The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  breast. Mr Witherden, sir, a kind of faintness is upon my spirits--

  if you would do me the favour to ring the bell and order up a

  glass of something warm and spicy, I shall, notwithstanding what

  has passed, have a melancholy pleasure in drinking your good

  health. I had hoped,' said Brass, looking round with a mournful

  smile, 'to have seen you three gentlemen, one day or another, with

  your legs under the mahogany in my humble parlour in the Marks.

  But hopes are fleeting. Dear me!'

  Mr Brass found himself so exceedingly affected, at this point, that

  he could say or do nothing more until some refreshment arrived.

  Having partaken of it, pretty freely for one in his agitated state,

  he sat down to write.

  The lovely Sarah, now with her arms folded, and now with her hands

  clasped behind her, paced the room with manly strides while her

  brother was thus employed, and sometimes stopped to pull out her

  snuff-box and bite the lid. She continued to pace up and down

  until she was quite tired, and then fell asleep on a chair near the

  door.

  It has been since supposed, with some reason, that this slumber was

  a sham or feint, as she contrived to slip away unobserved in the

  dusk of the afternoon. Whether this was an intentional and waking

  departure, or a somnambulistic leave-taking and walking in her

  sleep, may remain a subject of contention; but, on one point (and

  indeed the main one) all parties are agreed. In whatever state she

  walked away, she certainly did not walk back again.

  Mention having been made of the dusk of the afternoon, it will be

  inferred that Mr Brass's task occupied some time in the completion.

  It was not finished until evening; but, being done at last, that

  worthy person and the three friends adjourned in a hackney-coach to

  the private office of a justice, who, giving Mr Brass a warm

  reception and detaining him in a secure place that he might insure

  to himself the pleasure of seeing him on the morrow, dismissed the

  others with the cheering assurance that a warrant could not fail to

  be granted next day for the apprehension of Mr Quilp, and that a

  proper application and statement of all the circumstances to the

  secretary of state (who was fortunately in town), would no doubt

  procure Kit's free pardon and liberation without delay.

  And now, indeed, it seemed that Quilp's malignant career was

  drawing to a close, and that retribution, which often travels

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  slowly--especially when heaviest--had tracked his footsteps with

  a sure and certain scent and was gaining on him fast. Unmindful of

  her stealthy tread, her victim holds his course in fancied triumph.

  Still at his heels she comes, and once afoot, is never turned

  aside!

  Their business ended, the three gentlemen hastened back to the

  lodgings of Mr Swiveller, whom they found progressing so favourably

  in his recovery as to have been able to sit up for half an hour,

  and to have conversed with cheerfulness. Mrs Garland had gone home

  some time since, but Mr Abel was still sitting with him. After

  telling him all they had done, the two Mr Garlands and the single

  gentleman, as if by some previous understanding, took their leaves

  for the night, leaving the invalid alone with the Notary and the

  small servant.

  'As you are so much better,' said Mr Witherden, sitting down at the

  bedside, 'I may venture to communicate to you a piece of news which

  has come to me professionally.'

  The idea of any professional intelligence from a gentleman

  connected with legal matters, appeared to afford Richard any-thing

  but a pleasing anticipation. Perhaps he connected it in his own

  mind with one or two outstanding accounts, in reference to which he

  had already received divers threatening letters. His countenance

  fell as he replied,

  'Certainly, sir. I hope it's not anything of a very disagreeable

  nature, though?'

  'if I thought it so, I should choose some better time for

  communicating it,' replied the Notary. 'Let me tell you, first,

  that my friends who have been here to-day, know nothing of it, and

  that their kindness to you has been quite spontaneous and with no

  hope of return. It may do a thoughtless, careless man, good, to

  know that.'

  Dick thanked him, and said he hoped it would.

  'I have been making some inquiries about you,' said Mr Witherden,

  'little thinking that I should find you under such circumstances as

  those which have brought us together. You are the nephew of

  Rebecca Swiveller, spinster, deceased, of Cheselbourne in

  Dorsetshire.'

  'Deceased!' cried Dick.

  'Deceased. If you had been another sort of nephew, you would have

  come into possession (so says the will, and I see no reason to

  doubt it) of five-and-twenty thousand pounds. As it is, you have

  fallen into an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a year; but

  I think I may congratulate you even upon that.'

  'Sir,' said Dick, sobbing and laughing together, 'you may. For,

  please God, we'll make a scholar of the poor Marchioness yet! And

  she shall walk in silk attire, and siller have to spare, or may I

  never rise from this bed again!'

  CHAPTER 67

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  Unconscious of the proceedings faithfully narrated in the last

  chapter, and little dreaming of the mine which had been sprung

  beneath him (for, to the end that he should have no warning of the

  business a-foot, the profoundest secrecy was observed in the whole

  transaction), Mr Quilp remained shut up in his hermitage,

  undisturbed by any suspicion, and extremely well satisfied with the

  result of his machinations. Being engaged in the adjustment of

  some accounts--an occupation to which the silence and solitude of

  his retreat were very favourable--he had not strayed from his den

  for two whole days. The third day of his devotion to this pursuit

  found him still hard at work, and little disposed to stir abroad.

