Страница:
'A saunter of barely half an hour's duration,' returned Carker. 'We
have been so much occupied.'
'Business, eh?' said the Major.
'A variety of little matters necessary to be gone through,' replied
Carker. 'But do you know - this is quite unusual with me, educated in a
distrustful school, and who am not generally disposed to be communicative,'
he said, breaking off, and speaking in a charming tone of frankness - 'but I
feel quite confidential with you, Major Bagstock.'
'You do me honour, Sir,' returned the Major. 'You may be.'
'Do you know, then,' pursued Carker, 'that I have not found my friend -
our friend, I ought rather to call him - '
'Meaning Dombey, Sir?' cried the Major. 'You see me, Mr Carker,
standing here! J. B.?'
He was puffy enough to see, and blue enough; and Mr Carker intimated
the he had that pleasure.
'Then you see a man, Sir, who would go through fire and water to serve
Dombey,' returned Major Bagstock.
Mr Carker smiled, and said he was sure of it. 'Do you know, Major,' he
proceeded: 'to resume where I left off' that I have not found our friend so
attentive to business today, as usual?'
'No?' observed the delighted Major.
'I have found him a little abstracted, and with his attention disposed
to wander,' said Carker.
'By Jove, Sir,' cried the Major, 'there's a lady in the case.'
'Indeed, I begin to believe there really is,' returned Carker; 'I
thought you might be jesting when you seemed to hint at it; for I know you
military men -
The Major gave the horse's cough, and shook his head and shoulders, as
much as to say, 'Well! we are gay dogs, there's no denying.' He then seized
Mr Carker by the button-hole, and with starting eyes whispered in his ear,
that she was a woman of extraordinary charms, Sir. That she was a young
widow, Sir. That she was of a fine family, Sir. That Dombey was over head
and ears in love with her, Sir, and that it would be a good match on both
sides; for she had beauty, blood, and talent, and Dombey had fortune; and
what more could any couple have? Hearing Mr Dombey's footsteps without, the
Major cut himself short by saying, that Mr Carker would see her tomorrow
morning, and would judge for himself; and between his mental excitement, and
the exertion of saying all this in wheezy whispers, the Major sat gurgling
in the throat and watering at the eyes, until dinner was ready.
The Major, like some other noble animals, exhibited himself to great
advantage at feeding-time. On this occasion, he shone resplendent at one end
of the table, supported by the milder lustre of Mr Dombey at the other;
while Carker on one side lent his ray to either light, or suffered it to
merge into both, as occasion arose.
During the first course or two, the Major was usually grave; for the
Native, in obedience to general orders, secretly issued, collected every
sauce and cruet round him, and gave him a great deal to do, in taking out
the stoppers, and mixing up the contents in his plate. Besides which, the
Native had private zests and flavours on a side-table, with which the Major
daily scorched himself; to say nothing of strange machines out of which he
spirited unknown liquids into the Major's drink. But on this occasion, Major
Bagstock, even amidst these many occupations, found time to be social; and
his sociality consisted in excessive slyness for the behoof of Mr Carker,
and the betrayal of Mr Dombey's state of mind.
'Dombey,' said the Major, 'you don't eat; what's the matter?'
'Thank you,' returned the gentleman, 'I am doing very well; I have no
great appetite today.'
'Why, Dombey, what's become of it?' asked the Major. 'Where's it gone?
You haven't left it with our friends, I'll swear, for I can answer for their
having none to-day at luncheon. I can answer for one of 'em, at least: I
won't say which.'
Then the Major winked at Carker, and became so frightfully sly, that
his dark attendant was obliged to pat him on the back, without orders, or he
would probably have disappeared under the table.
In a later stage of the dinner: that is to say, when the Native stood
at the Major's elbow ready to serve the first bottle of champagne: the Major
became still slyer.
'Fill this to the brim, you scoundrel,' said the Major, holding up his
glass. 'Fill Mr Carker's to the brim too. And Mr Dombey's too. By Gad,
gentlemen,' said the Major, winking at his new friend, while Mr Dombey
looked into his plate with a conscious air, 'we'll consecrate this glass of
wine to a Divinity whom Joe is proud to know, and at a distance humbly and
reverently to admire. Edith,' said the Major, 'is her name; angelic Edith!'
'To angelic Edith!' cried the smiling Carker.
'Edith, by all means,' said Mr Dombey.
The entrance of the waiters with new dishes caused the Major to be
slyer yet, but in a more serious vein. 'For though among ourselves, Joe
Bagstock mingles jest and earnest on this subject, Sir,' said the Major,
laying his finger on his lips, and speaking half apart to Carker, 'he holds
that name too sacred to be made the property of these fellows, or of any
fellows. Not a word!, Sir' while they are here!'
This was respectful and becoming on the Major's part, and Mr Dombey
plainly felt it so. Although embarrassed in his own frigid way, by the
Major's allusions, Mr Dombey had no objection to such rallying, it was
clear, but rather courted it. Perhaps the Major had been pretty near the
truth, when he had divined that morning that the great man who was too
haughty formally to consult with, or confide in his prime minister, on such
a matter, yet wished him to be fully possessed of it. Let this be how it
may, he often glanced at Mr Carker while the Major plied his light
artillery, and seemed watchful of its effect upon him.
But the Major, having secured an attentive listener, and a smiler who
had not his match in all the world - 'in short, a devilish intelligent and
able fellow,' as he often afterwards declared - was not going to let him off
with a little slyness personal to Mr Dombey. Therefore, on the removal of
the cloth, the Major developed himself as a choice spirit in the broader and
more comprehensive range of narrating regimental stories, and cracking
regimental jokes, which he did with such prodigal exuberance, that Carker
was (or feigned to be) quite exhausted with laughter and admiration: while
Mr Dombey looked on over his starched cravat, like the Major's proprietor,
or like a stately showman who was glad to see his bear dancing well.
When the Major was too hoarse with meat and drink, and the display of
his social powers, to render himself intelligible any longer, they adjourned
to coffee. After which, the Major inquired of Mr Carker the Manager, with
little apparent hope of an answer in the affirmative, if he played picquet.
'Yes, I play picquet a little,' said Mr Carker.
'Backgammon, perhaps?' observed the Major, hesitating.
'Yes, I play backgammon a little too,' replied the man of teeth.
'Carker plays at all games, I believe,' said Mr Dombey, laying himself
on a sofa like a man of wood, without a hinge or a joint in him; 'and plays
them well.'
In sooth, he played the two in question, to such perfection, that the
Major was astonished, and asked him, at random, if he played chess.
'Yes, I play chess a little,' answered Carker. 'I have sometimes
played, and won a game - it's a mere trick - without seeing the board.'
'By Gad, Sir!' said the Major, staring, 'you are a contrast to Dombey,
who plays nothing.'
'Oh! He!' returned the Manager. 'He has never had occasion to acquire
such little arts. To men like me, they are sometimes useful. As at present,
Major Bagstock, when they enable me to take a hand with you.'
It might be only the false mouth, so smooth and wide; and yet there
seemed to lurk beneath the humility and subserviency of this short speech, a
something like a snarl; and, for a moment, one might have thought that the
white teeth were prone to bite the hand they fawned upon. But the Major
thought nothing about it; and Mr Dombey lay meditating with his eyes half
shut, during the whole of the play, which lasted until bed-time.
By that time, Mr Carker, though the winner, had mounted high into the
Major's good opinion, insomuch that when he left the Major at his own room
before going to bed, the Major as a special attention, sent the Native - who
always rested on a mattress spread upon the ground at his master's door -
along the gallery, to light him to his room in state.
There was a faint blur on the surface of the mirror in Mr Carker's
chamber, and its reflection was, perhaps, a false one. But it showed, that
night, the image of a man, who saw, in his fancy, a crowd of people
slumbering on the ground at his feet, like the poor Native at his master's
door: who picked his way among them: looking down, maliciously enough: but
trod upon no upturned face - as yet.
Deeper Shadows
Mr Carker the Manager rose with the lark, and went out, walking in the
summer day. His meditations - and he meditated with contracted brows while
he strolled along - hardly seemed to soar as high as the lark, or to mount
in that direction; rather they kept close to their nest upon the earth, and
looked about, among the dust and worms. But there was not a bird in the air,
singing unseen, farther beyond the reach of human eye than Mr Carker's
thoughts. He had his face so perfectly under control, that few could say
more, in distinct terms, of its expression, than that it smiled or that it
pondered. It pondered now, intently. As the lark rose higher, he sank deeper
in thought. As the lark poured out her melody clearer and stronger, he fell
into a graver and profounder silence. At length, when the lark came headlong
down, with an accumulating stream of song, and dropped among the green wheat
near him, rippling in the breath of the morning like a river, he sprang up
from his reverie, and looked round with a sudden smile, as courteous and as
soft as if he had had numerous observers to propitiate; nor did he relapse,
after being thus awakened; but clearing his face, like one who bethought
himself that it might otherwise wrinkle and tell tales, went smiling on, as
if for practice.
Perhaps with an eye to first impressions, Mr Carker was very carefully
and trimly dressed, that morning. Though always somewhat formal, in his
dress, in imitation of the great man whom he served, he stopped short of the
extent of Mr Dombey's stiffness: at once perhaps because he knew it to be
ludicrous, and because in doing so he found another means of expressing his
sense of the difference and distance between them. Some people quoted him
indeed, in this respect, as a pointed commentary, and not a flattering one,
on his icy patron - but the world is prone to misconstruction, and Mr Carker
was not accountable for its bad propensity.
