The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  considered which to play, and Mr Swiveller, assuming the gay and

  fashionable air which such society required, took another pull at

  the tankard, and waited for her lead.

  CHAPTER 58

  Mr Swiveller and his partner played several rubbers with varying

  success, until the loss of three sixpences, the gradual sinking of

  the purl, and the striking of ten o'clock, combined to render that

  gentleman mindful of the flight of Time, and the expediency of

  withdrawing before Mr Sampson and Miss Sally Brass returned.

  'With which object in view, Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller

  gravely, 'I shall ask your ladyship's permission to put the board

  in my pocket, and to retire from the presence when I have finished

  this tankard; merely observing, Marchioness, that since life like

  a river is flowing, I care not how fast it rolls on, ma'am, on,

  while such purl on the bank still is growing, and such eyes light

  the waves as they run. Marchioness, your health. You will excuse

  my wearing my hat, but the palace is damp, and the marble floor is

  --if I may be allowed the expression--sloppy.'

  As a precaution against this latter inconvenience, Mr Swiveller had

  been sitting for some time with his feet on the hob, in which

  attitude he now gave utterance to these apologetic observations,

  and slowly sipped the last choice drops of nectar.

  'The Baron Sampsono Brasso and his fair sister are (you tell me) at

  the Play?' said Mr Swiveller, leaning his left arm heavily upon the

  table, and raising his voice and his right leg after the manner of

  a theatrical bandit.

  The Marchioness nodded.

  'Ha!' said Mr Swiveller, with a portentous frown. ''Tis well.

  Marchioness!--but no matter. Some wine there. Ho!' He

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  illustrated these melodramatic morsels by handing the tankard to

  himself with great humility, receiving it haughtily, drinking from

  it thirstily, and smacking his lips fiercely.

  The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with theatrical

  conventionalities as Mr Swiveller (having indeed never seen a play,

  or heard one spoken of, except by chance through chinks of doors

  and in other forbidden places), was rather alarmed by

  demonstrations so novel in their nature, and showed her concern so

  plainly in her looks, that Mr Swiveller felt it necessary to

  discharge his brigand manner for one more suitable to private life,

  as he asked,

  'Do they often go where glory waits 'em, and leave you here?'

  'Oh, yes; I believe you they do,' returned the small servant.

  'Miss Sally's such a one-er for that, she is.'

  'Such a what?' said Dick.

  'Such a one-er,' returned the Marchioness.

  After a moment's reflection, Mr Swiveller determined to forego his

  responsible duty of setting her right, and to suffer her to talk

  on; as it was evident that her tongue was loosened by the purl, and

  her opportunities for conversation were not so frequent as to

  render a momentary check of little consequence.

  'They sometimes go to see Mr Quilp,' said the small servant with a

  shrewd look; 'they go to a many places, bless you!'

  'Is Mr Brass a wunner?' said Dick.

  'Not half what Miss Sally is, he isn't,' replied the small servant,

  shaking her head. 'Bless you, he'd never do anything without her.'

  'Oh! He wouldn't, wouldn't he?' said Dick.

  'Miss Sally keeps him in such order,' said the small servant;

  'he always asks her advice, he does; and he catches it

  sometimes. Bless you, you wouldn't believe how much he catches

  it.'

  'I suppose,' said Dick, 'that they consult together, a good deal,

  and talk about a great many people--about me for instance,

  sometimes, eh, Marchioness?'

  The Marchioness nodded amazingly.

  'Complimentary?' said Mr Swiveller.

  The Marchioness changed the motion of her head, which had not yet

  left off nodding, and suddenly began to shake it from side to side,

  with a vehemence which threatened to dislocate her neck.

  'Humph!' Dick muttered. 'Would it be any breach of confidence,

  Marchioness, to relate what they say of the humble individual who

  has now the honour to--?'

  'Miss Sally says you're a funny chap,' replied his friend.

  'Well, Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, 'that's not

  uncomplimentary. Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad or a

  degrading quality. Old King Cole was himself a merry old soul, if

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  we may put any faith in the pages of history.'

  'But she says,' pursued his companion, 'that you an't to be

  trusted.'

  'Why, really Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, thoughtfully;

  'several ladies and gentlemen--not exactly professional persons,

  but tradespeople, ma'am, tradespeople--have made the same remark.

  The obscure citizen who keeps the hotel over the way, inclined

  strongly to that opinion to-night when I ordered him to prepare the

  banquet. It's a popular prejudice, Marchioness; and yet I am sure

  I don't know why, for I have been trusted in my time to a

  considerable amount, and I can safely say that I never forsook my

  trust until it deserted me--never. Mr Brass is of the same

  opinion, I suppose?'

  His friend nodded again, with a cunning look which seemed to hint

  that Mr Brass held stronger opinions on the subject than his

  sister; and seeming to recollect herself, added imploringly, 'But

  don't you ever tell upon me, or I shall be beat to death.'

  'Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, rising, 'the word of a gentleman

  is as good as his bond--sometimes better, as in the present case,

  where his bond might prove but a doubtful sort of security. I am

  your friend, and I hope we shall play many more rubbers together in

  this same saloon. But, Marchioness,' added Richard, stopping in

  his way to the door, and wheeling slowly round upon the small

  servant, who was following with the candle; 'it occurs to me that

  you must be in the constant habit of airing your eye at keyholes,

  to know all this.'

  'I only wanted,' replied the trembling Marchioness, 'to know where

  the key of the safe was hid; that was all; and I wouldn't have

  taken much, if I had found it--only enough to squench my hunger.'

  'You didn't find it then?' said Dick. 'But of course you didn't,

  or you'd be plumper. Good night, Marchioness. Fare thee well, and

  if for ever, then for ever fare thee well--and put up the chain,

  Marchioness, in case of accidents.'

  With this parting injunction, Mr Swiveller emerged from the house;

  and feeling that he had by this time taken quite as much to drink

  as promised to be good for his constitution (purl being a rather

  strong and heady compound), wisely resolved to betake himself to

  his lodgings, and to bed at once. Homeward he went therefore; and

  his apartments (for he still retained the plural fiction) being at

  no great distance from the office, he was soon seated in his own

  bed-chamber, where, having pul
led off one boot and forgotten the

  other, he fell into deep cogitation.

  'This Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, folding his arms, 'is a very

  extraordinary person--surrounded by mysteries, ignorant of the

  taste of beer, unacquainted with her own name (which is less

  remarkable), and taking a limited view of society through the

  keyholes of doors--can these things be her destiny, or has some

  unknown person started an opposition to the decrees of fate? It is

  a most inscrutable and unmitigated staggerer!'

  When his meditations had attained this satisfactory point, he

  became aware of his remaining boot, of which, with unimpaired

  solemnity he proceeded to divest himself; shaking his head with

  exceeding gravity all the time, and sighing deeply.

  'These rubbers,' said Mr Swiveller, putting on his nightcap in

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  exactly the same style as he wore his hat, 'remind me of the

  matrimonial fireside. Cheggs's wife plays cribbage; all-fours

  likewise. She rings the changes on 'em now. From sport to sport

  they hurry her to banish her regrets, and when they win a smile

  from her, they think that she forgets--but she don't. By this

  time, I should say,' added Richard, getting his left cheek into

  profile, and looking complacently at the reflection of a very

  little scrap of whisker in the looking-glass; 'by this time, I

  should say, the iron has entered into her soul. It serves her

  right!'

  Melting from this stern and obdurate, into the tender and pathetic

  mood, Mr Swiveller groaned a little, walked wildly up and down, and

  even made a show of tearing his hair, which, however, he thought

  better of, and wrenched the tassel from his nightcap instead. At

  last, undressing himself with a gloomy resolution, he got into bed.

  Some men in his blighted position would have taken to drinking; but

  as Mr Swiveller had taken to that before, he only took, on

  receiving the news that Sophy Wackles was lost to him for ever, to

  playing the flute; thinking after mature consideration that it was

  a good, sound, dismal occupation, not only in unison with his own

  sad thoughts, but calculated to awaken a fellow- feeling in the

  bosoms of his neighbours. In pursuance of this resolution, he now

  drew a little table to his bedside, and arranging the light and a

  small oblong music-book to the best advantage, took his flute from

  its box, and began to play most mournfully.

  The air was 'Away with melancholy'--a composition, which, when it

  is played very slowly on the flute, in bed, with the further

  disadvantage of being performed by a gentleman but imperfectly

  acquainted with the instrument, who repeats one note a great many

  times before he can find the next, has not a lively effect. Yet,

  for half the night, or more, Mr Swiveller, lying sometimes on his

  back with his eyes upon the ceiling, and sometimes half out of bed

  to correct himself by the book, played this unhappy tune over and

  over again; never leaving off, save for a minute or two at a time

  to take breath and soliloquise about the Marchioness, and then

  beginning again with renewed vigour. It was not until he had quite

  exhausted his several subjects of meditation, and had breathed into

  the flute the whole sentiment of the purl down to its very dregs,

  and had nearly maddened the people of the house, and at both the

  next doors, and over the way--that he shut up the music-book,

  extinguished the candle, and finding himself greatly lightened and

  relieved in his mind, turned round and fell asleep.

  He awoke in the morning, much refreshed; and having taken half an

  hour's exercise at the flute, and graciously received a notice to

  quit from his landlady, who had been in waiting on the stairs for

  that purpose since the dawn of day, repaired to Bevis Marks; where

  the beautiful Sally was already at her post, bearing in her looks

  a radiance, mild as that which beameth from the virgin moon.

