Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 9

  Chronicler's are privileged to enter where they list, to come and gothrough keyholes, to ride upon the wind, to overcome, in their soaringsup and down, all obstacles of distance, time, and place. Thrice blessedbe this last consideration, since it enables us to follow the disdainfulMiggs even into the sanctity of her chamber, and to hold her in sweetcompanionship through the dreary watches of the night!

  Miss Miggs, having undone her mistress, as she phrased it (which means,assisted to undress her), and having seen her comfortably to bed inthe back room on the first floor, withdrew to her own apartment, inthe attic story. Notwithstanding her declaration in the locksmith'spresence, she was in no mood for sleep; so, putting her light upon thetable and withdrawing the little window curtain, she gazed out pensivelyat the wild night sky.

  Perhaps she wondered what star was destined for her habitation whenshe had run her little course below; perhaps speculated which of thoseglimmering spheres might be the natal orb of Mr Tappertit; perhapsmarvelled how they could gaze down on that perfidious creature, man, andnot sicken and turn green as chemists' lamps; perhaps thought of nothingin particular. Whatever she thought about, there she sat, until herattention, alive to anything connected with the insinuating 'prentice,was attracted by a noise in the next room to her own--his room; the roomin which he slept, and dreamed--it might be, sometimes dreamed of her.

  That he was not dreaming now, unless he was taking a walk in his sleep,was clear, for every now and then there came a shuffling noise, asthough he were engaged in polishing the whitewashed wall; then a gentlecreaking of his door; then the faintest indication of his stealthyfootsteps on the landing-place outside. Noting this latter circumstance,Miss Miggs turned pale and shuddered, as mistrusting his intentions; andmore than once exclaimed, below her breath, 'Oh! what a Providence itis, as I am bolted in!'--which, owing doubtless to her alarm, was aconfusion of ideas on her part between a bolt and its use; for thoughthere was one on the door, it was not fastened.

  Miss Miggs's sense of hearing, however, having as sharp an edge as hertemper, and being of the same snappish and suspicious kind, very sooninformed her that the footsteps passed her door, and appeared to havesome object quite separate and disconnected from herself. At thisdiscovery she became more alarmed than ever, and was about to giveutterance to those cries of 'Thieves!' and 'Murder!' which she hadhitherto restrained, when it occurred to her to look softly out, and seethat her fears had some good palpable foundation.

  Looking out accordingly, and stretching her neck over the handrail,she descried, to her great amazement, Mr Tappertit completely dressed,stealing downstairs, one step at a time, with his shoes in one handand a lamp in the other. Following him with her eyes, and going down alittle way herself to get the better of an intervening angle, she beheldhim thrust his head in at the parlour-door, draw it back again withgreat swiftness, and immediately begin a retreat upstairs with allpossible expedition.

  'Here's mysteries!' said the damsel, when she was safe in her own roomagain, quite out of breath. 'Oh, gracious, here's mysteries!'

  The prospect of finding anybody out in anything, would have kept MissMiggs awake under the influence of henbane. Presently, she heard thestep again, as she would have done if it had been that of a featherendowed with motion and walking down on tiptoe. Then gliding out asbefore, she again beheld the retreating figure of the 'prentice; againhe looked cautiously in at the parlour-door, but this time instead ofretreating, he passed in and disappeared.

  Miggs was back in her room, and had her head out of the window, beforean elderly gentleman could have winked and recovered from it. Out hecame at the street-door, shut it carefully behind him, tried it withhis knee, and swaggered off, putting something in his pocket as hewent along. At this spectacle Miggs cried 'Gracious!' again, and then'Goodness gracious!' and then 'Goodness gracious me!' and then, candlein hand, went downstairs as he had done. Coming to the workshop, she sawthe lamp burning on the forge, and everything as Sim had left it.

  'Why I wish I may only have a walking funeral, and never be burieddecent with a mourning-coach and feathers, if the boy hasn't been andmade a key for his own self!' cried Miggs. 'Oh the little villain!'

  This conclusion was not arrived at without consideration, and muchpeeping and peering about; nor was it unassisted by the recollectionthat she had on several occasions come upon the 'prentice suddenly,and found him busy at some mysterious occupation. Lest the fact of MissMiggs calling him, on whom she stooped to cast a favourable eye, aboy, should create surprise in any breast, it may be observed that sheinvariably affected to regard all male bipeds under thirty as mere chitsand infants; which phenomenon is not unusual in ladies of Miss Miggs'stemper, and is indeed generally found to be the associate of suchindomitable and savage virtue.

  Miss Miggs deliberated within herself for some little time, looking hardat the shop-door while she did so, as though her eyes and thoughts wereboth upon it; and then, taking a sheet of paper from a drawer, twistedit into a long thin spiral tube. Having filled this instrument with aquantity of small coal-dust from the forge, she approached the door,and dropping on one knee before it, dexterously blew into the keyhole asmuch of these fine ashes as the lock would hold. When she had filled itto the brim in a very workmanlike and skilful manner, she crept upstairsagain, and chuckled as she went.

  'There!' cried Miggs, rubbing her hands, 'now let's see whether youwon't be glad to take some notice of me, mister. He, he, he! You'll haveeyes for somebody besides Miss Dolly now, I think. A fat-faced puss sheis, as ever I come across!'

  As she uttered this criticism, she glanced approvingly at her smallmirror, as who should say, I thank my stars that can't be said ofme!--as it certainly could not; for Miss Miggs's style of beauty was ofthat kind which Mr Tappertit himself had not inaptly termed, in private,'scraggy.'