Clean and florid: with his light complexion, fading as it were, in the
sun, and his dainty step enhancing the softness of the turf: Mr Carker the
Manager strolled about meadows, and green lanes, and glided among avenues of
trees, until it was time to return to breakfast. Taking a nearer way back,
Mr Carker pursued it, airing his teeth, and said aloud as he did so, 'Now to
see the second Mrs Dombey!'
He had strolled beyond the town, and re-entered it by a pleasant walk,
where there was a deep shade of leafy trees, and where there were a few
benches here and there for those who chose to rest. It not being a place of
general resort at any hour, and wearing at that time of the still morning
the air of being quite deserted and retired, Mr Carker had it, or thought he
had it, all to himself. So, with the whim of an idle man, to whom there yet
remained twenty minutes for reaching a destination easily able in ten, Mr
Carker threaded the great boles of the trees, and went passing in and out,
before this one and behind that, weaving a chain of footsteps on the dewy
ground.
But he found he was mistaken in supposing there was no one in the
grove, for as he softly rounded the trunk of one large tree, on which the
obdurate bark was knotted and overlapped like the hide of a rhinoceros or
some kindred monster of the ancient days before the Flood, he saw an
unexpected figure sitting on a bench near at hand, about which, in another
moment, he would have wound the chain he was making.
It was that of a lady, elegantly dressed and very handsome, whose dark
proud eyes were fixed upon the ground, and in whom some passion or struggle
was raging. For as she sat looking down, she held a corner of her under lip
within her mouth, her bosom heaved, her nostril quivered, her head trembled,
indignant tears were on her cheek, and her foot was set upon the moss as
though she would have crushed it into nothing. And yet almost the self-same
glance that showed him this, showed him the self-same lady rising with a
scornful air of weariness and lassitude, and turning away with nothing
expressed in face or figure but careless beauty and imperious disdain.
A withered and very ugly old woman, dressed not so much like a gipsy as
like any of that medley race of vagabonds who tramp about the country,
begging, and stealing, and tinkering, and weaving rushes, by turns, or all
together, had been observing the lady, too; for, as she rose, this second
figure strangely confronting the first, scrambled up from the ground - out
of it, it almost appeared - and stood in the way.
'Let me tell your fortune, my pretty lady,' said the old woman,
munching with her jaws, as if the Death's Head beneath her yellow skin were
impatient to get out.
'I can tell it for myself,' was the reply.
'Ay, ay, pretty lady; but not right. You didn't tell it right when you
were sitting there. I see you! Give me a piece of silver, pretty lady, and
I'll tell your fortune true. There's riches, pretty lady, in your face.'
'I know,' returned the lady, passing her with a dark smile, and a proud
step. 'I knew it before.
'What! You won't give me nothing?' cried the old woman. 'You won't give
me nothing to tell your fortune, pretty lady? How much will you give me to
tell it, then? Give me something, or I'll call it after you!' croaked the
old woman, passionately.
Mr Carker, whom the lady was about to pass close, slinking against his
tree as she crossed to gain the path, advanced so as to meet her, and
pulling off his hat as she went by, bade the old woman hold her peace. The
lady acknowledged his interference with an inclination of the head, and went
her way.
'You give me something then, or I'll call it after her!' screamed the
old woman, throwing up her arms, and pressing forward against his
outstretched hand. 'Or come,' she added, dropping her voice suddenly,
looking at him earnestly, and seeming in a moment to forget the object of
her wrath, 'give me something, or I'll call it after you! '
'After me, old lady!' returned the Manager, putting his hand in his
pocket.
'Yes,' said the woman, steadfast in her scrutiny, and holding out her
shrivelled hand. 'I know!'
'What do you know?' demanded Carker, throwing her a shilling. 'Do you
know who the handsome lady is?'
Munching like that sailor's wife of yore, who had chestnuts In her lap,
and scowling like the witch who asked for some in vain, the old woman picked
the shilling up, and going backwards, like a crab, or like a heap of crabs:
for her alternately expanding and contracting hands might have represented
two of that species, and her creeping face, some half-a-dozen more: crouched
on the veinous root of an old tree, pulled out a short black pipe from
within the crown of her bonnet, lighted it with a match, and smoked in
silence, looking fixedly at her questioner.
Mr Carker laughed, and turned upon his heel.
'Good!' said the old woman. 'One child dead, and one child living: one
wife dead, and one wife coming. Go and meet her!'
In spite of himself, the Manager looked round again, and stopped. The
old woman, who had not removed her pipe, and was munching and mumbling while
she smoked, as if in conversation with an invisible familiar, pointed with
her finger in the direction he was going, and laughed.
'What was that you said, Beldamite?' he demanded.
The woman mumbled, and chattered, and smoked, and still pointed before
him; but remained silent Muttering a farewell that was not complimentary, Mr
Carker pursued his way; but as he turned out of that place, and looked over
his shoulder at the root of the old tree, he could yet see the finger
pointing before him, and thought he heard the woman screaming, 'Go and meet
her!'
Preparations for a choice repast were completed, he found, at the
hotel; and Mr Dombey, and the Major, and the breakfast, were awaiting the
ladies. Individual constitution has much to do with the development of such
facts, no doubt; but in this case, appetite carried it hollow over the
tender passion; Mr Dombey being very cool and collected, and the Major
fretting and fuming in a state of violent heat and irritation. At length the
door was thrown open by the Native, and, after a pause, occupied by her
languishing along the gallery, a very blooming, but not very youthful lady,
appeared.
'My dear Mr Dombey,' said the lady, 'I am afraid we are late, but Edith
has been out already looking for a favourable point of view for a sketch,
and kept me waiting for her. Falsest of Majors,' giving him her little
finger, 'how do you do?'
'Mrs Skewton,' said Mr Dombey, 'let me gratify my friend Carker:' Mr
Dombey unconsciously emphasised the word friend, as saying "no really; I do
allow him to take credit for that distinction:" 'by presenting him to you.
You have heard me mention Mr Carker.'
'I am charmed, I am sure,' said Mrs Skewton, graciously.
Mr Carker was charmed, of course. Would he have been more charmed on Mr
Dombey's behalf, if Mrs Skewton had been (as he at first supposed her) the
Edith whom they had toasted overnight?
'Why, where, for Heaven's sake, is Edith?' exclaimed Mrs Skewton,
looking round. 'Still at the door, giving Withers orders about the mounting
of those drawings! My dear Mr Dombey, will you have the kindness -
Mr Dombey was already gone to seek her. Next moment he returned,
bearing on his arm the same elegantly dressed and very handsome lady whom Mr
Carker had encountered underneath the trees.
'Carker - ' began Mr Dombey. But their recognition of each other was so
manifest, that Mr Dombey stopped surprised.
'I am obliged to the gentleman,' said Edith, with a stately bend, 'for
sparing me some annoyance from an importunate beggar just now.'
'I am obliged to my good fortune,' said Mr Carker, bowing low, 'for the
opportunity of rendering so slight a service to one whose servant I am proud
to be.'
As her eye rested on him for an instant, and then lighted on the
ground, he saw in its bright and searching glance a suspicion that he had
not come up at the moment of his interference, but had secretly observed her
sooner. As he saw that, she saw in his eye that her distrust was not without
foundation.
'Really,' cried Mrs Skewton, who had taken this opportunity of
inspecting Mr Carker through her glass, and satisfying herself (as she
lisped audibly to the Major) that he was all heart; 'really now, this is one
of the most enchanting coincidences that I ever heard of. The idea! My
dearest Edith, there is such an obvious destiny in it, that really one might
almost be induced to cross one's arms upon one's frock, and say, like those
wicked Turks, there is no What's-his-name but Thingummy, and
What-you-may-call-it is his prophet!'
Edith designed no revision of this extraordinary quotation from the
Koran, but Mr Dombey felt it necessary to offer a few polite remarks.
'It gives me great pleasure,' said Mr Dombey, with cumbrous gallantry,
'that a gentleman so nearly connected with myself as Carker is, should have
had the honour and happiness of rendering the least assistance to Mrs
Granger.' Mr Dombey bowed to her. 'But it gives me some pain, and it
occasions me to be really envious of Carker;' he unconsciously laid stress
on these words, as sensible that they must appear to involve a very
surprising proposition; 'envious of Carker, that I had not that honour and
that happiness myself.' Mr Dombey bowed again. Edith, saving for a curl of
her lip, was motionless.
'By the Lord, Sir,' cried the Major, bursting into speech at sight of
the waiter, who was come to announce breakfast, 'it's an extraordinary thing
to me that no one can have the honour and happiness of shooting all such
beggars through the head without being brought to book for it. But here's an
arm for Mrs Granger if she'll do J. B. the honour to accept it; and the
greatest service Joe can render you, Ma'am, just now, is, to lead you into
table!'
With this, the Major gave his arm to Edith; Mr Dombey led the way with
Mrs Skewton; Mrs Carker went last, smiling on the party.
'I am quite rejoiced, Mr Carker,' said the lady-mother, at breakfast,
after another approving survey of him through her glass, 'that you have
timed your visit so happily, as to go with us to-day. It is the most
enchanting expedition!'
'Any expedition would be enchanting in such society,' returned Carker;
'but I believe it is, in itself, full of interest.'
'Oh!' cried Mrs Skewton, with a faded little scream of rapture, 'the
Castle is charming! - associations of the Middle Ages - and all that - which
is so truly exquisite. Don't you dote upon the Middle Ages, Mr Carker?'
'Very much, indeed,' said Mr Carker.
'Such charming times!' cried Cleopatra. 'So full of faith! So vigorous
and forcible! So picturesque! So perfectly removed from commonplace! Oh
dear! If they would only leave us a little more of the poetry of existence
in these terrible days!'
Mrs Skewton was looking sharp after Mr Dombey all the time she said
this, who was looking at Edith: who was listening, but who never lifted up
her eyes.
