IN WHICH MISS PECKSNIFF MAKES LOVE, MR JONAS MAKES WRATH, MRS GAMP MAKES
TEA, AND MR CHUFFEY MAKES BUSINESS
On the next day’s official duties coming to a close, Tom hurried home
without losing any time by the way; and after dinner and a short rest
sallied out again, accompanied by Ruth, to pay his projected visit
to Todgers’s. Tom took Ruth with him, not only because it was a great
pleasure to him to have her for his companion whenever he could, but
because he wished her to cherish and comfort poor Merry; which she, for
her own part (having heard the wretched history of that young wife from
Tom), was all eagerness to do.
‘She was so glad to see me,’ said Tom, ‘that I am sure she will be
glad to see you. Your sympathy is certain to be much more delicate and
acceptable than mine.’
‘I am very far from being certain of that, Tom,’ she replied; ‘and
indeed you do yourself an injustice. Indeed you do. But I hope she may
like me, Tom.’
‘Oh, she is sure to do that!’ cried Tom, confidently.
‘What a number of friends I should have, if everybody was of your way of
thinking. Shouldn’t I, Tom, dear?’ said his little sister pinching him
upon the cheek.
Tom laughed, and said that with reference to this particular case he had
no doubt at all of finding a disciple in Merry. ‘For you women,’ said
Tom, ‘you women, my dear, are so kind, and in your kindness have such
nice perception; you know so well how to be affectionate and full of
solicitude without appearing to be; your gentleness of feeling is like
your touch so light and easy, that the one enables you to deal with
wounds of the mind as tenderly as the other enables you to deal with
wounds of the body. You are such--’
‘My goodness, Tom!’ his sister interposed. ‘You ought to fall in love
immediately.’
Tom put this observation off good humouredly, but somewhat gravely too;
and they were soon very chatty again on some other subject.
As they were passing through a street in the City, not very far from Mrs
Todgers’s place of residence, Ruth checked Tom before the window of
a large Upholstery and Furniture Warehouse, to call his attention to
something very magnificent and ingenious, displayed there to the best
advantage, for the admiration and temptation of the public. Tom had
hazarded some most erroneous and extravagantly wrong guess in relation
to the price of this article, and had joined his sister in laughing
heartily at his mistake, when he pressed her arm in his, and pointed to
two persons at a little distance, who were looking in at the same window
with a deep interest in the chests of drawers and tables.
‘Hush!’ Tom whispered. ‘Miss Pecksniff, and the young gentleman to whom
she is going to be married.’
‘Why does he look as if he was going to be buried, Tom?’ inquired his
little sister.
‘Why, he is naturally a dismal young gentleman, I believe,’ said Tom
‘but he is very civil and inoffensive.’
‘I suppose they are furnishing their house,’ whispered Ruth.
‘Yes, I suppose they are,’ replied Tom. ‘We had better avoid speaking to
them.’
They could not very well avoid looking at them, however, especially
as some obstruction on the pavement, at a little distance, happened to
detain them where they were for a few moments. Miss Pecksniff had quite
the air of having taken the unhappy Moddle captive, and brought him
up to the contemplation of the furniture like a lamb to the altar.
He offered no resistance, but was perfectly resigned and quiet. The
melancholy depicted in the turn of his languishing head, and in his
dejected attitude, was extreme; and though there was a full-sized
four-post bedstead in the window, such a tear stood trembling in his eye
as seemed to blot it out.
‘Augustus, my love,’ said Miss Pecksniff, ‘ask the price of the eight
rosewood chairs, and the loo table.’
‘Perhaps they are ordered already,’ said Augustus. ‘Perhaps they are
Another’s.’
‘They can make more like them, if they are,’ rejoined Miss Pecksniff.
‘No, no, they can’t,’ said Moddle. ‘It’s impossible!’
He appeared, for the moment, to be quite overwhelmed and stupefied by
the prospect of his approaching happiness; but recovering, entered the
shop. He returned immediately, saying in a tone of despair
‘Twenty-four pound ten!’
Miss Pecksniff, turning to receive this announcement, became conscious
of the observation of Tom Pinch and his sister.
‘Oh, really!’ cried Miss Pecksniff, glancing about her, as if for some
convenient means of sinking into the earth. ‘Upon my word, I--there
never was such a--to think that one should be so very--Mr Augustus
Moddle, Miss Pinch!’
Miss Pecksniff was quite gracious to Miss Pinch in this triumphant
introduction; exceedingly gracious. She was more than gracious; she was
kind and cordial. Whether the recollection of the old service Tom had
rendered her in knocking Mr Jonas on the head had wrought this change in
her opinions; or whether her separation from her parent had reconciled
her to all human-kind, or to all that interesting portion of human-kind
which was not friendly to him; or whether the delight of having some new
female acquaintance to whom to communicate her interesting prospects was
paramount to every other consideration; cordial and kind Miss Pecksniff
was. And twice Miss Pecksniff kissed Miss Pinch upon the cheek.
‘Augustus--Mr Pinch, you know. My dear girl!’ said Miss Pecksniff,
aside. ‘I never was so ashamed in my life.’
Ruth begged her not to think of it.
‘I mind your brother less than anybody else,’ simpered Miss Pecksniff.
‘But the indelicacy of meeting any gentleman under such circumstances!
Augustus, my child, did you--’
Here Miss Pecksniff whispered in his ear. The suffering Moddle repeated:
‘Twenty-four pound ten!’
‘Oh, you silly man! I don’t mean them,’ said Miss Pecksniff. ‘I am
speaking of the--’
Here she whispered him again.
‘If it’s the same patterned chintz as that in the window; thirty-two,
twelve, six,’ said Moddle, with a sigh. ‘And very dear.’
Miss Pecksniff stopped him from giving any further explanation by laying
her hand upon his lips, and betraying a soft embarrassment. She then
asked Tom Pinch which way he was going.
‘I was going to see if I could find your sister,’ answered Tom, ‘to whom
I wished to say a few words. We were going to Mrs Todgers’s, where I had
the pleasure of seeing her before.’
