 18 Gliding along the silent streets and holding his course where they were darkest and most gloomy, the man who had left the widow's house crossed London Bridge and arriving in the city plunged into the back ways, lanes and courts between Cornhill and Smithfield, with no more fixedness of purpose than to lose himself among their windings and baffle pursuit if anyone were dogging his steps. It was the dead time of the night and all was quiet. Now and then a drowsy watchman's footsteps sounded on the pavement where the lamp-lighter on his rounds went flashing past, leaving behind a little track of smoke mingled with glowing morsels of his hot red link. He hid himself even from these partakers of his lonely walk, and shrinking in some arch or doorway while they passed, issued forth again when they were gone and so pursued his solitary way. To be shelterless and alone in the open country, hearing the wind moan and watching for days through the whole long weary night, to listen to the falling rain and crouch for warmth beneath the lee of some old barn or rick or in the hollow of the tree are dismal things, but not so dismal as the wandering up and down where shelter is and beds and sleepers are by thousands, a houseless rejected creature, to pace the echoing stones from hour to hour counting the dull chimes of the clock, to watch the lights twinkling in chamber windows, to think what happy forgetfulness each house shuts in, that here are children coiled together in their beds, here youth, here age, here poverty, here wealth, all equal in their sleep, and all at rest, to have nothing in common with the slumbering world around not even sleep, heaven's gift to all its creatures, and be akin to nothing but despair, to feel by the wretched contrast with everything on every hand more utterly alone and cast away than in a trackless desert. This is a kind of suffering on which the rivers of great cities close full many a time, and which the solitude and crowds alone awakens. The miserable man paced up and down the streets, so long, so wearisome, so like each other, and often cast a wistful look towards east, hoping to see the first faint streaks of day. But obdurate night had yet possession of the sky, and his disturbed and restless walk found no relief. One house in a back street was bright with the cheerful glare of lights. There was a sound of music in it too, and the tread of dancers, and there were cheerful voices and many a burst of laughter. To this place, to be near something that was awake and glad, he returned again and again, and more than one of those who left it when the merriment was at its height, felt at a check upon their mirthful mood to see him flitting to and fro like an uneasy ghost. At last the guests departed, one and all, and then the house was closed shut up and became as dull and silent as the rest. His wanderings brought him at one time to the city jail. Instead of hastening from it as a place of ill omen, and one he had caused to shun, he sat down on some steps, hard by, and resting his chin upon his hand, gazed upon its rough and frowning walls as though even they became a refuge in his jaded eyes. He paced it round and round, came back to the same spot, and sat down again. He did this often, and once, with a hasty movement, crossed to where some men were watching in the prison lodge, and had his foot upon the steps as though determined to accost them. But looking round, he saw that the day began to break, and failing in his purpose turned and fled. He was soon in the quarter he had lately traversed, and pacing to and fro again as he had done before. He was passing down a mean street, when from an alley close at hand some shouts of rebel rear rose, and there came straggling forth a dozen madcaps, whooping and calling to each other, who, parting noisily, took different ways and dispersed in smaller groups. Hoping that some low place of entertainment, which would afford him a safe refuge, might be near at hand, he turned into this court when they were all gone, and looked about for a half-open door, or lighted window, or other indication of the place once they had come. It was so profoundly dark, however, and so ill-favored, that he concluded they had but turned up there, missing their way, and were pouring out again when he observed them. With this impression, and finding there was no outlet but that by which he had entered, he was about to turn when from a grating near his feet a sudden stream of light appeared, and the sound of talking came. He retreated into a doorway to see who these talkers were and to listen to them. The light came to the level of the pavement as he did this, and a man ascended, bearing in his hand a torch. This figure unlocked and held open the grating as for the passage of another, who presently appeared in the form of a young man of small stature and uncommon self-importance, dressed in an obsolete and very gaudy fashion. Good night, noble captain, said he with the torch. Farewell, commander. Good luck, illustrious general. In return to these compliments, the other bade him hold his tongue and keep his noise to himself, and laid upon him many similar injunctions with great fluency of speech and sternness of manner. Commend me, captain, to the stricken migs, returns the torch bearer in a lower voice. My captain flies at higher gain than migs's. My captain is an eagle, both as respects his eye and soaring wings. My captain breaketh hearts as other bachelors break eggs at breakfast. What a fool you are, stag, said Mr. Tappertit, stepping on the pavement of the court and brushing from his legs the dust he had contracted in his passage upward. His precious limbs, cried stag, clasping one of his ankles. Shall a migs aspire to these proportions? No, no, my captain, we will invagle ladies fair and wed them in our secret cavern. We will unite ourselves with blooming beauties, captain. I'll tell you what, my buck, said Mr. Tappertit, releasing his leg. I'll trouble you not to take liberties and not to broach certain questions unless certain questions have broached to you. Speak when you're spoke to on particular subjects and not other ways. Hold the torch up till I've got to the end of the court and then channel yourself. Do you hear? I hear you, noble captain. Obey then, said Mr. Tappertit, haughtily, gentlemen, lead on. With which word of command, addressed to an imaginary staff or retinue, he folded his arms and walked with surpassing dignity down the court. His obsequious follower stood holding the torch above his head and then the observer saw for the first time from his place of concealment that he was blind. Some involuntary motion on his part caught the quick ear of the blind man before he was conscious of having moved an inch towards him, for he turned suddenly and cried, Who's there? A man, said the other, advancing a friend. A stranger rejoined the blind man. Strangers are not my friends. What do you do there? I saw your company come out and waited here till they were gone. I want a lodging. A lodging at this time returned stag, pointing towards the dawn as though he saw it. Do you know the day is breaking? I know it rejoined the other to my cost. I have been traversing this iron-hearted town all night. You had better traverse it again, said the blind man, preparing to descend, till you find some lodging suitable to your taste. I don't let any. Stay, cried the other, holding him by the arm. I'll beat this light about that hangdog face of yours, for hangdog it is if it answers to your voice, and rouse the neighborhood besides if you detain me, said the blind man, let me go. Do you hear? Do you hear? returns the other, chinking a few shillings together and hurriedly pressing them into his hand. I beg nothing of you. I will pay for the shelter you give me. Death! Is it much to ask of such as you? I have come from the country in desire to rest where there are none to question me. I am faint, exhausted, worn out, almost dead. Let me lie down like a dog before your fire. I ask no more than that. If you would be rid of me, I will depart tomorrow. If a gentleman has been unfortunate on the road, muttered stag, yielding to the other, who pressing on him had already gained a footing on the steps, and can pay for his accommodation, I will pay you with all I have. I am just now past the one of food, God knows, and wish but to purchase shelter. What companion have you below? None? Then fasten your grate there and show me the way, quick. The blind man complied after a moment's hesitation, and they descended together. The dialogue had passed as hurriedly as the words could be spoken, and they stood in his wretched room before he had had time to recover from his first surprise. May I see where that door leads to and what is beyond? said the man, glancing keenly round. You will not mind that? I will show you myself. Follow me or go before, take your choice. He bade him lead the way, and by the light of the torch which his conductor held up for the purpose, inspected all three sellers narrowly. Assured that the blind man had spoken truth, and that he lived there alone, the visitor returned with him to the first, in which a fire was burning, and flung himself with a deep groan upon the ground before it. His host pursued his usual occupation without seeming to heed him any further, but directly he fell asleep, and he noted his falling into a slumber as readily as the keenest sighted man could have done. He knelt down beside him and passed his hand lightly but carefully over his face and person. His sleep was checkered with starts and moans, and sometimes with a muttered word or two. His hands were clenched, his brow bent, and his mouth firmly set. All this the blind man accurately marked, and as if his curiosity were strongly awakened, and he had already some inkling of his mystery, he sat watching him, if the expression may be used, and listening, until it was broad day. CHAPTER XIX 19 Dolly Varden's pretty little head was yet bewildered by various recollections of the party, and her bright eyes were yet dazzled by a crowd of images dancing before them like moats and the sunbeams, among which the effigy of one partner in particular did especially figure, the same being a young coachmaker, a master in his own right, who had given her to understand when he handed her into the chair at parting, that it was his fixed resolve to neglect his business from that time and die slowly for the love of her. Dolly's head and eyes and thoughts and seven senses were all in a state of flutter and confusion for which the party was accountable, although it was now three days old, when, as she was sitting listlessly at breakfast, reading all manner of fortunes, that is to say of married and flourishing fortunes, in the grounds of her tea cup, a step was heard in the workshop, and Mr. Edward Chester was described through the glass door, standing among the rusty locks and keys like love among the roses, for which apt comparison the historian made by no means take any credit to himself, the same being the invention in a sentimental mood of the chaste and modest nigs, who beholding him from the door steps she was then cleaning, did in her maiden meditation give utterance to the simile. Locksmith, who happened at the moment to have his eyes thrown upward and his head backward in an intense communing with Toby, did not see his visitor until Mrs. Varden, more watchful than the rest, had desired Sim Tappertit to open the glass door and give him admission. From which untoward circumstance the good lady argued, for she could deduce a precious moral from the most trifling event, that to take a draft of small ale in the morning was to observe a pernicious, irreligious and pagan custom, the relish whereof should be left to swine and Satan, or at least to popish persons, and should be shunned by the righteous as a work of sin and evil. She would no doubt have pursued her admonition much further, and would have founded on it a long list of precious precepts of inestimable value, but that the young gentleman standing by in a somewhat uncomfortable and discomfited manner while she read her spouse this lecture, occasioned her to bring it to a premature conclusion. I'm sure you'll excuse me, sir, said Mrs. Varden, rising and curtsying. Varden is so very thoughtless and needs so much reminding. Sim, bring a chair here. Mr. Tappertit obeyed, with a flourish implying that he did so under protest. And you can go, Sim, said the locksmith. Mr. Tappertit obeyed again, still under protest, and, betaking himself to the workshop, began seriously to fear that he might find it necessary to poison his master before his time was out. In the meantime, Edward returned suitable replies to Mrs. Varden's courtesies, and that lady brightened up very much, so that when he accepted a dish of tea from the fair hands of Dolly, she was perfectly agreeable. I am sure if there's anything we can do, Varden or I, or Dolly either, to serve you, sir, at any time, you have only to say it, and it shall be done, said Mrs. V. I am much obliged to you, I am sure, returned Edward. You encouraged me to say that I have come here now to beg your good offices. Mrs. Varden was delighted beyond measure. It occurred to me that probably your fair daughter might be going to the Warren either today or tomorrow, said Edward, glancing at Dolly. And if so, and you will allow her to take charge of