The Old Curiosity Shop / Лавка древностей

5

The next day the dwarf was at the Quilp’s Wharf.

“Here’s somebody for you,” said the boy to Quilp.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask!” said Quilp. “Ask, you dog.”

A little girl presented herself at the door.

“What, Nelly!” cried Quilp.

“Yes,” said the child; “it’s only me, sir.”

“Come in,” said Quilp. “Now come in and shut the door. What’s your message, Nelly?”

The child handed him a letter; Mr. Quilp began to read it. Little Nell stood timidly by and waited for his reply.

“Nelly!” said Mr. Quilp.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know what’s inside this letter, Nell? “

“No, sir!”

“Are you sure, quite sure, quite certain?”

“Quite sure, sir.”

“Well!” muttered Quilp. “I believe you. Hm! Gone already? Gone in four-and-twenty hours. What the devil has he done with it? That’s the mystery!”

He began to bite his nails.

“You look very pretty today, Nelly, charmingly pretty. Are you tired, Nelly?”

“No, sir. I’m in a hurry to get back.”

“There’s no hurry, little Nell, no hurry at all,” said Quilp. “How should you like to be my number two, Nelly?”

“To be what, sir?”

“My number two, Nelly; my second; my Mrs. Quilp,” said the dwarf.

The child looked frightened, but seemed not to understand him. Mr. Quilp hastened to explain his meaning more distinctly.

“To be Mrs. Quilp the second, when Mrs. Quilp the first is dead, sweet Nell,” said Quilp, “to be my wife, my little cherry-cheeked, red-lipped wife. Say that Mrs. Quilp lives five years, or only four, you’ll be just the proper age for me. Ha ha! Be a good girl, Nelly, a very good girl, and see one day you will become Mrs. Quilp of Tower Hill.”

The child shrunk from him, and trembled. Mr. Quilp only laughed.

“You will come with me to Tower Hill, and see Mrs. Quilp, that is, directly,” said the dwarf. “She’s very fond of you, Nell, though not so fond as I am. You will come home with me.”

“I must go back indeed,” said the child. “My grandfather told me to return directly I had the answer.”

“But you haven’t it, Nelly,” retorted the dwarf, “and won’t have it, and can’t have it, until we’re home, so you must go with me. Give me my hat, my dear, and we’ll go directly.”

With that, Mr. Quilp went outside, and saw two boys struggling.

“It’s Kit!” cried Nelly, clasping her hands, “poor Kit who came with me! Oh pray stop them, Mr. Quilp!”

“I’ll stop them,” cried Quilp, going into the little house and returning with a thick stick. “I’ll stop them. Now, my boys, I’ll fight you both. I’ll take both of you^[24], both together, both together!”

With this the dwarf began to beat the fighters with his stick.

“I’ll beat you to a pulp, you dogs,” said Quilp. “I’ll bruise you till you’re copper-coloured, I’ll break your faces, I will!”

“Come, you drop that stick or it’ll be worse for you,” said the boy.

“Come a little nearer, and I’ll drop it on your skull, you dog,” said Quilp with gleaming eyes; “a little nearer; nearer yet.”

But the boy declined the invitation: Quilp was as strong as a lion.

“Never mind,” said the boy, nodding his head and rubbing it at the same time; “I will never strike anybody again because they say you’re a uglier dwarf than can be seen anywhere for a penny, that’s all.”

“Do you mean to say, I’m not, you dog?” returned Quilp.

“No!” retorted the boy.

“Then what do you fight on my wharf for, you villain?” said Quilp.

“Because he said so,” replied the boy, pointing to Kit, “not because you aren’t.”

“Then why did he say,” bawled Kit, “that Miss Nelly was ugly, and that she and my master were his servants? Why did he say that?”

“He said what he did because he’s a fool, and you said what you did because you’re very wise and clever, Kit,” said Quilp with great suavity in his manner, but still more of quiet malice about his eyes and mouth. “Here’s sixpence for you, Kit. Always speak the truth. At all times, Kit, speak the truth. Lock the house, you dog, and bring me the key.”

The other boy, to whom this order was addressed, did as he was told. Then Mr. Quilp departed, with the child and Kit in a boat.

6

The sound of Quilp’s footsteps roused Mrs. Quilp at home. Her husband entered, accompanied by the child; Kit was downstairs.