‘It’s of no use your going on, then,’ said Cherry, ‘for we have not
long left there; and I know she is not at home. But I’ll take you to my
sister’s house, if you please. Augustus--Mr Moddle, I mean--and myself,
are on our way to tea there, now. You needn’t think of HIM,’ she added,
nodding her head as she observed some hesitation on Tom’s part. ‘He is
not at home.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Tom.
‘Oh, I am quite sure of that. I don’t want any MORE revenge,’ said Miss
Pecksniff, expressively. ‘But, really, I must beg you two gentlemen to
walk on, and allow me to follow with Miss Pinch. My dear, I never was so
taken by surprise!’
In furtherance of this bashful arrangement, Moddle gave his arm to Tom;
and Miss Pecksniff linked her own in Ruth’s.
‘Of course, my love,’ said Miss Pecksniff, ‘it would be useless for me
to disguise, after what you have seen, that I am about to be united to
the gentleman who is walking with your brother. It would be in vain
to conceal it. What do you think of him? Pray, let me have your candid
opinion.’
Ruth intimated that, as far as she could judge, he was a very eligible
swain.
‘I am curious to know,’ said Miss Pecksniff, with loquacious frankness,
‘whether you have observed, or fancied, in this very short space of
time, that he is of a rather melancholy turn?’
‘So very short a time,’ Ruth pleaded.
‘No, no; but don’t let that interfere with your answer,’ returned Miss
Pecksniff. ‘I am curious to hear what you say.’
Ruth acknowledged that he had impressed her at first sight as looking
‘rather low.’
‘No, really?’ said Miss Pecksniff. ‘Well! that is quite remarkable!
Everybody says the same. Mrs Todgers says the same; and Augustus informs
me that it is quite a joke among the gentlemen in the house. Indeed, but
for the positive commands I have laid upon him, I believe it would have
been the occasion of loaded fire-arms being resorted to more than once.
What do you think is the cause of his appearance of depression?’
Ruth thought of several things; such as his digestion, his tailor, his
mother, and the like. But hesitating to give utterance to any one of
them, she refrained from expressing an opinion.
‘My dear,’ said Miss Pecksniff; ‘I shouldn’t wish it to be known, but I
don’t mind mentioning it to you, having known your brother for so many
years--I refused Augustus three times. He is of a most amiable and
sensitive nature, always ready to shed tears if you look at him, which
is extremely charming; and he has never recovered the effect of that
cruelty. For it WAS cruel,’ said Miss Pecksniff, with a self-conviction
candour that might have adorned the diadem of her own papa. ‘There is
no doubt of it. I look back upon my conduct now with blushes. I always
liked him. I felt that he was not to me what the crowd of young men who
had made proposals had been, but something very different. Then what
right had I to refuse him three times?’
‘It was a severe trial of his fidelity, no doubt,’ said Ruth.
‘My dear,’ returned Miss Pecksniff. ‘It was wrong. But such is the
caprice and thoughtlessness of our sex! Let me be a warning to you.
Don’t try the feelings of any one who makes you an offer, as I have
tried the feelings of Augustus; but if you ever feel towards a person
as I really felt towards him, at the very time when I was driving him
to distraction, let that feeling find expression, if that person throws
himself at your feet, as Augustus Moddle did at mine. Think,’ said Miss
Pecksniff, ‘what my feelings would have been, if I had goaded him to
suicide, and it had got into the papers!’
Ruth observed that she would have been full of remorse, no doubt.
‘Remorse!’ cried Miss Pecksniff, in a sort of snug and comfortable
penitence. ‘What my remorse is at this moment, even after making
reparation by accepting him, it would be impossible to tell you! Looking
back upon my giddy self, my dear, now that I am sobered down and
made thoughtful, by treading on the very brink of matrimony; and
contemplating myself as I was when I was like what you are now; I
shudder. I shudder. What is the consequence of my past conduct? Until
Augustus leads me to the altar he is not sure of me. I have blighted and
withered the affections of his heart to that extent that he is not sure
of me. I see that preying on his mind and feeding on his vitals. What
are the reproaches of my conscience, when I see this in the man I love!’
Ruth endeavoured to express some sense of her unbounded and flattering
confidence; and presumed that she was going to be married soon.
‘Very soon indeed,’ returned Miss Pecksniff. ‘As soon as our house is
ready. We are furnishing now as fast as we can.’
In the same vein of confidence Miss Pecksniff ran through a general
inventory of the articles that were already bought with the articles
that remained to be purchased; what garments she intended to be married
in, and where the ceremony was to be performed; and gave Miss Pinch, in
short (as she told her), early and exclusive information on all points
of interest connected with the event.
While this was going forward in the rear, Tom and Mr Moddle walked on,
arm in arm, in the front, in a state of profound silence, which Tom at
last broke; after thinking for a long time what he could say that should
refer to an indifferent topic, in respect of which he might rely, with
some degree of certainty, on Mr Moddle’s bosom being unruffled.
‘I wonder,’ said Tom, ‘that in these crowded streets the foot-passengers
are not oftener run over.’
Mr Moddle, with a dark look, replied:
‘The drivers won’t do it.’
‘Do you mean?’ Tom began--
‘That there are some men,’ interrupted Moddle, with a hollow laugh, ‘who
can’t get run over. They live a charmed life. Coal waggons recoil from
them, and even cabs refuse to run them down. Ah!’ said Augustus, marking
Tom’s astonishment. ‘There are such men. One of ‘em is a friend of
mine.’
‘Upon my word and honour,’ thought Tom, ‘this young gentleman is in
a state of mind which is very serious indeed!’ Abandoning all idea of
conversation, he did not venture to say another word, but he was careful
to keep a tight hold upon Augustus’s arm, lest he should fly into the
road, and making another and a more successful attempt, should get up a
private little Juggernaut before the eyes of his betrothed. Tom was
so afraid of his committing this rash act, that he had scarcely ever
experienced such mental relief as when they arrived in safety at Mrs
Jonas Chuzzlewit’s house.
