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diff --git a/20795-h/20795-h.htm b/20795-h/20795-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcc03e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/20795-h/20795-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4584 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cricket on the Hearth, by Charles Dickens + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 2em; + } + + img { + border: none; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket on the Hearth, by Charles Dickens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Cricket on the Hearth + +Author: Charles Dickens + +Illustrator: George Alfred Williams + +Release Date: March 10, 2007 [EBook #20795] +[Last updated: December 23, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH *** + + + + +Produced by Jason Isbell, Emma Morgan Isbell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h4>There are several editions of this ebook in the Project Gutenberg collection. Various characteristics of each ebook are listed to aid in selecting the preferred file.<br />Click on any of the filenumbers below to quickly view each ebook. +</h4> + + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + +<tr><td> + <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/20795/20795-h/20795-h.htm"> +20795</a> </b> </td><td>(Some black and white illustrations) +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> + <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37581/37581-h/37581-h.htm"> +37581</a></b></td><td>(Many fine black and white illustrations) +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> + <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/678/678-h/678-h.htm"> +678</a></b> </td><td>(Not illustrated) +</td></tr> + +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH</h1> +<h2>By CHARLES DICKENS</h2> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATED BY +GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS</h2> + +<h5>New York</h5> +<h5>THE PLATT & PECK CO.</h5> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + +<h5><i>Copyright, 1905, by</i> <span class="smcap">The Baker & Taylor Company</span></h5> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + + +<p>The combined qualities of the realist and the idealist +which Dickens possessed to a remarkable degree, +together with his naturally jovial attitude toward life +in general, seem to have given him a remarkably happy feeling +toward Christmas, though the privations and hardships of his +boyhood could have allowed him but little real experience with +this day of days.</p> + +<p>Dickens gave his first formal expression to his Christmas +thoughts in his series of small books, the first of which was +the famous "Christmas Carol," the one perfect chrysolite. +The success of the book was immediate. Thackeray wrote of +it: "Who can listen to objections regarding such a book as +this? It seems to me a national benefit, and to every man +or woman who reads it, a personal kindness."</p> + +<p>This volume was put forth in a very attractive manner, +with illustrations by John Leech, who was the first artist to make +these characters live, and his drawings were varied and spirited.</p> + +<p>There followed upon this four others: "The Chimes," +"The Cricket on the Hearth," "The Battle of Life," and "The +Haunted Man," with illustrations on their first appearance by +Doyle, Maclise, and others. The five are known to-day as the +"Christmas Books." Of them all the "Carol" is the best known +and loved, and "The Cricket on the Hearth," although third in +the series, is perhaps next in point of popularity, and is especially +familiar to Americans through Joseph Jefferson's +characterisation of Caleb Plummer.</p> + +<p>Dickens seems to have put his whole self into these glowing +little stories. Whoever sees but a clever ghost story in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span> +"Christmas Carol" misses its chief charm and lesson, for there +is a different meaning in the movements of Scrooge and his +attendant spirits. A new life is brought to Scrooge when he, +"running to his window, opened it and put out his head. No +fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring cold; cold, piping for +the blood to dance to; Golden sun-light; Heavenly sky; sweet +fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!" All this +brightness has its attendant shadow, and deep from the childish +heart comes that true note of pathos, the ever memorable +toast of Tiny Tim, "God bless Us, Every One!" "The Cricket +on the Hearth" strikes a different note. Charmingly, poetically, +the sweet chirping of the little cricket is associated with +human feelings and actions, and at the crisis of the story decides +the fate and fortune of the carrier and his wife.