'We are dreadfully real, Mr Carker,' said Mrs Skewton; 'are we not?'
Few people had less reason to complain of their reality than Cleopatra,
who had as much that was false about her as could well go to the composition
of anybody with a real individual existence. But Mr Carker commiserated our
reality nevertheless, and agreed that we were very hardly used in that
regard.
'Pictures at the Castle, quite divine!' said Cleopatra. 'I hope you
dote upon pictures?'
'I assure you, Mrs Skewton,' said Mr Dombey, with solemn encouragement
of his Manager, 'that Carker has a very good taste for pictures; quite a
natural power of appreciating them. He is a very creditable artist himself.
He will be delighted, I am sure, with Mrs Granger's taste and skill.'
'Damme, Sir!' cried Major Bagstock, 'my opinion is, that you're the
admirable Carker, and can do anything.'
'Oh!' smiled Carker, with humility, 'you are much too sanguine, Major
Bagstock. I can do very little. But Mr Dombey is so generous in his
estimation of any trivial accomplishment a man like myself may find it
almost necessary to acquire, and to which, in his very different sphere, he
is far superior, that - ' Mr Carker shrugged his shoulders, deprecating
further praise, and said no more.
All this time, Edith never raised her eyes, unless to glance towards
her mother when that lady's fervent spirit shone forth in words. But as
Carker ceased, she looked at Mr Dombey for a moment. For a moment only; but
with a transient gleam of scornful wonder on her face, not lost on one
observer, who was smiling round the board.
Mr Dombey caught the dark eyelash in its descent, and took the
opportunity of arresting it.
'You have been to Warwick often, unfortunately?' said Mr Dombey.
'Several times.'
'The visit will be tedious to you, I am afraid.'
'Oh no; not at all.'
'Ah! You are like your cousin Feenix, my dearest Edith,' said Mrs
Skewton. 'He has been to Warwick Castle fifty times, if he has been there
once; yet if he came to Leamington to-morrow - I wish he would, dear angel!
- he would make his fifty-second visit next day.'
'We are all enthusiastic, are we not, Mama?' said Edith, with a cold
smile.
'Too much so, for our peace, perhaps, my dear,' returned her mother;
'but we won't complain. Our own emotions are our recompense. If, as your
cousin Feenix says, the sword wears out the what's-its-name
'The scabbard, perhaps,' said Edith.
'Exactly - a little too fast, it is because it is bright and glowing,
you know, my dearest love.'
Mrs Skewton heaved a gentle sigh, supposed to cast a shadow on the
surface of that dagger of lath, whereof her susceptible bosom was the
sheath: and leaning her head on one side, in the Cleopatra manner, looked
with pensive affection on her darling child.
Edith had turned her face towards Mr Dombey when he first addressed
her, and had remained in that attitude, while speaking to her mother, and
while her mother spoke to her, as though offering him her attention, if he
had anything more to say. There was something in the manner of this simple
courtesy: almost defiant, and giving it the character of being rendered on
compulsion, or as a matter of traffic to which she was a reluctant party
again not lost upon that same observer who was smiling round the board. It
set him thinking of her as he had first seen her, when she had believed
herself to be alone among the trees.
Mr Dombey having nothing else to say, proposed - the breakfast being
now finished, and the Major gorged, like any Boa Constrictor - that they
should start. A barouche being in waiting, according to the orders of that
gentleman, the two ladies, the Major and himself, took their seats in it;
the Native and the wan page mounted the box, Mr Towlinson being left behind;
and Mr Carker, on horseback, brought up the rear. Mr Carker cantered behind
the carriage. at the distance of a hundred yards or so, and watched it,
during all the ride, as if he were a cat, indeed, and its four occupants,
mice. Whether he looked to one side of the road, or to the other - over
distant landscape, with its smooth undulations, wind-mills, corn, grass,
bean fields, wild-flowers, farm-yards, hayricks, and the spire among the
wood - or upwards in the sunny air, where butterflies were sporting round
his head, and birds were pouring out their songs - or downward, where the
shadows of the branches interlaced, and made a trembling carpet on the road
- or onward, where the overhanging trees formed aisles and arches, dim with
the softened light that steeped through leaves - one corner of his eye was
ever on the formal head of Mr Dombey, addressed towards him, and the feather
in the bonnet, drooping so neglectfully and scornfully between them; much as
he had seen the haughty eyelids droop; not least so, when the face met that
now fronting it. Once, and once only, did his wary glance release these
objects; and that was, when a leap over a low hedge, and a gallop across a
field, enabled him to anticipate the carriage coming by the road, and to be
standing ready, at the journey's end, to hand the ladies out. Then, and but
then, he met her glance for an instant in her first surprise; but when he
touched her, in alighting, with his soft white hand, it overlooked him
altogether as before.
Mrs Skewton was bent on taking charge of Mr Carker herself, and showing
him the beauties of the Castle. She was determined to have his arm, and the
Major's too. It would do that incorrigible creature: who was the most
barbarous infidel in point of poetry: good to be in such company. This
chance arrangement left Mr Dombey at liberty to escort Edith: which he did:
stalking before them through the apartments with a gentlemanly solemnity.
'Those darling byegone times, Mr Carker,' said Cleopatra, 'with their
delicious fortresses, and their dear old dungeons, and their delightful
places of torture, and their romantic vengeances, and their picturesque
assaults and sieges, and everything that makes life truly charming! How
dreadfully we have degenerated!'
'Yes, we have fallen off deplorably,' said Mr Carker.
The peculiarity of their conversation was, that Mrs Skewton, in spite
of her ecstasies, and Mr Carker, in spite of his urbanity, were both intent
on watching Mr Dombey and Edith. With all their conversational endowments,
they spoke somewhat distractedly, and at random, in consequence.
'We have no Faith left, positively,' said Mrs Skewton, advancing her
shrivelled ear; for Mr Dombey was saying something to Edith. 'We have no
Faith in the dear old Barons, who were the most delightful creatures - or in
the dear old Priests, who were the most warlike of men - or even in the days
of that inestimable Queen Bess, upon the wall there, which were so extremely
golden. Dear creature! She was all Heart And that charming father of hers! I
hope you dote on Harry the Eighth!'
'I admire him very much,' said Carker.
'So bluff!' cried Mrs Skewton, 'wasn't he? So burly. So truly English.
Such a picture, too, he makes, with his dear little peepy eyes, and his
benevolent chin!'
'Ah, Ma'am!' said Carker, stopping short; 'but if you speak of
pictures, there's a composition! What gallery in the world can produce the
counterpart of that?'
As the smiling gentleman thus spake, he pointed through a doorway to
where Mr Dombey and Edith were standing alone in the centre of another room.
They were not interchanging a word or a look. Standing together, arm in
arm, they had the appearance of being more divided than if seas had rolled
between them. There was a difference even in the pride of the two, that
removed them farther from each other, than if one had been the proudest and
the other the humblest specimen of humanity in all creation. He,
self-important, unbending, formal, austere. She, lovely and graceful, in an
uncommon degree, but totally regardless of herself and him and everything
around, and spurning her own attractions with her haughty brow and lip, as
if they were a badge or livery she hated. So unmatched were they, and
opposed, so forced and linked together by a chain which adverse hazard and
mischance had forged: that fancy might have imagined the pictures on the
walls around them, startled by the unnatural conjunction, and observant of
it in their several expressions. Grim knights and warriors looked scowling
on them. A churchman, with his hand upraised, denounced the mockery of such
a couple coming to God's altar. Quiet waters in landscapes, with the sun
reflected in their depths, asked, if better means of escape were not at
hand, was there no drowning left? Ruins cried, 'Look here, and see what We
are, wedded to uncongenial Time!' Animals, opposed by nature, worried one
another, as a moral to them. Loves and Cupids took to flight afraid, and
Martyrdom had no such torment in its painted history of suffering.
Nevertheless, Mrs Skewton was so charmed by the sight to which Mr
Carker invoked her attention, that she could not refraIn from saying, half
aloud, how sweet, how very full of soul it was! Edith, overhearing, looked
round, and flushed indignant scarlet to her hair.
'My dearest Edith knows I was admiring her!' said Cleopatra, tapping
her, almost timidly, on the back with her parasol. 'Sweet pet!'
Again Mr Carker saw the strife he had witnessed so unexpectedly among
the trees. Again he saw the haughty languor and indifference come over it,
and hide it like a cloud.
She did not raise her eyes to him; but with a slight peremptory motion
of them, seemed to bid her mother come near. Mrs Skewton thought it
expedient to understand the hint, and advancing quickly, with her two
cavaliers, kept near her daughter from that time,
Mr Carker now, having nothing to distract his attention, began to
discourse upon the pictures and to select the best, and point them out to Mr
Dombey: speaking with his usual familiar recognition of Mr Dombey's
greatness, and rendering homage by adjusting his eye-glass for him, or
finding out the right place in his catalogue, or holding his stick, or the
like. These services did not so much originate with Mr Carker, in truth, as
with Mr Dombey himself, who was apt to assert his chieftainship by saying,
with subdued authority, and in an easy way - for him - 'Here, Carker, have
the goodness to assist me, will you?' which the smiling gentleman always did
with pleasure.