‘Walk up, pray, Mr Pinch,’ said Miss Pecksniff. For Tom halted,
irresolutely, at the door.
‘I am doubtful whether I should be welcome,’ replied Tom, ‘or, I ought
rather to say, I have no doubt about it. I will send up a message, I
think.’
‘But what nonsense that is!’ returned Miss Pecksniff, speaking apart
to Tom. ‘He is not at home, I am certain. I know he is not; and Merry
hasn’t the least idea that you ever--’
‘No,’ interrupted Tom. ‘Nor would I have her know it, on any account. I
am not so proud of that scuffle, I assure you.’
‘Ah, but then you are so modest, you see,’ returned Miss Pecksniff, with
a smile. ‘But pray walk up. If you don’t wish her to know it, and do
wish to speak to her, pray walk up. Pray walk up, Miss Pinch. Don’t
stand here.’
Tom still hesitated for he felt that he was in an awkward position. But
Cherry passing him at this juncture, and leading his sister upstairs,
and the house-door being at the same time shut behind them, he followed
without quite knowing whether it was well or ill-judged so to do.
‘Merry, my darling!’ said the fair Miss Pecksniff, opening the door of
the usual sitting-room. ‘Here are Mr Pinch and his sister come to see
you! I thought we should find you here, Mrs Todgers! How do you do, Mrs
Gamp? And how do you do, Mr Chuffey, though it’s of no use asking you
the question, I am well aware.’
Honouring each of these parties, as she severally addressed them, with
an acid smile, Miss Charity presented ‘Mr Moddle.’
‘I believe you have seen HIM before,’ she pleasantly observed.
‘Augustus, my sweet child, bring me a chair.’
The sweet child did as he was told; and was then about to retire into a
corner to mourn in secret, when Miss Charity, calling him in an audible
whisper a ‘little pet,’ gave him leave to come and sit beside her. It
is to be hoped, for the general cheerfulness of mankind, that such a
doleful little pet was never seen as Mr Moddle looked when he complied.
So despondent was his temper, that he showed no outward thrill of
ecstasy when Miss Pecksniff placed her lily hand in his, and concealed
this mark of her favour from the vulgar gaze by covering it with a
corner of her shawl. Indeed, he was infinitely more rueful then than
he had been before; and, sitting uncomfortably upright in his chair,
surveyed the company with watery eyes, which seemed to say, without
the aid of language, ‘Oh, good gracious! look here! Won’t some kind
Christian help me!’
But the ecstasies of Mrs Gamp were sufficient to have furnished forth
a score of young lovers; and they were chiefly awakened by the sight of
Tom Pinch and his sister. Mrs Gamp was a lady of that happy temperament
which can be ecstatic without any other stimulating cause than a general
desire to establish a large and profitable connection. She added daily
so many strings to her bow, that she made a perfect harp of it; and upon
that instrument she now began to perform an extemporaneous concerto.
‘Why, goodness me!’ she said, ‘Mrs Chuzzlewit! To think as I should see
beneath this blessed ‘ouse, which well I know it, Miss Pecksniff, my
sweet young lady, to be a ‘ouse as there is not a many like, worse luck,
and wishin’ it were not so, which then this tearful walley would be
changed into a flowerin’ guardian, Mr Chuffey; to think as I should see
beneath this indiwidgle roof, identically comin’, Mr Pinch (I take the
liberty, though almost unbeknown), and do assure you of it, sir, the
smilinest and sweetest face as ever, Mrs Chuzzlewit, I see exceptin’
yourn, my dear good lady, and YOUR good lady’s too, sir, Mr Moddle, if
I may make so bold as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as
needn’t look through millstones, Mrs Todgers, to find out wot is wrote
upon the wall behind. Which no offence is meant, ladies and gentlemen;
none bein’ took, I hope. To think as I should see that smilinest and
sweetest face which me and another friend of mine, took notice of among
the packages down London Bridge, in this promiscous place, is a surprige
in-deed!’
Having contrived, in this happy manner, to invest every member of her
audience with an individual share and immediate personal interest in
her address, Mrs Gamp dropped several curtseys to Ruth, and smilingly
shaking her head a great many times, pursued the thread of her
discourse:
‘Now, ain’t we rich in beauty this here joyful arternoon, I’m sure. I
knows a lady, which her name, I’ll not deceive you, Mrs Chuzzlewit, is
Harris, her husband’s brother bein’ six foot three, and marked with
a mad bull in Wellington boots upon his left arm, on account of his
precious mother havin’ been worrited by one into a shoemaker’s shop,
when in a sitiwation which blessed is the man as has his quiver full of
sech, as many times I’ve said to Gamp when words has roge betwixt us on
account of the expense--and often have I said to Mrs Harris, “Oh, Mrs
Harris, ma’am! your countenance is quite a angel’s!” Which, but
for Pimples, it would be. “No, Sairey Gamp,” says she, “you best of
hard-working and industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any
price, which underpaid you are, quite diff’rent. Harris had it done
afore marriage at ten and six,” she says, “and wore it faithful next his
heart till the colour run, when the money was declined to be give back,
and no arrangement could be come to. But he never said it was a angel’s,
Sairey, wotever he might have thought.” If Mrs Harris’s husband was
here now,’ said Mrs Gamp, looking round, and chuckling as she dropped
a general curtsey, ‘he’d speak out plain, he would, and his dear wife
would be the last to blame him! For if ever a woman lived as know’d not
wot it was to form a wish to pizon them as had good looks, and had no
reagion give her by the best of husbands, Mrs Harris is that ev’nly
dispogician!’
With these words the worthy woman, who appeared to have dropped in
to take tea as a delicate little attention, rather than to have any
engagement on the premises in an official capacity, crossed to Mr
Chuffey, who was seated in the same corner as of old, and shook him by
the shoulder.
‘Rouge yourself, and look up! Come!’ said Mrs Gamp. ‘Here’s company, Mr
Chuffey.’