</p> + +<p>Dickens's greatest gift was characterization, and no English +writer, save Shakespeare, has drawn so many and so varied +characters. It would be as absurd to interpret all of these as +caricatures as to deny Dickens his great and varied powers +of creation. Dickens exaggerated many of his comic and satirical +characters, as was his right, for caricature and satire are +very closely related, while exaggeration is the very essence of +comedy. But there remains a host of characters marked by +humour and pathos. Yet the pictorial presentation of Dickens's +characters has ever tended toward the grotesque. The interpretations +in this volume aim to eliminate the grosser phases +of the caricature in favour of the more human. If the interpretations +seem novel, if Scrooge be not as he has been pictured, +it is because a more human Scrooge was desired—a +Scrooge not wholly bad, a Scrooge of a better heart, a Scrooge +to whom the resurrection described in this story was possible. +It has been the illustrator's whole aim to make these people +live in some form more fully consistent with their types.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"> +<span class="smcap">George Alfred Williams.</span></p> +<p><i>Chatham, N.J.</i><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CRICKET_ON_THE_HEARTH" id="THE_CRICKET_ON_THE_HEARTH"></a>THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH</h2> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td><a href="#CHIRP_THE_FIRST"><i>Chirp the First</i></a></td><td>103</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHIRP_THE_SECOND"><i>Chirp the Second</i></a></td><td>132</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHIRP_THE_THIRD"><i>Chirp the Third</i></a></td><td>165</td></tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="List_of_Illustrations" id="List_of_Illustrations"></a>List of Illustrations</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td><i><a href="#illo1">"Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, +willing eyes."</a></i></td><td>103</td></tr> +<tr><td><i><a href="#illo2">"A dot and—" here he glanced at the baby—"A dot and carry—I +won't say it, for fear I should spoil it; but I was very near +a joke."</a></i></td><td>108</td></tr> +<tr><td><i><a href="#illo3">Tilly Slowboy</a></i></td><td>112</td></tr> +<tr><td><i><a href="#illo4">"That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! Upright as +a milestone."</a></i></td><td>118</td></tr> +<tr><td><i><a href="#illo5">When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole chimney +with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the Hearth began +to chirp!</a></i></td><td>166</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 282px;"> +<a name="illo1" id="illo1" href="images/i01.jpg"> +<img src="images/i01_tn.jpg" width="282" height="403" alt="Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, +willing eyes." title="Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, +willing eyes." /> +<span class="caption">Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, +willing eyes.</span></a> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHIRP_THE_FIRST" id="CHIRP_THE_FIRST"></a>THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH</h2> + +<h2>A FAIRY TALE OF HOME</h2> + +<h2>CHIRP THE FIRST</h2> + + +<p>The kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle +said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may +leave it on record to the end of time that she couldn't +say which of them began it; but I say the kettle did. I ought +to know, I hope? The kettle began it, full five minutes by the +little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the Cricket +uttered a chirp.</p> + +<p>As if the clock hadn't finished striking, and the convulsive +little Hay-maker at the top of it, jerking away right and left +with a scythe in front of a Moorish Palace, hadn't mowed down +half an acre of imaginary grass before the Cricket joined in +at all!</p> + +<p>Why, I am not naturally positive. Every one knows that I +wouldn't set my own opinion against the opinion of Mrs. Peerybingle, +unless I were quite sure, on any account whatever. +Nothing should induce me. But, this is a question of fact. +And the fact is, that the kettle began it at least five minutes +before the Cricket gave any sign of being in existence. Contradict +me, and I'll say ten.</p> + +<p>Let me narrate exactly how it happened. I should have +proceeded to do so, in my very first word, but for this plain consideration—if +I am to tell a story I must begin at the beginning;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +and how is it possible to begin at the beginning without beginning +at the kettle?</p> + +<p>It appeared as if there were a sort of match, or trial of skill, +you must understand, between the kettle and the Cricket. And +this is what led to it, and how it came about.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peerybingle, going out into the raw twilight, and clicking +over the wet stones in a pair of pattens that worked innumerable +rough impressions of the first proposition in Euclid +all about the yard—Mrs. Peerybingle filled the kettle at the +water-butt. Presently returning, less the pattens (and a good +deal less, for they were tall, and Mrs. Peerybingle was but +short), she set the kettle on the fire. In doing which she lost +her temper, or mislaid it for an instant; for, the water being +uncomfortably cold, and in that slippy, slushy, sleety sort of state +wherein it seems to penetrate through every kind of substance, +patten rings included—had laid hold of Mrs. Peerybingle's +toes, and even splashed her legs. And when we rather plume +ourselves (with reason too) upon our legs, and keep ourselves +particularly neat in point of stockings, we find this, for the +moment, hard to bear.