They made the tour of the pictures, the walls, crow's nest, and so
forth; and as they were still one little party, and the Major was rather in
the shade: being sleepy during the process of digestion: Mr Carker became
communicative and agreeable. At first, he addressed himself for the most
part to Mrs Skewton; but as that sensitive lady was in such ecstasies with
the works of art, after the first quarter of an hour, that she could do
nothing but yawn (they were such perfect inspirations, she observed as a
reason for that mark of rapture), he transferred his attentions to Mr
Dombey. Mr Dombey said little beyond an occasional 'Very true, Carker,' or
'Indeed, Carker,' but he tacitly encouraged Carker to proceed, and inwardly
approved of his behaviour very much: deeming it as well that somebody should
talk, and thinking that his remarks, which were, as one might say, a branch
of the parent establishment, might amuse Mrs Granger. Mr Carker, who
possessed an excellent discretion, never took the liberty of addressing that
lady, direct; but she seemed to listen, though she never looked at him; and
once or twice, when he was emphatic in his peculiar humility, the twilight
smile stole over her face, not as a light, but as a deep black shadow.
Warwick Castle being at length pretty well exhausted, and the Major
very much so: to say nothing of Mrs Skewton, whose peculiar demonstrations
of delight had become very frequent Indeed: the carriage was again put In
requisition, and they rode to several admired points of view In the
neighbourhood. Mr Dombey ceremoniously observed of one of these, that a
sketch, however slight, from the fair hand of Mrs Granger, would be a
remembrance to him of that agreeable day: though he wanted no artificial
remembrance, he was sure (here Mr Dombey made another of his bows), which he
must always highly value. Withers the lean having Edith's sketch-book under
his arm, was immediately called upon by Mrs Skewton to produce the same: and
the carriage stopped, that Edith might make the drawing, which Mr Dombey was
to put away among his treasures.
'But I am afraid I trouble you too much,' said Mr Dombey.
'By no means. Where would you wish it taken from?' she answered,
turning to him with the same enforced attention as before.
Mr Dombey, with another bow, which cracked the starch in his cravat,
would beg to leave that to the Artist.
'I would rather you chose for yourself,' said Edith.
'Suppose then,' said Mr Dombey, 'we say from here. It appears a good
spot for the purpose, or - Carker, what do you think?'
There happened to be in the foreground, at some little distance, a
grove of trees, not unlike that In which Mr Carker had made his chain of
footsteps in the morning, and with a seat under one tree, greatly
resembling, in the general character of its situation, the point where his
chain had broken.
'Might I venture to suggest to Mrs Granger,' said Carker, 'that that is
an interesting - almost a curious - point of view?'
She followed the direction of his riding-whip with her eyes, and raised
them quickly to his face. It was the second glance they had exchanged since
their introduction; and would have been exactly like the first, but that its
expression was plainer.
'Will you like that?' said Edith to Mr Dombey.
'I shall be charmed,' said Mr Dombey to Edith.
Therefore the carriage was driven to the spot where Mr Dombey was to be
charmed; and Edith, without moving from her seat, and openIng her
sketch-book with her usual proud indifference, began to sketch.
'My pencils are all pointless,' she said, stopping and turning them
over.
'Pray allow me,' said Mr Dombey. 'Or Carker will do it better, as he
understands these things. Carker, have the goodness to see to these pencils
for Mrs Granger.
Mr Carker rode up close to the carriage-door on Mrs Granger's side, and
letting the rein fall on his horse's neck, took the pencils from her hand
with a smile and a bow, and sat in the saddle leisurely mending them. Having
done so, he begged to be allowed to hold them, and to hand them to her as
they were required; and thus Mr Carker, with many commendations of Mrs
Granger's extraordinary skill - especially in trees - remained - close at
her side, looking over the drawing as she made it. Mr Dombey in the meantime
stood bolt upright in the carriage like a highly respectable ghost, looking
on too; while Cleopatra and the Major dallied as two ancient doves might do.
'Are you satisfied with that, or shall I finish it a little more?' said
Edith, showing the sketch to Mr Dombey.
Mr Dombey begged that it might not be touched; it was perfection.
'It is most extraordinary,' said Carker, bringing every one of his red
gums to bear upon his praise. 'I was not prepared for anything so beautiful,
and so unusual altogether.'
This might have applied to the sketcher no less than to the sketch; but
Mr Carker's manner was openness itself - not as to his mouth alone, but as
to his whole spirit. So it continued to be while the drawing was laid aside
for Mr Dombey, and while the sketching materials were put up; then he handed
in the pencils (which were received with a distant acknowledgment of his
help, but without a look), and tightening his rein, fell back, and followed
the carriage again.
Thinking, perhaps, as he rode, that even this trivial sketch had been
made and delivered to its owner, as if it had been bargained for and bought.
Thinking, perhaps, that although she had assented with such perfect
readiness to his request, her haughty face, bent over the drawing, or
glancing at the distant objects represented in it, had been the face of a
proud woman, engaged in a sordid and miserable transaction. Thinking,
perhaps, of such things: but smiling certainly, and while he seemed to look
about him freely, in enjoyment of the air and exercise, keeping always that
sharp corner of his eye upon the carriage.
A stroll among the haunted ruins of Kenilworth, and more rides to more
points of view: most of which, Mrs Skewton reminded Mr Dombey, Edith had
already sketched, as he had seen in looking over her drawings: brought the
day's expedition to a close. Mrs Skewton and Edith were driven to their own
lodgings; Mr Carker was graciously invited by Cleopatra to return thither
with Mr Dombey and the Major, in the evening, to hear some of Edith's music;
and the three gentlemen repaired to their hotel to dinner.
The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, except that the Major
was twenty-four hours more triumphant and less mysterious. Edith was toasted
again. Mr Dombey was again agreeably embarrassed. And Mr Carker was full of
interest and praise.
There were no other visitors at Mrs Skewton's. Edith's drawings were
strewn about the room, a little more abundantly than usual perhaps; and
Withers, the wan page, handed round a little stronger tea. The harp was
there; the piano was there; and Edith sang and played. But even the music
was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same
uncompromising way. As thus.
'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr
Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.'
'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no
doubt.'
'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.
'What do you wish?'
'Piano?' hesitated Mr Dombey.
'Whatever you please. You have only to choose.
Accordingly, she began with the piano. It was the same with the harp;
the same with her singing; the same with the selection of the pieces that
she sang and played. Such frigid and constrained, yet prompt and pointed
acquiescence with the wishes he imposed upon her, and on no one else, was
sufficiently remarkable to penetrate through all the mysteries of picquet,
and impress itself on Mr Carker's keen attention. Nor did he lose sight of
the fact that Mr Dombey was evidently proud of his power, and liked to show
it.
Nevertheless, Mr Carker played so well - some games with the Major, and
some with Cleopatra, whose vigilance of eye in respect of Mr Dombey and
Edith no lynx could have surpassed - that he even heightened his position in
the lady-mother's good graces; and when on taking leave he regretted that he
would be obliged to return to London next morning, Cleopatra trusted:
community of feeling not being met with every day: that it was far from
being the last time they would meet.
'I hope so,' said Mr Carker, with an expressive look at the couple in
the distance, as he drew towards the door, following the Major. 'I think
so.'
Mr Dombey, who had taken a stately leave of Edith, bent, or made some
approach to a bend, over Cleopatra's couch, and said, in a low voice:
'I have requested Mrs Granger's permission to call on her to-morrow
morning - for a purpose - and she has appointed twelve o'clock. May I hope
to have the pleasure of finding you at home, Madam, afterwards?'
Cleopatra was so much fluttered and moved, by hearing this, of course,
incomprehensible speech, that she could only shut her eyes, and shake her
head, and give Mr Dombey her hand; which Mr Dombey, not exactly knowing what
to do with, dropped.
'Dombey, come along!' cried the Major, looking in at the door. 'Damme,
Sir, old Joe has a great mind to propose an alteration in the name of the
Royal Hotel, and that it should be called the Three Jolly Bachelors, in
honour of ourselves and Carker.' With this, the Major slapped Mr Dombey on
the back, and winking over his shoulder at the ladies, with a frightful
tendency of blood to the head, carried him off.
Mrs Skewton reposed on her sofa, and Edith sat apart, by her harp, in
silence. The mother, trifling with her fan, looked stealthily at the
daughter more than once, but the daughter, brooding gloomily with downcast
eyes, was not to be disturbed.
Thus they remained for a long hour, without a word, until Mrs Skewton's
maid appeared, according to custom, to prepare her gradually for night. At
night, she should have been a skeleton, with dart and hour-glass, rather
than a woman, this attendant; for her touch was as the touch of Death. The
painted object shrivelled underneath her hand; the form collapsed, the hair
dropped off, the arched dark eyebrows changed to scanty tufts of grey; the
pale lips shrunk, the skin became cadaverous and loose; an old, worn,
yellow, nodding woman, with red eyes, alone remained in Cleopatra's place,
huddled up, like a slovenly bundle, in a greasy flannel gown.
The very voice was changed, as it addressed Edith, when they were alone
again.
'Why don't you tell me,' it said sharply, 'that he is coming here
to-morrow by appointment?'
'Because you know it,' returned Edith, 'Mother.'
The mocking emphasis she laid on that one word!
'You know he has bought me,' she resumed. 'Or that he will, to-morrow.
He has considered of his bargain; he has shown it to his friend; he is even
rather proud of it; he thinks that it will suit him, and may be had
sufficiently cheap; and he will buy to-morrow. God, that I have lived for
this, and that I feel it!'
Compress into one handsome face the conscious self-abasement, and the
burning indignation of a hundred women, strong in passion and in pride; and
there it hid itself with two white shuddering arms.
'What do you mean?' returned the angry mother. 'Haven't you from a
child - '
'A child!' said Edith, looking at her, 'when was I a child? What
childhood did you ever leave to me? I was a woman - artful, designing,
mercenary, laying snares for men - before I knew myself, or you, or even
understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt You gave
birth to a woman. Look upon her. She is in her pride tonight'
And as she spoke, she struck her hand upon her beautiful bosom, as
though she would have beaten down herself
have been so much occupied.'