this letter, ma'am, you will oblige me more than I can tell you. The truth is that while I am very anxious it should reach its destination, I have particular reasons for not trusting it to any other conveyance, so that without your help I am wholly at a loss. She was not going that way, sir, either today or tomorrow, nor indeed all next week, the lady graciously rejoined, but we shall be very glad to put ourselves out of the way on your account, and if you wish it you may depend upon its going today. You might suppose, said Mrs. Varden, frowning at her husband, from Varden sitting there so glum and silent, that he objected to this arrangement, but you must not mind that, sir, if you please, it's his way at home. Out of doors he can be cheerful and talkative enough. Now the fact was that the unfortunate locksmith, blessing his stars to find his helpmate in such good humor, had been sitting with a beaming face, hearing this discourse with a joy past all expression. Wherefore, this sudden attack quite took him by surprise. My dear Martha, she said, oh yes, I dare say, interrupted Mrs. Varden with a smile of mingled scorn and pleasantry. Very dear, we all know that. No, but my good soul, said Gabriel, you are quite mistaken. You are indeed, I was delighted to find you so kind and ready. I waited, my dear, anxiously. I assure you, to hear what you would say. You waited anxiously, repeated Mrs. V. Yes, thank you, Varden. You waited, as you always do, that I might bear the blame if any came of it. But I am used to it, said the lady, with a kind of solemn titter, and that's my comfort. I give you my word, Martha, said Gabriel. Let me give you my word, my dear, interposed to his wife, with a Christian smile. That such discussions as these between married people are much better left alone. Therefore, if you please, Varden, we'll drop the subject. I have no wish to pursue it. I could. I might say a great deal, but I would rather not. Pray, don't say any more. I don't want to say any more, rejoined the goaded locksmith. Well, then don't, said Mrs. Varden. Nor did I begin it, Martha, added the locksmith, good humorally. I must say that. You did not begin it, Varden, exclaimed his wife, opening her eyes very wide and looking round upon the company as though she would say, you hear this man? You did not begin it, Varden, but you shall not say I was out of temper. No, you did not begin it. Oh, dear, no, not you, my dear. Well, well, said the locksmith, that settled then. Oh, yes, rejoined his wife, quite. If you like to say Dolly began it, my dear, I shall not contradict you. I know my duty. I need know it, I am sure. I am often obliged to bear it in mind when my inclination, perhaps, would be for the moment to forget it. Thank you, Varden. And so, with a mighty show of humility and forgiveness, she folded her hands and looked round again with a smile which plainly said, If you desire to see the first and foremost among female martyrs, here she is on view. This little incident, illustrative though it was of Mrs. Varden's extraordinary sweetness and amyability, had so strong attendancy to check the conversation and to disconcert all parties but that excellent lady, that only a few monosyllables were uttered until Edward withdrew, which he presently did, thanking the lady of the house a great many times for her condescension, and whispering in Dolly's ear that he would call on the morrow in case there should happen to be an answer to the note, which indeed she knew without his telling, as Barnaby and his friend Grip had dropped in on the previous night to prepare her for the visit which was then terminating. Gabriel, who had attended Edward to the door, came back with his hands in his pockets, and after fidgeting about the room in a very uneasy manner and casting a great many side long looks at Mrs. Varden, who, with the calmest countenance in the world, was five fathoms deep in the Protestant manual, inquired of Dolly how she meant to go. Dolly supposed by the stagecoach, and looked at her lady-mother, who, finding herself silently appealed to, dived down at least another fathom into the manual and became unconscious of all earthly things. Martha, said the locksmith, I hear you, Varden, said his wife, without rising to the surface. I am sorry, my dear, you have such an objection of the Maypole and old John, for other ways, as a very fine morning, and Saturday's not a busy day with us, we might have all three gone to Chigwell and the Chasen, and had quite a happy day of it. This is Varden immediately closed the manual, and bursting into tears requested to be led upstairs. What is the matter now, Martha, inquired the locksmith, to which Martha rejoined, oh, don't speak to me, and protested in agony that if anybody had told her so she wouldn't have believed it. But Martha, said Gabriel, putting himself in the way as she was moving off with the aid of Dolly's shoulder, wouldn't have believed what? Tell me what's wrong now, do tell me, upon my soul I don't know. Do you know, child? Danny, cried the locksmith, plucking in his wig and a kind of frenzy. Nobody does know, I verily believe, but Miggs. Miggs, said Mrs. Varden faintly and with symptoms of approaching incoherence, is attached to me, and that is sufficient to draw down hatred upon her in this house. She is the comfort to me, whatever she may be to others. She's no comfort to me, cried Gabriel, made bold by despair. She's the misery of my life. She's all the plagues of Egypt in one. She's considered so I have no doubts in Mrs. Varden. I was prepared for that. It's natural. It's of a peace with the rest. When you taunt me as you do to my face, how can I wonder that you taunt her behind her back? And here the incoherence coming on very strong. Mrs. Varden wept and laughed and sobbed and shivered and hiccuped and choked and said she knew it was very foolish, but she couldn't help it. And the ones who was dead and gone, perhaps they would be sorry for it, which really under the circumstances did not appear quite so probable as you seem to think, with a great deal more to the same effect. In a word, she passed with great decency through all the ceremonies incidental to such occasions, and being supported upstairs was deposited in a highly spasmodic state on her own bed, where Miss Miggs shortly afterwards flung herself upon the body. The philosophy of all this was that Mrs. Varden wanted to go to Chigwell, that she did not want to make any concession or explanation, that she would only go on being implored and then treated to do so, and that she would accept no other terms. Accordingly, after a vast amount of moaning and crying upstairs and much damping of foreheads and viningering of temples and heart shorning of noses and so forth, and after most pathetic adoration from Miggs, assisted by warm brandy and water not overweak and diverse other cordials, also of a stimulating quality, administered at first in teaspoonfuls and afterwards in increasing doses, and of which Miss Miggs herself partook as a preventive measure for fainting as infectious. After all, these remedies and many more too numerous to mention but not to take had been applied, and many verbal consolations, moral, religious, and miscellaneous, had been super-added thereto. The locksmith humbled himself, and the end was gained. If it's only for the sake of peace and quietness, Father, said Dolly, urging him to go upstairs. Oh, doll, doll, said her good-natured Father, if you ever have a husband of your own, Dolly glanced at the glass. Well, when you have, said the locksmith, never faint, my darling, more domestic unhappiness has come of easy fainting, Dolly, than from all the greater passions put together. Remember that, my dear, if you would be really happy which you never can be if your husband isn't, and a word in your ear, my precious, never have a Miggs about you. With this advice he kissed his blooming daughter on the cheek, and slowly repaired to Mrs. Varden's room, where that lady, lying all pale and languid on her couch, was refreshing herself with a sight of her last new bonnet, which Miggs, as a means of calming her scattered spirits, displayed to the best advantage at her bedside. Here's Master Mim, said Miggs, oh, what a happiness it is when man and wife come round again. Oh, gracious to think that him and hers should ever have a word together. In the energy of these sentiments, which were uttered as an apostrophe to the heavens in general, Miss Miggs perched the bonnet on the top of her own head, and folding her hands turned on her tears. I can't help it, cried Miggs. I couldn't if I was to be drowned in him. She has such a forgiving spirit. She'll forget all that has passed and go along with you, sir. Oh, if it was to the world then she'd go along with you. Mrs. Varden with a faint smile gently reproved her attendant for this enthusiasm, and reminded her at the same time that she was far too unwell to venture out that day. Oh, no you're not, Mim, indeed you're not, said Miggs. I repealed to Master. Master knows you're not, Mim. The hair and motion of the shea will do you good, Mim, and you must not give way. You must not, really. She must keep up, mustn't she, sir, for all our sakes. I was a-telling her that just now. She must remember us, even if she forgets herself. Master will persuade you, Mim, I'm sure. There's Miss Dolly's going, you know, and Master, and you, and all so happy and so comfortable. Oh! cried Miggs, turning on the tears again, previous to quitting the room in great emotion. I never see such a blessed one as she is for the forgiveness of her spirit. I never, never, never did. Not more did Master neither. No, nor no one. Never. For five minutes or thereabouts Mrs. Varden remained mildly opposed to all her husband's prayers that she would oblige him by taking a day's pleasure. But relenting at length she suffered herself to be persuaded in granting him her free forgiveness, the merit whereof, she meekly said, rested with the manual and not with her, desired that Miggs might come and help her dress. The handmaid attended promptly, and it is but justice to their joint exertions to record that when the good lady came downstairs in course of time, completely decked out for the journey, she really looked as if nothing had happened and appeared in the very best health imaginable. As to Dolly, there she was again, the very pink and pattern of good looks, in a smart little cherry colored mantle with a hood of the same drawn over her head, and upon the top of that hood, a little straw hat, trimmed with cherry colored ribbons, and worn the merest trifle on one side, just enough in short to make it the wickedest and most provoking headdress that ever malicious milliner devised. And not to speak of the manner in which these cherry colored decorations brightened her eyes, or vied with her lips, or shed a new bloom on her face, she wore such a cruel little muff and such a heart-rending pair of shoes, and was so surrounded and hammed in as it were by aggravations of all kinds, that when Mr. Tapetit, holding the horse's head, saw her come out of the house alone, such impulses came over him to decoy her into the chase and drive off like mad, that he would unquestionably have done it, but for certain uneasy doubts besetting him as to the shortest way to Gretna Green, whether it was up the street or down, or up the right hand turning or the left, and whether supposing all the turnpikes to be carried by storm the blacksmith in the end would marry them on credit, which by reason of his clerical office appeared even to his excited imagination so unlikely that he hesitated, and while he stood hesitating and looking post-chases in six at Dolly, out came his master and his mistress on the constant migs, and the opportunity was gone forever. For now the chase creaked upon its springs, and Mrs. Varden was inside, and now it creaked again, and more than ever, and the locksmith was inside, and now it bounded once as if its heart beat lightly, and Dolly was inside, and now it was gone, and its place was empty, and he, and that dreary migs were standing in the street together. The hearty locksmith was in as good a humor as if nothing had occurred for the last twelve months to put him out of his way. Dolly was all smiles and graces, and Mrs. Varden was agreeable beyond all precedent. As they jogged through the streets, talking of this thing and of that, who should be described upon the pavement but that very coachmaker, looking so genteel that nobody would have believed he had ever had anything to do with a coach but riding in it, and bowing like any nobleman. To be sure Dolly was confused when she bowed again, and to be sure the cherry colored ribbons trembled a little when she met his mournful eye, which seemed to say, I have kept my word, I have begun, the business is going to the devil, and you're the cause of it. There he stood, rooted to the ground, as Dolly said, like a statue, and as Mrs. Varden said, like a pump, till they turned the corner, and when her father thought it was like his impudence, and her mother wondered what he meant by it, Dolly blushed again till her very hood was pale. But on they went, not the less merrily for this, and there was a locksmith in the unconscious fullness of his heart pulling up at all manner of places, and evincing most intimate acquaintance with all the taverns on the road, and all the landlords