</p> + +<p>Besides, the kettle was aggravating and obstinate. It +wouldn't allow itself to be adjusted on the top bar; it wouldn't +hear of accommodating itself kindly to the knobs of coal; it +<i>would</i> lean forward with a drunken air, and dribble, a very +Idiot of a kettle, on the hearth. It was quarrelsome, and hissed +and spluttered morosely at the fire. To sum up all, the lid, +resisting Mrs. Peerybingle's fingers, first of all turned topsy-turvy, +and then, with an ingenious pertinacity deserving of a +better cause, dived sideways in—down to the very bottom of +the kettle. And the hull of the Royal George has never made +half the monstrous resistance to coming out of the water which +the lid of that kettle employed against Mrs. Peerybingle before +she got it up again.</p> + +<p>It looked sullen and pig-headed enough, even then; carrying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +its handle with an air of defiance, and cocking its spout pertly +and mockingly at Mrs. Peerybingle, as if it said, "I won't boil. +Nothing shall induce me!"</p> + +<p>But, Mrs. Peerybingle, with restored good-humour, dusted +her chubby little hands against each other, and sat down +before the kettle laughing. Meantime, the jolly blaze uprose +and fell, flashing and gleaming on the little Hay-maker at the top +of the Dutch clock, until one might have thought he stood stock-still +before the Moorish Palace, and nothing was in motion +but the flame.</p> + +<p>He was on the move, however; and had his spasms, two to +the second, all right and regular. But his sufferings when the +clock was going to strike were frightful to behold; and when a +Cuckoo looked out of a trap-door in the Palace, and gave note +six times, it shook him, each time, like a spectral voice—or +like a something wiry plucking at his legs.</p> + +<p>It was not until a violent commotion and a whirring noise +among the weights and ropes below him had quite subsided +that this terrified Hay-maker became himself again. Nor was +he startled without reason; for these rattling, bony skeletons +of clocks are very disconcerting in their operation, and I +wonder very much how any set of men, but most of all how +Dutchmen, can have had a liking to invent them. There +is a popular belief that Dutchmen love broad cases and much +clothing for their own lower selves; and they might know +better than to leave their clocks so very lank and unprotected, +surely.</p> + +<p>Now it was, you observe, that the kettle began to spend the +evening. Now it was that the kettle, growing mellow and musical, +began to have irrepressible gurglings in its throat, and to +indulge in short vocal snorts, which it checked in the bud, as +if it hadn't quite made up its mind yet to be good company. +Now it was that after two or three such vain attempts to stifle +its convivial sentiments, it threw off all moroseness, all reserve,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +and burst into a stream of song so cosy and hilarious as never +maudlin nightingale yet formed the least idea of.</p> + +<p>So plain, too! Bless you, you might have understood it like +a book—better than some books you and I could name, perhaps. +With its warm breath gushing forth in a light cloud +which merrily and gracefully ascended a few feet, then hung +about the chimney-corner as its own domestic Heaven, it trolled +its song with that strong energy of cheerfulness, that its iron +body hummed and stirred upon the fire; and the lid itself, the +recently rebellious lid—such is the influence of a bright example—performed +a sort of jig, and clattered like a deaf and +dumb young cymbal that had never known the use of its twin +brother.</p> + +<p>That this song of the kettle's was a song of invitation and +welcome to somebody out of doors: to somebody at that moment +coming on towards the snug small home and the crisp fire: +there is no doubt whatever. Mrs. Peerybingle knew it perfectly, +as she sat musing before the hearth. It's a dark night, +sang the kettle, and the rotten leaves are lying by the way; and, +above, all is mist and darkness, and, below, all is mire and clay; +and there's only one relief in all the sad and murky air; and I +don't know that it is one, for it's nothing but a glare; of deep +and angry crimson, where the sun and wind together; set a +brand upon the clouds for being guilty of such weather; and the +widest open country is a long dull streak of black; and there's +hoar frost on the finger-post, and thaw upon the track; and the +ice it isn't water, and the water isn't free; and you couldn't say +that anything is what it ought to be; but he's coming, coming, +coming!—</p> + +<p>And here, if you like, the Cricket <span class="smcap">DID</span> chime in! with a +Chirrup, Chirrup, Chirrup of such magnitude, by way of chorus; +with a voice so astoundingly disproportionate to its size, as compared +with the kettle; (size! you couldn't see it!) that, if it had +then and there burst itself like an overcharged gun, if it had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +fallen a victim on the spot, and chirruped its little body into +fifty pieces, it would have seemed a natural and inevitable consequence, +for which it had expressly laboured.