‘I am sorry for it,’ cried the old man, looking humbly round the room.
‘I know I’m in the way. I ask pardon, but I’ve nowhere else to go to.
Where is she?’
Merry went to him.
‘Ah!’ said the old man, patting her on the check. ‘Here she is. Here she
is! She’s never hard on poor old Chuffey. Poor old Chuff!’
As she took her seat upon a low chair by the old man’s side, and put
herself within the reach of his hand, she looked up once at Tom. It
was a sad look that she cast upon him, though there was a faint smile
trembling on her face. It was a speaking look, and Tom knew what it
said. ‘You see how misery has changed me. I can feel for a dependant
NOW, and set some value on his attachment.’
‘Aye, aye!’ cried Chuffey in a soothing tone. ‘Aye, aye, aye! Never mind
him. It’s hard to hear, but never mind him. He’ll die one day. There
are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year--three hundred and
sixty-six in leap year--and he may die on any one of ‘em.’
‘You’re a wearing old soul, and that’s the sacred truth,’ said Mrs Gamp,
contemplating him from a little distance with anything but favour, as he
continued to mutter to himself. ‘It’s a pity that you don’t know wot you
say, for you’d tire your own patience out if you did, and fret yourself
into a happy releage for all as knows you.’
‘His son,’ murmured the old man, lifting up his hand. ‘His son!’
‘Well, I’m sure!’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘you’re a-settlin’ of it, Mr Chuffey.
To your satigefaction, sir, I hope. But I wouldn’t lay a new pincushion
on it myself, sir, though you ARE so well informed. Drat the old
creetur, he’s a-layin’ down the law tolerable confident, too! A deal he
knows of sons! or darters either! Suppose you was to favour us with some
remarks on twins, sir, WOULD you be so good!’
The bitter and indignant sarcasm which Mrs Gamp conveyed into these
taunts was altogether lost on the unconscious Chuffey, who appeared to
be as little cognizant of their delivery as of his having given Mrs
Gamp offence. But that high-minded woman being sensitively alive to any
invasion of her professional province, and imagining that Mr Chuffey had
given utterance to some prediction on the subject of sons, which ought
to have emanated in the first instance from herself as the only lawful
authority, or which should at least have been on no account proclaimed
without her sanction and concurrence, was not so easily appeased. She
continued to sidle at Mr Chuffey with looks of sharp hostility, and to
defy him with many other ironical remarks, uttered in that low key
which commonly denotes suppressed indignation; until the entrance of
the teaboard, and a request from Mrs Jonas that she would make tea at a
side-table for the party that had unexpectedly assembled, restored her
to herself. She smiled again, and entered on her ministration with her
own particular urbanity.
‘And quite a family it is to make tea for,’ said Mrs Gamp; ‘and wot a
happiness to do it! My good young ‘ooman’--to the servant-girl--‘p’raps
somebody would like to try a new-laid egg or two, not biled too hard.
Likeways, a few rounds o’ buttered toast, first cuttin’ off the crust,
in consequence of tender teeth, and not too many of ‘em; which Gamp
himself, Mrs Chuzzlewit, at one blow, being in liquor, struck out four,
two single, and two double, as was took by Mrs Harris for a keepsake,
and is carried in her pocket at this present hour, along with two
cramp-bones, a bit o’ ginger, and a grater like a blessed infant’s shoe,
in tin, with a little heel to put the nutmeg in; as many times I’ve seen
and said, and used for candle when required, within the month.’
As the privileges of the side-table--besides including the small
prerogatives of sitting next the toast, and taking two cups of tea to
other people’s one, and always taking them at a crisis, that is to
say, before putting fresh water into the tea-pot, and after it had been
standing for some time--also comprehended a full view of the company,
and an opportunity of addressing them as from a rostrum, Mrs Gamp
discharged the functions entrusted to her with extreme good-humour and
affability. Sometimes resting her saucer on the palm of her outspread
hand, and supporting her elbow on the table, she stopped between her
sips of tea to favour the circle with a smile, a wink, a roll of the
head, or some other mark of notice; and at those periods her countenance
was lighted up with a degree of intelligence and vivacity, which it was
almost impossible to separate from the benignant influence of distilled
waters.
But for Mrs Gamp, it would have been a curiously silent party. Miss
Pecksniff only spoke to her Augustus, and to him in whispers. Augustus
spoke to nobody, but sighed for every one, and occasionally gave himself
such a sounding slap upon the forehead as would make Mrs Todgers, who
was rather nervous, start in her chair with an involuntary exclamation.
Mrs Todgers was occupied in knitting, and seldom spoke. Poor Merry held
the hand of cheerful little Ruth between her own, and listening with
evident pleasure to all she said, but rarely speaking herself, sometimes
smiled, and sometimes kissed her on the cheek, and sometimes turned
aside to hide the tears that trembled in her eyes. Tom felt this change
in her so much, and was so glad to see how tenderly Ruth dealt with her,
and how she knew and answered to it, that he had not the heart to make
any movement towards their departure, although he had long since given
utterance to all he came to say.
The old clerk, subsiding into his usual state, remained profoundly
silent, while the rest of the little assembly were thus occupied, intent
upon the dreams, whatever they might be, which hardly seemed to stir
the surface of his sluggish thoughts. The bent of these dull fancies
combining probably with the silent feasting that was going on about him,
and some struggling recollection of the last approach to revelry he had
witnessed, suggested a strange question to his mind. He looked round
upon a sudden, and said:
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs?’
‘No one,’ said Merry, turning to him. ‘What is the matter? We are all
here.’
‘All here!’ cried the old man. ‘All here! Where is he then--my old
master, Mr Chuzzlewit, who had the only son? Where is he?’
‘Hush! Hush!’ said Merry, speaking kindly to him. ‘That happened long
ago. Don’t you recollect?’
‘Recollect!’ rejoined the old man, with a cry of grief. ‘As if I could
forget! As if I ever could forget!’
He put his hand up to his face for a moment; and then repeated turning
round exactly as before:
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs?’