  Mr Swiveller acknowledged her presence by a nod, and exchanged his

  coat for the aquatic jacket; which usually took some time fitting

  on, for in consequence of a tightness in the sleeves, it was only

  to be got into by a series of struggles. This difficulty overcome,

  he took his seat at the desk.

  'I say'--quoth Miss Brass, abruptly breaking silence, 'you haven't

  seen a silver pencil-case this morning, have you?'

  'I didn't meet many in the street,' rejoined Mr Swiveller. 'I saw

  one--a stout pencil-case of respectable appearance--but as he was

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  in company with an elderly penknife, and a young toothpick with

  whom he was in earnest conversation, I felt a delicacy in speaking

  to him.'

  'No, but have you?' returned Miss Brass. 'Seriously, you know.'

  'What a dull dog you must be to ask me such a question seriously,'

  said Mr Swiveller. 'Haven't I this moment come?'

  'Well, all I know is,' replied Miss Sally, 'that it's not to be

  found, and that it disappeared one day this week, when I left it on

  the desk.'

  'Halloa!' thought Richard, 'I hope the Marchioness hasn't been at

  work here.'

  'There was a knife too,' said Miss Sally, 'of the same pattern.

  They were given to me by my father, years ago, and are both gone.

  You haven't missed anything yourself, have you?'

  Mr Swiveller involuntarily clapped his hands to the jacket to be

  quite sure that it WAS a jacket and not a skirted coat; and having

  satisfied himself of the safety of this, his only moveable in Bevis

  Marks, made answer in the negative.

  'It's a very unpleasant thing, Dick,' said Miss Brass, pulling out

  the tin box and refreshing herself with a pinch of snuff; 'but

  between you and me--between friends you know, for if Sammy knew

  it, I should never hear the last of it--some of the office- money,

  too, that has been left about, has gone in the same way. In

  particular, I have missed three half-crowns at three different

  times.'

  'You don't mean that?' cried Dick. 'Be careful what you say, old

  boy, for this is a serious matter. Are you quite sure? Is there

  no mistake?'

  'It is so, and there can't be any mistake at all,' rejoined Miss

  Brass emphatically.

  'Then by Jove,' thought Richard, laying down his pen, 'I am afraid

  the Marchioness is done for!'

  The more he discussed the subject in his thoughts, the more

  probable it appeared to Dick that the miserable little servant was

  the culprit. When he considered on what a spare allowance of food

  she lived, how neglected and untaught she was, and how her natural

  cunning had been sharpened by necessity and privation, he scarcely

  doubted it. And yet he pitied her so much, and felt so unwilling

  to have a matter of such gravity disturbing the oddity of their

  acquaintance, that he thought, and thought truly, that rather than

  receive fifty pounds down, he would have the Marchioness proved

  innocent.

  While he was plunged in ve
ry profound and serious meditation upon

  this theme, Miss Sally sat shaking her head with an air of great

  mystery and doubt; when the voice of her brother Sampson, carolling

  a cheerful strain, was heard in the passage, and that gentleman

  himself, beaming with virtuous smiles, appeared.

  'Mr Richard, sir, good morning! Here we are again, sir, entering

  upon another day, with our bodies strengthened by slumber and

  breakfast, and our spirits fresh and flowing. Here we are, Mr

  Richard, rising with the sun to run our little course--our course

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  of duty, sir--and, like him, to get through our day's work with

  credit to ourselves and advantage to our fellow- creatures. A

  charming reflection sir, very charming!'

  While he addressed his clerk in these words, Mr Brass was, somewhat

  ostentatiously, engaged in minutely examining and holding up

  against the light a five-pound bank note, which he had brought in,

  in his hand.

  Mr Richard not receiving his remarks with anything like enthusiasm,

  his employer turned his eyes to his face, and observed that it wore

  a troubled expression.

  'You're out of spirits, sir,' said Brass. 'Mr Richard, sir, we

  should fall to work cheerfully, and not in a despondent state. It

  becomes us, Mr Richard, sir, to--'

  Here the chaste Sarah heaved a loud sigh.

  'Dear me!' said Mr Sampson, 'you too! Is anything the matter? Mr

  Richard, sir--'

  Dick, glancing at Miss Sally, saw that she was making signals to

  him, to acquaint her brother with the subject of their recent

  conversation. As his own position was not a very pleasant one

  until the matter was set at rest one way or other, he did so; and

  Miss Brass, plying her snuff-box at a most wasteful rate,

  corroborated his account.

  The countenance of Sampson fell, and anxiety overspread his

  features. Instead of passionately bewailing the loss of his money,

  as Miss Sally had expected, he walked on tiptoe to the door, opened

  it, looked outside, shut it softly, returned on tiptoe, and said in

  a whisper,

  'This is a most extraordinary and painful circumstance--Mr

  Richard, sir, a most painful circumstance. The fact is, that I

  myself have missed several small sums from the desk, of late, and

  have refrained from mentioning it, hoping that accident would

  discover the offender; but it has not done so--it has not done so.