Chapter 20
The proud consciousness of her trust, and the great importance shederived from it, might have advertised it to all the house if she hadhad to run the gauntlet of its inhabitants; but as Dolly had played inevery dull room and passage many and many a time, when a child, and hadever since been the humble friend of Miss Haredale, whose foster-sistershe was, she was as free of the building as the young lady herself.So, using no greater precaution than holding her breath and walking ontiptoe as she passed the library door, she went straight to Emma's roomas a privileged visitor.
It was the liveliest room in the building. The chamber was sombre likethe rest for the matter of that, but the presence of youth and beautywould make a prison cheerful (saving alas! that confinement withersthem), and lend some charms of their own to the gloomiest scene. Birds,flowers, books, drawing, music, and a hundred such graceful tokens offeminine loves and cares, filled it with more of life and human sympathythan the whole house besides seemed made to hold. There was heart inthe room; and who that has a heart, ever fails to recognise the silentpresence of another!
Dolly had one undoubtedly, and it was not a tough one either, thoughthere was a little mist of coquettishness about it, such as sometimessurrounds that sun of life in its morning, and slightly dims its lustre.Thus, when Emma rose to greet her, and kissing her affectionately on thecheek, told her, in her quiet way, that she had been very unhappy, thetears stood in Dolly's eyes, and she felt more sorry than she couldtell; but next moment she happened to raise them to the glass, andreally there was something there so exceedingly agreeable, that as shesighed, she smiled, and felt surprisingly consoled.
'I have heard about it, miss,' said Dolly, 'and it's very sad indeed,but when things are at the worst they are sure to mend.'
'But are you sure they are at the worst?' asked Emma with a smile.
'Why, I don't see how they can very well be more unpromising than theyare; I really don't,' said Dolly. 'And I bring something to begin with.'
'Not from Edward?'
Dolly nodded and smiled, and feeling in her pockets (there were pocketsin those days) with an affectation of not being able to find what shewanted, which greatly enhanced her importance, at length producedthe letter. As Emma hastily broke the seal and became absorbed in itscontents, Dolly's eyes, by one of those strange accidents for whichthere is no accounting, wandered to the glass again. She could not helpwondering whether the coach-maker suffered very much, and quite pitiedthe poor man.
It was a long letter--a very long letter, written close on all foursides of the sheet of paper, and crossed afterwards; but it was not aconsolatory letter, for as Emma read it she stopped from time to time toput her handkerchief to her eyes. To be sure Dolly marvelled greatly tosee her in so much distress, for to her thinking a love affair oughtto be one of the best jokes, and the slyest, merriest kind of thing inlife. But she set it down in her own mind that all this came from MissHaredale's being so constant, and that if she would only take on withsome other young gentleman--just in the most innocent way possible,to keep her first lover up to the mark--she would find herselfinexpressibly comforted.
'I am sure that's what I should do if it was me,' thought Dolly. 'Tomake one's sweetheart miserable is well enough and quite right, but tobe made miserable one's self is a little too much!'
However it wouldn't do to say so, and therefore she sat looking on insilence. She needed a pretty considerable stretch of patience, for whenthe long letter had been read once all through it was read again, andwhen it had been read twice all through it was read again. During thistedious process, Dolly beguiled the time in the most improving mannerthat occurred to her, by curling her hair on her fingers, with theaid of the looking-glass before mentioned, and giving it some killingtwists.
Everything has an end. Even young ladies in love cannot read theirletters for ever. In course of time the packet was folded up, and itonly remained to write the answer.
But as this promised to be a work of time likewise, Emma said she wouldput it off until after dinner, and that Dolly must dine with her. AsDolly had made up her mind to do so beforehand, she required very littlepressing; and when they had settled this point, they went to walk in thegarden.
They strolled up and down the terrace walks, talking incessantly--atleast, Dolly never left off once--and making that quarter of the sad andmournful house quite gay. Not that they talked loudly or laughed much,but they were both so very handsome, and it was such a breezy day, andtheir light dresses and dark curls appeared so free and joyous intheir abandonment, and Emma was so fair, and Dolly so rosy, and Emmaso delicately shaped, and Dolly so plump, and--in short, there are noflowers for any garden like such flowers, let horticulturists say whatthey may, and both house and garden seemed to know it, and to brightenup sensibly.
After this, came the dinner and the letter writing, and some moretalking, in the course of which Miss Haredale took occasion tocharge upon Dolly certain flirtish and inconstant propensities, whichaccusations Dolly seemed to think very complimentary indeed, and to bemightily amused with. Finding her quite incorrigible in this respect,Emma suffered her to depart; but not before she had confided to her thatimportant and never-sufficiently-to-be-taken-care-of answer, and endowedher moreover with a pretty little bracelet as a keepsake. Having claspedit on her arm, and again advised her half in jest and half in earnest toamend her roguish ways, for she knew she was fond of Joe at heart (whichDolly stoutly denied, with a great many haughty protestations that shehoped she could do better than that indeed! and so forth), she badeher farewell; and after calling her back to give her more supplementarymessages for Edward, than anybody with tenfold the gravity of DollyVarden could be reasonably expected to remember, at length dismissedher.
