constant state of restlessness and irritation. Will you begone?'
Mrs Quilp durst only make a gesture of entreaty.
'I tell you no,' cried the dwarf. 'No. If you dare to come here
again unless you're sent for, I'll keep watch-dogs in the yard
that'll growl and bite--I'll have man-traps, cunningly altered and
improved for catching women--I'll have spring guns, that shall
explode when you tread upon the wires, and blow you into little
pieces. Will you begone?'
'Do forgive me. Do come back,' said his wife, earnestly.
'No-o-o-o-o!' roared Quilp. 'Not till my own good time, and then
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I'll return again as often as I choose, and be accountable to
nobody for my goings or comings. You see the door there. Will you
go?'
Mr Quilp delivered this last command in such a very energetic
voice, and moreover accompanied it with such a sudden gesture,
indicative of an intention to spring out of his hammock, and,
night-capped as he was, bear his wife home again through the public
streets, that she sped away like an arrow. Her worthy lord
stretched his neck and eyes until she had crossed the yard, and
then, not at all sorry to have had this opportunity of carrying his
point, and asserting the sanctity of his castle, fell into an
immoderate fit of laughter, and laid himself down to sleep again.
CHAPTER 51
The bland and open-hearted proprietor of Bachelor's Hall slept on
amidst the congenial accompaniments of rain, mud, dirt, damp, fog,
and rats, until late in the day; when, summoning his valet Tom
Scott to assist him to rise, and to prepare breakfast, he quitted
his couch, and made his toilet. This duty performed, and his
repast ended, he again betook himself to Bevis Marks.
This visit was not intended for Mr Swiveller, but for his friend
and employer Mr Sampson Brass. Both gentlemen however were from
home, nor was the life and light of law, Miss Sally, at her post
either. The fact of their joint desertion of the office was made
known to all comers by a scrap of paper in the hand-writing of Mr
Swiveller, which was attached to the bell-handle, and which, giving
the reader no clue to the time of day when it was first posted,
furnished him with the rather vague and unsatisfactory information
that that gentleman would 'return in an hour.'
'There's a servant, I suppose,' said the dwarf, knocking at the
house-door. 'She'll do.'
After a sufficiently long interval, the door was opened, and a
small voice immediately accosted him with, 'Oh please will you
leave a card or message?'
'Eh?' said the dwarf, looking down, (it was something quite new to
him) upon the small servant.
To this, the child, conducting her conversation as upon the
occasion of her first interview with Mr Swiveller, again replied,
'Oh please will you leave a card or message?'
'I'll write a note,' said the dwarf, pushing past her into the
office; 'and mind your master has it directly he comes home.' So
Mr Quilp climbed up to the top of a tall stool to write the note,
and the small servant, carefully tutored for such emergencies,
looked on with her eyes wide open, ready, if he so much as
abstracted a wafer, to rush into the street and give the alarm to
the police.
As Mr Quilp folded his note (which was soon written: being a very
short one) he encountered the gaze of the small servant. He looked
at her, long and earnestly.
'How are you?' said the dwarf, moistening a wafer with horrible
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grimaces.
The small servant, perhaps frightened by his looks, returned no
audible reply; but it appeared from the motion of her lips that she
was inwardly repeating the same form of expression concerning the
note or message.
'Do they use you ill here? is your mistress a Tartar?' said Quilp
with a chuckle.
In reply to the last interrogation, the small servant, with a look
of infinite cunning mingled with fear, screwed up her mouth very
tight and round, and nodded violently. Whether there was anything
in the peculiar slyness of her action which fascinated Mr Quilp, or
anything in the expression of her features at the moment which
attracted his attention for some other reason; or whether it merely
occurred to him as a pleasant whim to stare the small servant out
of countenance; certain it is, that he planted his elbows square
and firmly on the desk, and squeezing up his cheeks with his hands,
looked at her fixedly.
'Where do you come from?' he said after a long pause, stroking his
chin.
'I don't know.'
'What's your name?'
'Nothing.'
'Nonsense!' retorted Quilp. 'What does your mistress call you when
she wants you?'
'A little devil,' said the child.
She added in the same breath, as if fearful of any further
questioning, 'But please will you leave a card or message?'
These unusual answers might naturally have provoked some more
inquiries. Quilp, however, without uttering another word, withdrew
his eyes from the small servant, stroked his chin more thoughtfully
than before, and then, bending over the note as if to direct it
with scrupulous and hair-breadth nicety, looked at her, covertly
but very narrowly, from under his bushy eyebrows. The result of
this secret survey was, that he shaded his face with his hands, and
laughed slyly and noiselessly, until every vein in it was swollen
almost to bursting. Pulling his hat over his brow to conceal his
mirth and its effects, he tossed the letter to the child, and
hastily withdrew.