and all the landlady's with whom indeed the little horse was on equally friendly terms, for he kept on stopping of his own accord. Never were people so glad to see other people, as these landlords and landlady's were, to behold Mr. Varden and Mrs. Varden and Ms. Varden, and wouldn't they get out, said one, and they really must walk upstairs, said another, and she would take it ill and be quite certain they were proud if they wouldn't have a little taste of something, to have a third, and so on, that it was really quite a progress, rather than a ride, and one continued scene of hospitality from beginning to end. It was pleasant enough to be held in such esteem, not to mention the refreshments, so Mrs. Varden said nothing at the time, and was all affability and delight, but such a body of evidences she collected against the unfortunate locksmith that day, to be used thereafter as occasion might require, never was got together for matrimonial purposes. In course of time, and in course of a pretty long time, too, for these agreeable interruptions delayed them not a little. They arrived upon the scourts of the forest, and riding pleasantly on among the trees, came at last to the maypole, where the locksmith's cheerful Yeho! speedily brought to the porch old John, and after him young Joe, both of whom were so transfixed at sight of the ladies, that for a moment they were perfectly unable to give them any welcome, and could do nothing but stare. It was only for a moment, however, that Joe forgot himself, for speedily reviving he thrust his drowsy father aside to Mr. Willet's mighty and inexpressible indignation, and darting out stood ready to help them to alight. It was necessary for Dolly to get out first. Joe had her in his arms, yes, though for a space of time no longer than you could count one in, Joe had her in his arms. Here was a glimpse of happiness. It would be difficult to describe what a flat and commonplace affair the helping Mrs. Varden out afterwards was, but Joe did it, and did it too with the best grace in the world. Then old John, who entertaining a dull and foggy sort of idea that Mrs. Varden wasn't fond of him, had been in some doubt whether she might not have come for purposes of assault and battery, took courage, hoped she was well, and offered to conduct her into the house. This tender being amicably received, they marched in together. Joe and Dolly followed arm in arm, happiness again, and Varden brought up the rear. Old John would have it that they must sit in the bar, and nobody objecting into the bar they went. All bars are snug places, but the maypoles was the very snuggest, coziest and completest bar that ever the would of man devised. Such amazing bottles and old oak and pigeonholes, such gleaming tankards dangling from pegs, and about the same inclination as thirsty men would hold them to their lips, such sturdy little Dutch kegs, ranged in rows on shelves, so many lemons hanging in separate nets, and forming the fragrant grove already mentioned in this chronicle, suggestive, with goodly loaves of snowy sugar stowed away hard by, of punch, idealized beyond all mortal knowledge. Such closets, such presses, such drawers full of pipes, such places for putting things away in hollow window seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables, drinkables, or savory condiments. Lastly, and to crown all, as typical of the immense resources of the establishment and its defiances to all visitors to cut and come again, such as dependent cheese, it is a poor heart that never rejoices. It must have been the poorest, weakest and most watery heart that ever beat, which would not have warmed towards the Maple Bar. Mrs. Vardens did directly. She could no more have reproached John Willard among those household gods, the kegs and bottles, lemons, pipes and cheese, than she could have stabbed him with his own bright carving knife. The order for dinner, too, it might have soothed the savage. A bit of fish, said John to the cook, and some lamb chops, breaded with plenty of ketchup, and a good salad and a roast spring chicken with a dish of sausages and mashed potatoes or something of that sort, something of that sort. The resources of these ends, to talk carelessly about dishes which in themselves were a first rate holiday kind of dinner, suitable to one's wedding day, is something of that sort. Meaning, if you can't get a spring chicken, any other trifle in the way of poultry will do, such as a peacock, perhaps. The kitchen, too, with its great broad, charanis chimney, the kitchen where nothing in the way of cookery seemed impossible, where you could believe in anything to eat they chose to tell you of, Mrs. Vardens returned from the contemplation of these wanderers to the bar again with her head quite dizzy and bewildered. Her housekeeping capacity was not large enough to comprehend them. She was obliged to go to sleep. Waking was pain in the midst of such immensity. Dolly, in the meanwhile, whose gay heart and head ran upon other matters, passed out at the garden door, in glancing back now and then, but of course not wondering whether Joe saw her, tripped away by a path across the fields with which she was well acquainted, to discharge her mission at the Warren. And this deponent has been informed and verily believes that you might have seen many less pleasant objects than the cherry colored mantel and ribbons as they went fluttering along the green meadows in the bright light of the day, like giddy things as they were. End of Chapter 19 Chapter 20 of Barnaby Rudge. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens. Chapter 20 The proud consciousness of her trust and the great importance she derived from it might have advertised it to all the house if she had had to run the gauntlet of its inhabitants. But as Dolly had played in every dull room and passage many and many a time when a child, and had ever since been the humble friend of Miss Herodale, whose foster sister she was, she was as free of the building as the young lady herself. So using no greater precaution than holding her breath and walking on tiptoes she passed the library door. She went straight to Emma's room as a privileged visitor. It was the liveliest room in the building. The chamber was somber like the rest for the matter of that. But the presence of use and beauty would make a prison cheerful. Saving alas that confinement withers them and lends some charms of their own to the gloomiest scene. Birds, flowers, books, drawing, music, and a hundred such graceful tokens of feminine loves and cares filled it with more of life and human sympathy than the whole house besides seemed made to hold. There was heart in the room, and who that has a heart ever fails to recognize the silent presence of another. Dolly had one undoubtedly, and it was not a tough one either. Though there was a little mist of coquettishness about it, such as sometimes surrounds that son of life in its morning and slightly dims its luster. Thus when Emma rose to greet her, and kissing her affectionately on the cheek, told her in her quiet way that she had been very unhappy, the tears stood in Dolly's eyes, and she felt more sorry than she could tell. But next moment she happened to raise them to the glass, and really there was something there so exceedingly agreeable that as she sighed she smiled and felt surprisingly consoled. I have heard about it, Miss, said Dolly, and it's very sad indeed, but when things are at the worst they are sure to mend. But are you sure they are at the worst? asked Emma with a smile. Why, I don't see how they can very well be more unpromising than they are. I really don't, said Dolly, and I bring something to begin with. Not from Edward. Dolly nodded and smiled, and feeling in her pockets, there were pockets in those days, with an affectation of not being able to find what she wanted, which greatly enhanced her importance, at length produced the letter. As Emma hastily broke the seal and became absorbed in its contents, Dolly's eyes, by one of those strange accidents for which there was no accounting, wandered to the glass again. She could not help wondering whether the coach-maker suffered very much, and quite pitied the poor man. It was a long letter, a very long letter, written close on all four sides of the sheet of paper, and crossed afterwards. But it was not a consolatory letter, for as Emma read it she stopped from time to time to put her handkerchief to her eyes. To be sure Dolly marveled greatly to see her in so much distress, for to her thinking a love affair ought to be one of the best jokes and the slyest, merriest kind of thing in life. But she said it down in her own mind that all this came from Miss Herodales being so constant, and that if she would only take on with some other young gentleman, just in the most innocent way possible, to keep her first lover up to the mark, she would find herself inexpressibly comforted. I am sure that's what I should do if it was me, thought Dolly. To make one's sweetheart miserable is well enough and quite right, but to be made miserable oneself is a little too much. However, it wouldn't do to say so, and therefore she sat looking on in silence. She needed a pretty considerable stretch of patience, for when the long letter had been read once all through it was read again, and when it had been read twice all through it was read again. During this tedious process Dolly beguiled the time in the most improving manner that occurred to her, by curling her hair on her fingers with the aid of the looking-glass before mentioned, and giving it some killing twists. Everything has an end. Even young ladies in love cannot read their letters forever. In course of time the packet was folded up, and it only remained to write the answer. But as this promised to be a work of time likewise, Emma said she would put it off until after dinner, and that Dolly must dine with her. As Dolly had made up her mind to do so beforehand, she required very little pressing, and when they had settled this point they went to walk in the garden. They strolled up and down the terrace walks, talking incessantly, at least Dolly never left off once, and making that quarter of the sad and mournful house quite gay. Not that they talked loudly or laughed much, but they were both so very handsome, and it was such a breezy day, and their light dresses and dark curls appeared so free and joyous in their abandonment, and Emma was so fair, and Dolly so rosy, and Emma so delicately shaped, and Dolly so plump, and in short there are no flowers for any garden like such flowers, that horticulturists say what they may, and both house and garden seem to know it and to brighten up sensibly. After this came the dinner and the letter writing, and some more talking, in the course of which Miss Haerdale took occasion to charge upon Dolly certain flirtish and inconstant propensities, which accusations Dolly seemed to think very complimentary indeed, and to be mightily amused with. Finding her quite incorrigible in this respect, Emma suffered her to depart, but not before she had confided to her that important and never sufficiently to be taken care of answer, and endowed her moreover with a pretty little bracelet as a keepsake. Having clasped it on her arm, and again advised her half ingest and half in earnest to amend her roguish ways, for she knew she was fond of Joe at heart, which Dolly stoutly denied with a great many haughty protestations that she hoped she could do better than that indeed, and so forth. She bade her farewell, and after calling her back to give her more supplementary messages for Edward than anybody with ten-fold the gravity of Dolly Varden could be reasonably expected to remember at length dismiss her. Dolly bade her goodbye, and tripping lightly down the stairs arrived at the dreaded library door, and was about to pass it again on tiptoe when it opened, and, behold, there stood Mr. Haerdale. Now Dolly had from her childhood associated with this gentleman the idea of something grim and ghostly, and being at the moment conscious-stricken besides, the sight of him threw her into such a flurry that she could neither acknowledge his presence nor run away, so she gave a great start, and then, with downcast eyes, stood still and trembled. Come here, girl, said Mr. Haerdale, taking her by the hand. I want to speak to you. If you please, sir, I am in a hurry, faltered Dolly, and you have frightened me by coming so suddenly upon me, sir. I would rather go, sir, if you would be so good as to let me. Immediately, said Mr. Haerdale, who had by this time led her into the room and closed the door, you shall go directly. You have just left Emma? Yes, sir, just this minute. Father is waiting for me, sir, if you are pleased to have the goodness. I know, I know, said Mr. Haerdale. Answer me a question. What did you bring here today? Bring here, sir? faltered Dolly. You will tell me the truth, I am sure, yes. Dolly hesitated for a little while, and somewhat emboldened by his manner, said at last. Well, then, sir, it was a letter. From Mr. Edward Chester, of course, and you are the bearer of the answer? Dolly hesitated again, and not being able to decide upon any other course of action burst into tears. You alarm yourself without cause, said Mr. Haerdale. Why are you so foolish? Surely you can answer me. You know that I have, but to put the question to Emma and