</p> + +<p>The kettle had had the last of its solo performance. It +persevered with undiminished ardour; but the Cricket took +first fiddle, and kept it. Good Heaven, how it chirped! Its +shrill, sharp, piercing voice resounded through the house, and +seemed to twinkle in the outer darkness like a star. There was +an indescribable little trill and tremble in it at its loudest, which +suggested its being carried off its legs, and made to leap +again, by its own intense enthusiasm. Yet they went very +well together, the Cricket and the kettle. The burden of the +song was still the same; and louder, louder, louder still, they +sang it in their emulation.</p> + +<p>The fair little listener—for fair she was, and young; though +something of what is called the dumpling shape; but I don't +myself object to that—lighted a candle, glanced at the Hay-maker +on the top of the clock, who was getting in a pretty average +crop of minutes; and looked out of the window, where she saw +nothing, owing to the darkness, but her own face imaged in the +glass. And my opinion is (and so would yours have been) that +she might have looked a long way and seen nothing half so +agreeable. When she came back, and sat down in her former +seat, the Cricket and the kettle were still keeping it up, with a +perfect fury of competition. The kettle's weak side clearly +being that he didn't know when he was beat.</p> + +<p>There was all the excitement of a race about it. Chirp, +chirp, chirp! Cricket a mile ahead. Hum, hum, hum—m—m! +Kettle making play in the distance, like a great top. Chirp, +chirp, chirp! Cricket round the corner. Hum, hum, hum—m—m! +Kettle sticking to him in his own way; no idea of giving +in. Chirp, chirp, chirp! Cricket fresher than ever. Hum, +hum, hum—m—m! Kettle slow and steady. Chirp, chirp, +chirp! Cricket going in to finish him. Hum, hum, hum—m<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>—m! +Kettle not to be finished. Until at last they got so +jumbled together, in the hurry-skurry, helter-skelter, of the +match, that whether the kettle chirped and the Cricket hummed, +or the Cricket chirped and the kettle hummed, or they both +chirped and both hummed, it would have taken a clearer head +than yours or mine to have decided with anything like certainty. +But of this there is no doubt: that, the kettle and the Cricket, at +one and the same moment, and by some power of amalgamation +best known to themselves, sent, each, his fireside song of comfort +streaming into a ray of the candle that shone out through +the window, and a long way down the lane. And this light, +bursting on a certain person who, on the instant, approached +towards it through the gloom, expressed the whole thing to him, +literally in a twinkling, and cried, "Welcome home, old fellow! +Welcome home, my boy!"</p> + +<p>This end attained, the kettle, being dead beat, boiled over, +and was taken off the fire. Mrs. Peerybingle then went +running to the door, where, what with the wheels of a cart, +the tramp of a horse, the voice of a man, the tearing in and +out of an excited dog, and the surprising and mysterious +appearance of a baby, there was soon the very What's-his-name +to play.</p> + +<p>Where the baby came from, or how Mrs. Peerybingle got +hold of it in that flash of time, <i>I</i> don't know. But a live baby +there was in Mrs. Peerybingle's arms; and a pretty tolerable +amount of pride she seemed to have in it, when she was drawn +gently to the fire, by a sturdy figure of a man, much taller and +much older than herself, who had to stoop a long way down to +kiss her. But she was worth the trouble. Six foot six, with +the lumbago, might have done it.</p> + +<p>"Oh goodness, John!" said Mrs. P. "What a state you're +in with the weather!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 282px;"> +<a name="illo2" id="illo2" href="images/i02.jpg"> +<img src="images/i02_tn.jpg" width="282" height="458" alt=""A dot and"—here he glanced at the baby—"a +dot and carry—I won't say it, +for fear I should spoil it; but I was very near a joke."" title=""A dot and"—here he glanced at the baby—"a +dot and carry—I won't say it, +for fear I should spoil it; but I was very near a joke."" /> +<span class="caption">"A dot and"—here he glanced at the baby—"a +dot and carry—I won't say it, +for fear I should spoil it; but I was very near a joke."</span> +</a> +</div> + +<p>He was something the worse for it undeniably. The thick +mist hung in clots upon his eyelashes like candied thaw; and, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>between the fog and fire together, there were rainbows in his +very whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, Dot," John made answer slowly, as he unrolled +a shawl from about his throat, and warmed his hands; +"it—it an't exactly summer weather. So no wonder."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't call me Dot, John. I don't like it," +said Mrs. Peerybingle: pouting in a way that clearly showed she +<i>did</i> like it very much.