Once in the street, moved by some secret impulse, he laughed, and
held his sides, and laughed again, and tried to peer through the
dusty area railings as if to catch another glimpse of the child,
until he was quite tired out. At last, he travelled back to the
Wilderness, which was within rifle-shot of his bachelor retreat,
and ordered tea in the wooden summer-house that afternoon for three
persons; an invitation to Miss Sally Brass and her brother to
partake of that entertainment at that place, having been the object
both of his journey and his note.
It was not precisely the kind of weather in which people usually
take tea in summer-houses, far less in summer-houses in an advanced
state of decay, and overlooking the slimy banks of a great river at
low water. Nevertheless, it was in this choice retreat that Mr
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Quilp ordered a cold collation to be prepared, and it was beneath
its cracked and leaky roof that he, in due course of time, received
Mr Sampson and his sister Sally.
'You're fond of the beauties of nature,' said Quilp with a grin.
'Is this charming, Brass? Is it unusual, unsophisticated,
primitive?'
'It's delightful indeed, sir,' replied the lawyer.
'N-not particularly so, I think, sir,' rejoined Brass, with his
teeth chattering in his head.
'Perhaps a little damp and ague-ish?' said Quilp.
'Just damp enough to be cheerful, sir,' rejoined Brass. 'Nothing
more, sir, nothing more.'
'And Sally?' said the delighted dwarf. 'Does she like it?'
'She'll like it better,' returned that strong-minded lady, 'when
she has tea; so let us have it, and don't bother.'
'Sweet Sally!' cried Quilp, extending his arms as if about to
embrace her. 'Gentle, charming, overwhelming Sally.'
'He's a very remarkable man indeed!' soliloquised Mr Brass. 'He's
quite a Troubadour, you know; quite a Troubadour!'
These complimentary expressions were uttered in a somewhat absent
and distracted manner; for the unfortunate lawyer, besides having
a bad cold in his head, had got wet in coming, and would have
willingly borne some pecuniary sacrifice if he could have shifted
his present raw quarters to a warm room, and dried himself at a
fire. Quilp, however--who, beyond the gratification of his demon
whims, owed Sampson some acknowledgment of the part he had played
in the mourning scene of which he had been a hidden witness, marked
these symptoms of uneasiness with a delight past all expression,
and derived from them a secret joy which the costliest banquet
could never have afforded him.
It is worthy of remark, too, as illustrating a little feature in
the character of Miss Sally Brass, that, although on her own
account she would have borne the discomforts of the Wilderness with
a very ill grace, and would probably, indeed, have walked off
before the tea appeared, she no sooner beheld the latent uneasiness
and misery of her brother than she developed a grim satisfaction,
and began to enjoy herself after her own manner. Though the wet
came stealing through the roof and trickling down upon their heads,
Miss Brass uttered no complaint, but presided over the tea equipage
with imperturbable composure. While Mr Quilp, in his uproarious
hospitality, seated himself upon an empty beer-barrel, vaunted the
place as the most beautiful and comfortable in the three kingdoms,
and elevating his glass, drank to their next merry-meeting in that
jovial spot; and Mr Brass, with the rain plashing down into his
tea-cup, made a dismal attempt to pluck up his spirits and appear
at his ease; and Tom Scott, who was in waiting at the door under an
old umbrella, exulted in his agonies, and bade fair to split his
sides with laughing; while all this was passing, Miss Sally Brass,
unmindful of the wet which dripped down upon her own feminine
person and fair apparel, sat placidly behind the tea-board, erect
and grizzly, contemplating the unhappiness of her brother with a
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mind at ease, and content, in her amiable disregard of self, to sit
there all night, witnessing the torments which his avaricious and
grovelling nature compelled him to endure and forbade him to
resent. And this, it must be observed, or the illustration would
be incomplete, although in a business point of view she had the
strongest sympathy with Mr Sampson, and would have been beyond
measure indignant if he had thwarted their client in any one
respect.
In the height of his boisterous merriment, Mr Quilp, having on some
pretence dismissed his attendant sprite for the moment, resumed his
usual manner all at once, dismounted from his cask, and laid his
hand upon the lawyer's sleeve.
'A word,' said the dwarf, 'before we go farther. Sally, hark'ee
for a minute.'
Miss Sally drew closer, as if accustomed to business conferences
with their host which were the better for not having air.
'Business,' said the dwarf, glancing from brother to sister. 'Very
private business. Lay your heads together when you're by
yourselves.'