learn the truth directly, have you the answer with you? Dolly had what is popularly called a spirit of her own, and being now fairly at bay made the best of it. Yes, sir, she rejoined, trembling and frightened as she was. Yes, sir, I have. You may kill me if you please, sir, but I won't give it up. I am very sorry, but I won't there, sir. I commend your firmness and your plain speaking, said Mr. Haerdale. Rest assured that I have as little desire to take your letter as your life. You are a very discreet messenger and a good girl. Not feeling quite certain, as she afterward said, whether he might not be coming over her with these compliments, Dolly kept as far from him as she could, cried again, and resolved to defend her pocket for the letter was there, to the last extremity. I have some design, said Mr. Haerdale after a short silence, during which a smile, as he regarded her, had struggled through the gloom and melancholy that was natural to his face, of providing a companion for my niece, for her life is a very lonely one. Would you like the office? You are the oldest friend she has, and the best entitled to it. I don't know, sir, answered Dolly. Not sure, but he was bantering her. I can't say. I don't know what they might wish at home. I couldn't give an opinion, sir. If your friends had no objection, would you have any, said Mr. Haerdale? Come, there is a plain question and easy to answer. Not at all that I know of, sir, replied Dolly. I should be very glad to be near Miss Emma, of course, and always am. That's well, said Mr. Haerdale. That is all I had to say. You are anxious to go. Don't let me detain you. Dolly didn't let him, nor did she wait for him to try, for the words had no sooner past his lips than she was out of the room, out of the house, and in the fields again. The first thing to be done, of course, when she came to herself, and considered what a flurry she had been in, was to cry afresh, and the next thing, when she reflected how well she had got over it, was to laugh heartily. The tears once banished gave place to the smiles, and at last Dolly laughed so much that she was feigned to lean against the tree and give vent to her exultation. When she could laugh no longer, and was quite tired, she put her head dressed to rights, dried her eyes, looked back very merrily and triumphantly at the warren chimneys which were just visible, and resumed her walk. The twilight had come on, and it was quickly growing dusk, but the path was so familiar to her from frequent traversing that she hardly thought of this, and certainly felt no uneasiness at being left alone. Moreover, there was the bracelet to admire, and when she had given it a good rub and held it out at arm's length, it sparkled and glittered so beautifully on her wrist that to look at it in every point of view and with every possible turn of the arm was quite an absorbing business. There was the letter too, and it looked so mysterious and knowing when she took it out of her pocket, and it held, as she knew, so much inside that to turn it over and over and think about it and wonder how it began and how it ended and what it said all through was another matter of constant occupation. Between the bracelet and the letter there was quite enough to do without thinking of anything else, and admiring each by turn Stolly went on gaily. As she passed through a wicket gate to where the path was narrow and lay between two hedges garnished here and there with trees, she heard a rustling close at hand which brought her to a sudden stop. She listened. All was very quiet and she went on again, not absolutely frightened but a little quicker than before perhaps and possibly not quite so much at her ease for a check of that kind of startling. She had no sooner moved on again than she was conscious of the same sound which was like that of a person tramping stealthily among bushes and brushwood. Looking towards the spot, once it appeared to come, she almost fancied she could make out a crouching figure. She stopped again. All was quiet as before. On she went once more, decidedly faster now, and tried to sing softly to herself. It must be the wind. But how came the wind to blow only when she walked and ceased when she stood still? She stopped involuntarily as she made the reflection and the rustling noise stopped likewise. She was really frightened now and was yet hesitating what to do when the bushes crackled and snapped and a man came plunging through them close before her. CHAPTER XXI It was for the moment an inexpressible relief to Dolly to recognize and the person who forced himself into the path so abruptly and now stood directly in her way, Hugh of the Maypole, whose name she uttered in a tone of delighted surprise that came from her heart. Was it you? She said, glad I am to see you. And how could you terrify me so? In answer to which he said nothing at all but stood quite still looking at her. Did you come to meet me? asked Dolly. Hugh nodded and muttered something to the effect that he had been waiting for her and had expected her sooner. I thought it likely they would send, said Dolly, greatly reassured by this. Nobody sent me, was his selling answer. I come of my own accord. The rough bearing of this fellow and his wild uncouth appearance had often filled the girl with a vague apprehension even when other people were by, and had occasioned her to shrink from him involuntarily. The having him for an unbidden companion in so solitary a place, with the darkness fast gathering about them, renewed and even increased the alarm she had felt at first. If his manner had been merely dogged and passively fierce as usual, she would have had no greater dislike to his company than she always felt. Perhaps indeed would have been rather glad to have had him at hand. But there was something of coarse bold admiration in his look which terrified her very much. She glanced timidly towards him, uncertain whether to go forward or retreat, and he stood gazing at her like a handsome sadder, and so they remained for some short time without stirring or breaking silence. At length Dolly took courage, shot past him, and hurried on. Why do you spend so much breath in avoiding me, said Hugh, accommodating his pace to hers and keeping close at her side? I wish to get back as quickly as I can, and you walk too near me, answered Dolly. To near? said Hugh, stooping over her so that she could feel his breath upon her forehead. Why to near? You're always proud to me, mistress. I am proud to know one. You mistake me, answered Dolly. Fall back if you please or go on. Nay, mistress, he rejoined, endeavoring to draw her arm through his. I'll walk with you. She released herself, and clenching her little hand struck him with right goodwill. At this, may Paul Hugh burst into a roar of laughter, and passing his arm about her waist, held her in his strong grasp as easily as if she had been a bird. Ha, ha, ha! Well done, mistress. Strike again. You shall beat my face and tear my hair and pluck my beard up by the roots, and welcome, for the sake of your bright eyes. Strike again, mistress, do. Ha, ha, ha! I like it. Let me go, she cried, endeavoring with both her hands to push him off. Let me go this moment. You had as good be kinder to me, sweet lips, said Hugh. You had indeed. Come, tell me now, why are you always so proud? I don't quarrel with you for it. I love you when you're proud. Ha, ha, ha! You can't hide your beauty from a poor fellow, that's a comfort. She gave him no answer. But, as he had not yet checked her progress, continued to press forward as rapidly as she could. At length, between the hurries she had made, her terror and the tightness of his embrace, her strength failed her and she could go no further. Hugh, cried the panting girl, could Hugh, if you will leave me, I will give you anything, every thing I have, and never tell one word of this to any living creature. You had best not, he answered. Hark, you little dove, you had best not. All about here know me, and what I dare do if I have a mind. If ever you are going to tell, stop, when the words are on your lips, and think of the mischief you'll bring, if you do, upon some innocent heads that you wouldn't wish to hurt a hair of. Bring trouble on me, and I'll bring trouble and something more on them in return. I care no more for them than for so many dogs. Not so much, why should I? I'd sooner kill a man than a dog any day. I've never been sorry for a man's death in all my life, and I have for a dog. There was something so thoroughly savage in the manner of these expressions and the looks and gestures by which they were accompanied that her great fear of him gave her new strength and enabled her by a sudden effort to extricate herself and run fleetly from him. But Hugh was as nimble, strong, and swift of foot as any man in broad England, and it was but a fruitless expenditure of energy, for he had her in his encircling arms again before she had gone a hundred yards. Softly, darling, gently, would you fly from rough Hugh that loves you as well as any drawing room galant? I would, she answered, struggling to free herself again. I will. Help! A fine for crying out, said Hugh. Ha, ha, ha. A fine, pretty one, from your lips. I pay myself. Ha, ha, ha. Help, help, help! As she shrieked with the utmost violence she could exert, a shout was heard in answer, and another, and another. Tank heaven! cried the girl in an ecstasy. Joe, dear Joe, this way, help! Her assailant paused and stood here resolute for a moment, but the shouts drawing nearer and coming quick upon them forced him to a speedy decision. He released her, whispered with a menacing look. Tell him and see what follows. And leaping the hedge was gone in an instant. Finally darted off and fairly ran into Joe Willet's open arms. What is the matter? Are you hurt? What was it? Who was it? Where is he? What was he like? With the great many encouraging expressions and assurances of safety were the first words Joe poured forth. But poor little Dolly was so breathless and terrified that for some time she was quite unable to answer him and hung upon his shoulder, sobbing and crying as if her heart would break. Joe had not the smallest objection to have her hanging on his shoulder, no not the least, though it crushed the cherry-colored ribbons sadly and put the smart little hat out of all shape. But he couldn't bear to see her cry. It went to his very heart. He tried to console her, bent over her, whispered to her. Some say kissed her, but that's a fable. At any rate, he said all the kind and tender things he could think of, and Dolly let him go on and didn't interrupt him once, and it was a good ten minutes before she was able to raise her head and thank him. What was it that frightened you? said Joe. A man whose person was unknown to her had followed her, she answered. He began by begging and went on to threats of robbery, which he was on the point of carrying into execution and would have executed but for Joe's timely aid. The hesitation and confusion with which she said this Joe attributed to the fright she had sustained, and no suspicion of the truth occurred to him for a moment. Stop when the words are on your lips. A hundred times that night and very often afterwards, when the disclosure was rising to her tongue, Dolly thought of that and repressed it. A deeply rooted dread of the man, the conviction that his ferocious nature once roused would stop at nothing, and the strong assurance that if she impeached him the full measure of his wrath and vengeance would be wreaked on Joe who had preserved her. These were considerations she had not the courage to overcome, and inducements to secrecy too powerful for her to surmount. Joe, for his part, was a great deal too happy to inquire very curiously into the matter. And Dolly, being yet too tremulous to walk without assistance, they went forward very slowly and in his mind very pleasantly until the Maypole lights were near at hand twinkling their cheerful welcome. And Dolly stopped suddenly, and with a half scream exclaimed, The letter! What letter? cried Joe. That I was carrying. I had it in my hand. My bracelet, too, she said, clasping her wrist. I have lost them both. Do you mean just now? said Joe. Either I dropped them then or they were taken from me, answered Dolly, vainly searching her pocket and rustling her dress. They are gone, both gone. What an unhappy girl I am! With these words, poor Dolly, who to do her justice was quite as sorry for the loss of the letter as for her bracelet, fell a-crying again and bemoaned her fate most movingly. Joe tried to comfort her with the assurance that directly he had housed her in the Maypole he would return to the spot with a lantern, for it was now quite dark, and make strict search for the missing articles, which there was great probability of his finding as it was not likely that anybody had passed that way since, and she was not conscious that they had been forcibly taken from her. Dolly thanked him very heartily for this offer, though with no great hope of his quest being successful, and so with many lamentations on her side and many hopeful words on his, and much weakness on the part of Dolly, and much tender supporting on the part of Joe, they reached the Maypole bar at last, where the locksmith and his wife and old John were yet keeping high festival. Mr. Willet received the intelligence of Dolly's trouble