'Business, eh?' said the Major.
'A variety of little matters necessary to be gone through,' replied
Carker. 'But do you know - this is quite unusual with me, educated in a
distrustful school, and who am not generally disposed to be communicative,'
he said, breaking off, and speaking in a charming tone of frankness - 'but I
feel quite confidential with you, Major Bagstock.'
'You do me honour, Sir,' returned the Major. 'You may be.'
'Do you know, then,' pursued Carker, 'that I have not found my friend -
our friend, I ought rather to call him - '
'Meaning Dombey, Sir?' cried the Major. 'You see me, Mr Carker,
standing here! J. B.?'
He was puffy enough to see, and blue enough; and Mr Carker intimated
the he had that pleasure.
'Then you see a man, Sir, who would go through fire and water to serve
Dombey,' returned Major Bagstock.
Mr Carker smiled, and said he was sure of it. 'Do you know, Major,' he
proceeded: 'to resume where I left off' that I have not found our friend so
attentive to business today, as usual?'
'No?' observed the delighted Major.
'I have found him a little abstracted, and with his attention disposed
to wander,' said Carker.
'By Jove, Sir,' cried the Major, 'there's a lady in the case.'
'Indeed, I begin to believe there really is,' returned Carker; 'I
thought you might be jesting when you seemed to hint at it; for I know you
military men -
The Major gave the horse's cough, and shook his head and shoulders, as
much as to say, 'Well! we are gay dogs, there's no denying.' He then seized
Mr Carker by the button-hole, and with starting eyes whispered in his ear,
that she was a woman of extraordinary charms, Sir. That she was a young
widow, Sir. That she was of a fine family, Sir. That Dombey was over head
and ears in love with her, Sir, and that it would be a good match on both
sides; for she had beauty, blood, and talent, and Dombey had fortune; and
what more could any couple have? Hearing Mr Dombey's footsteps without, the
Major cut himself short by saying, that Mr Carker would see her tomorrow
morning, and would judge for himself; and between his mental excitement, and
the exertion of saying all this in wheezy whispers, the Major sat gurgling
in the throat and watering at the eyes, until dinner was ready.
The Major, like some other noble animals, exhibited himself to great
advantage at feeding-time. On this occasion, he shone resplendent at one end
of the table, supported by the milder lustre of Mr Dombey at the other;
while Carker on one side lent his ray to either light, or suffered it to
merge into both, as occasion arose.
During the first course or two, the Major was usually grave; for the
Native, in obedience to general orders, secretly issued, collected every
sauce and cruet round him, and gave him a great deal to do, in taking out
the stoppers, and mixing up the contents in his plate. Besides which, the
Native had private zests and flavours on a side-table, with which the Major
daily scorched himself; to say nothing of strange machines out of which he
spirited unknown liquids into the Major's drink. But on this occasion, Major
Bagstock, even amidst these many occupations, found time to be social; and
his sociality consisted in excessive slyness for the behoof of Mr Carker,
and the betrayal of Mr Dombey's state of mind.
'Dombey,' said the Major, 'you don't eat; what's the matter?'
'Thank you,' returned the gentleman, 'I am doing very well; I have no
great appetite today.'
'Why, Dombey, what's become of it?' asked the Major. 'Where's it gone?
You haven't left it with our friends, I'll swear, for I can answer for their
having none to-day at luncheon. I can answer for one of 'em, at least: I
won't say which.'
Then the Major winked at Carker, and became so frightfully sly, that
his dark attendant was obliged to pat him on the back, without orders, or he
would probably have disappeared under the table.
In a later stage of the dinner: that is to say, when the Native stood
at the Major's elbow ready to serve the first bottle of champagne: the Major
became still slyer.
'Fill this to the brim, you scoundrel,' said the Major, holding up his
glass. 'Fill Mr Carker's to the brim too. And Mr Dombey's too. By Gad,
gentlemen,' said the Major, winking at his new friend, while Mr Dombey
looked into his plate with a conscious air, 'we'll consecrate this glass of
wine to a Divinity whom Joe is proud to know, and at a distance humbly and
reverently to admire. Edith,' said the Major, 'is her name; angelic Edith!'
'To angelic Edith!' cried the smiling Carker.
'Edith, by all means,' said Mr Dombey.
The entrance of the waiters with new dishes caused the Major to be
slyer yet, but in a more serious vein. 'For though among ourselves, Joe
Bagstock mingles jest and earnest on this subject, Sir,' said the Major,
laying his finger on his lips, and speaking half apart to Carker, 'he holds
that name too sacred to be made the property of these fellows, or of any
fellows. Not a word!, Sir' while they are here!'
This was respectful and becoming on the Major's part, and Mr Dombey
plainly felt it so. Although embarrassed in his own frigid way, by the
Major's allusions, Mr Dombey had no objection to such rallying, it was
clear, but rather courted it. Perhaps the Major had been pretty near the
truth, when he had divined that morning that the great man who was too
haughty formally to consult with, or confide in his prime minister, on such
a matter, yet wished him to be fully possessed of it. Let this be how it
may, he often glanced at Mr Carker while the Major plied his light
artillery, and seemed watchful of its effect upon him.
But the Major, having secured an attentive listener, and a smiler who
had not his match in all the world - 'in short, a devilish intelligent and
able fellow,' as he often afterwards declared - was not going to let him off
with a little slyness personal to Mr Dombey. Therefore, on the removal of
the cloth, the Major developed himself as a choice spirit in the broader and
more comprehensive range of narrating regimental stories, and cracking
regimental jokes, which he did with such prodigal exuberance, that Carker
was (or feigned to be) quite exhausted with laughter and admiration: while
Mr Dombey looked on over his starched cravat, like the Major's proprietor,
or like a stately showman who was glad to see his bear dancing well.
When the Major was too hoarse with meat and drink, and the display of
his social powers, to render himself intelligible any longer, they adjourned
to coffee. After which, the Major inquired of Mr Carker the Manager, with
little apparent hope of an answer in the affirmative, if he played picquet.
'Yes, I play picquet a little,' said Mr Carker.
'Backgammon, perhaps?' observed the Major, hesitating.
'Yes, I play backgammon a little too,' replied the man of teeth.
'Carker plays at all games, I believe,' said Mr Dombey, laying himself
on a sofa like a man of wood, without a hinge or a joint in him; 'and plays
them well.'
In sooth, he played the two in question, to such perfection, that the
Major was astonished, and asked him, at random, if he played chess.
'Yes, I play chess a little,' answered Carker. 'I have sometimes
played, and won a game - it's a mere trick - without seeing the board.'
'By Gad, Sir!' said the Major, staring, 'you are a contrast to Dombey,
who plays nothing.'
'Oh! He!' returned the Manager. 'He has never had occasion to acquire
such little arts. To men like me, they are sometimes useful. As at present,
Major Bagstock, when they enable me to take a hand with you.'
It might be only the false mouth, so smooth and wide; and yet there
seemed to lurk beneath the humility and subserviency of this short speech, a
something like a snarl; and, for a moment, one might have thought that the
white teeth were prone to bite the hand they fawned upon. But the Major
thought nothing about it; and Mr Dombey lay meditating with his eyes half
shut, during the whole of the play, which lasted until bed-time.
By that time, Mr Carker, though the winner, had mounted high into the
Major's good opinion, insomuch that when he left the Major at his own room
before going to bed, the Major as a special attention, sent the Native - who
always rested on a mattress spread upon the ground at his master's door -
along the gallery, to light him to his room in state.
There was a faint blur on the surface of the mirror in Mr Carker's
chamber, and its reflection was, perhaps, a false one. But it showed, that
night, the image of a man, who saw, in his fancy, a crowd of people
slumbering on the ground at his feet, like the poor Native at his master's
door: who picked his way among them: looking down, maliciously enough: but
trod upon no upturned face - as yet.
Deeper Shadows
Mr Carker the Manager rose with the lark, and went out, walking in the
summer day. His meditations - and he meditated with contracted brows while
he strolled along - hardly seemed to soar as high as the lark, or to mount
in that direction; rather they kept close to their nest upon the earth, and
looked about, among the dust and worms. But there was not a bird in the air,
singing unseen, farther beyond the reach of human eye than Mr Carker's
thoughts. He had his face so perfectly under control, that few could say
more, in distinct terms, of its expression, than that it smiled or that it
pondered. It pondered now, intently. As the lark rose higher, he sank deeper
in thought. As the lark poured out her melody clearer and stronger, he fell
into a graver and profounder silence. At length, when the lark came headlong
down, with an accumulating stream of song, and dropped among the green wheat
near him, rippling in the breath of the morning like a river, he sprang up
from his reverie, and looked round with a sudden smile, as courteous and as
soft as if he had had numerous observers to propitiate; nor did he relapse,
after being thus awakened; but clearing his face, like one who bethought
himself that it might otherwise wrinkle and tell tales, went smiling on, as
if for practice.
Perhaps with an eye to first impressions, Mr Carker was very carefully
and trimly dressed, that morning. Though always somewhat formal, in his
dress, in imitation of the great man whom he served, he stopped short of the
extent of Mr Dombey's stiffness: at once perhaps because he knew it to be
ludicrous, and because in doing so he found another means of expressing his
sense of the difference and distance between them. Some people quoted him
indeed, in this respect, as a pointed commentary, and not a flattering one,
on his icy patron - but the world is prone to misconstruction, and Mr Carker
was not accountable for its bad propensity.
