The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  'You let my mother alone, will you?' said Kit. 'How dare you tease

  a poor lone woman like her, making her miserable and melancholy as

  if she hadn't got enough to make her so, without you. An't you

  ashamed of yourself, you little monster?'

  'Monster!' said Quilp inwardly, with a smile. 'Ugliest dwarf that

  could be seen anywhere for a penny--monster--ah!'

  'You show her any of your impudence again,' resumed Kit,

  shouldering the bandbox, 'and I tell you what, Mr Quilp, I won't

  bear with you any more. You have no right to do it; I'm sure we

  never interfered with you. This isn't the first time; and if ever

  you worry or frighten her again, you'll oblige me (though I should

  be very sorry to do it, on account of your size) to beat you.'

  Quilp said not a word in reply, but walking so close to Kit as to

  bring his eyes within two or three inches of his face, looked

  fixedly at him, retreated a little distance without averting his

  gaze, approached again, again withdrew, and so on for half-a-dozen

  times, like a head in a phantasmagoria. Kit stood his ground as if

  in expectation of an immediate assault, but finding that nothing

  came of these gestures, snapped his fingers and walked away; his

  mother dragging him off as fast as she could, and, even in the

  midst of his news of little Jacob and the baby, looking anxiously

  over her shoulder to see if Quilp were following.

  CHAPTER 49

  Kit's mother might have spared herself the trouble of looking back

  so often, for nothing was further from Mr Quilp's thoughts than any

  intention of pursuing her and her son, or renewing the quarrel with

  which they had parted. He went his way, whistling from time to

  time some fragments of a tune; and with a face quite tranquil and

  composed, jogged pleasantly towards home; entertaining himself as

  he went with visions of the fears and terrors of Mrs Quilp, who,

  having received no intelligence of him for three whole days and two

  nights, and having had no previous notice of his absence, was

  doubtless by that time in a state of distraction, and constantly

  fainting away with anxiety and grief.

  This facetious probability was so congenial to the dwarf's humour,

  and so exquisitely amusing to him, that he laughed as he went along

  until the tears ran down his cheeks; and more than once, when he

  found himself in a bye-street, vented his delight in a shrill

  scream, which greatly terrifying any lonely passenger, who happened

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  to be walking on before him expecting nothing so little, increased

  his mirth, and made him remarkably cheerful and light-hearted.

  In this happy flow of spirits, Mr Quilp reached Tower Hill, when,

  gazing up at the window of his own sitting-room, he thought he

  descried more light than is usual in a house of mourning. Drawing

  nearer, and listening attentively, he could hear several voices in

  earnest conversation, among which he could distinguish, not only

  those of his wife and mother-in-law, but the tongues of men.

  'Ha!' cried the jealous dwarf, 'What's this! Do they entertain

  visitors while I'm away!'

  A smothered cough from above, was the reply. He felt in his

  pockets for his latch-key, but had forgotten it. There was no

  resource but to knock at the door.

  'A light in the passage,' said Quilp, peeping through the keyhole.

  'A very soft knock; and, by your leave, my lady, I may yet steal

  upon you unawares. Soho!'

  A very low and gentle rap received no answer from within. But

  after a second application to the knocker, no louder than the

  first, the door was softly opened by the boy from the wharf, whom

  Quilp instantly gagged with one hand, and dragged into the street

  with the other.

  'You'll throttle me, master,' whispered the boy. 'Let go, will

  you.'

  'Who's up stairs, you dog?' retorted Quilp in the same tone. 'Tell

  me. And don't speak above your breath, or I'll choke you in good

  earnest.'

  The boy could only point to the window, and reply with a stifled

  giggle, expressive of such intense enjoyment, that Quilp clutched

  him by the throat and might have carried his threat into execution,

  or at least have made very good progress towards that end, but for

  the boy's nimbly extricating himself from his grasp, and fortifying

  himself behind the nearest post, at which, after some fruitless

  attempts to catch him by the hair of the head, his master was

  obliged to come to a parley.

  'Will you answer me?' said Quilp. 'What's going on, above?'

  'You won't let one speak,' replied the boy. 'They--ha, ha, ha!--

  they think you're--you're dead. Ha ha ha!'

  'Dead!' cried Quilp, relaxing into a grim laugh himself. 'No. Do

  they? Do they really, you dog?'

  'They think you're--you're drowned,' replied the boy, who in his

  malicious nature had a strong infusion of his master. 'You was

  last seen on the brink of the wharf, and they think you tumbled

  over. Ha ha!'

  The prospect of playing the spy under such delicious circumstances,

  and of disappointing them all by walking in alive, gave more

  delight to Quilp than the greatest stroke of good fortune could

  possibly have inspired him with. He was no less tickled than his

  hopeful assistant, and they both stood for some seconds, grinning

  and gasping and wagging their heads at each other, on either side

  of the post, like an unmatchable pair of Chinese idols.

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  'Not a word,' said Quilp, making towards the door on tiptoe. 'Not

  a sound, not so much as a creaking board, or a stumble against a

  cobweb. Drowned, eh, Mrs Quilp! Drowned!'