  'I don't go to bed this night!' said Miggs, wrapping herself in a shawl,and drawing a couple of chairs near the window, flouncing down uponone, and putting her feet upon the other, 'till you come home, my lad. Iwouldn't,' said Miggs viciously, 'no, not for five-and-forty pound!'

  With that, and with an expression of face in which a great number ofopposite ingredients, such as mischief, cunning, malice, triumph,and patient expectation, were all mixed up together in a kind ofphysiognomical punch, Miss Miggs composed herself to wait and listen,like some fair ogress who had set a trap and was watching for a nibblefrom a plump young traveller.

  She sat there, with perfect composure, all night. At length, just uponbreak of day, there was a footstep in the street, and presently shecould hear Mr Tappertit stop at the door. Then she could make out thathe tried his key--that he was blowing into it--that he knocked it on thenearest post to beat the dust out--that he took it under a lamp to lookat it--that he poked bits of stick into the lock to clear it--thathe peeped into the keyhole, first with one eye, and then with theother--that he tried the key again--that he couldn't turn it, and whatwas worse, couldn't get it out--that he bent it--that then it was muchless disposed to come out than before--that he gave it a mighty twistand a great pull, and then it came out so suddenly that he staggeredbackwards--that he kicked the door--that he shook it--finally, that hesmote his forehead, and sat down on the step in despair.

  When this crisis had arrived, Miss Miggs, affecting to be exhaustedwith terror, and to cling to the window-sill for support, put out hernightcap, and demanded in a faint voice who was there.

  Mr Tappertit cried 'Hush!' and, backing to the road, exhorted her infrenzied pantomime to secrecy and silence.

  'Tell me one thing,' said Miggs. 'Is it thieves?'

  'No--no--no!' cried Mr Tappertit.

  'Then,' said Miggs, more faintly than before, 'it's fire. Where is it,sir? It's near this room, I know. I've a good conscience, sir, and wouldmuch rather die than go down a ladder. All I wish is, respecting my loveto my married sister, Golden Lion Court, number twenty-sivin, secondbell-handle on the right-hand door-post.'

  'Miggs!' cried Mr Ta
ppertit, 'don't you know me? Sim, you know--Sim--'

  'Oh! what about him!' cried Miggs, clasping her hands. 'Is he in anydanger? Is he in the midst of flames and blazes! Oh gracious, gracious!'

  'Why I'm here, an't I?' rejoined Mr Tappertit, knocking himself on thebreast. 'Don't you see me? What a fool you are, Miggs!'

  'There!' cried Miggs, unmindful of this compliment. 'Why--soit--Goodness, what is the meaning of--If you please, mim, here's--'

  'No, no!' cried Mr Tappertit, standing on tiptoe, as if by that meanshe, in the street, were any nearer being able to stop the mouth of Miggsin the garret. 'Don't!--I've been out without leave, and something oranother's the matter with the lock. Come down, and undo the shop window,that I may get in that way.'

  'I dursn't do it, Simmun,' cried Miggs--for that was her pronunciationof his Christian name. 'I dursn't do it, indeed. You know as well asanybody, how particular I am. And to come down in the dead of night,when the house is wrapped in slumbers and weiled in obscurity.' Andthere she stopped and shivered, for her modesty caught cold at the verythought.

  'But Miggs,' cried Mr Tappertit, getting under the lamp, that she mightsee his eyes. 'My darling Miggs--'

  Miggs screamed slightly.

  '--That I love so much, and never can help thinking of,' and itis impossible to describe the use he made of his eyes when he saidthis--'do--for my sake, do.'

  'Oh Simmun,' cried Miggs, 'this is worse than all. I know if I comedown, you'll go, and--'

  'And what, my precious?' said Mr Tappertit.

  'And try,' said Miggs, hysterically, 'to kiss me, or some suchdreadfulness; I know you will!'

  'I swear I won't,' said Mr Tappertit, with remarkable earnestness. 'Uponmy soul I won't. It's getting broad day, and the watchman's wakingup. Angelic Miggs! If you'll only come and let me in, I promise youfaithfully and truly I won't.'

  Miss Miggs, whose gentle heart was touched, did not wait for the oath(knowing how strong the temptation was, and fearing he might forswearhimself), but tripped lightly down the stairs, and with her own fairhands drew back the rough fastenings of the workshop window. Havinghelped the wayward 'prentice in, she faintly articulated the words'Simmun is safe!' and yielding to her woman's nature, immediately becameinsensible.

  'I knew I should quench her,' said Sim, rather embarrassed by thiscircumstance. 'Of course I was certain it would come to this, but therewas nothing else to be done--if I hadn't eyed her over, she wouldn'thave come down. Here. Keep up a minute, Miggs. What a slippery figureshe is! There's no holding her, comfortably. Do keep up a minute, Miggs,will you?'

  As Miggs, however, was deaf to all entreaties, Mr Tappertit leant heragainst the wall as one might dispose of a walking-stick or umbrella,until he had secured the window, when he took her in his arms again,and, in short stages and with great difficulty--arising from her beingtall and his being short, and perhaps in some degree from that peculiarphysical conformation on which he had already remarked--carried herupstairs, and planting her, in the same umbrella and walking-stickfashion, just inside her own door, left her to her repose.

  'He may be as cool as he likes,' said Miss Miggs, recovering as soonas she was left alone; 'but I'm in his confidence and he can't helphimself, nor couldn't if he was twenty Simmunses!'