sometimes a dim vision of his head

  and face, as, in a violent fit of coughing, he slightly stirred the

  smoke and scattered the heavy wreaths by which they were obscured.

  In the midst of this atmosphere, which must infallibly have

  smothered any other man, Mr Quilp passed the evening with great

  cheerfulness; solacing himself all the time with the pipe and the

  case-bottle; and occasionally entertaining himself with a melodious

  howl, intended for a song, but bearing not the faintest resemblance

  to any scrap of any piece of music, vocal or instrumental, ever

  invented by man. Thus he amused himself until nearly midnight,

  when he turned into his hammock with the utmost satisfaction.

  The first sound that met his ears in the morning--as he half

  opened his eyes, and, finding himself so unusually near the

  ceiling, entertained a drowsy idea that he must have been

  transformed into a fly or blue-bottle in the course of the night,

  --was that of a stifled sobbing and weeping in the room. Peeping

  cautiously over the side of his hammock, he descried Mrs Quilp, to

  whom, after contemplating her for some time in silence, he

  communicated a violent start by suddenly yelling out--'Halloa!'

  'Oh, Quilp!' cried his poor little wife, looking up. 'How you

  frightened me!'

  'I meant to, you jade,' returned the dwarf. 'What do you want

  here? I'm dead, an't I?'

  'Oh, please come home, do come home,' said Mrs Quilp, sobbing;

  'we'll never do so any more, Quilp, and after all it was only a

  mistake that grew out of our anxiety.'

  'Out of your anxiety,' grinned the dwarf. 'Yes, I know that--out

  of your anxiety for my death. I shall come home when I please, I

  tell you. I shall come home when I please, and go when I please.

  I'll be a Will o' the Wisp, now here, now there, dancing about you

  always, starting up when you least expect me, and keeping you in a

 

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