‘No one!’ said Merry.
At first he gazed angrily upon her, as upon a stranger who endeavoured
to deceive him; but peering into her face, and seeing that it was indeed
she, he shook his head in sorrowful compassion.
‘You think not. But they don’t tell you. No, no, poor thing! They don’t
tell you. Who are these, and why are they merry-making here, if there is
no one dead? Foul play! Go see who it is!’
She made a sign to them not to speak to him, which indeed they had
little inclination to do; and remained silent herself. So did he for
a short time; but then he repeated the same question with an eagerness
that had a peculiar terror in it.
‘There’s some one dead,’ he said, ‘or dying; and I want to knows who it
is. Go see, go see! Where’s Jonas?’
‘In the country,’ she replied.
The old man gazed at her as if he doubted what she said, or had not
heard her; and, rising from his chair, walked across the room and
upstairs, whispering as he went, ‘Foul play!’ They heard his footsteps
overhead, going up into that corner of the room in which the bed stood
(it was there old Anthony had died); and then they heard him coming down
again immediately. His fancy was not so strong or wild that it pictured
to him anything in the deserted bedchamber which was not there; for he
returned much calmer, and appeared to have satisfied himself.
‘They don’t tell you,’ he said to Merry in his quavering voice, as
he sat down again, and patted her upon the head. ‘They don’t tell me
either; but I’ll watch, I’ll watch. They shall not hurt you; don’t be
frightened. When you have sat up watching, I have sat up watching too.
Aye, aye, I have!’ he piped out, clenching his weak, shrivelled hand.
‘Many a night I have been ready!’
He said this with such trembling gaps and pauses in his want of breath,
and said it in his jealous secrecy so closely in her ear, that little
or nothing of it was understood by the visitors. But they had heard
and seen enough of the old man to be disquieted, and to have left
their seats and gathered about him; thereby affording Mrs Gamp,
whose professional coolness was not so easily disturbed, an eligible
opportunity for concentrating the whole resources of her powerful mind
and appetite upon the toast and butter, tea and eggs. She had brought
them to bear upon those viands with such vigour that her face was in the
highest state of inflammation, when she now (there being nothing left to
eat or drink) saw fit to interpose.
‘Why, highty tighty, sir!’ cried Mrs Gamp, ‘is these your manners? You
want a pitcher of cold water throw’d over you to bring you round; that’s
my belief, and if you was under Betsey Prig you’d have it, too, I do
assure you, Mr Chuffey. Spanish Flies is the only thing to draw this
nonsense out of you; and if anybody wanted to do you a kindness, they’d
clap a blister of ‘em on your head, and put a mustard poultige on your
back. ‘Who’s dead, indeed! It wouldn’t be no grievous loss if some one
was, I think!’
‘He’s quiet now, Mrs Gamp,’ said Merry. ‘Don’t disturb him.’
‘Oh, bother the old wictim, Mrs Chuzzlewit,’ replied that zealous lady,
‘I ain’t no patience with him. You give him his own way too much by
half. A worritin’ wexagious creetur!’
No doubt with the view of carrying out the precepts she enforced, and
‘bothering the old wictim’ in practice as well as in theory, Mrs Gamp
took him by the collar of his coat, and gave him some dozen or two of
hearty shakes backward and forward in his chair; that exercise being
considered by the disciples of the Prig school of nursing (who are very
numerous among professional ladies) as exceedingly conducive to repose,
and highly beneficial to the performance of the nervous functions.
Its effect in this instance was to render the patient so giddy and
addle-headed, that he could say nothing more; which Mrs Gamp regarded as
the triumph of her art.
‘There!’ she said, loosening the old man’s cravat, in consequence of his
being rather black in the face, after this scientific treatment. ‘Now,
I hope, you’re easy in your mind. If you should turn at all faint we
can soon rewive you, sir, I promige you. Bite a person’s thumbs, or
turn their fingers the wrong way,’ said Mrs Gamp, smiling with the
consciousness of at once imparting pleasure and instruction to her
auditors, ‘and they comes to, wonderful, Lord bless you!’
As this excellent woman had been formerly entrusted with the care of Mr
Chuffey on a previous occasion, neither Mrs Jonas nor anybody else had
the resolution to interfere directly with her mode of treatment;
though all present (Tom Pinch and his sister especially) appeared to be
disposed to differ from her views. For such is the rash boldness of the
uninitiated, that they will frequently set up some monstrous abstract
principle, such as humanity, or tenderness, or the like idle folly, in
obstinate defiance of all precedent and usage; and will even venture to
maintain the same against the persons who have made the precedents
and established the usage, and who must therefore be the best and most
impartial judges of the subject.
‘Ah, Mr Pinch!’ said Miss Pecksniff. ‘It all comes of this unfortunate
marriage. If my sister had not been so precipitate, and had not united
herself to a Wretch, there would have been no Mr Chuffey in the house.’
‘Hush!’ cried Tom. ‘She’ll hear you.’
‘I should be very sorry if she did hear me, Mr Pinch,’ said Cherry,
raising her voice a little; ‘for it is not in my nature to add to the
uneasiness of any person; far less of my own sister. I know what a
sister’s duties are, Mr Pinch, and I hope I always showed it in my
practice. Augustus, my dear child, find my pocket-handkerchief, and give
it to me.’
Augustus obeyed, and took Mrs Todgers aside to pour his griefs into her
friendly bosom.
‘I am sure, Mr Pinch,’ said Charity, looking after her betrothed and
glancing at her sister, ‘that I ought to be very grateful for the
blessings I enjoy, and those which are yet in store for me. When I
contrast Augustus’--here she was modest and embarrased--‘who, I don’t
mind saying to you, is all softness, mildness, and devotion, with the
detestable man who is my sister’s husband; and when I think, Mr Pinch,
that in the dispensations of this world, our cases might have been
reversed; I have much to be thankful for, indeed, and much to make me
humble and contented.’