Clean and florid: with his light complexion, fading as it were, in the
sun, and his dainty step enhancing the softness of the turf: Mr Carker the
Manager strolled about meadows, and green lanes, and glided among avenues of
trees, until it was time to return to breakfast. Taking a nearer way back,
Mr Carker pursued it, airing his teeth, and said aloud as he did so, 'Now to
see the second Mrs Dombey!'
He had strolled beyond the town, and re-entered it by a pleasant walk,
where there was a deep shade of leafy trees, and where there were a few
benches here and there for those who chose to rest. It not being a place of
general resort at any hour, and wearing at that time of the still morning
the air of being quite deserted and retired, Mr Carker had it, or thought he
had it, all to himself. So, with the whim of an idle man, to whom there yet
remained twenty minutes for reaching a destination easily able in ten, Mr
Carker threaded the great boles of the trees, and went passing in and out,
before this one and behind that, weaving a chain of footsteps on the dewy
ground.
But he found he was mistaken in supposing there was no one in the
grove, for as he softly rounded the trunk of one large tree, on which the
obdurate bark was knotted and overlapped like the hide of a rhinoceros or
some kindred monster of the ancient days before the Flood, he saw an
unexpected figure sitting on a bench near at hand, about which, in another
moment, he would have wound the chain he was making.
It was that of a lady, elegantly dressed and very handsome, whose dark
proud eyes were fixed upon the ground, and in whom some passion or struggle
was raging. For as she sat looking down, she held a corner of her under lip
within her mouth, her bosom heaved, her nostril quivered, her head trembled,
indignant tears were on her cheek, and her foot was set upon the moss as
though she would have crushed it into nothing. And yet almost the self-same
glance that showed him this, showed him the self-same lady rising with a
scornful air of weariness and lassitude, and turning away with nothing
expressed in face or figure but careless beauty and imperious disdain.
A withered and very ugly old woman, dressed not so much like a gipsy as
like any of that medley race of vagabonds who tramp about the country,
begging, and stealing, and tinkering, and weaving rushes, by turns, or all
together, had been observing the lady, too; for, as she rose, this second
figure strangely confronting the first, scrambled up from the ground - out
of it, it almost appeared - and stood in the way.
'Let me tell your fortune, my pretty lady,' said the old woman,
munching with her jaws, as if the Death's Head beneath her yellow skin were
impatient to get out.
'I can tell it for myself,' was the reply.
'Ay, ay, pretty lady; but not right. You didn't tell it right when you
were sitting there. I see you! Give me a piece of silver, pretty lady, and
I'll tell your fortune true. There's riches, pretty lady, in your face.'
'I know,' returned the lady, passing her with a dark smile, and a proud
step. 'I knew it before.
'What! You won't give me nothing?' cried the old woman. 'You won't give
me nothing to tell your fortune, pretty lady? How much will you give me to
tell it, then? Give me something, or I'll call it after you!' croaked the
old woman, passionately.
Mr Carker, whom the lady was about to pass close, slinking against his
tree as she crossed to gain the path, advanced so as to meet her, and
pulling off his hat as she went by, bade the old woman hold her peace. The
lady acknowledged his interference with an inclination of the head, and went
her way.
'You give me something then, or I'll call it after her!' screamed the
old woman, throwing up her arms, and pressing forward against his
outstretched hand. 'Or come,' she added, dropping her voice suddenly,
looking at him earnestly, and seeming in a moment to forget the object of
her wrath, 'give me something, or I'll call it after you! '
'After me, old lady!' returned the Manager, putting his hand in his
pocket.
'Yes,' said the woman, steadfast in her scrutiny, and holding out her
shrivelled hand. 'I know!'
'What do you know?' demanded Carker, throwing her a shilling. 'Do you
know who the handsome lady is?'
Munching like that sailor's wife of yore, who had chestnuts In her lap,
and scowling like the witch who asked for some in vain, the old woman picked
the shilling up, and going backwards, like a crab, or like a heap of crabs:
for her alternately expanding and contracting hands might have represented
two of that species, and her creeping face, some half-a-dozen more: crouched
on the veinous root of an old tree, pulled out a short black pipe from
within the crown of her bonnet, lighted it with a match, and smoked in
silence, looking fixedly at her questioner.
Mr Carker laughed, and turned upon his heel.
'Good!' said the old woman. 'One child dead, and one child living: one
wife dead, and one wife coming. Go and meet her!'
In spite of himself, the Manager looked round again, and stopped. The
old woman, who had not removed her pipe, and was munching and mumbling while
she smoked, as if in conversation with an invisible familiar, pointed with
her finger in the direction he was going, and laughed.
'What was that you said, Beldamite?' he demanded.
The woman mumbled, and chattered, and smoked, and still pointed before
him; but remained silent Muttering a farewell that was not complimentary, Mr
Carker pursued his way; but as he turned out of that place, and looked over
his shoulder at the root of the old tree, he could yet see the finger
pointing before him, and thought he heard the woman screaming, 'Go and meet
her!'
Preparations for a choice repast were completed, he found, at the
hotel; and Mr Dombey, and the Major, and the breakfast, were awaiting the
ladies. Individual constitution has much to do with the development of such
facts, no doubt; but in this case, appetite carried it hollow over the
tender passion; Mr Dombey being very cool and collected, and the Major
fretting and fuming in a state of violent heat and irritation. At length the
door was thrown open by the Native, and, after a pause, occupied by her
languishing along the gallery, a very blooming, but not very youthful lady,
appeared.
'My dear Mr Dombey,' said the lady, 'I am afraid we are late, but Edith
has been out already looking for a favourable point of view for a sketch,
and kept me waiting for her. Falsest of Majors,' giving him her little
finger, 'how do you do?'
'Mrs Skewton,' said Mr Dombey, 'let me gratify my friend Carker:' Mr
Dombey unconsciously emphasised the word friend, as saying "no really; I do
allow him to take credit for that distinction:" 'by presenting him to you.
You have heard me mention Mr Carker.'
'I am charmed, I am sure,' said Mrs Skewton, graciously.
Mr Carker was charmed, of course. Would he have been more charmed on Mr
Dombey's behalf, if Mrs Skewton had been (as he at first supposed her) the
Edith whom they had toasted overnight?
'Why, where, for Heaven's sake, is Edith?' exclaimed Mrs Skewton,
looking round. 'Still at the door, giving Withers orders about the mounting
of those drawings! My dear Mr Dombey, will you have the kindness -
Mr Dombey was already gone to seek her. Next moment he returned,
bearing on his arm the same elegantly dressed and very handsome lady whom Mr
Carker had encountered underneath the trees.
'Carker - ' began Mr Dombey. But their recognition of each other was so
manifest, that Mr Dombey stopped surprised.
'I am obliged to the gentleman,' said Edith, with a stately bend, 'for
sparing me some annoyance from an importunate beggar just now.'
'I am obliged to my good fortune,' said Mr Carker, bowing low, 'for the
opportunity of rendering so slight a service to one whose servant I am proud
to be.'
As her eye rested on him for an instant, and then lighted on the
ground, he saw in its bright and searching glance a suspicion that he had
not come up at the moment of his interference, but had secretly observed her
sooner. As he saw that, she saw in his eye that her distrust was not without
foundation.
'Really,' cried Mrs Skewton, who had taken this opportunity of
inspecting Mr Carker through her glass, and satisfying herself (as she
lisped audibly to the Major) that he was all heart; 'really now, this is one
of the most enchanting coincidences that I ever heard of. The idea! My
dearest Edith, there is such an obvious destiny in it, that really one might
almost be induced to cross one's arms upon one's frock, and say, like those
wicked Turks, there is no What's-his-name but Thingummy, and
What-you-may-call-it is his prophet!'
Edith designed no revision of this extraordinary quotation from the
Koran, but Mr Dombey felt it necessary to offer a few polite remarks.
'It gives me great pleasure,' said Mr Dombey, with cumbrous gallantry,
'that a gentleman so nearly connected with myself as Carker is, should have
had the honour and happiness of rendering the least assistance to Mrs
Granger.' Mr Dombey bowed to her. 'But it gives me some pain, and it
occasions me to be really envious of Carker;' he unconsciously laid stress
on these words, as sensible that they must appear to involve a very
surprising proposition; 'envious of Carker, that I had not that honour and
that happiness myself.' Mr Dombey bowed again. Edith, saving for a curl of
her lip, was motionless.
'By the Lord, Sir,' cried the Major, bursting into speech at sight of
the waiter, who was come to announce breakfast, 'it's an extraordinary thing
to me that no one can have the honour and happiness of shooting all such
beggars through the head without being brought to book for it. But here's an
arm for Mrs Granger if she'll do J. B. the honour to accept it; and the
greatest service Joe can render you, Ma'am, just now, is, to lead you into
table!'
With this, the Major gave his arm to Edith; Mr Dombey led the way with
Mrs Skewton; Mrs Carker went last, smiling on the party.
'I am quite rejoiced, Mr Carker,' said the lady-mother, at breakfast,
after another approving survey of him through her glass, 'that you have
timed your visit so happily, as to go with us to-day. It is the most
enchanting expedition!'
'Any expedition would be enchanting in such society,' returned Carker;
'but I believe it is, in itself, full of interest.'
'Oh!' cried Mrs Skewton, with a faded little scream of rapture, 'the
Castle is charming! - associations of the Middle Ages - and all that - which
is so truly exquisite. Don't you dote upon the Middle Ages, Mr Carker?'
'Very much, indeed,' said Mr Carker.
'Such charming times!' cried Cleopatra. 'So full of faith! So vigorous
and forcible! So picturesque! So perfectly removed from commonplace! Oh
dear! If they would only leave us a little more of the poetry of existence
in these terrible days!'
Mrs Skewton was looking sharp after Mr Dombey all the time she said
this, who was looking at Edith: who was listening, but who never lifted up
her eyes.