“Here’s Nelly Trent, dear Mrs. Quilp,” said her husband. “A glass of wine, my dear, and a biscuit, for she has had a long walk. She’ll sit with you, my soul, while I write a letter.”

Mrs. Quilp followed him into the next room.

“Mind what I say to you,” whispered Quilp. “Get out of her anything about her grandfather, or what they do, or how they live, or what he tells her. You women talk more freely to one another than you do to us. Do you hear?”

“Yes, Quilp.”

“Go, then. What’s the matter now?”

“Dear Quilp.” faltered his wife, “I love this child and I don’t want to deceive her…”

The dwarf muttered a terrible oath.

“Do you hear me?” whispered Quilp, nipping and pinching her arm; “let me know her secrets; I know you can. I’m listening, recollect. If you’re not sharp enough I’ll creak the door. Go!”

Mrs. Quilp departed according to order^[25]. Her amiable husband, ensconcing himself behind the partly-opened door, and applying his ear close to it, began to listen with a face of great craftiness and attention.

Poor Mrs. Quilp began.

“How very often you have visited lately Mr. Quilp, my dear.”

“I have said so to grandfather, a hundred times,” returned Nell innocently.

“And what has he said to that?”

“Only sighed, and dropped his head. How that door creaks!”

“It often does,” returned Mrs. Quilp with an uneasy glance towards it. “But your grandfather was different before?”

“Oh yes!” said the child eagerly, “so different! We were once so happy and he so cheerful and contented! You cannot think what a sad change has fallen on us, since.”

“I am very, very sorry, to hear you speak like this, my dear! “ said Mrs. Quilp. And she spoke the truth.

“Thank you,” returned the child, kissing her cheek, “you are always kind to me, and it is a pleasure to talk to you. I can speak to no one else about him, but poor Kit. You cannot think how it grieves me sometimes to see him alter so.”

“He’ll alter again, Nelly,” said Mrs. Quilp, “and be what he was before.”

“I thought,” said the child; “I saw that door moving!”

“It’s the wind,” said Mrs. Quilp faintly. “Nelly, Nelly! I can’t bear to see you so sorrowful. Pray don’t cry.”

“I do so very seldom,” said Nell, “The tears come into my eyes and I cannot keep them back. I can tell you my grief, for I know you will not tell it to anyone again.”

Mrs. Quilp turned away her head and made no answer.

“We,” said the child, “we often walked in the fields and among the green trees, and when we came home at night, we said what a happy place it was. But now we never have these walks, and though it is the same house, it is darker and much more gloomy than it used to be. Indeed!”

She paused here, but though the door creaked more than once, Mrs. Quilp said nothing.

“Please don’t suppose,” said the child earnestly, “that grandfather is less kind to me than he was. I think he loves me better every day. You do not know how fond he is of me!”

“I am sure he loves you dearly,” said Mrs. Quilp.

“Indeed, indeed he does!” cried Nell, “as dearly as I love him. But I have not told you the greatest change of all, and this you must never tell anyone. He has no sleep or rest, and every night and nearly all night long, he is away from home.”

“Nelly?”

“Hush!” said the child, laying her finger on her lip and looking round. “When he comes home in the morning, I let him in. Last night he was very late, and it was quite light. I saw that his face was deadly pale, and that his legs trembled as he walked. He said that he could not bear his life much longer. What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do?”

In a few moments Mr. Quilp returned.

“She’s tired, you see, Mrs. Quilp,” said the dwarf. “It’s a long way from her home to the wharf. Poor Nell! But wait, and dine with Mrs. Quilp and me.”

“I have been away too long, sir, already,” returned Nell, drying her eyes.

“Well,” said Mr. Quilp, “if you will go, you will, Nelly. Here’s the note. It’s only to say that I shall see him tomorrow, or maybe next day. Good-bye, Nelly. Here, you sir; take care of her, do you hear?”

Kit made no reply, and turned about and followed his young mistress.

7

Nelly feebly described the sadness and sorrow of her thoughts. The pressure of some hidden grief burdened her grandfather.

One night, the third after Nelly’s interview with Mrs. Quilp, the old man said he would not leave home.

“Two days,” he said, “two whole, clear, days have passed, and there is no reply. What did he tell thee, Nell?”

“Exactly what I told you, dear grandfather, indeed.”

“True,” said the old man, faintly. “Yes. But tell me again, Nell. What was it that he told you? Nothing more than that he would see me tomorrow or next day? That was in the note.”