Contented she might have been, but humble she assuredly was not. Her
face and manner experienced something so widely different from humility,
that Tom could not help understanding and despising the base motives
that were working in her breast. He turned away, and said to Ruth, that
it was time for them to go.
‘I will write to your husband,’ said Tom to Merry, ‘and explain to him,
as I would have done if I had met him here, that if he has sustained any
inconvenience through my means, it is not my fault; a postman not being
more innocent of the news he brings, than I was when I handed him that
letter.’
‘I thank you!’ said Merry. ‘It may do some good.’
She parted tenderly from Ruth, who with her brother was in the act of
leaving the room, when a key was heard in the lock of the door below,
and immediately afterwards a quick footstep in the passage. Tom stopped,
and looked at Merry.
It was Jonas, she said timidly.
‘I had better not meet him on the stairs, perhaps,’ said Tom, drawing
his sister’s arm through his, and coming back a step or two. ‘I’ll wait
for him here, a moment.’
He had scarcely said it when the door opened, and Jonas entered. His
wife came forward to receive him; but he put her aside with his hand,
and said in a surly tone:
‘I didn’t know you’d got a party.’
As he looked, at the same time, either by accident or design, towards
Miss Pecksniff; and as Miss Pecksniff was only too delighted to quarrel
with him, she instantly resented it.
‘Oh dear!’ she said, rising. ‘Pray don’t let us intrude upon your
domestic happiness! That would be a pity. We have taken tea here, sir,
in your absence; but if you will have the goodness to send us a note of
the expense, receipted, we shall be happy to pay it. Augustus, my love,
we will go, if you please. Mrs Todgers, unless you wish to remain here,
we shall be happy to take you with us. It would be a pity, indeed, to
spoil the bliss which this gentleman always brings with him, especially
into his own home.’
‘Charity! Charity!’ remonstrated her sister, in such a heartfelt tone
that she might have been imploring her to show the cardinal virtue whose
name she bore.
‘Merry, my dear, I am much obliged to you for your advice,’ returned
Miss Pecksniff, with a stately scorn--by the way, she had not been
offered any--‘but I am not his slave--’
‘No, nor wouldn’t have been if you could,’ interrupted Jonas. ‘We know
all about it.’
‘WHAT did you say, sir?’ cried Miss Pecksniff, sharply.
‘Didn’t you hear?’ retorted Jonas, lounging down upon a chair. ‘I am not
a-going to say it again. If you like to stay, you may stay. If you like
to go, you may go. But if you stay, please to be civil.’
‘Beast!’ cried Miss Pecksniff, sweeping past him. ‘Augustus! He is
beneath your notice!’ Augustus had been making some faint and sickly
demonstration of shaking his fist. ‘Come away, child,’ screamed Miss
Pecksniff, ‘I command you!’
The scream was elicited from her by Augustus manifesting an intention to
return and grapple with him. But Miss Pecksniff giving the fiery youth
a pull, and Mrs Todgers giving him a push they all three tumbled out
of the room together, to the music of Miss Pecksniff’s shrill
remonstrances.
All this time Jonas had seen nothing of Tom and his sister; for they
were almost behind the door when he opened it, and he had sat down with
his back towards them, and had purposely kept his eyes upon the opposite
side of the street during his altercation with Miss Pecksniff, in order
that his seeming carelessness might increase the exasperation of that
wronged young damsel. His wife now faltered out that Tom had been
waiting to see him; and Tom advanced.
The instant he presented himself, Jonas got up from his chair, and
swearing a great oath, caught it in his grasp, as if he would have
felled Tom to the ground with it. As he most unquestionably would have
done, but that his very passion and surprise made him irresolute, and
gave Tom, in his calmness, an opportunity of being heard.
‘You have no cause to be violent, sir,’ said Tom. ‘Though what I wish to
say relates to your own affairs, I know nothing of them, and desire to
know nothing of them.’
Jonas was too enraged to speak. He held the door open; and stamping his
foot upon the ground, motioned Tom away.
‘As you cannot suppose,’ said Tom, ‘that I am here with any view of
conciliating you or pleasing myself, I am quite indifferent to your
reception of me, or your dismissal of me. Hear what I have to say, if
you are not a madman! I gave you a letter the other day, when you were
about to go abroad.’
‘You Thief, you did!’ retorted Jonas. ‘I’ll pay you for the carriage of
it one day, and settle an old score besides. I will!’
‘Tut, tut,’ said Tom, ‘you needn’t waste words or threats. I wish you
to understand--plainly because I would rather keep clear of you and
everything that concerns you: not because I have the least apprehension
of your doing me any injury: which would be weak indeed--that I am no
party to the contents of that letter. That I know nothing of it. That I
was not even aware that it was to be delivered to you; and that I had it
from--’
‘By the Lord!’ cried Jonas, fiercely catching up the chair, ‘I’ll knock
your brains out, if you speak another word.’
Tom, nevertheless, persisting in his intention, and opening his lips to
speak again, Jonas set upon him like a savage; and in the quickness and
ferocity of his attack would have surely done him some grievous injury,
defenceless as he was, and embarrassed by having his frightened sister
clinging to his arm, if Merry had not run between them, crying to
Tom for the love of Heaven to leave the house. The agony of this poor
creature, the terror of his sister, the impossibility of making himself
audible, and the equal impossibility of bearing up against Mrs Gamp, who
threw herself upon him like a feather-bed, and forced him backwards down
the stairs by the mere oppression of her dead weight, prevailed. Tom
shook the dust of that house off his feet, without having mentioned
Nadgett’s name.
If the name could have passed his lips; if Jonas, in the insolence of
his vile nature, had never roused him to do that old act of manliness,
for which (and not for his last offence) he hated him with such
malignity; if Jonas could have learned, as then he could and would have
learned, through Tom’s means, what unsuspected spy there was upon him;
he would have been saved from the commission of a Guilty Deed, then
drawing on towards its black accomplishment. But the fatality was of
his own working; the pit was of his own digging; the gloom that gathered
round him was the shadow of his own life.
