Chapter 7
Mrs Varden was a lady of what is commonly called an uncertain temper--aphrase which being interpreted signifies a temper tolerably certain tomake everybody more or less uncomfortable. Thus it generally happened,that when other people were merry, Mrs Varden was dull; and thatwhen other people were dull, Mrs Varden was disposed to be amazinglycheerful. Indeed the worthy housewife was of such a capricious nature,that she not only attained a higher pitch of genius than Macbeth, inrespect of her ability to be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,loyal and neutral in an instant, but would sometimes ring the changesbackwards and forwards on all possible moods and flights in one shortquarter of an hour; performing, as it were, a kind of triple bob majoron the peal of instruments in the female belfry, with a skilfulness andrapidity of execution that astonished all who heard her.
It had been observed in this good lady (who did not want for personalattractions, being plump and buxom to look at, though like herfair daughter, somewhat short in stature) that this uncertainty ofdisposition strengthened and increased with her temporal prosperity; anddivers wise men and matrons, on friendly terms with the locksmith andhis family, even went so far as to assert, that a tumble down somehalf-dozen rounds in the world's ladder--such as the breaking of thebank in which her husband kept his money, or some little fall of thatkind--would be the making of her, and could hardly fail to render herone of the most agreeable companions in existence. Whether they wereright or wrong in this conjecture, certain it is that minds, likebodies, will often fall into a pimpled ill-conditioned state frommere excess of comfort, and like them, are often successfully cured byremedies in themselves very nauseous and unpalatable.
Mrs Varden's chief aider and abettor, and at the same time her principalvictim and object of wrath, was her single domestic servant, one MissMiggs; or as she was called, in conformity with those prejudices ofsociety which lop and top from poor hand-maidens all such genteelexcrescences--Miggs. This Miggs was a tall young lady, very muchaddicted to pattens in private life; slender and shrewish, of a ratheruncomfortable figure, and though not absolutely ill-looking, of a sharpand acid visage. As a general principle and abstract proposition, Miggsheld the male sex to be utterly contemptible and unworthy of notice;to be fickle, false, base, sottish, inclined to perjury, and whollyundeserving. When particularly exasperated against them (which, scandalsaid, was when Sim Tappertit slighted her most) she was accustomed towish with great emphasis that the whole race of women could but die off,in order that the men might be brought to know the real value of theblessings by which they set so little store; nay, her feeling for herorder ran so high, that she sometimes declared, if she could only havegood security for a fair, round number--say ten thousand--of youngvirgins following her example, she would, to spite mankind, hang, drown,stab, or poison herself, with a joy past all expression.
It was the voice of Miggs that greeted the locksmith, when he knocked athis own house, with a shrill cry of 'Who's there?'
'Me, girl, me,' returned Gabriel.
What, already, sir!' said Miggs, opening the door with a look ofsurprise. 'We were just getting on our nightcaps to sit up,--me andmistress. Oh, she has been SO bad!'
Miggs said this with an air of uncommon candour and concern; but theparlour-door was standing open, and as Gabriel very well knew for whoseears it was designed, he regarded her with anything but an approvinglook as he passed in.
'Master's come home, mim,' cried Miggs, running before him into theparlour. 'You was wrong, mim, and I was right. I thought he wouldn'tkeep us up so late, two nights running, mim. Master's always considerateso far. I'm so glad, mim, on your account. I'm a little'--here Miggssimpered--'a little sleepy myself; I'll own it now, mim, though I said Iwasn't when you asked me. It ain't of no consequence, mim, of course.'
'You had better,' said the locksmith, who most devoutly wished thatBarnaby's raven was at Miggs's ankles, 'you had better get to bed atonce then.'
'Thanking you kindly, sir,' returned Miggs, 'I couldn't take my rest inpeace, nor fix my thoughts upon my prayers, otherways than that I knewmistress was comfortable in her bed this night; by rights she ought tohave been there, hours ago.'
'You're talkative, mistress,' said Varden, pulling off his greatcoat,and looking at her askew.
'Taking the hint, sir,' cried Miggs, with a flushed face, 'and thankingyou for it most kindly, I will make bold to say, that if I give offenceby having consideration for my mistress, I do not ask your pardon, butam content to get myself into trouble and to be in suffering.'
Here Mrs Varden, who, with her countenance shrouded in a large nightcap,had been all this time intent upon the Protestant Manual, looked round,and acknowledged Miggs's championship by commanding her to hold hertongue.
Every little bone in Miggs's throat and neck developed itself with aspitefulness quite alarming, as she replied, 'Yes, mim, I will.'
'How do you find yourself now, my dear?' said the locksmith, taking achair near his wife (who had resumed her book), and rubbing his kneeshard as he made the inquiry.
'You're very anxious to know, an't you?' returned Mrs Varden, withher eyes upon the print. 'You, that have not been near me all day, andwouldn't have been if I was dying!'
'My dear Martha--' said Gabriel.
Mrs Varden turned over to the next page; then went back again to thebottom line over leaf to be quite sure of the last words; and then wenton reading with an appearance of the deepest interest and study.
'My dear Martha,' said the locksmith, 'how can you say such things,when you know you don't mean them? If you were dying! Why, if there wasanything serious the matter with you, Martha, shouldn't I be in constantattendance upon you?'