“Nothing more,” said the child. “Shall I go to him again tomorrow, dear grandfather? Very early? I will be there and back, before breakfast.”

The old man shook his head, and sighing mournfully, drew her towards him.

“It would be of no use, my dear.”

The old man covered his face with his hands, and hid it in the pillow of the couch on which he lay.

8

Mr. Daniel Quilp entered unseen when the child first placed herself at the old man’s side, and stood looking on with his accustomed grin. He soon cast his eyes upon a chair, into which he skipped. Here, then, he sat, one leg cocked carelessly over the other, his head turned a little on one side, and his ugly features twisted into a complacent grimace.

At length, the old man pronounced his name, and inquired how he came there.

“Through the door,” said Quilp pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m not quite small enough to get through key-holes. I wish I was. I want to have some talk with you, particularly, and in private. With nobody present, neighbour. Good-bye, little Nelly.”

Nell looked at the old man, who nodded to her to retire, and kissed her cheek.

“Ah!” said the dwarf, smacking his lips, “what a nice kiss! What a capital kiss!”

Nell went away.

“Tell me,” said the old man, “have you brought me any money?”

“No!” returned Quilp.

“Then,” said the old man, clenching his hands desperately, and looking upward, “the child and I are lost!”

“Neighbour,” said Quilp, “let me be plain with you. You have no secret from me now.”

The old man looked up, trembling.

“You are surprised,” said Quilp. “Well, perhaps that’s natural. You have no secret from me now, I say; no, not one. For now, I know, that all those sums of money, that all those loans, advances, and supplies that you have had from me, have gone… shall I say the word?”

“Yes!” replied the old man, “say it, if you will.”

“To the gaming-table,” rejoined Quilp, “This was your precious plan to become rich; this was the secret certain source of wealth in which I spent my money; this was your inexhaustible mine of gold, your El Dorado^[26], eh?”

“Yes,” cried the old man, “it was. It is. It will be, till I die.”

“I have been blinded,” said Quilp looking contemptuously at him, “by a mere shallow gambler!”

“I am no gambler,” cried the old man fiercely. “I never played for gain of mine, or love of play. Every piece I staked, I whispered to myself that orphan’s name and called on Heaven to bless the venture; which it never did. Who were those with whom I played? Men who lived by plunder, profligacy, and riot.”

“When did you first begin this mad career?” asked Quilp.

“When did I first begin?” he rejoined, passing his hand across his brow. “When was it, that I first began? When I began to think how little I had saved, how long a time it took to save at all.”

“You lost your money, first, and then came to me. While I thought you were making your fortune (as you said you were) you were making yourself a beggar, eh? Dear me!” said Quilp. “But did you never win?”

“Never!” groaned the old man. “Never won back my loss.”

“I thought,” sneered the dwarf, “that if a man played long enough he was sure to win.”

“And so he is,” cried the old man, “so he is; I have always known it. Quilp, I have dreamed, three nights, of winning the same large sum, I never could dream that dream before, though I have often tried. Do not desert me, now that I have this chance. I have no resource but you, give me some help, let me try this one last hope.”

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“See Quilp, good tender-hearted Quilp,” said the old man, drawing some papers from his pocket with a trembling hand, and clasping the dwarfs arm, “only see here. Look at these figures, the result of long calculation, and painful and hard experience. I must win. I only want a little help once more, a few pounds, dear Quilp.”

“The last advance was seventy,” said the dwarf; “and it went in one night.”

“I know it did,” answered the old man, “but that was the worst night of all. Quilp, consider, consider that orphan child! Help me for her sake I implore you; not for mine; for hers!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it really,” said Quilp with unusual politeness. “I’d have advanced you, even now, what you want, on your simple note of hand, if I hadn’t unexpectedly known your secret way of life.”

“Who told you?” retorted the old man desperately, “Come. Let me know the name the person.”

The crafty dwarf said, “Now, who do you think?”

“It was Kit, it is the boy; he is the spy!” said the old man.

“Yes, you’re right” said the dwarf. “Yes, it was Kit. Poor Kit!”

So saying, he nodded in a friendly manner, and left, grinning with extraordinary delight.

“Poor Kit!” muttered Quilp. “I think it was Kit who said I was an uglier dwarf than could be seen anywhere for a penny, wasn’t it? Ha ha ha! Poor Kit!”