</p> + +<p>"Why, what else are you?" returned John, looking down +upon her with a smile, and giving her waist as light a squeeze +as his huge hand and arm could give. "A dot and"—here he +glanced at the baby—"a dot and carry—I won't say it, for +fear I should spoil it; but I was very near a joke. I don't know +as ever I was nearer."</p> + +<p>He was often near to something or other very clever, by his +own account: this lumbering, slow, honest John; this John so +heavy, but so light of spirit; so rough upon the surface, but so +gentle at the core; so dull without, so quick within; so stolid, +but so good! Oh, Mother Nature, give thy children the true +poetry of heart that hid itself in this poor Carrier's breast—he +was but a Carrier, by the way—and we can bear to have them +talking prose, and leading lives of prose; and bear to bless thee +for their company!</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to see Dot, with her little figure and her +baby in her arms: a very doll of a baby: glancing with a coquettish +thoughtfulness at the fire, and inclining her delicate little head +just enough on one side to let it rest in an odd, half-natural, +half-affected, wholly nestling and agreeable manner, on the +great rugged figure of the Carrier. It was pleasant to see him, +with his tender awkwardness, endeavouring to adapt his rude +support to her slight need, and make his burly middle age a +leaning-staff not inappropriate to her blooming youth. It was +pleasant to observe how Tilly Slowboy, waiting in the background +for the baby, took special cognizance (though in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +earliest teens) of this grouping; and stood with her mouth and +eyes wide open, and her head thrust forward, taking it in as if +it were air. Nor was it less agreeable to observe how John the +Carrier, reference being made by Dot to the aforesaid baby, +checked his hand when on the point of touching the infant, as if +he thought he might crack it; and, bending down, surveyed it +from a safe distance, with a kind of puzzled pride, such as an +amiable mastiff might be supposed to show if he found himself, +one day, the father of a young canary.</p> + +<p>"An't he beautiful, John? Don't he look precious in his +sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Very precious," said John. "Very much so. He generally +<i>is</i> asleep, an't he?"</p> + +<p>"Lor, John! Good gracious, no!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said John, pondering. "I thought his eyes was +generally shut. Halloa!"</p> + +<p>"Goodness, John, how you startle one!"</p> + +<p>"It an't right for him to turn 'em up in that way," said the +astonished Carrier, "is it? See how he's winking with both +of 'em at once! and look at his mouth! Why, he's gasping like +a gold and silver fish!"</p> + +<p>"You don't deserve to be a father, you don't," said Dot, +with all the dignity of an experienced matron. "But how +should you know what little complaints children are troubled +with, John? You wouldn't so much as know their names, you +stupid fellow." And when she had turned the baby over on +her left arm, and had slapped its back as a restorative, she +pinched her husband's ear, laughing.</p> + +<p>"No," said John, pulling off his outer coat. "It's very true, +Dot. I don't know much about it. I only know that I've +been fighting pretty stiffly with the wind to-night. It's been +blowing north-east, straight into the cart, the whole way home."</p> + +<p>"Poor old man, so it has!" cried Mrs. Peerybingle, instantly +becoming very active. "Here, take the precious darling, Tilly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +while I make myself of some use. Bless it, I could smother it +with kissing it, I could! Hie then, good dog! Hie, Boxer, boy! +Only let me make the tea first, John; and then I'll help you +with the parcels, like a busy bee. 'How doth the little'—and +all the rest of it, you know, John. Did you ever learn 'How +doth the little,' when you went to school, John?"</p> + +<p>"Not to quite know it," John returned. "I was very near +it once. But I should only have spoilt it, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha!" laughed Dot. She had the blithest little laugh +you ever heard. "What a dear old darling of a dunce you are, +John, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>Not at all disputing this position, John went out to see that +the boy with the lantern, which had been dancing to and fro +before the door and window, like a Will of the Wisp, took due +care of the horse; who was fatter than you would quite believe, +if I gave you his measure, and so old that his birthday was lost +in the mists of antiquity. Boxer, feeling that his attentions +were due to the family in general, and must be impartially distributed, +dashed in and out with bewildering inconstancy; now +describing a circle of short barks round the horse, where he was +being rubbed down at the stable door; now feigning to make +savage rushes at his mistress, and facetiously bringing himself +to sudden stops; now eliciting a shriek from Tilly Slowboy, in +the low nursing-chair near the fire, by the unexpected application +of his moist nose to her countenance; now exhibiting an +obtrusive interest in the baby; now going round and round upon +the hearth, and lying down as if he had established himself for +the night; now getting up again, and taking that nothing of a +fag-end of a tail of his out into the weather, as if he had just +remembered an appointment, and was off at a round trot, to +keep it.