His wife had closed the door, and thrown herself before it, on the
ground, upon her knees. She held up her hands to him now, and besought
him not to be harsh with her, for she had interposed in fear of
bloodshed.
‘So, so!’ said Jonas, looking down upon her, as he fetched his breath.
‘These are your friends, are they, when I am away? You plot and tamper
with this sort of people, do you?’
‘No, indeed! I have no knowledge of these secrets, and no clue to
their meaning. I have never seen him since I left home but once--but
twice--before to-day.’
‘Oh!’ sneered Jonas, catching at this correction. ‘But once, but twice,
eh? Which do you mean? Twice and once, perhaps. Three times! How many
more, you lying jade?’
As he made an angry motion with his hand, she shrunk down hastily. A
suggestive action! Full of a cruel truth!
‘How many more times?’ he repeated.
‘No more. The other morning, and to-day, and once besides.’
He was about to retort upon her, when the clock struck. He started
stopped, and listened; appearing to revert to some engagement, or to
some other subject, a secret within his own breast, recalled to him by
this record of the progress of the hours.
‘Don’t lie there! Get up!’
Having helped her to rise, or rather hauled her up by the arm, he went
on to say:
‘Listen to me, young lady; and don’t whine when you have no occasion, or
I may make some for you. If I find him in my house again, or find that
you have seen him in anybody else’s house, you’ll repent it. If you are
not deaf and dumb to everything that concerns me, unless you have my
leave to hear and speak, you’ll repent it. If you don’t obey exactly
what I order, you’ll repent it. Now, attend. What’s the time?’
‘It struck eight a minute ago.’
He looked towards her intently; and said, with a laboured distinctness,
as if he had got the words off by heart:
‘I have been travelling day and night, and am tired. I have lost some
money, and that don’t improve me. Put my supper in the little off-room
below, and have the truckle-bed made. I shall sleep there to-night, and
maybe to-morrow night; and if I can sleep all day to-morrow, so much
the better, for I’ve got trouble to sleep off, if I can. Keep the house
quiet, and don’t call me. Mind! Don’t call me. Don’t let anybody call
me. Let me lie there.’
She said it should be done. Was that all?
‘All what? You must be prying and questioning!’ he angrily retorted.
‘What more do you want to know?’
‘I want to know nothing, Jonas, but what you tell me. All hope of
confidence between us has long deserted me!’
‘Ecod, I should hope so!’ he muttered.
‘But if you will tell me what you wish, I will be obedient and will
try to please you. I make no merit of that, for I have no friend in
my father or my sister, but am quite alone. I am very humble and
submissive. You told me you would break my spirit, and you have done so.
Do not break my heart too!’
She ventured, as she said these words, to lay her hand upon his
shoulder. He suffered it to rest there, in his exultation; and the whole
mean, abject, sordid, pitiful soul of the man, looked at her, for the
moment, through his wicked eyes.
For the moment only; for, with the same hurried return to something
within himself, he bade her, in a surly tone, show her obedience by
executing his commands without delay. When she had withdrawn he paced
up and down the room several times; but always with his right hand
clenched, as if it held something; which it did not, being empty. When
he was tired of this, he threw himself into a chair, and thoughtfully
turned up the sleeve of his right arm, as if he were rather musing
about its strength than examining it; but, even then, he kept the hand
clenched.
He was brooding in this chair, with his eyes cast down upon the ground,
when Mrs Gamp came in to tell him that the little room was ready. Not
being quite sure of her reception after interfering in the quarrel, Mrs
Gamp, as a means of interesting and propitiating her patron, affected a
deep solicitude in Mr Chuffey.
‘How is he now, sir?’ she said.
‘Who?’ cried Jonas, raising his head, and staring at her.
‘To be sure!’ returned the matron with a smile and a curtsey. ‘What am I
thinking of! You wasn’t here, sir, when he was took so strange. I never
see a poor dear creetur took so strange in all my life, except a patient
much about the same age, as I once nussed, which his calling was the
custom-’us, and his name was Mrs Harris’s own father, as pleasant a
singer, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever you heerd, with a voice like a Jew’s-harp
in the bass notes, that it took six men to hold at sech times, foaming
frightful.’
‘Chuffey, eh?’ said Jonas carelessly, seeing that she went up to the
old, clerk, and looked at him. ‘Ha!’
‘The creetur’s head’s so hot,’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘that you might heat a
flat-iron at it. And no wonder I am sure, considerin’ the things he
said!’
‘Said!’ cried Jonas. ‘What did he say?’
Mrs Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some check upon its
palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in a faint voice:
‘The awfulest things, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd! Which Mrs Harris’s
father never spoke a word when took so, some does and some don’t, except
sayin’ when he come round, “Where is Sairey Gamp?” But raly, sir, when
Mr Chuffey comes to ask who’s lyin’ dead upstairs, and--’
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs!’ repeated Jonas, standing aghast.
Mrs Gamp nodded, made as if she were swallowing, and went on.
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs; sech was his Bible language; and where was
Mr Chuzzlewit as had the only son; and when he goes upstairs a-looking
in the beds and wandering about the rooms, and comes down again
a-whisperin’ softly to his-self about foul play and that; it gives me
sech a turn, I don’t deny it, Mr Chuzzlewit, that I never could have kep
myself up but for a little drain o’ spirits, which I seldom touches, but
could always wish to know where to find, if so dispoged, never knowin’
wot may happen next, the world bein’ so uncertain.’
‘Why, the old fool’s mad!’ cried Jonas, much disturbed.
‘That’s my opinion, sir,’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘and I will not deceive you. I
believe as Mr Chuffey, sir, rekwires attention (if I may make so bold),
and should not have his liberty to wex and worrit your sweet lady as he
does.’
‘Why, who minds what he says?’ retorted Jonas.
‘Still he is worritin’ sir,’ said Mrs Gamp. ‘No one don’t mind him, but
he IS a ill conwenience.’
‘Ecod you’re right,’ said Jonas, looking doubtfully at the subject of
this conversation. ‘I have half a mind to shut him up.’