  It was the day next after Mr Brass's confession, and consequently,

  that which threatened the restriction of Mr Quilp's liberty, and

  the abrupt communication to him of some very unpleasant and

  unwelcome facts. Having no intuitive perception of the cloud which

  lowered upon his house, the dwarf was in his ordinary state of

  cheerfulness; and, when he found he was becoming too much engrossed

  by business with a due regard to his health and spirits, he varied

  its monotonous routine with a little screeching, or howling, or

  some other innocent relaxation of that nature.

  He was attended, as usual, by Tom Scott, who sat crouching over the

  fire after the manner of a toad, and, from time to time, when his

  master's back was turned, imitating his grimaces with a fearful

  exactness. The figure-head had not yet disappeared, but remained

  in its old place. The face, horribly seared by the frequent

  application of the red-hot poker, and further ornamented by the


  insertion, in the tip of the nose, of a tenpenny nail, yet smiled

  blandly in its less lacerated parts, and seemed, like a sturdy

  martyr, to provoke its tormentor to the commission of new outrages

  and insults.

  The day, in the highest and brightest quarters of the town, was

  damp, dark, cold and gloomy. In that low and marshy spot, the fog

  filled every nook and corner with a thick dense cloud. Every

  object was obscure at one or two yards' distance. The warning

  lights and fires upon the river were powerless beneath this pall,

  and, but for a raw and piercing chillness in the air, and now and

  then the cry of some bewildered boatman as he rested on his oars

  and tried to make out where he was, the river itself might have

  been miles away.

  The mist, though sluggish and slow to move, was of a keenly

  searching kind. No muffling up in furs and broadcloth kept it out.

  It seemed to penetrate into the very bones of the shrinking

  wayfarers, and to rack them with cold and pains. Everything was

  wet and clammy to the touch. The warm blaze alone defied it, and

  leaped and sparkled merrily. It was a day to be at home, crowding

  about the fire, telling stories of travellers who had lost their

  way in such weather on heaths and moors; and to love a warm hearth

  more than ever.

  The dwarf's humour, as we know, was to have a fireside to himself;

  and when he was disposed to be convivial, to enjoy himself alone.

  By no means insensible to the comfort of being within doors, he

  ordered Tom Scott to pile the little stove with coals, and,

  dismissing his work for that day, determined to be jovial.

  To this end, he lighted up fresh candles and heaped more fuel on

  the fire; and having dined off a beefsteak, which he cooked himself

  in somewhat of a savage and cannibal-like manner, brewed a great

  bowl of hot punch, lighted his pipe, and sat down to spend the

  evening.

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  At this moment, a low knocking at the cabin-door arrested his

  attention. When it had been twice or thrice repeated, he softly

  opened the little window, and thrusting his head out, demanded who

  was there.

  'Only me, Quilp,' replied a woman's voice.

  'Only you!' cried the dwarf, stretching his neck to obtain a better

  view of his visitor. 'And what brings you here, you jade? How

  dare you approach the ogre's castle, eh?'

  'I have come with some news,' rejoined his spouse. 'Don't be angry

  with me.'

  'Is it good news, pleasant news, news to make a man skip and snap

  his fingers?' said the dwarf. 'Is the dear old lady dead?'

  'I don't know what news it is, or whether it's good or bad,'

  rejoined his wife.

  'Then she's alive,' said Quilp, 'and there's nothing the matter

  with her. Go home again, you bird of evil note, go home!'

  'I have brought a letter,' cried the meek little woman.

  'Toss it in at the window here, and go your ways,' said Quilp,

  interrupting her, 'or I'll come out and scratch you.'

  'No, but please, Quilp--do hear me speak,' urged his submissive

  wife, in tears. 'Please do!'

  'Speak then,' growled the dwarf with a malicious grin. 'Be quick

  and short about it. Speak, will you?'

  'It was left at our house this afternoon,' said Mrs Quilp,

  trembling, 'by a boy who said he didn't know from whom it came, but

  that it was given to him to leave, and that he was told to say it

  must be brought on to you directly, for it was of the very greatest

  consequence.--But please,' she added, as her husband stretched

  out his hand for it, 'please let me in. You don't know how wet and

  cold I am, or how many times I have lost my way in coming here

  through this thick fog. Let me dry myself at the fire for five

  minutes. I'll go away directly you tell me to, Quilp. Upon my

  word I will.'

  Her amiable husband hesitated for a few moments; but, bethinking

  himself that the letter might require some answer, of which she

  could be the bearer, closed the window, opened the door, and bade

  her enter. Mrs Quilp obeyed right willingly, and, kneeling down

  before the fire to warm her hands, delivered into his a little

  packet.