'We are dreadfully real, Mr Carker,' said Mrs Skewton; 'are we not?'
Few people had less reason to complain of their reality than Cleopatra,
who had as much that was false about her as could well go to the composition
of anybody with a real individual existence. But Mr Carker commiserated our
reality nevertheless, and agreed that we were very hardly used in that
regard.
'Pictures at the Castle, quite divine!' said Cleopatra. 'I hope you
dote upon pictures?'
'I assure you, Mrs Skewton,' said Mr Dombey, with solemn encouragement
of his Manager, 'that Carker has a very good taste for pictures; quite a
natural power of appreciating them. He is a very creditable artist himself.
He will be delighted, I am sure, with Mrs Granger's taste and skill.'
'Damme, Sir!' cried Major Bagstock, 'my opinion is, that you're the
admirable Carker, and can do anything.'
'Oh!' smiled Carker, with humility, 'you are much too sanguine, Major
Bagstock. I can do very little. But Mr Dombey is so generous in his
estimation of any trivial accomplishment a man like myself may find it
almost necessary to acquire, and to which, in his very different sphere, he
is far superior, that - ' Mr Carker shrugged his shoulders, deprecating
further praise, and said no more.
All this time, Edith never raised her eyes, unless to glance towards
her mother when that lady's fervent spirit shone forth in words. But as
Carker ceased, she looked at Mr Dombey for a moment. For a moment only; but
with a transient gleam of scornful wonder on her face, not lost on one
observer, who was smiling round the board.
Mr Dombey caught the dark eyelash in its descent, and took the
opportunity of arresting it.
'You have been to Warwick often, unfortunately?' said Mr Dombey.
'Several times.'
'The visit will be tedious to you, I am afraid.'
'Oh no; not at all.'
'Ah! You are like your cousin Feenix, my dearest Edith,' said Mrs
Skewton. 'He has been to Warwick Castle fifty times, if he has been there
once; yet if he came to Leamington to-morrow - I wish he would, dear angel!
- he would make his fifty-second visit next day.'
'We are all enthusiastic, are we not, Mama?' said Edith, with a cold
smile.
'Too much so, for our peace, perhaps, my dear,' returned her mother;
'but we won't complain. Our own emotions are our recompense. If, as your
cousin Feenix says, the sword wears out the what's-its-name
'The scabbard, perhaps,' said Edith.
'Exactly - a little too fast, it is because it is bright and glowing,
you know, my dearest love.'
Mrs Skewton heaved a gentle sigh, supposed to cast a shadow on the
surface of that dagger of lath, whereof her susceptible bosom was the
sheath: and leaning her head on one side, in the Cleopatra manner, looked
with pensive affection on her darling child.
Edith had turned her face towards Mr Dombey when he first addressed
her, and had remained in that attitude, while speaking to her mother, and
while her mother spoke to her, as though offering him her attention, if he
had anything more to say. There was something in the manner of this simple
courtesy: almost defiant, and giving it the character of being rendered on
compulsion, or as a matter of traffic to which she was a reluctant party
again not lost upon that same observer who was smiling round the board. It
set him thinking of her as he had first seen her, when she had believed
herself to be alone among the trees.
Mr Dombey having nothing else to say, proposed - the breakfast being
now finished, and the Major gorged, like any Boa Constrictor - that they
should start. A barouche being in waiting, according to the orders of that
gentleman, the two ladies, the Major and himself, took their seats in it;
the Native and the wan page mounted the box, Mr Towlinson being left behind;
and Mr Carker, on horseback, brought up the rear. Mr Carker cantered behind
the carriage. at the distance of a hundred yards or so, and watched it,
during all the ride, as if he were a cat, indeed, and its four occupants,
mice. Whether he looked to one side of the road, or to the other - over
distant landscape, with its smooth undulations, wind-mills, corn, grass,
bean fields, wild-flowers, farm-yards, hayricks, and the spire among the
wood - or upwards in the sunny air, where butterflies were sporting round
his head, and birds were pouring out their songs - or downward, where the
shadows of the branches interlaced, and made a trembling carpet on the road
- or onward, where the overhanging trees formed aisles and arches, dim with
the softened light that steeped through leaves - one corner of his eye was
ever on the formal head of Mr Dombey, addressed towards him, and the feather
in the bonnet, drooping so neglectfully and scornfully between them; much as
he had seen the haughty eyelids droop; not least so, when the face met that
now fronting it. Once, and once only, did his wary glance release these
objects; and that was, when a leap over a low hedge, and a gallop across a
field, enabled him to anticipate the carriage coming by the road, and to be
standing ready, at the journey's end, to hand the ladies out. Then, and but
then, he met her glance for an instant in her first surprise; but when he
touched her, in alighting, with his soft white hand, it overlooked him
altogether as before.
Mrs Skewton was bent on taking charge of Mr Carker herself, and showing
him the beauties of the Castle. She was determined to have his arm, and the
Major's too. It would do that incorrigible creature: who was the most
barbarous infidel in point of poetry: good to be in such company. This
chance arrangement left Mr Dombey at liberty to escort Edith: which he did:
stalking before them through the apartments with a gentlemanly solemnity.
'Those darling byegone times, Mr Carker,' said Cleopatra, 'with their
delicious fortresses, and their dear old dungeons, and their delightful
places of torture, and their romantic vengeances, and their picturesque
assaults and sieges, and everything that makes life truly charming! How
dreadfully we have degenerated!'
'Yes, we have fallen off deplorably,' said Mr Carker.
The peculiarity of their conversation was, that Mrs Skewton, in spite
of her ecstasies, and Mr Carker, in spite of his urbanity, were both intent
on watching Mr Dombey and Edith. With all their conversational endowments,
they spoke somewhat distractedly, and at random, in consequence.
'We have no Faith left, positively,' said Mrs Skewton, advancing her
shrivelled ear; for Mr Dombey was saying something to Edith. 'We have no
Faith in the dear old Barons, who were the most delightful creatures - or in
the dear old Priests, who were the most warlike of men - or even in the days
of that inestimable Queen Bess, upon the wall there, which were so extremely
golden. Dear creature! She was all Heart And that charming father of hers! I
hope you dote on Harry the Eighth!'
'I admire him very much,' said Carker.
'So bluff!' cried Mrs Skewton, 'wasn't he? So burly. So truly English.
Such a picture, too, he makes, with his dear little peepy eyes, and his
benevolent chin!'
'Ah, Ma'am!' said Carker, stopping short; 'but if you speak of
pictures, there's a composition! What gallery in the world can produce the
counterpart of that?'
As the smiling gentleman thus spake, he pointed through a doorway to
where Mr Dombey and Edith were standing alone in the centre of another room.
They were not interchanging a word or a look. Standing together, arm in
arm, they had the appearance of being more divided than if seas had rolled
between them. There was a difference even in the pride of the two, that
removed them farther from each other, than if one had been the proudest and
the other the humblest specimen of humanity in all creation. He,
self-important, unbending, formal, austere. She, lovely and graceful, in an
uncommon degree, but totally regardless of herself and him and everything
around, and spurning her own attractions with her haughty brow and lip, as
if they were a badge or livery she hated. So unmatched were they, and
opposed, so forced and linked together by a chain which adverse hazard and
mischance had forged: that fancy might have imagined the pictures on the
walls around them, startled by the unnatural conjunction, and observant of
it in their several expressions. Grim knights and warriors looked scowling
on them. A churchman, with his hand upraised, denounced the mockery of such
a couple coming to God's altar. Quiet waters in landscapes, with the sun
reflected in their depths, asked, if better means of escape were not at
hand, was there no drowning left? Ruins cried, 'Look here, and see what We
are, wedded to uncongenial Time!' Animals, opposed by nature, worried one
another, as a moral to them. Loves and Cupids took to flight afraid, and
Martyrdom had no such torment in its painted history of suffering.
Nevertheless, Mrs Skewton was so charmed by the sight to which Mr
Carker invoked her attention, that she could not refraIn from saying, half
aloud, how sweet, how very full of soul it was! Edith, overhearing, looked
round, and flushed indignant scarlet to her hair.
'My dearest Edith knows I was admiring her!' said Cleopatra, tapping
her, almost timidly, on the back with her parasol. 'Sweet pet!'
Again Mr Carker saw the strife he had witnessed so unexpectedly among
the trees. Again he saw the haughty languor and indifference come over it,
and hide it like a cloud.
She did not raise her eyes to him; but with a slight peremptory motion
of them, seemed to bid her mother come near. Mrs Skewton thought it
expedient to understand the hint, and advancing quickly, with her two
cavaliers, kept near her daughter from that time,
Mr Carker now, having nothing to distract his attention, began to
discourse upon the pictures and to select the best, and point them out to Mr
Dombey: speaking with his usual familiar recognition of Mr Dombey's
greatness, and rendering homage by adjusting his eye-glass for him, or
finding out the right place in his catalogue, or holding his stick, or the
like. These services did not so much originate with Mr Carker, in truth, as
with Mr Dombey himself, who was apt to assert his chieftainship by saying,
with subdued authority, and in an easy way - for him - 'Here, Carker, have
the goodness to assist me, will you?' which the smiling gentleman always did
with pleasure.