  So saying, he blew out the candle, kicked off his shoes, and groped

  his way up stairs; leaving his delighted young friend in an ecstasy

  of summersets on the pavement.

  The bedroom-door on the staircase being unlocked, Mr Quilp slipped

  in, and planted himself behind the door of communication between

  that chamber and the sitting-room, which standing ajar to render

  both more airy, and having a very convenient chink (of which he had

  often availed himself for purposes of espial, and had indeed

  enlarged with his pocket-knife), enabled him not only to hear, but

  to see distinctly, what was passing.

  Applying his eye to this convenient place, he descried Mr Brass

  seated at the table with pen, ink, and paper, and the case-bottle

  of rum--his own case-bottle, and his own particular Jamaica--

  convenient to his hand; with hot water, fragrant lemons, white lump

  sugar, and all things fitting; from which choice materials,

  Sampson, by no means insensible to their claims upon his attention,

  had compounded a mighty glass of punch reeking hot; which he was at

  that very moment stirring up with a teaspoon, and contemplating

  with looks in which a faint assumption of sentimental regret,

  struggled but weakly with a bland and comfortable joy. At the same

  table, with both her elbows upon i
t, was Mrs Jiniwin; no longer

  sipping other people's punch feloniously with teaspoons, but taking

  deep draughts from a jorum of her own; while her daughter--not

  exactly with ashes on her head, or sackcloth on her back, but

  preserving a very decent and becoming appearance of sorrow

  nevertheless--was reclining in an easy chair, and soothing her

  grief with a smaller allowance of the same glib liquid. There were

  also present, a couple of water-side men, bearing between them

  certain machines called drags; even these fellows were accommodated

  with a stiff glass a-piece; and as they drank with a great relish,

  and were naturally of a red-nosed, pimple-faced, convivial look,

  their presence rather increased than detracted from that decided

  appearance of comfort, which was the great characteristic of the

  party.

  'If I could poison that dear old lady's rum and water,' murmured

  Quilp, 'I'd die happy.'

  'Ah!' said Mr Brass, breaking the silence, and raising his eyes to

  the ceiling with a sigh, 'Who knows but he may be looking down upon

  us now! Who knows but he may be surveying of us from--from

  somewheres or another, and contemplating us with a watchful eye!

  Oh Lor!'

  Here Mr Brass stopped to drink half his punch, and then resumed;

  looking at the other half, as he spoke, with a dejected smile.

  'I can almost fancy,' said the lawyer shaking his head, 'that I see

  his eye glistening down at the very bottom of my liquor. When

  shall we look upon his like again? Never, never!' One minute we

  are here' --holding his tumbler before his eyes--'the next we are

  there'-- gulping down its contents, and striking himself

  emphatically a little below the chest--'in the silent tomb. To

  think that I should be drinking his very rum! It seems like a

  dream.'

  With the view, no doubt, of testing the reality of his position, Mr

  Brass pushed his tumbler as he spoke towards Mrs Jiniwin for the

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  purpose of being replenished; and turned towards the attendant

  mariners.

  'The search has been quite unsuccessful then?'

  'Quite, master. But I should say that if he turns up anywhere,

  he'll come ashore somewhere about Grinidge to-morrow, at ebb tide,

  eh, mate?'

  The other gentleman assented, observing that he was expected at the

  Hospital, and that several pensioners would be ready to

  receive him whenever he arrived.

  'Then we have nothing for it but resignation,' said Mr Brass;

  'nothing but resignation and expectation. It would be a comfort to

  have his body; it would be a dreary comfort.'

  'Oh, beyond a doubt,' assented Mrs Jiniwin hastily; 'if we once had

  that, we should be quite sure.'

  'With regard to the descriptive advertisement,' said Sampson Brass,

  taking up his pen. 'It is a melancholy pleasure to recall his

  traits. Respecting his legs now--?'

  'Crooked, certainly,' said Mrs Jiniwin.

  'Do you think they WERE crooked?' said Brass, in an insinuating

  tone. 'I think I see them now coming up the street very wide

  apart, in nankeen' pantaloons a little shrunk and without straps.

  Ah! what a vale of tears we live in. Do we say crooked?'

  'I think they were a little so,' observed Mrs Quilp with a sob.

  'Legs crooked,' said Brass, writing as he spoke. 'Large head,

  short body, legs crooked--'

  Very crooked,' suggested Mrs Jiniwin.

  'We'll not say very crooked, ma'am,' said Brass piously. 'Let us

  not bear hard upon the weaknesses of the deceased. He is gone,

  ma'am, to where his legs will never come in question. --We will

  content ourselves with crooked, Mrs Jiniwin.'

  'I thought you wanted the truth,' said the old lady. 'That's all.'

  'Bless your eyes, how I love you,' muttered Quilp. 'There she goes

  again. Nothing but punch!'