  'I'm glad you're wet,' said Quilp, snatching it, and squinting at

  her. 'I'm glad you're cold. I'm glad you lost your way. I'm glad

  your eyes are red with crying. It does my heart good to see your

  little nose so pinched and frosty.'

  'Oh Quilp!' sobbed his wife. 'How cruel it is of you!'

  'Did she think I was dead?' said Quilp, wrinkling his face into a

  most extraordinary series of grimaces. 'Did she think she was

  going to have all the money, and to marry somebody she liked? Ha

  ha ha! Did she?'

  These taunts elicited no reply from the poor little woman, who

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  remained on her knees, warming her hands, and sobbing, to Mr

  Quilp's great delight. But, just as he was contemplating her, and

  chuckling excessively, he happened to observe that Tom Scott was

  delighted too; wherefore, that he might have no presumptuous

  partner in his glee, the dwarf instantly collared him, dragged him

  to the door, and after a short scuffle, kicked him into the yard.

  In return for this mark of attention, Tom immediately walked upon

  his hands to the window, and--if the expression be allowable--

  looked in with his shoes: besides rattling his feet upon the glass

  like a Banshee upside down. As a matter of course, Mr Quilp lost

  no time in resorting to the infallible poker, with which, after

  some dodging and lying in ambush, he paid his young friend one or

  two such unequivocal compliments that he vanished precipitately,

  and left him in quiet possession of the field.

  'So! That little job being disposed of,' said the dwarf, coolly,

  'I'll read my letter. Humph!' he muttered, looking at the

  direction. 'I ought to know this writing. Beautiful Sally!'

  Opening it, he read, in a fair, round, legal hand, as follows:

  'Sammy has been practised upon, and has broken confidence. It has

  all come out. You had better not be in the way, for strangers are

  going to call upon you. They have been very quiet as yet, because

  they mean to surprise you. Don't lose time. I didn't. I am not

  to be found anywhere. If I was you, I wouldn't either. S. B.,

  late of B. M.'

  To describe the changes that passed over Quilp's face, as he read

  this letter half-a-dozen times, would require some new language:

  such, for power of expression, as was never written, read, or

  spoken. For a long time he did not utter one word; but, after a

  considerable interval, during which Mrs Quilp was almost paralysed

  with the alarm his looks engendered, he contrived to gasp out,

  'If I had him here. If I only had him here--'

  'Oh Quilp!' said his wife, 'what's the matter? Who are you angry

  with?'

  '--I should drown him,' said the dwarf, not heeding her. 'Too easy

  a death, too short, too quick--but the ri
ver runs close at hand.

  Oh! if I had him here! just to take him to the brink coaxingly and

  pleasantly,--holding him by the button-hole--joking with him,--

  and, with a sudden push, to send him splashing down! Drowning men

  come to the surface three times they say. Ah! To see him those

  three times, and mock him as his face came bobbing up,--oh, what

  a rich treat that would be!'

  'Quilp!' stammered his wife, venturing at the same time to touch

  him on the shoulder: 'what has gone wrong?'

  She was so terrified by the relish with which he pictured this

  pleasure to himself that she could scarcely make herself

  intelligible.

  'Such a bloodless cur!' said Quilp, rubbing his hands very slowly,

  and pressing them tight together. 'I thought his cowardice and

  servility were the best guarantee for his keeping silence. Oh

  Brass, Brass--my dear, good, affectionate, faithful,

  complimentary, charming friend--if I only had you here!'

  His wife, who had retreated lest she should seem to listen to these

  mutterings, ventured to approach him again, and was about to speak,

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  when he hurried to the door, and called Tom Scott, who, remembering

  his late gentle admonition, deemed it prudent to appear

  immediately.

  'There!' said the dwarf, pulling him in. 'Take her home. Don't

  come here to-morrow, for this place will be shut up. Come back no

  more till you hear from me or see me. Do you mind?'

  Tom nodded sulkily, and beckoned Mrs Quilp to lead the way.

  'As for you,' said the dwarf, addressing himself to her, 'ask no

  questions about me, make no search for me, say nothing concerning

  me. I shall not be dead, mistress, and that'll comfort you. He'll

  take care of you.'

  'But, Quilp? What is the matter? Where are you going? Do say

  something more?'

  'I'll say that,' said the dwarf, seizing her by the arm, 'and do

  that too, which undone and unsaid would be best for you, unless you

  go directly.'

  'Has anything happened?' cried his wife. 'Oh! Do tell me that?'

  'Yes,' snarled the dwarf. 'No. What matter which? I have told

  you what to do. Woe betide you if you fail to do it, or disobey me

  by a hair's breadth. Will you go!'

  'I am going, I'll go directly; but,' faltered his wife, 'answer me

  one question first. Has this letter any connexion with dear little