with that surprising presence of mind and readiness of speech for which he was so eminently distinguished above all other men. Mrs. Varden expressed her sympathy for her daughter's distress by scolding her roundly for being so late, and the honest locksmith divided himself between condoling with and kissing Dolly and shaking hands heartily with Joe whom he could not sufficiently praise or thank. In reference to this latter point, old John was far from agreeing with his friend, for besides that he by no means approved of an adventurous spirit in the abstract, it occurred to him that if his son and heir had been seriously damaged in a scuffle, the consequences would assuredly have been expensive and inconvenient, and might perhaps approve detrimental to the Maypole business. Wherefore, and because he looked with no favorable eye upon young girls, but rather considered that they and the whole female sex were a kind of nonsensical mistake on the part of nature, he took occasion to retire and shake his head in private at the boiler, inspired by which silent oracle he was moved to give Joe various stealthy nudges with his elbow as a parental reproof and gentle admonition to mind his own business and not make a fool of himself. Joe, however, took down the lantern and lighted it, and arming himself with a stout stick asked whether Hugh was in the stable. He's lying asleep before the kitchen fire, sir, said Mr. Willet. What do you want him for? I want him to come with me to look after this bracelet and letter, answered Joe. Hello there, Hugh. Dolly turned pale as death, and felt as if she must faint forthwith. After a few moments, Hugh came staggering in, stretching himself and yawning according to custom, and presenting every appearance of having been roused from a sound nap. Here, sleepyhead, said Joe, giving him the lantern, carry this and bring the dog and that small cudgel of yours, and roll betide the fellow if we come upon him. What fellow? growled Hugh, rubbing his eyes and shaking himself. What fellow? returned Joe, who was in a state of great valor and bustle. A fellow you ought to know of and be more alive about, as well for the likes of you, lazy giant that you are, to be snoring your time away in chimney corners when honest men's daughters can't cross even our quiet meadows at nightfall without being set upon by foot-pads and frightened out of their precious lives. They never robbed me, cried Hugh with a laugh, I have got nothing to lose, but I at least knocked them at head as any other men. How many are there? Only one, said Dolly faintly, for everybody looked at her. And what was he like, mistress? said Hugh, with a glance at young Willet, so slight and momentary that the scowl it conveyed was lost on all but her. About my height? Not so tall, Dolly replied, scarce knowing what she said. His dress, said Hugh, looking at her keenly, like any of ours now? I know all the people hereabouts and maybe could give him a guess at the man if I had anything to guide me. Dolly faltered and turned paler yet, then answered that he was wrapped in a loose coat and had his face hidden by a handkerchief and that she could give no other description of him. She wouldn't know him if he saw him then be like, said Hugh with a malicious grin. I should not, answered Dolly, bursting into tears again. I don't wish to see him, I can't bear to think of him. I can't talk about him any more. Don't go and look for these things, Mr. Joe, pray don't. I entreat you not to go with that man. Not to go with me, cried Hugh. I'm too rough for them all, they're all afraid of me. I bless you, mistress, I have the tenderest heart alive. I love all the ladies, ma'am, said Hugh, turning to the locksmith's wife. Mrs. Varden opines that if he did he ought to be ashamed of himself, such sentiments being more consistent, so she argued, with a benighted muscleman or wild islander than was a staunch protestant. Arguing from this imperfect state of his morals, Mrs. Varden further opines that he had never studied the manual. Hugh admitting that he never had, and moreover that he couldn't read, Mrs. Varden declared with much severity that he ought to be even more ashamed of himself than before and strongly recommended him to save up his pocket money for the purchase of one and further to teach himself the contents with all convenient diligence. She was still pursuing this train of discourse when Hugh, somewhat unceremoniously and irreverently, followed his young master out and left her to edify the rest of the company. This she proceeded to do in finding that Mr. Willet's eyes were fixed upon her with an appearance of deep attention, gradually addressed the whole of her discourse to him, whom she entertained with a moral and theological lecture of considerable lengths in the conviction that great workings were taking place in his spirit. The simple truth was, however, that Mr. Willet, although his eyes were wide open and he saw a woman before him whose head by long and steady looking at seemed to grow bigger and bigger until it filled the whole bar, was to all other intents and purposes fast asleep. And so sat leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets until his son's return caused him to wake up with a deep sigh and a faint impression that he had been dreaming about, pickled pork and greens, a vision of his slumbers which was no doubt referable to the circumstance of Mrs. Vardens having frequently pronounced the word grace with much emphasis, which word entering the portals of Mr. Willet's brain as they stood a jar and coupling itself with the words before meat, which were there ranging about, did in time suggest a particular kind of meat together with that description of vegetable which is usually its companion. The search was wholly unsuccessful. Joe had groped along the path a dozen times, and among the grass and in the dry ditch and in the hedge, but all in vain. Dolly, who was quite inconsolable for her loss, wrote a note to Miss Herdale, giving her the same account of it that she had given at the maypole, which Joe undertook to deliver as soon as the family was stirring next day. That done they sat down to tea in the bar where there was an uncommon display of buttered toast, and in order that they might not grow faint for want of sustenance and might have a decent halting-place or halfway house between dinner and supper, a few savory trifles in the shape of great rashes of broiled ham with being well cured, done to a turn and smoking hot, sent forth attempting in delicious fragrance. Mrs. Varden was seldom very protestant at meals, unless it happened that they were underdone or overdone, or indeed that anything occurred to put her out of humor. Her spirit rose considerably on beholding these goodly preparations, and from the nothingness of good works she passed to the somethingness of ham and toast with great cheerfulness. Nay, under the influence of these wholesome stimulants, she sharply reproved her daughter for being low and despondent, which she considered an unacceptable frame of mind, and remarked, as she held her own plate for a fresh supply, that it would be well for Dolly, who pined over the loss of a toy and a sheet of paper, if she would reflect upon the voluntary sacrifices of the missionaries in foreign parts who lived chiefly on salads. The proceedings of such a day, a change in various fluctuations in the human thermometer, and especially in instruments so sensitively and delicately constructed as Mrs. Varden. Thus at dinner Mrs. Vee stood at summer heat, genial, smiling, and delightful. After dinner, in the sunshine of the wine, she went up at least half a dozen degrees, and was perfectly enchanting. As its effects subsided, she fell rapidly, went to sleep for an hour or so temperate, and woke at something below freezing. Now she was at summer heat again, in the shade, and when tea was over, and old John, producing a bottle of cordial from one of the Oakland cases, insisted on her sipping two glasses there of in slow succession. She stood steadily at 90 for one hour and a quarter. Profiting by experience, the locksmith took advantage of this genial weather, the smoke is piping the porch, and in consequence of this prudent management, he was fully prepared when the glass went down again to start homewards directly. The horse was accordingly put in, and the chaise brought round to the door. Joe, who would on no account be dissuaded from escorting them until they had passed the most dreary and solitary part of the road, led out the gray mare at the same time. And having helped Dolly into her seat, more happiness, sprung gaily into the saddle. Then, after many good nights, and admonitions to wrap up, and glancing of lights, and handing in of cloaks and shawls, the chaise rolled away, and Joe trotted beside it, on Dolly's side, no doubt, and pretty close to the wheel, too. CHAPTER XXII It was a fine bright night, and for all her lowness of spirits Dolly kept looking up at the stars in a manner so bewitching, and she knew it, that Joe was clean out of his senses, and plainly showed that if ever a man were not to say overhead in ears, but over the monument and the top of St. Paul's in love, that man was himself. The road was a very good one, not at all a jolting road, or an uneven one, and yet Dolly held the side of the chaise with one little hand all the way. If there had been an executioner behind him, with an uplifted axe ready to chop off his head if he touched that hand, Joe couldn't have helped doing it. From putting his own hand upon it, as if by chance, and taking it away again after a minute or so, he got to riding along without taking it off at all, as if he, the escort, were bound to do that as an important part of his duty, and had come out for the purpose. The most curious circumstance about this little incident was that Dolly didn't seem to know of it. She looked so innocent and unconscious when she turned her eyes on Joe that it was quite provoking. She talked, though, talked about her fright and about Joe's coming up to rescue her and about her gratitude and about her fear that she might not have thanked him enough, and about there always being friends from that time forth, and about all that sort of thing. And when Joe said not friends, he hoped. Dolly was quite surprised and said not enemies, she hoped. And when Joe said couldn't they be something much better than either? Dolly all of a sudden found out a star, which was brighter than all the other stars, and begged to call his attention to the same, and was ten thousand times more innocent and unconscious than ever. In this manner they traveled along, talking very little above a whisper, and wishing the road could be stretched out to some dozen times its natural length, at least that was Joe's desire, when, as they were getting clear of the forest and emerging on the more frequented road, they heard behind them the sound of a horse's feet at a round trot, which growing rapidly louder as it drew nearer elicited a scream from Mrs. Varden and the cry, a friend from the rider who now came panting up and checked his horse beside them. This man again, cried Dolly, shuddering. Hugh said, Joe, what errand are you upon? I come to ride back with you, he answered, glancing covertly at the locksmith's daughter. He sent me. My father, said poor Joe, adding under his breath, with a very unfilial apostrophe, will he never think me man enough to take care of myself? I returned Hugh to the first part of the inquiry. The roads are not safe just now, he says, and you'd better have a companion. Ride on, then, said Joe, I'm not going to turn yet. Hugh complied, and they went on again. It was his whim or humor to ride immediately before the chase, and from this position he constantly turned his head and looked back. Dolly felt that he looked at her, but she averted her eyes and feared to raise them once, so great was the dread with which he had inspired her. This interruption and the consequent wakefulness of Mrs. Varden, who had been nodding in her sleep up to this point, except for a minute or two at a time, when she roused herself to scold the locksmith for audaciously taking hold of her to prevent her nodding herself out of the chase, put a restraint upon the whispered conversation, and made it difficult of resumption. Indeed, before they had gone another mile, Gabriel stopped at his wife's desire, and that good lady protested she would not hear of Joe's going a step further on any account whatever. It was in vain for Joe to protest, on the other hand, that he was by no means tired and would turn back presently, and would see them safely past such a point and so forth. Mrs. Varden was obdurate and being so was not to be overcome by mortal agency. Good night, if I must say it, said Joe sorrowfully. Good night, said Dolly. She would have added, take care of that man and pray don't trust him. But he had turned his horse's head and was standing close to them. She had therefore nothing for it but to suffer Joe to give her hand a gentle squeeze, and when the chase had gone on for some distance, to look back and wave it, as he still lingered on the spot where they had parted, with the tall dark figure of Hugh beside him. What she thought about going home, and whether the coachmaker held as favourable a place in her meditations as he had occupied in the morning, is unknown. They reached home at last. At