  'This is an occupation,' said the lawyer, laying down his pen and

  emptying his glass, 'which seems to bring him before my eyes like

  the Ghost of Hamlet's father, in the very clothes that he wore on

  work-a-days. His coat, his waistcoat, his shoes and stockings, his

  trousers, his hat, his wit and humour, his pathos and his umbrella,

  all come before me like visions of my youth. His linen!' said Mr

  Brass smiling fondly at the wall, 'his linen which was always of a

  particular colour, for such was his whim and fancy--how plain I

  see his linen now!'

  'You had better go on, sir,' said Mrs Jiniwin impatiently.

  'True, ma'am, true,' cried Mr Brass. 'Our faculties must not

  freeze with grief. I'll trouble you for a little more of that,

  ma'am. A question now arises, with relation to his nose.'

  'Flat,' said Mrs Jiniwin.

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  'Aquiline!' cried Quilp, thrusting in his head, and striking the

  feature with his fist. 'Aquiline, you hag. Do you see it? Do you

  call this flat? Do you? Eh?'

  'Oh capital, capital!' shouted Brass, from the mere force of habit.

  'Excellent! How very good he is! He's a most remarkable man--so

  extremely whimsical! Such an amazing power of taking people by

  surprise!'

  Quilp paid no regard whatever to these compliments, nor to the

  dubious and frightened look into which the lawyer gradually

  subsided, nor to the shrieks of his wife and mother-in-law, nor to

  the latter's running from the room, nor to the former's fainting

  away. Keeping his eye fixed on Sampson Brass, he walked up to the

  table, and beginning with his glass, drank off the contents, and

  went regularly round until he had emptied the other two, when he

  seized the case-bottle, and hugging it under his arm, surveyed him

  with a most extraordinary leer.

  'Not yet, Sampson,' said Quilp. 'Not just yet!'

  'Oh very good indeed!' cried Brass, recovering his spirits a

  little. 'Ha ha ha! Oh exceedingly good! There's not another man

  alive who could carry it off like that. A most difficult position

  to carry off. But he has such a flow of good-humour, such an

  amazing flow!'

  'Good night,' said the dwarf, nodding expressively.

  'Good night, sir, good night,' cried the lawyer, retreating

  backwards towards the door. 'This is a joyful occasion indeed,

  extremely joyful. Ha ha ha! oh very rich, very rich indeed,

  remarkably so!'

  Waiting until Mr Brass's ejaculations died away in the distance

  (for he continued to pour them out, all the way down stairs), Quilp

  advanced towards the two men, who yet lingered in a kind of stupid

  amazement.

  'Have you been dragging the river all day, gentlemen?' said the

  dwarf, holding the door open with great politeness.

  'And yesterday too, master.'

  'Dear me, you've had a deal of trouble. Pray consider everything

  yours that you find upon the--upon the body. Good night!'

  The men looked at each other, but had evidently no inclination to

  argue the point just then, and shuffled out of the room. The

  speedy clearance effected, Quilp locked the doors; and still


  embracing the case-bottle with shrugged-up shoulders and folded

  arms, stood looking at his insensible wife like a dismounted

  nightmare.

  CHAPTER 50

  Matrimonial differences are usually discussed by the parties

  concerned in the form of dialogue, in which the lady bears at least

  her full half share. Those of Mr and Mrs Quilp, however, were an

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  exception to the general rule; the remarks which they occasioned

  being limited to a long soliloquy on the part of the gentleman,

  with perhaps a few deprecatory observations from the lady, not

  extending beyond a trembling monosyllable uttered at long

  intervals, and in a very submissive and humble tone. On the

  present occasion, Mrs Quilp did not for a long time venture even on

  this gentle defence, but when she had recovered from her

  fainting-fit, sat in a tearful silence, meekly listening to the

  reproaches of her lord and master.

  Of these Mr Quilp delivered himself with the utmost animation and

  rapidity, and with so many distortions of limb and feature, that

  even his wife, although tolerably well accustomed to his

  proficiency in these respects, was well-nigh beside herself with

  alarm. But the Jamaica rum, and the joy of having occasioned a

  heavy disappointment, by degrees cooled Mr Quilp's wrath; which

  from being at savage heat, dropped slowly to the bantering or

  chuckling point, at which it steadily remained.

  'So you thought I was dead and gone, did you?' said Quilp. 'You

  thought you were a widow, eh? Ha, ha, ha, you jade."

  'Indeed, Quilp,' returned his wife. 'I'm very sorry--'

  'Who doubts it!' cried the dwarf. 'You very sorry! to be sure you

  are. Who doubts that you're VERY sorry!'

  'I don't mean sorry that you have come home again alive and well,'

  said his wife, 'but sorry that I should have been led into such a

  belief. I am glad to see you, Quilp; indeed I am.'

  In truth Mrs Quilp did seem a great deal more glad to behold her

  lord than might have been expected, and did evince a degree of

  interest in his safety which, all things considered, was rather

  unaccountable. Upon Quilp, however, this circumstance made no

  impression, farther than as it moved him to snap his fingers close

  to his wife's eyes, with divers grins of triumph and derision.

  'How could you go away so long, without saying a word to me or