</p> + +<p>"There! There's the teapot, ready on the hob!" said Dot; +as briskly busy as a child at play at keeping house. "And there's +the cold knuckle of ham; and there's the butter; and there's the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +crusty loaf, and all! Here's a clothes basket for the small +parcels, John, if you've got any there. Where are you, John? +Don't let the dear child fall under the grate, Tilly, whatever you +do!"</p> + +<p>It may be noted of Miss Slowboy, in spite of her rejecting +the caution with some vivacity, that she had a rare and surprising +talent for getting this baby into difficulties: and had several +times imperilled its short life in a quiet way peculiarly her own. +She was of a spare and straight shape, this young lady, insomuch +that her garments appeared to be in constant danger of +sliding off those sharp pegs, her shoulders, on which they were +loosely hung. Her costume was remarkable for the partial +development, on all possible occasions, of some flannel vestment +of a singular structure; also for affording glimpses, in the +region of the back, of a corset, or a pair of stays, in colour a dead +green. Being always in a state of gaping admiration at everything, +and absorbed, besides, in the perpetual contemplation of +her mistress's perfections and the baby's, Miss Slowboy, in her +little errors of judgment, may be said to have done equal honour +to her head and to her heart; and though these did less honour +to the baby's head, which they were the occasional means of +bringing into contact with deal doors, dressers, stair-rails, bed-posts, +and other foreign substances, still they were the honest +results of Tilly Slowboy's constant astonishment at finding herself +so kindly treated, and installed in such a comfortable home. +For the maternal and paternal Slowboy were alike unknown +to Fame, and Tilly had been bred by public charity, a foundling; +which word, though only differing from fondling by one vowel's +length, is very different in meaning, and expresses quite another +thing.</p> + +<p>To have seen little Mrs. Peerybingle come back with her +husband, tugging at the clothes basket, and making the most +strenuous exertions to do nothing at all (for he carried it), would +have amused you almost as much as it amused him. It may +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>have entertained the Cricket, too, for anything I know; but, +certainly, it now began to chirp again vehemently.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<a name="illo3" id="illo3" href="images/i03.jpg"> +<img src="images/i03_tn.jpg" width="235" height="408" alt="Tilly Slowboy." title="Tilly Slowboy." /> +<span class="caption">Tilly Slowboy.</span> +</a> +</div> + +<p>"Heyday!" said John in his slow way. "It's merrier than +ever to-night, I think."</p> + +<p>"And it's sure to bring us good fortune, John! It always +has done so. To have a Cricket on the Hearth is the luckiest +thing in all the world!"</p> + +<p>John looked at her as if he had very nearly got the thought +into his head that she was his Cricket in chief, and he quite +agreed with her. But it was probably one of his narrow escapes, +for he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"The first time I heard its cheerful little note, John, was on +that night when you brought me home—when you brought +me to my new home here; its little mistress. Nearly a year +ago. You recollect, John?"</p> + +<p>Oh, yes! John remembered. I should think so!</p> + +<p>"Its chirp was such a welcome to me! It seemed so full of +promise and encouragement. It seemed to say, you would be +kind and gentle with me, and would not expect (I had a fear of +that, John, then) to find an old head on the shoulders of your +foolish little wife."</p> + +<p>John thoughtfully patted one of the shoulders, and then the +head, as though he would have said No, no; he had had no such +expectation; he had been quite content to take them as they were. +And really he had reason. They were very comely.</p> + +<p>"It spoke the truth, John, when it seemed to say so: for you +have ever been, I am sure, the best, the most considerate, the +most affectionate of husbands to me. This has been a happy +home, John; and I love the Cricket for its sake!"</p> + +<p>"Why, so do I, then," said the Carrier. "So do I, Dot."</p> + +<p>"I love it for the many times I have heard it, and the many +thoughts its harmless music has given me. Sometimes, in the +twilight, when I have felt a little solitary and down-hearted, +John—before baby was here, to keep me company and make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +the house gay—when I have thought how lonely you would be +if I should die; how lonely I should be, if I could know that you +had lost me, dear; its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp upon the hearth has +seemed to tell me of another little voice, so sweet, so very dear +to me, before whose coming sound my trouble vanished like a +dream. And when I used to fear—I did fear once, John; I +was very young, you know—that ours might prove to be an +ill-assorted marriage, I being such a child, and you more like +my guardian than my husband; and that you might not, however +hard you tried, be able to learn to love me, as you hoped +and prayed you might; its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp has cheered me +up again, and filled me with new trust and confidence. I was +thinking of these things to-night, dear, when I sat expecting +you; and I love the Cricket for their sake!"