last, for it was a long way, made none the shorter by Mrs. Varden's grumbling. Niggs, hearing the sound of wheels, was at the door immediately. Here they are, Simon, here they are, cried Niggs, clapping her hands and issuing forth to help her mistress to alight. Bring a chair, Simon, and I'll ant you the better for it, Mim. Don't you feel more yourself than you would have done if you had stopped at home? O gracious, how cold you are! Goodness me, sir, she's a perfect heap of ice. I can't help it, my good girl, you had better take her into the fire, said the locksmith. Master sounds unfeeling, Mim, said Niggs, in a tone of commiseration. But such is not his intentions, I'm sure. After what he has seen of you this day, I never will believe that he has a deal more affection in his heart than to speak unkind. Come in and sit yourself down by the fire. There is a good, dear, do. Mrs. Varden complied. The locksmith followed with his hands in his pockets, and Mr. Tappertit trundled off with the chase to a neighboring stable. Martha, my dear, said the locksmith when they reached the parlor. If you'll look to Dolly yourself or let somebody else do it, perhaps it will be only kind and reasonable. She has been frightened, you know, and is not at all well tonight. In fact, Dolly had thrown herself upon the sofa, quite regardless of all the little finery of which she had been so proud in the morning, and with her face buried in her hands was crying very much. At first sight of this phenomenon, for Dolly was by no means accustomed to displays of this sort, rather learning from her mother's example to avoid them as much as possible. Mrs. Varden expressed her belief that never was any woman so beset as she, that her life was a continued scene of trial, that whenever she was disposed to be well and cheerful, so sure were the people around her to throw by some means or other a damp upon her spirits, and that as she had enjoyed herself that day, and Heaven knew it was very seldom she did enjoy herself, so she was now to pay the penalty. To all such propositions Migs assented freely. Poor Dolly, however, grew none the better for these restoratives, but rather worse indeed, and seeing that she was really ill, both Mrs. Varden and Migs were moved to compassion, intended her in earnest. But even then their very kindness shaped itself into their usual course of policy, and though Dolly was in a swoon, it was rendered clear to the meanest capacity that Mrs. Varden was the sufferer. Thus, when Dolly began to get a little better, and passed into that stage in which matrons hold that remonstrance and argument may be successfully applied, her mother represented to her, with tears in her eyes, that if she had been flurried and worried that day she must remember it was the common lot of humanity, and in a special of womankind, who through the whole of their existence must expect no less, and were bound to make up their minds to meek endurance and patient resignation. Mrs. Varden entreated her to remember that one of these days she would, in all probability, have to do violence to her feelings so far as to be married, and that marriage as she might see every day of her life and truly she did, was a state requiring great fortitude and forbearance. She represented to her in lively colors that if she, Mrs. V, had not, in steering her course through this veil of tears, been supported by a strong principle of duty which alone upheld and prevented her from drooping, she must have been in her grave many years ago, in which case she desired to know what would have become of that errant spirit, meaning the locksmith, of whose eyes she was a very apple, and in whose past she was, as it were, a shining light and guiding star. Miss Miggs also put in her word to the same effect. She said that indeed and indeed Miss Dolly might take pattern by her blessed mother, who she always had said and always would say, though she were to be hanged, drawn and quartered for it next minute, was the mildest, amiableest, forgivingest, spirited, longest sufferingest female as ever she could have believed, the mere narration of whose excellencies had worked such a wholesome change in the mind of her own sister-in-law, that whereas before she and her husband lived like cat and dog, and were in the habit of exchanging brass candlesticks, pot lids, flat irons, and other such strong resentments, they were now the happiest and affectionateest couple upon earth, as could be proved any day on application at Golden Lion Court, number 27, second bell handle on the right-hand doorpost. After glancing at herself as a comparatively worthless vessel, but still as one of some dessert, she besought her to bear in mind that her aforesaid dear and only mother was of a weakly constitution, an excitable temperament, who had constantly to sustain afflictions in domestic life compared with which thieves and robbers were as nothing, and yet never sunk down or gave way to despair or wrath, but in prized fighting phraseology always came up to time with a cheerful countenance, and went in to win as if nothing had happened. When Migs finished her solo, her mistress struck in again, and the two together performed a duet to the same purpose, the burden being that Mrs. Varden was persecuted perfection and Mr. Varden as the representative of mankind in that apartment, a creature of vicious and brutal habits, utterly insensible to the blessings he enjoyed. As so refined a character indeed was their talent of assault under the mask of sympathy, that when Dolly, recovering, embraced her father tenderly as in vindication of his goodness, Mrs. Varden expressed her solemn hope that this would be a lesson to him for the remainder of his life, and that he would do some little justice to a woman's nature ever afterwards. In which aspiration, Miss Migs, by diverse sniffs and coughs, more significant than the longest oration, expressed her entire concurrence. But the great joy of Migs's heart was that she not only picked up a full account of what had happened, but had the exquisite delight of conveying it to Mr. Tapprachet for his jealousy and torture. For that gentleman, on account of Dolly's indisposition, had been requested to take his supper in the workshop, and it was conveyed thither by Miss Migs's own fair hands. Oh, Simon, said the young lady, such goings on today, oh gracious me, Simon. Mr. Tapprachet, who was not in the best of humours, and to dislike Miss Migs more when she laid her hand on her heart and panted for breath than at any other time, as her deficiency of outline was most apparent under such circumstances, eyed her over in his loftiest style, and deigned to express no curiosity whatever. I never heard the light nor nobody else pursued Migs, the idea of interfering with her, what people can see in her to make it worth their while to do so, that's the joke, he he he. Finding there was a lady in the case, Mr. Tapprachet heartily requested his fair friend to be more explicit, and demanded you know what she meant by her. Why, that Dolly, said Migs, was an extremely sharp emphasis on the name. But, oh, upon my word and honour, young Joseph Willet is a brave one, and he do deserve her, that he do. Woman, said Mr. Tapprachet, jumping off the counter on which he was seated, beware. My stars, Simon, cried Migs, in affected astonishment, you frighten me to death, what's the matter? There are strings, said Mr. Tapprachet, flourishing his bread and cheese knife in the air, in the human heart that had better not be vibrated, that's what's the matter. Oh, very well, if you're in a huff, cried Migs, turning away. Huff or no huff, said Mr. Tapprachet, detaining her by the wrist. What do you mean, Jezebel? What were you going to say? Answer me. Notwithstanding this uncivil exhortation, Migs gladly did as she was required, and told him how that their young mistress, being alone in the meadows after dark, had been attacked by three or four tall men who would have certainly borne her away and perhaps murdered her. But for the timely arrival of Joseph Willet, who with his own single hand put them all to flight and rescued her, to the lasting admiration of his fellow-creatures generally and to the eternal love and gratitude of Dolly Varden. Very good, said Mr. Tapprachet, fetching a long breath when the tail was told and rubbing his hair up till it stood stiff and straight on end all over his head. His days are numbered. Oh, Simon! I tell you, said the Prentice, his days are numbered. Leave me, get along with you. Migs departed at his bidding, but last because of his bidding then because she desired to chuckle in secret. When she had given vent to her satisfaction she returned to the parlor, where the locksmith, stimulated by quietness and Toby, had become talkative and was disposed to take a cheerful review of the occurrences of the day. But Mrs. Varden, whose practical religion, as is not uncommon, was usually of the retrospective order, cut him short by reclaiming on the sinfulness of such junketings and holding that it was high time to go to bed. To bed, therefore, she withdrew, with an aspect as grim and gloomy as that of the Maypole's own state couch. And, to bed, the rest of the establishment soon afterwards repaired. CHAPTER XXIII Twilight had given place to-night some hours, and it was high noon in those quarters of the town in which the world condescended to dwell. The world being men is now a very limited dimensions and easily lodged, when Mr. Chester reclined upon a sofa in his dressing room in the temple entertaining himself with a book. He was dressing as it seemed by easy stages, and having performed half the journey was taking a long rest. Completely attired as to his legs and feet in the trimmest fashion of the day, he had yet the remainder of his toilette to perform. The coat was stretched like a refined scarecrow on its separate horse. The waistcoat was displayed to the best advantage. The various ornamental articles of dress were severally set out, in most alluring order, and yet he lay dangling his legs between the sofa and the ground as intent upon his book as if there were nothing but bed before him. Upon my honor, he said, at length raising his eyes to the ceiling, with the air of a man who was reflecting seriously on what he had read, upon my honor the most masterly composition, the most delicate thoughts, the finest code of morality, and the most gentlemanly sentiments in the universe. Ah, Ned, Ned, if you would form your mind by such precepts we should have but one common feeling on every subject that could possibly arise between us. This apostrophe was addressed, like the rest of his remarks, to empty air, for Edward was not present, and the father was quite alone. My Lord Chesterfield, he said, pressing his hand tenderly upon the book as he laid it down. If I could but have profited by your genius soon enough to have formed my son on the model you have left to all wise fathers, well, he and I would have been rich men. Shakespeare was undoubtedly very fine in his way, Milton Good, though prosy, Lord Bacon deep and decidedly knowing, but the writer who should be his country's pride is my Lord Chesterfield. He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in requisition. I thought I was tolerably accomplished as a man of the world, he continued. I flattered myself that I was pretty well versed in all those little arts and graces which distinguished men of the world from boars and peasants, and separate their character from those intensely vulgar sentiments which are called the national character. Apart from any natural pre-possession in my own favor, I believed I was. Still, in every page of this enlightened writer I find some captivating hypocrisy which has never occurred to me before, or some superlative piece of selfishness to which I was utterly a stranger. I should quite blush for myself before this dependant creature if remembering his precepts one might blush at anything. An amazing man, a nobleman indeed. Any king or queen may make a Lord, but only the devil himself and the graces can make a Chesterfield. Men who are thoroughly false and hollow sell them try to hide those vices from themselves, and yet in the very act of allowing them they lay claim to the virtues they feign most to despise. For, say they, this is honesty, this is truth. All men kinder like us, but they have not the candor to avow it. The more they affect to deny the existence of any sincerity in the world, the more they would be thought to possess it in its boldest shape. And this is an unconscious compliment to truth on the part of these philosophers which will turn the laugh against them to the day of judgment. Mr. Chester, having extolled his favorite author as above recited, took up the book again in the excess of his admiration, and was composing himself for a further perusal of its sublime morality when he was disturbed by a noise at the outer door, occasioned, as it seemed, by the endeavors of his servant to obstruct the entrance of some unwelcome visitor. A late hour for an important creditor, he said, raising his eyebrows with his indolent and expression of wonder as if the noise were in the street and one with which he had not the smallest possible concern. Much after their accustomed time, the usual pretense, I suppose, no doubt a heavy payment to make up tomorrow. Poor fellow, he loses time and time his money as the good