'Yes!' cried Mrs Varden, bursting into tears, 'yes, you would. I don'tdoubt it, Varden. Certainly you would. That's as much as to tell me thatyou would be hovering round me like a vulture, waiting till the breathwas out of my body, that you might go and marry somebody else.'
Miggs groaned in sympathy--a little short groan, checked in its birth,and changed into a cough. It seemed to say, 'I can't help it. It's wrungfrom me by the dreadful brutality of that monster master.'
'But you'll break my heart one of these days,' added Mrs Varden, withmore resignation, 'and then we shall both be happy. My only desire isto see Dolly comfortably settled, and when she is, you may settle ME assoon as you like.'
'Ah!' cried Miggs--and coughed again.
Poor Gabriel twisted his wig about in silence for a long time, and thensaid mildly, 'Has Dolly gone to bed?'
'Your master speaks to you,' said Mrs Varden, looking sternly over hershoulder at Miss Miggs in waiting.
'No, my dear, I spoke to you,' suggested the locksmith.
'Did you hear me, Miggs?' cried the obdurate lady, stamping her footupon the ground. 'YOU are beginning to despise me now, are you? But thisis example!'
At this cruel rebuke, Miggs, whose tears were always ready, for largeor small parties, on the shortest notice and the most reasonable terms,fell a crying violently; holding both her hands tight upon her heartmeanwhile, as if nothing less would prevent its splitting into smallfragments. Mrs Varden, who likewise possessed that faculty in highperfection, wept too, against Miggs; and with such effect that Miggsgave in after a time, and, except for an occasional sob, which seemed tothreaten some remote intention of breaking out again, left her mistressin possession of the field. Her superiority being thoroughly asserted,that lady soon desisted likewise, and fell into a quiet melancholy.
The relief was so great, and the fatiguing occurrences of last night socompletely overpowered the locksmith, that he nodded in his chair, andwould doubtless have slept there all night, but for the voice of MrsVarden, which, after a pause of some five minutes, awoke him with astart.
'If I am ever,' said Mrs V.--not scolding, but in a sort of monotonousremonstrance--'in spirits, if I am ever cheerful, if I am ever more thanusually disposed to be talkative and comfortable, this is the way I amtreated.'
'Such spirits as you
was in too, mim, but half an hour ago!' criedMiggs. 'I never see such company!'
'Because,' said Mrs Varden, 'because I never interfere or interrupt;because I never question where anybody comes or goes; because my wholemind and soul is bent on saving where I can save, and labouring in thishouse;--therefore, they try me as they do.'
'Martha,' urged the locksmith, endeavouring to look as wakeful aspossible, 'what is it you complain of? I really came home with everywish and desire to be happy. I did, indeed.'
'What do I complain of!' retorted his wife. 'Is it a chilling thing tohave one's husband sulking and falling asleep directly he comes home--tohave him freezing all one's warm-heartedness, and throwing cold waterover the fireside? Is it natural, when I know he went out upon a matterin which I am as much interested as anybody can be, that I should wishto know all that has happened, or that he should tell me without mybegging and praying him to do it? Is that natural, or is it not?'
'I am very sorry, Martha,' said the good-natured locksmith. 'I wasreally afraid you were not disposed to talk pleasantly; I'll tell youeverything; I shall only be too glad, my dear.'
'No, Varden,' returned his wife, rising with dignity. 'I dare say--thankyou! I'm not a child to be corrected one minute and petted the next--I'ma little too old for that, Varden. Miggs, carry the light.--YOU can becheerful, Miggs, at least.'
Miggs, who, to this moment, had been in the very depths of compassionatedespondency, passed instantly into the liveliest state conceivable,and tossing her head as she glanced towards the locksmith, bore off hermistress and the light together.
'Now, who would think,' thought Varden, shrugging his shoulders anddrawing his chair nearer to the fire, 'that that woman could ever bepleasant and agreeable? And yet she can be. Well, well, all of us haveour faults. I'll not be hard upon hers. We have been man and wife toolong for that.'
He dozed again--not the less pleasantly, perhaps, for his hearty temper.While his eyes were closed, the door leading to the upper stairs waspartially opened; and a head appeared, which, at sight of him, hastilydrew back again.
'I wish,' murmured Gabriel, waking at the noise, and looking roundthe room, 'I wish somebody would marry Miggs. But that's impossible! Iwonder whether there's any madman alive, who would marry Miggs!'
This was such a vast speculation that he fell into a doze again, andslept until the fire was quite burnt out. At last he roused himself; andhaving double-locked the street-door according to custom, and put thekey in his pocket, went off to bed.
He had not left the room in darkness many minutes, when the head againappeared, and Sim Tappertit entered, bearing in his hand a little lamp.
'What the devil business has he to stop up so late!' muttered Sim,passing into the workshop, and setting it down upon the forge. 'Here'shalf the night gone already. There's only one good that has ever come tome, out of this cursed old rusty mechanical trade, and that's this pieceof ironmongery, upon my soul!'
As he spoke, he drew from the right hand, or rather right leg pocket ofhis smalls, a clumsy large-sized key, which he inserted cautiously inthe lock his master had secured, and softly opened the door. That done,he replaced his piece of secret workmanship in his pocket; and leavingthe lamp burning, and closing the door carefully and without noise,stole out into the street--as little suspected by the locksmith in hissound deep sleep, as by Barnaby himself in his phantom-haunted dreams.
Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty Page 8