They made the tour of the pictures, the walls, crow's nest, and so
forth; and as they were still one little party, and the Major was rather in
the shade: being sleepy during the process of digestion: Mr Carker became
communicative and agreeable. At first, he addressed himself for the most
part to Mrs Skewton; but as that sensitive lady was in such ecstasies with
the works of art, after the first quarter of an hour, that she could do
nothing but yawn (they were such perfect inspirations, she observed as a
reason for that mark of rapture), he transferred his attentions to Mr
Dombey. Mr Dombey said little beyond an occasional 'Very true, Carker,' or
'Indeed, Carker,' but he tacitly encouraged Carker to proceed, and inwardly
approved of his behaviour very much: deeming it as well that somebody should
talk, and thinking that his remarks, which were, as one might say, a branch
of the parent establishment, might amuse Mrs Granger. Mr Carker, who
possessed an excellent discretion, never took the liberty of addressing that
lady, direct; but she seemed to listen, though she never looked at him; and
once or twice, when he was emphatic in his peculiar humility, the twilight
smile stole over her face, not as a light, but as a deep black shadow.
Warwick Castle being at length pretty well exhausted, and the Major
very much so: to say nothing of Mrs Skewton, whose peculiar demonstrations
of delight had become very frequent Indeed: the carriage was again put In
requisition, and they rode to several admired points of view In the
neighbourhood. Mr Dombey ceremoniously observed of one of these, that a
sketch, however slight, from the fair hand of Mrs Granger, would be a
remembrance to him of that agreeable day: though he wanted no artificial
remembrance, he was sure (here Mr Dombey made another of his bows), which he
must always highly value. Withers the lean having Edith's sketch-book under
his arm, was immediately called upon by Mrs Skewton to produce the same: and
the carriage stopped, that Edith might make the drawing, which Mr Dombey was
to put away among his treasures.
'But I am afraid I trouble you too much,' said Mr Dombey.
'By no means. Where would you wish it taken from?' she answered,
turning to him with the same enforced attention as before.
Mr Dombey, with another bow, which cracked the starch in his cravat,
would beg to leave that to the Artist.
'I would rather you chose for yourself,' said Edith.
'Suppose then,' said Mr Dombey, 'we say from here. It appears a good
spot for the purpose, or - Carker, what do you think?'
There happened to be in the foreground, at some little distance, a
grove of trees, not unlike that In which Mr Carker had made his chain of
footsteps in the morning, and with a seat under one tree, greatly
resembling, in the general character of its situation, the point where his
chain had broken.
'Might I venture to suggest to Mrs Granger,' said Carker, 'that that is
an interesting - almost a curious - point of view?'
She followed the direction of his riding-whip with her eyes, and raised
them quickly to his face. It was the second glance they had exchanged since
their introduction; and would have been exactly like the first, but that its
expression was plainer.
'Will you like that?' said Edith to Mr Dombey.
'I shall be charmed,' said Mr Dombey to Edith.
Therefore the carriage was driven to the spot where Mr Dombey was to be
charmed; and Edith, without moving from her seat, and openIng her
sketch-book with her usual proud indifference, began to sketch.
'My pencils are all pointless,' she said, stopping and turning them
over.
'Pray allow me,' said Mr Dombey. 'Or Carker will do it better, as he
understands these things. Carker, have the goodness to see to these pencils
for Mrs Granger.
Mr Carker rode up close to the carriage-door on Mrs Granger's side, and
letting the rein fall on his horse's neck, took the pencils from her hand
with a smile and a bow, and sat in the saddle leisurely mending them. Having
done so, he begged to be allowed to hold them, and to hand them to her as
they were required; and thus Mr Carker, with many commendations of Mrs
Granger's extraordinary skill - especially in trees - remained - close at
her side, looking over the drawing as she made it. Mr Dombey in the meantime
stood bolt upright in the carriage like a highly respectable ghost, looking
on too; while Cleopatra and the Major dallied as two ancient doves might do.
'Are you satisfied with that, or shall I finish it a little more?' said
Edith, showing the sketch to Mr Dombey.
Mr Dombey begged that it might not be touched; it was perfection.
'It is most extraordinary,' said Carker, bringing every one of his red
gums to bear upon his praise. 'I was not prepared for anything so beautiful,
and so unusual altogether.'
This might have applied to the sketcher no less than to the sketch; but
Mr Carker's manner was openness itself - not as to his mouth alone, but as
to his whole spirit. So it continued to be while the drawing was laid aside
for Mr Dombey, and while the sketching materials were put up; then he handed
in the pencils (which were received with a distant acknowledgment of his
help, but without a look), and tightening his rein, fell back, and followed
the carriage again.
Thinking, perhaps, as he rode, that even this trivial sketch had been
made and delivered to its owner, as if it had been bargained for and bought.
Thinking, perhaps, that although she had assented with such perfect
readiness to his request, her haughty face, bent over the drawing, or
glancing at the distant objects represented in it, had been the face of a
proud woman, engaged in a sordid and miserable transaction. Thinking,
perhaps, of such things: but smiling certainly, and while he seemed to look
about him freely, in enjoyment of the air and exercise, keeping always that
sharp corner of his eye upon the carriage.
A stroll among the haunted ruins of Kenilworth, and more rides to more
points of view: most of which, Mrs Skewton reminded Mr Dombey, Edith had
already sketched, as he had seen in looking over her drawings: brought the
day's expedition to a close. Mrs Skewton and Edith were driven to their own
lodgings; Mr Carker was graciously invited by Cleopatra to return thither
with Mr Dombey and the Major, in the evening, to hear some of Edith's music;
and the three gentlemen repaired to their hotel to dinner.
The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, except that the Major
was twenty-four hours more triumphant and less mysterious. Edith was toasted
again. Mr Dombey was again agreeably embarrassed. And Mr Carker was full of
interest and praise.
There were no other visitors at Mrs Skewton's. Edith's drawings were
strewn about the room, a little more abundantly than usual perhaps; and
Withers, the wan page, handed round a little stronger tea. The harp was
there; the piano was there; and Edith sang and played. But even the music
was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same
uncompromising way. As thus.
'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr
Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.'
'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no
doubt.'
'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.
'What do you wish?'
'Piano?' hesitated Mr Dombey.
'Whatever you please. You have only to choose.
Accordingly, she began with the piano. It was the same with the harp;
the same with her singing; the same with the selection of the pieces that
she sang and played. Such frigid and constrained, yet prompt and pointed
acquiescence with the wishes he imposed upon her, and on no one else, was
sufficiently remarkable to penetrate through all the mysteries of picquet,
and impress itself on Mr Carker's keen attention. Nor did he lose sight of
the fact that Mr Dombey was evidently proud of his power, and liked to show
it.
Nevertheless, Mr Carker played so well - some games with the Major, and
some with Cleopatra, whose vigilance of eye in respect of Mr Dombey and
Edith no lynx could have surpassed - that he even heightened his position in
the lady-mother's good graces; and when on taking leave he regretted that he
would be obliged to return to London next morning, Cleopatra trusted:
community of feeling not being met with every day: that it was far from
being the last time they would meet.
'I hope so,' said Mr Carker, with an expressive look at the couple in
the distance, as he drew towards the door, following the Major. 'I think
so.'
Mr Dombey, who had taken a stately leave of Edith, bent, or made some
approach to a bend, over Cleopatra's couch, and said, in a low voice:
'I have requested Mrs Granger's permission to call on her to-morrow
morning - for a purpose - and she has appointed twelve o'clock. May I hope
to have the pleasure of finding you at home, Madam, afterwards?'
Cleopatra was so much fluttered and moved, by hearing this, of course,
incomprehensible speech, that she could only shut her eyes, and shake her
head, and give Mr Dombey her hand; which Mr Dombey, not exactly knowing what
to do with, dropped.
'Dombey, come along!' cried the Major, looking in at the door. 'Damme,
Sir, old Joe has a great mind to propose an alteration in the name of the
Royal Hotel, and that it should be called the Three Jolly Bachelors, in
honour of ourselves and Carker.' With this, the Major slapped Mr Dombey on
the back, and winking over his shoulder at the ladies, with a frightful
tendency of blood to the head, carried him off.
Mrs Skewton reposed on her sofa, and Edith sat apart, by her harp, in
silence. The mother, trifling with her fan, looked stealthily at the
daughter more than once, but the daughter, brooding gloomily with downcast
eyes, was not to be disturbed.
Thus they remained for a long hour, without a word, until Mrs Skewton's
maid appeared, according to custom, to prepare her gradually for night. At
night, she should have been a skeleton, with dart and hour-glass, rather
than a woman, this attendant; for her touch was as the touch of Death. The
painted object shrivelled underneath her hand; the form collapsed, the hair
dropped off, the arched dark eyebrows changed to scanty tufts of grey; the
pale lips shrunk, the skin became cadaverous and loose; an old, worn,
yellow, nodding woman, with red eyes, alone remained in Cleopatra's place,
huddled up, like a slovenly bundle, in a greasy flannel gown.
The very voice was changed, as it addressed Edith, when they were alone
again.
'Why don't you tell me,' it said sharply, 'that he is coming here
to-morrow by appointment?'
'Because you know it,' returned Edith, 'Mother.'
The mocking emphasis she laid on that one word!
'You know he has bought me,' she resumed. 'Or that he will, to-morrow.
He has considered of his bargain; he has shown it to his friend; he is even
rather proud of it; he thinks that it will suit him, and may be had
sufficiently cheap; and he will buy to-morrow. God, that I have lived for
this, and that I feel it!'
Compress into one handsome face the conscious self-abasement, and the
burning indignation of a hundred women, strong in passion and in pride; and
there it hid itself with two white shuddering arms.
'What do you mean?' returned the angry mother. 'Haven't you from a
child - '
'A child!' said Edith, looking at her, 'when was I a child? What
childhood did you ever leave to me? I was a woman - artful, designing,
mercenary, laying snares for men - before I knew myself, or you, or even
understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt You gave
birth to a woman. Look upon her. She is in her pride tonight'
And as she spoke, she struck her hand upon her beautiful bosom, as
though she would have beaten down herself