proverb says. I never found it out, though. Well, what now? You know I am not at home. A man, sir, replied the servant, who was to the fullest cool and negligent in his way as his master, has brought home the riding whip you lost the other day. I told him you were out, but he said he was to wait while I brought it in and wouldn't go till I did. He was quite right, returned his master, and you're a blockhead possessing no judgment or discretion whatever. Tell him to come in and see that he rubs his shoes for exactly five minutes first. The man laid the whip on a chair and withdrew. The master, who had only heard his foot upon the ground and had not taken the trouble to turn round and look at him, shot his book and pursued the train of ideas his entrance had disturbed. If time or money, he said, handling his snuff box, I would compound with my creditors and give them, let me see, how much a day. There's my nap after dinner and an hour. They're extremely welcome to that and to make the most of it. In the morning between my breakfast and the paper I could spare them another hour. In the evening before dinner say another three hours a day they might pay themselves in calls with interest in twelve months. I think I shall propose it to them. Ah, my centaur, are you there? Here I am, replied Hughes striding in, followed by a dog as rough and sullen as himself, and trouble enough I've had to get here. What do you ask me to come for and keep me out when I do come? My good fellow returns the other, raising his head a little from the cushion and carelessly surveying him from top to toe. I am delighted to see you and to have, in your being here, the very best proof that you are not kept out. How are you? I'm well enough, said Hughes impatiently. You look a perfect marvel of health. Sit down. I'd rather stand, said Hughes. Please yourself, my good fellow, return to Mr. Chester rising, slowly pulling off the loose robe he wore and sitting down before the dressing-glass. Please yourself by all means. Having said this in the politest and blandest tone possible, he went on dressing and took no further notice of his guest, who stood in the same spot as uncertain what to do next, eyeing him soquely from time to time. Are you going to speak to me, master? he said, after a long silence. My worthy creature, returned Mr. Chester, you are a little ruffled and out of humor. I'll wait till you're quite yourself again. I am in no hurry. This behavior had its intended effect. It humbled and abashed the man and made him still more irresolute and uncertain. Hard words he could have returned. Violence he would have repaid with interest. But this cool complacent, contemptuous, self-possessed reception caused him to feel his inferiority more completely than the most elaborate arguments. Everything contributed to this effect. His own rough speech contrasted with the soft persuasive accents of the other, his rude bearing in Mr. Chester's polished manner, the disorder and negligence of his ragged dress and the elegant attire he saw before him, with all the unaccustomed luxuries and comforts of the room and the silence that gave him leisure to observe these things and feel how ill it is that they made him. All these influences, which have too often some effect on tutored minds and become of almost resistless power when brought to bear on such a mind as his, quelled Hugh completely. He moved by little and little nearer to Mr. Chester's chair and glancing over his shoulder at the reflection of his face in the glass as if seeking for some encouragement in its expression set at length with a rough attempt at conciliation. Are you going to speak to me, Master, or am I to go away? Speak you, said Mr. Chester. Speak you, good fellow. I have spoken, have I not. I am waiting for you. Why, looky, sir, returned Hugh with increased embarrassment. Am I the man that you privately left your whip with before you rode away from the Maypole and told to bring it back whenever he might want to see you on a certain subject? No doubt the same, or you have a twin brother, said Mr. Chester, glancing at the reflection of his anxious face, which is not probable, I should say. Then I have come, sir, said Hugh, and I have brought it back and something else along with it. A letter, sir, it is, that I took from the person who had charge of it. As he spoke he laid upon the dressing-table, Dolly's lost epistle, the very letter that had cost her so much trouble. Did you obtain this by force, my good fellow, said Mr. Chester, casting his eye upon it without the least perceptible surprise or pleasure? Not quite, said Hugh, partly. Who was the messenger from whom you took it? A woman, one Varden's daughter. Oh, indeed, said Mr. Chester Gailey, what else did you take from her? What else? Yes, said the other in a drawing manner, for he was fixing a very small patch of sticking plaster on a very small pimple near the corner of his mouth. What else? Well, a kiss, replied Hugh after some hesitation. And what else? Nothing. I think, said Mr. Chester, in the same easy tone and smiling twice or thrice to try as the patch adhered, I think there was something else. I have heard a trifle of jewelry spoken of, a mere trifle, a thing of such little value indeed that you may have forgotten it. Do you remember anything of the kind, such as a bracelet now, for instance? Hugh, with a muttered oath, thrust his hand into his breast and, drawing the bracelet forth, wrapped in a scrap of hay, was about to lay it on the table likewise when his patron stopped his hand and made him put it up again. You took that for yourself, my excellent friend, he said, and may keep it. I am neither a thief nor a receiver. Don't show it to me. You had better hide it again and lose no time. Don't let me see where you put it, either. He added, turning away his head. You're not a receiver, said Hugh Bluntly, despite the increasing awe in which he held him. What do you call that, master? Striking the letter with his heavy hand? I call that quite another thing, said Mr. Chester Cooley. I shall prove it presently, as you will see. You are thirsty, I suppose. Hugh drew his sleeve across his lips and gruffly answered, Yes. Step to that closet and bring me a bottle you will see there in the glass. He obeyed. His patron followed him with his eyes, and when his back was turned, smiled as he had never done when he stood beside the mirror. On his return he filled the glass and made him drink. That dram dispatched he poured him out another, and another. How many can you bear, he said, filling the glass again? As many as you like to give me. Pour on, fill high, a bumper with a bead in the middle. Give me enough of this, he added, as he tossed it down his hairy throat, and I'll do murder, if you ask me. As I don't mean to ask, you and you might possibly do it without being invited, if you went on much further, said Mr. Chester with great composure. We will stop, if agreeable to you, my good friend, at the next glass. You were drinking before you came here. I always am when I can get it, cried Hugh boisterously, waving the empty glass above his head, and throwing himself into a rude dancing attitude. I always am. Why not? What's so good to me as this? Whatever has been. What else has kept away the cold on bitter nights, and driven hunger off in starving times? What else has given me the strength and courage of a man, when men would have left me to die a puny child? I should never have had a man's heart but for this. I should have died in a ditch. Where's he who, when I was a weak and sickly wretch, with trembling legs and fading sight, made me cheer up as this did? I never knew him, not I. I drink to the drink, master. Ha, ha, ha. You are an exceedingly cheerful young man, said Mr. Chester, putting on his cravat with great deliberation, and slightly moving his head from side to side to settle his chin in its proper place. Quite a boon companion. Do you see this hand, master, said Hugh, and this arm, burying the brawny limb to the elbow? It was once mere skin and bone, and would have been dust in some poor churchyard by this time but for the drink. You may cover it, said Mr. Chester. It's sufficiently real in your sleeve. I should never have been spirited up to take a kiss from the proud little beauty master, but for the drink, cried Hugh. Ha, ha, ha. It was a good one, as sweet as honeysuckle, I warrant you. I thank the drink for it. I'll drink to the drink again, master. Fill me one more. Come, one more. You are such a promising fellow, said his patron, putting on his waistcoat with great nicety, and taking no heed of this request, that I must caution you against having too many impulses from the drink and getting hung before your time. What's your age? I don't know. At any rate, said Mr. Chester, you are young enough to escape what I may call a natural death for some years to come. How can you trust yourself in my hands on so short an acquaintance with a halter round your neck? What a confiding nature yours must be. Hugh fell back a pace or two, and surveyed him with a look of mingled terror, indignation, and surprise. Regarding himself in the glass, was the same complacency as before, and speaking as smoothly as if he were discussing some pleasant chit-chat of the town, his patron went on. Robbery on the King's Highway, my young friend, is a very dangerous and ticklish occupation. It is pleasant, I have no doubt, while it lasts. But, like many other pleasures in this transitory world, it seldom lasts long, and really, if in the ingenuousness of youth you open your heart so readily on the subject, I am afraid your career will be an extremely short one. How's this? said Hugh. What do you talk of, Master? Who was it set me on? Who? said Mr. Chester, wheeling sharply round and looking full at him for the first time. I didn't hear you. Who was it? Hugh faltered and muttered something which was not audible. Who was it? I am curious to know, said Mr. Chester, with surpassing affability, some rustic beauty perhaps, but be cautious, my good friend, they are not always to be trusted. Do take my advice now and be careful of yourself. With these words he turned to the glass again and went on with his toilette. Hugh would have answered him that he, the questioner himself, had set him on, but the words stuck in his throat. The consummate art with which his patron had led him to this point and managed the whole conversation perfectly baffled him. He did not doubt that if he had made the retort, which was on his lips when Mr. Chester turned round and questioned him so keenly, he would straight away have given him into custody and had him dragged before a justice with the stolen property upon him, in which case it was as certain he would have been hung as it was that he had been born. The ascendancy, which was the purpose of the man of the world to establish over this savage instrument, was gained from that time. Hugh's submission was complete. He dreaded him beyond description and felt that accident and artifice had spun a web about him, which, at a touch from such a master hand as his, would bind him to the gallows. With these thoughts passing through his mind, and yet wondering at the very same time how he who came there rioting in the confidence of this man, as he thought, should be so soon and so thoroughly subdued. Hugh stood cowering before him, regarding him uneasily from time to time while he finished dressing. When he had done so, he took up the letter, broke the seal, and throwing himself back in his chair read it leisurely through. Very neatly worded upon my life, quite a woman's letter, full of what people call tenderness and disinterestedness and heart and all that sort of thing. As he spoke, he twisted it up, and glancing lazily round at Hugh as though he would say, you see this? Held it in the flame of the candle. When it was in a full blaze, he tossed it into the grate, and there it smoldered away. It was directed to my son, he said, turning to Hugh, and you did quite right to bring it here. I opened it on my own responsibility, and you see what I have done with it. Take this for your trouble. Hugh stepped forward to receive the piece of money he held out to him. As he put it in his hand, he added, If you should happen to find anything else of this sort, or to pick up any kind of information you may think I would like to have, bring it here, will you, my good fellow? This was said with a smile which implied, or Hugh thought it did, fail to do so at your peril. He answered that he would. And don't, said his patron, with an air of the very kindest patronage, don't be at all downcast or uneasy respecting that little rashness we have been speaking of. Your neck is as safe in my hands, my good fellow, as though a baby's fingers clasped it, I assure you. Take another glass, you are quieter now. Hugh accepted it from his hand, and looking stealthily at his smiling face, drank the contents in silence. Don't you, haha, don't you drink to the drink any more? said Mr. Chester in his most winning manner. To you, sir, was the sullen answer, with something approaching to a bow. I drink to you. Thank you, God bless you. By the by, what is your name, my good soul? You were called Hugh, I know, of course, your other name. I have no other name. A very strange fellow. Do you mean that you never knew one, or that you don't choose to tell it? Which? I'd tell it if I could, said