'Certainly, sir,' returned Brass, taking out his pocket-book and
pencil. 'I'll take down the heads if you please, sir. Remarkable
documents,' added the lawyer, raising his eyes to the ceiling,
'most remarkable documents. He states his points so clearly that
it's a treat to have 'em! I don't know any act of parliament
that's equal to him in clearness.'
'I shall deprive you of a treat,' said Quilp. 'Put up your book.
We don't want any documents. So. There's a lad named Kit--'
Miss Sally nodded, implying that she knew of him.
'Kit!' said Mr Sampson. --'Kit! Ha! I've heard the name before,
but I don't exactly call to mind--I don't exactly--'
'You're as slow as a tortoise, and more thick-headed than a
rhinoceros,' returned his obliging client with an impatient
gesture.
'He's extremely pleasant!' cried the obsequious Sampson. 'His
acquaintance with Natural History too is surprising. Quite a
Buffoon, quite!'
There is no doubt that Mr Brass intended some compliment or other;
and it has been argued with show of reason that he would have said
Buffon, but made use of a superfluous vowel. Be this as it may,
Quilp gave him no time for correction, as he performed that office
himself by more than tapping him on the head with the handle of his
umbrella.
'Don't let's have any wrangling,' said Miss Sally, staying his
hand. 'I've showed you that I know him, and that's enough.'
'She's always foremost!' said the dwarf, patting her on the back
and looking contemptuously at Sampson. 'I don't like Kit, Sally.'
'Nor I,' rejoined Miss Brass.
'Nor I,' said Sampson.
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'Why, that's right!' cried Quilp. 'Half our work is done already.
This Kit is one of your honest people; one of your fair characters;
a prowling prying hound; a hypocrite; a double- faced, whitelivered,
sneaking spy; a crouching cur to those that feed and coax
him, and a barking yelping dog to all besides.'
'Fearfully eloquent!' cried Brass with a sneeze. 'Quite
appalling!'
'Come to the point,' said Miss Sally, 'and don't talk so much.'
'Right again!' exclaimed Quilp, with another contemptuous look at
Sampson, 'always foremost! I say, Sally, he is a yelping, insolent
dog to all besides, and most of all, to me. In short, I owe him a
grudge.'
'That's enough, sir,' said Sampson.
'No, it's not enough, sir,' sneered Quilp; 'will you hear me out?
Besides that I owe him a grudge on that account, he thwarts me at
this minute, and stands between me and an end which might otherwise
prove a golden one to us all. Apart from that, I repeat that he
crosses my humour, and I hate him. Now, you know the lad, and can
guess the rest. Devise your own means of putting him out of my
way, and execute them. Shall it be done?'
'It shall, sir,' said Sampson.
'Then give me your hand,' retorted Quilp. 'Sally, girl, yours. I
rely as much, or more, on you than him. Tom Scott comes back.
Lantern, pipe
s, more grog, and a jolly night of it!'
No other word was spoken, no other look exchanged, which had the
slightest reference to this, the real occasion of their meeting.
The trio were well accustomed to act together, and were linked to
each other by ties of mutual interest and advantage, and nothing
more was needed. Resuming his boisterous manner with the same ease
with which he had thrown it off, Quilp was in an instant the same
uproarious, reckless little savage he had been a few seconds
before. It was ten o'clock at night before the amiable Sally
supported her beloved and loving brother from the Wilderness, by
which time he needed the utmost support her tender frame could
render; his walk being from some unknown reason anything but
steady, and his legs constantly doubling up in unexpected places.
Overpowered, notwithstanding his late prolonged slumbers, by the
fatigues of the last few days, the dwarf lost no time in creeping
to his dainty house, and was soon dreaming in his hammock. Leaving
him to visions, in which perhaps the quiet figures we quitted in
the old church porch were not without their share, be it our task
to rejoin them as they sat and watched.
CHAPTER 57
After a long time, the schoolmaster appeared at the wicket-gate of
the churchyard, and hurried towards them, Tingling in his hand, as
he came along, a bundle of rusty keys. He was quite breathless
with pleasure and haste when he reached the porch, and at first
could only point towards the old building which the child had been
contemplating so earnestly.
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'You see those two old houses,' he said at last.
'Yes, surely,' replied Nell. 'I have been looking at them nearly
all the time you have been away.'
'And you would have looked at them more curiously yet, if you could
have guessed what I have to tell you,' said her friend. 'One of
those houses is mine.'
Without saying any more, or giving the child time to reply, the
schoolmaster took her hand, and, his honest face quite radiant with
exultation, led her to the place of which he spoke.
They stopped before its low arched door. After trying several of
the keys in vain, the schoolmaster found one to fit the huge lock,
which turned back, creaking, and admitted them into the house.
The room into which they entered was a vaulted chamber once nobly
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