Mrs Gamp rubbed her hands, and smiled, and shook her head, and sniffed
expressively, as scenting a job.
‘Could you--could you take care of such an idiot, now, in some spare
room upstairs?’ asked Jonas.
‘Me and a friend of mine, one off, one on, could do it, Mr Chuzzlewit,’
replied the nurse; ‘our charges not bein’ high, but wishin’ they was
lower, and allowance made considerin’ not strangers. Me and Betsey Prig,
sir, would undertake Mr Chuffey reasonable,’ said Mrs Gamp, looking at
him with her head on one side, as if he had been a piece of goods, for
which she was driving a bargain; ‘and give every satigefaction. Betsey
Prig has nussed a many lunacies, and well she knows their ways,
which puttin’ ‘em right close afore the fire, when fractious, is the
certainest and most compoging.’
While Mrs Gamp discoursed to this effect, Jonas was walking up and down
the room again, glancing covertly at the old clerk, as he did so. He now
made a stop, and said:
‘I must look after him, I suppose, or I may have him doing some
mischief. What say you?’
‘Nothin’ more likely!’ Mrs Gamp replied. ‘As well I have experienged, I
do assure you, sir.’
‘Well! Look after him for the present, and--let me see--three days from
this time let the other woman come here, and we’ll see if we can make
a bargain of it. About nine or ten o’clock at night, say. Keep your eye
upon him in the meanwhile, and don’t talk about it. He’s as mad as a
March hare!’
‘Madder!’ cried Mrs Gamp. ‘A deal madder!’
‘See to him, then; take care that he does no harm; and recollect what I
have told you.’
Leaving Mrs Gamp in the act of repeating all she had been told, and
of producing in support of her memory and trustworthiness, many
commendations selected from among the most remarkable opinions of the
celebrated Mrs Harris, he descended to the little room prepared for him,
and pulling off his coat and his boots, put them outside the door before
he locked it. In locking it, he was careful so to adjust the key as to
baffle any curious person who might try to peep in through the key-hole;
and when he had taken these precautions, he sat down to his supper.
‘Mr Chuff,’ he muttered, ‘it’ll be pretty easy to be even with YOU. It’s
of no use doing things by halves, and as long as I stop here, I’ll take
good care of you. When I’m off you may say what you please. But it’s
a d--d strange thing,’ he added, pushing away his untouched plate, and
striding moodily to and fro, ‘that his drivellings should have taken
this turn just now.’
After pacing the little room from end to end several times, he sat down
in another chair.
‘I say just now, but for anything I know, he may have been carrying on
the same game all along. Old dog! He shall be gagged!’
He paced the room again in the same restless and unsteady way; and then
sat down upon the bedstead, leaning his chin upon his hand, and looking
at the table. When he had looked at it for a long time, he remembered
his supper; and resuming the chair he had first occupied, began to eat
with great rapacity; not like a hungry man, but as if he were determined
to do it. He drank too, roundly; sometimes stopping in the middle of a
draught to walk, and change his seat and walk again, and dart back to
the table and fall to, in a ravenous hurry, as before.
It was now growing dark. As the gloom of evening, deepening into
night, came on, another dark shade emerging from within him seemed to
overspread his face, and slowly change it. Slowly, slowly; darker and
darker; more and more haggard; creeping over him by little and little,
until it was black night within him and without.
The room in which he had shut himself up, was on the ground floor, at
the back of the house. It was lighted by a dirty skylight, and had a
door in the wall, opening into a narrow covered passage or blind-alley,
very little frequented after five or six o’clock in the evening, and
not in much use as a thoroughfare at any hour. But it had an outlet in a
neighbouring street.
The ground on which this chamber stood had, at one time, not within his
recollection, been a yard; and had been converted to its present purpose
for use as an office. But the occasion for it died with the man who
built it; and saving that it had sometimes served as an apology for a
spare bedroom, and that the old clerk had once held it (but that was
years ago) as his recognized apartment, it had been little troubled by
Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son. It was a blotched, stained, mouldering room,
like a vault; and there were water-pipes running through it, which at
unexpected times in the night, when other things were quiet, clicked and
gurgled suddenly, as if they were choking.
The door into the court had not been open for a long, long time; but the
key had always hung in one place, and there it hung now. He was prepared
for its being rusty; for he had a little bottle of oil in his pocket and
the feather of a pen, with which he lubricated the key and the lock too,
carefully. All this while he had been without his coat, and had nothing
on his feet but his stockings. He now got softly into bed in the same
state, and tossed from side to side to tumble it. In his restless
condition that was easily done.
When he arose, he took from his portmanteau, which he had caused to be
carried into that place when he came home, a pair of clumsy shoes,
and put them on his feet; also a pair of leather leggings, such
as countrymen are used to wear, with straps to fasten them to the
waistband. In these he dressed himself at leisure. Lastly, he took out
a common frock of coarse dark jean, which he drew over his own
under-clothing; and a felt hat--he had purposely left his own upstairs.
He then sat himself down by the door, with the key in his hand, waiting.
He had no light; the time was dreary, long, and awful. The ringers were
practicing in a neighbouring church, and the clashing of the bells was
almost maddening. Curse the clamouring bells, they seemed to know that
he was listening at the door, and to proclaim it in a crowd of voices to
all the town! Would they never be still?
They ceased at last, and then the silence was so new and terrible that
it seemed the prelude to some dreadful noise. Footsteps in the court!
Two men. He fell back from the door on tiptoe, as if they could have
seen him through its wooden panels.
They passed on, talking (he could make out) about a skeleton which had
been dug up yesterday, in some work of excavation near at hand, and was
supposed to be that of a murdered man. ‘So murder is not always found
out, you see,’ they said to one another as they turned the corner.
Hush!
He put the key into the lock, and turned it. The door resisted for a
while, but soon came stiffly open; mingling with the sense of fever in
his mouth, a taste of rust, and dust, and earth, and rotting wood. He
looked out; passed out; locked it after him.
All was clear and quiet, as he fled away.