Hugh quickly. I can't. I have been always called Hugh, nothing more. I never knew, nor saw, nor thought about a father. And I was a boy of six, that's not very old, when they hung my mother up at Tyburn for a couple of thousand men to stare at. They might have let her live, she was poor enough. How very sad, exclaimed his patron, with a condescending smile. I have no doubt she was an exceedingly fine woman. You see, that dog of mine, said Hugh abruptly. Faithful, I daresay, rejoined his patron, looking at him through his glass, an immensely clever, virtuous and gifted animals, whether man or beast, always are so very hideous. Such a dog is that, and one of the same breed was the only living thing except me that howled that day, said Hugh. Out of the two thousand odd, there was a larger crowd for its being a woman. The dog and I alone had any pity. If he'd have been a man, he'd have been glad to be quit of her. For she had been forced to keep him lean and half-starved, but being a dog and not having a man's sense, he was sorry. It was Dullo's brute, certainly, said Mr. Chester, and very like a brute. Hugh made no rejoinder, but whistling to his dog who sprung up at the sound and came jumping and sporting about him bade his sympathizing friend good night. Good night, he returned. Remember, you're safe with me, quite safe, so long as you deserve it, my good fellow, as I hope you always will. You have a friend in me on whose silence you may rely. Now, do be careful of yourself, pray do, and consider what jeopardy you might have stood in. Good night, bless you. Hugh chuckled before the hidden meaning of these words as much as such a being could, and crept out of the door so submissively and subserviently was an air in short so different from that with which he had entered that his patron on being left alone smiled more than ever. And yet, he said as he took a pinch of snuff, I do not like there having hanged his mother. The fellow has a fine eye and I am sure she was handsome, but very probably she was coarse, red-nosed perhaps, and had clumsy feet. Eye it was all for the best, no doubt. With this comforting reflection he put on his coat, took a farewell glance at the glass, and summoned his man, who promptly attended, followed by a chair and its two bearers. Flow, said Mr. Chester. The very atmosphere that Centaur has breathed seems tainted with the cart and ladder. Here, Pete, bring some scent and sprinkle the floor and take away the chair he sat upon, and air it and dash a little of that mixture upon me. I am stifled. The man obeyed, and the room and its master being both purified, nothing remained for Mr. Chester, but to demand his hat, to fold it jauntily under his arm, to take his seat in the chair and be carried off, humming a fashionable tune. How the accomplished gentleman spent the evening in the midst of a dazzling and brilliant circle, how he enchanted all those with whom he mingled by the grace of his deportment, the politeness of his manner, the velocity of his conversation, and the sweetness of his voice, how it was observed in every corner that Chester was a man of that happy disposition that nothing ruffled him, that he was one on whom the world's chairs and errors sat lightly as his dress, and in whose smiling face a calm and tranquil mind was constantly reflected. How honest men, who by instinct knew him better, bowed down before him nevertheless, deferred to his every word and courted his favorable notice. How people who really had good in them went with the stream and fawned and flattered and approved and despised themselves while they did so, and yet had not the courage to resist. How, in short, he was one of those who are received and cherished in society, as the phrase is, by scores who individually would shrink from and be repelled by the object of their lavish regard, are things, of course, which will suggest themselves. Matter so commonplace needs but a passing glance, and there an end. The despisers of mankind, apart from the mere fools and mimics of that creed, are of two sorts. They who believe their merit neglected and unappreciated make up one class. They who receive adulation and flattery, knowing their own worthlessness, compose the other. Be sure that the coldest hearted misanthrobes are ever of this last order. Mr. Chester sat up in bed next morning sipping his coffee and remembering with a kind of contemptuous satisfaction how he had shown last night and how he had been caressed and courted when his servant brought in a very small scrap of dirty paper tightly sealed in two places on the inside whereof was inscribed in pretty large text these words. A friend, desiring of a conference, immediate, private, burn it when you've read it. Where in the name of the gunpowder plot did you pick up this? said his master. It was given him by a person then waiting at the door, the man replied. With a cloak and dagger, said Mr. Chester. With nothing more threatening about him it appeared than a leather apron and a dirty face. Let him come in. In he came, Mr. Tappertitt. With his hair still on end and a great lock in his hand, which he put down on the floor in the middle of the chamber as if he were about to go through some performances in which it was a necessary agent. Sir, said Mr. Tappertitt with a low bow, I thank you for this condescension and am glad to see you. Pardon the menial office in which I am engaged, sir, and extend your sympathies to one who, humble as his appearance is, has entered workings far about his station. Mr. Chester held the bed curtain farther back and looked at him with a vague impression that he was some maniac who had not only broken open the door of his place of confinement, but had brought away the lock. Mr. Tappertitt bowed again and displayed his legs to the best advantage. You have heard, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt, laying his hand upon his breast, of G. Varden locksmith and bell hanger, and repairs neatly executed in town and country, clerk and well England. What then? asked Mr. Chester. I am his apprentice, sir. What then? Said Mr. Tappertitt, would you permit me to shut the door, sir, and will you further, sir, give me your honor bright that what passes between us is in the strictest confidence? Mr. Chester laid himself calmly down in bed again, and turning a perfectly undisturbed face towards the strange apparition which had by this time closed the door, begged him to speak out, and to be as rational as he could without putting himself to any very great personal inconvenience. In the first place, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt, producing a small pocket handkerchief and shaking it out of the folds. As I have not a card about me, for the envy of masters debases us below that level, allow me to offer the best substitute that circumstances will admit of. If you will take that in your own hands, sir, and cast your eye on the right-hand corner, said Mr. Tappertitt, offering it with a graceful air, you will meet with my credentials. Thank you, answered Mr. Chester, politely accepting it, and turning to some blood-red characters at one end. Four. Simon Tappertitt. One. Is that the— Without the numbers, sir, that is my name, replied the apprentice. They are merely intended as directions to the washerwoman, and have no connection with myself or family. Your name, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt, looking very hard at his nightcap, is Chester, I suppose. You needn't pull it off, sir, thank you. I observe EC from here. We will take the rest for granted. Pray, Mr. Tappertitt, said Mr. Chester, has that complicated piece of iron-mongery, which you have done me the favor to bring with you, any immediate connection with the business we are to discuss? It has not, sir, rejoined the apprentice. It's going to be fitted on a wearest door in Thames Street. Perhaps, as that is the case, said Mr. Chester, and as it has a stronger flavor of oil than I usually refresh my bedroom with, you will oblige me so far as to put it outside the door? By all means, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt, suiting the action to the word. You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope. Don't apologize, sir, I beg, and now, if you please, to business. During the whole of this dialogue, Mr. Chester had suffered nothing but his smile of unburying serenity and politeness to appear upon his face. Sim Tappertitt, who had far too good an opinion of himself to suspect that anybody could be playing upon him, thought within himself that this was something like the respect to which he was entitled, and drew a comparison from this courteous demeanor of a stranger, by no means favorable to the worthy locksmith. From what passes in our house, said Mr. Tappertitt, I am aware, sir, that your son keeps company with a young lady against your inclinations. Sir, your son has not used me well. Mr. Tappertitt, said the other, you grieve me beyond description. Thank you, sir, replied the Prentice. I'm glad to hear you say so. He's very proud, sir, as your son, very haughty. I am afraid he is haughty, said Mr. Chester. Do you know I was really afraid of that before, and you confirm me. To recount the menial offices I've had to do for your son, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt. The chairs I've had to hand him, the coaches I've had to call for him, the numerous degrading duties wholly unconnected with my indentures, that I've had to do for him, would fill a family Bible. Besides which, sir, he is but a young man himself, and I do not consider, thank you, Sim, a proper form of address on those occasions. Mr. Tappertitt, your wisdom is beyond your years. Pray go on. I thank you for your good opinion, sir, said Sim, much gratified, and will endeavor so to do. Now, sir, on this account, and perhaps for another reason or two which I needn't go into, I am on your side. And what I tell you is this. That as long as our people go backwards and forwards, to and fro, up and down, to that their jolly old maypole, lettering and messaging and fetching and carrying, you couldn't help your son keeping company with that young lady by deputy, not if he was minded night and day by all the horse guards and every man of them in the very fullest uniform. Mr. Tappertitt stopped to take breath after this, and then started fresh again. Now, sir, I am a-coming to the point. You will inquire of me, how is this to be prevented? I'll tell you how. If an honest, civil, smiling gentleman like you, Mr. Tappertitt, really? No, no, I'm serious, rejoined the Prentice. I am upon my soul. If an honest, civil, smiling gentleman like you was to talk but ten minutes to our old woman, that's Mrs. Varden, and flatter her up a bit, you'd gain her over forever. Then there's this point, God, that her daughter Dolly, here a flush came over Mr. Tappertitt's face, wouldn't be allowed to be a go-between from that time forward, until that point's got there's nothing ever will prevent her, mind that. Mr. Tappertitt, your knowledge of human nature, wait a minute, said Sim, folding his arms with a dreadful calmness. Now I come to the point. Sir, there is a villain at that maypole, a monster in human shape, a vagabond of the deepest dye, that unless you get rid of and have kidnapped and carried off at the very least, nothing less will do. Well, marry your son to that young woman, as certainly and as surely as if he was the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. He will, sir, for the hatred and malice that he bears to you, let alone the pleasure of doing a bad action, which to him is its own reward. If you knew how this chap, this Joseph Willet, that's his name, comes backwards and forwards to our house, libeling and denouncing and threatening you, and how I shudder when I hear him, you'd hate him worse than I do, worse than I do, sir, said Mr. Tappertitt, wildly putting his hair up straighter and making a crunching noise with his teeth, if such a thing is possible. A little private vengeance in this, Mr. Tappertitt? Private vengeance, sir, our public sentiment are both combined. Destroy him, said Mr. Tappertitt. Miggs says so too. Miggs and me both say so. We can't bear the plotting and undermining that takes place. Our souls recoil from it. Barnaby Rudge and Mrs. Rudge are in it likewise, but the villain Joseph Willet is the ringleader. Their ploddings and schemes are known to me and Miggs. If you want information of them apply to us, put Joseph Willet down, sir, destroy him, crush him, and be happy. With these words, Mr. Tappertitt, who seemed to expect no reply, and to hold it as a necessary consequence of his eloquence, that his hearers should be utterly stunned, dumbfounded and overwhelmed, folded his arms so that the palm of each hand rested on the opposite shoulder and disappeared after the manner of those mysterious warners of whom he had read in cheap story books. That fellow, said Mr. Chester, relaxing his face when he was fairly gone, is good practice. I have some command of my features beyond all doubt. He fully confirms what I suspected, though, and blunt tools are sometimes found of use where sharper instruments would fail. I fear I may be obliged to make great havoc among these worthy people, a troublesome necessity I quite feel for them. With that he fell into a quiet slumber, subsided into such a gentle pleasant sleep that it was quite infantile.