Dolly bade her good bye, and tripping lightly down the stairs arrived atthe dreaded library door, and was about to pass it again on tiptoe, whenit opened, and behold! there stood Mr Haredale. Now, Dolly had from herchildhood associated with this gentleman the idea of something grim andghostly, and being at the moment conscience-stricken besides, the sightof him threw her into such a flurry that she could neither acknowledgehis presence nor run away, so she gave a great start, and then withdowncast eyes stood still and trembled.
'Come here, girl,' said Mr Haredale, taking her by the hand. 'I want tospeak to you.'
'If you please, sir, I'm in a hurry,' faltered Dolly, 'and--you havefrightened me by coming so suddenly upon me, sir--I would rather go,sir, if you'll be so good as to let me.'
'Immediately,' said Mr Haredale, who had by this time led her into theroom and closed the door. 'You shall go directly. You have just leftEmma?'
'Yes, sir, just this minute.--Father's waiting for me, sir, if you'llplease to have the goodness--'
'I know. I know,' said Mr Haredale. 'Answer me a question. What did youbring here to-day?'
'Bring here, sir?' faltered Dolly.
'You will tell me the truth, I am sure. Yes.'
Dolly hesitated for a little while, and somewhat emboldened by hismanner, said at last, 'Well then, sir. It was a letter.'
'From Mr Edward Chester, of course. And you are the bearer of theanswer?'
Dolly hesitated again, and not being able to decide upon any othercourse of action, burst into tears.
'You alarm yourself without cause,' said Mr Haredale. 'Why are you sofoolish? Surely you can answer me. You know that I have but to put thequestion to Emma and learn the truth directly. Have you the answer withyou?'
Dolly had what is popularly called a spirit of her own, and being nowfairly at bay, made the best of it.
'Yes, sir,' she rejoined, trembling and frightened as she was. 'Yes,sir, I have. You may kill me if you please, sir, but I won't give it up.I'm very sorry,--but I won't. There, sir.'
'I commend your firmness and your plain-speaking,' said Mr Haredale.'Rest assured that I have as little desire to take your letter as yourlife. You are a very discreet messenger and a good girl.'
Not feeling quite certai
n, as she afterwards said, whether he might notbe 'coming over her' with these compliments, Dolly kept as far from himas she could, cried again, and resolved to defend her pocket (for theletter was there) to the last extremity.
'I have some design,' said Mr Haredale after a short silence, duringwhich a smile, as he regarded her, had struggled through the gloom andmelancholy that was natural to his face, 'of providing a companion formy niece; for her life is a very lonely one. Would you like the office?You are the oldest friend she has, and the best entitled to it.'
'I don't know, sir,' answered Dolly, not sure but he was bantering her;'I can't say. I don't know what they might wish at home. I couldn't givean opinion, sir.'
'If your friends had no objection, would you have any?' said MrHaredale. 'Come. There's a plain question; and easy to answer.'
'None at all that I know of sir,' replied Dolly. 'I should be very gladto be near Miss Emma of course, and always am.'
'That's well,' said Mr Haredale. 'That is all I had to say. You areanxious to go. Don't let me detain you.'
Dolly didn't let him, nor did she wait for him to try, for the wordshad no sooner passed his lips than she was out of the room, out of thehouse, and in the fields again.
The first thing to be done, of course, when she came to herself andconsidered what a flurry she had been in, was to cry afresh; and thenext thing, when she reflected how well she had got over it, was tolaugh heartily. The tears once banished gave place to the smiles, and atlast Dolly laughed so much that she was fain to lean against a tree,and give vent to her exultation. When she could laugh no longer, and wasquite tired, she put her head-dress to rights, dried her eyes, lookedback very merrily and triumphantly at the Warren chimneys, which werejust visible, and resumed her walk.
The twilight had come on, and it was quickly growing dusk, but the pathwas so familiar to her from frequent traversing that she hardly thoughtof this, and certainly felt no uneasiness at being left alone. Moreover,there was the bracelet to admire; and when she had given it a goodrub, and held it out at arm's length, it sparkled and glittered sobeautifully on her wrist, that to look at it in every point of view andwith every possible turn of the arm, was quite an absorbing business.There was the letter too, and it looked so mysterious and knowing, whenshe took it out of her pocket, and it held, as she knew, so much inside,that to turn it over and over, and think about it, and wonder how itbegan, and how it ended, and what it said all through, was anothermatter of constant occupation. Between the bracelet and the letter,there was quite enough to do without thinking of anything else; andadmiring each by turns, Dolly went on gaily.
As she passed through a wicket-gate to where the path was narrow, andlay between two hedges garnished here and there with trees, she hearda rustling close at hand, which brought her to a sudden stop. Shelistened. All was very quiet, and she went on again--not absolutelyfrightened, but a little quicker than before perhaps, and possibly notquite so much at her ease, for a check of that kind is startling.
She had no sooner moved on again, than she was conscious of the samesound, which was like that of a person tramping stealthily among bushesand brushwood. Looking towards the spot whence it appeared to come, shealmost fancied she could make out a crouching figure. She stoppedagain. All was quiet as before. On she went once more--decidedly fasternow--and tried to sing softly to herself. It must be the wind.
But how came the wind to blow only when she walked, and cease when shestood still? She stopped involuntarily as she made the reflection, andthe rustling noise stopped likewise. She was really frightened now, andwas yet hesitating what to do, when the bushes crackled and snapped, anda man came plunging through them, close before her.
Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty Page 21