</p> + +<p>"And so do I," repeated John. "But, Dot! <i>I</i> hope and +pray that I might learn to love you? How you talk! I had +learnt that long before I brought you here, to be the Cricket's +little mistress, Dot!"</p> + +<p>She laid her hand, an instant, on his arm, and looked up at +him with an agitated face, as if she would have told him something. +Next moment, she was down upon her knees before the +basket; speaking in a sprightly voice, and busy with the parcels.</p> + +<p>"There are not many of them to-night, John, but I saw some +goods behind the cart just now; and though they give more +trouble, perhaps, still they pay as well; so we have no reason to +grumble, have we? Besides, you have been delivering, I dare +say, as you came along?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" John said. "A good many."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's this round box? Heart alive, John, it's a +wedding-cake!"</p> + +<p>"Leave a woman alone to find out that," said John admiringly. +"Now, a man would never have thought of it! +Whereas, it's my belief that if you was to pack a wedding-cake +up in a tea-chest, or a turn-up bedstead, or a pickled-salmon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +keg, or any unlikely thing, a woman would be sure to find it out +directly. Yes; I called for it at the pastrycook's."</p> + +<p>"And it weighs I don't know what—whole hundredweights!" +cried Dot, making a great demonstration of trying +to lift it. "Whose is it, John? Where is it going?"</p> + +<p>"Read the writing on the other side," said John.</p> + +<p>"Why, John! My Goodness, John!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! who'd have thought it?" John returned.</p> + +<p>"You never mean to say," pursued Dot, sitting on the floor +and shaking her head at him, "that it's Gruff and Tackleton the +toymaker!"</p> + +<p>John nodded.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peerybingle nodded also, fifty times at least. Not in +assent—in dumb and pitying amazement; screwing up her +lips, the while, with all their little force (they were never made +for screwing up; I am clear of that), and looking the good Carrier +through and through, in her abstraction. Miss Slowboy, in the +meantime, who had a mechanical power of reproducing scraps +of current conversation for the delectation of the baby, with all +the sense struck out of them, and all the nouns changed into +the plural number, inquired aloud of that young creature, Was +it Gruffs and Tackletons the toymakers then, and Would it call +at Pastrycooks for wedding-cakes, and Did its mothers know +the boxes when its fathers brought them home; and so on.</p> + +<p>"And that is really to come about!" said Dot. "Why, she +and I were girls at school together, John."</p> + +<p>He might have been thinking of her, or nearly thinking of +her, perhaps, as she was in that same school-time. He looked +upon her with a thoughtful pleasure, but he made no answer.</p> + +<p>"And he's as old! As unlike her!—Why, how many +years older than you is Gruff and Tackleton, John?"</p> + +<p>"How many more cups of tea shall I drink to-night, at one +sitting, than Gruff and Tackleton ever took in four, I wonder?" +replied John good-humouredly, as he drew a chair to the round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +table, and began at the cold ham. "As to eating, I eat but +little; but that little I enjoy, Dot."</p> + +<p>Even this, his usual sentiment at meal-times, one of his +innocent delusions (for his appetite was always obstinate, and +flatly contradicted him), awoke no smile in the face of his little +wife, who stood among the parcels, pushing the cake-box slowly +from her with her foot, and never once looked, though her eyes +were cast down too, upon the dainty shoe she generally was so +mindful of. Absorbed in thought, she stood there, heedless +alike of the tea and John (although he called to her and rapped +the table with his knife to startle her), until he rose and touched +her on the arm; when she looked at him for a moment, and +hurried to her place behind the tea-board, laughing at her +negligence. But not as she had laughed before. The manner +and the music were quite changed.</p> + +<p>The Cricket, too, had stopped. Somehow, the room was +not so cheerful as it had been. Nothing like it.</p> + +<p>"So, these are all the parcels, are they, John?" she said, +breaking a long silence, which the honest Carrier had devoted +to the practical illustration of one part of his favourite sentiment—certainly +enjoying what he ate, if it couldn't be admitted that +he ate but little. "So these are all the parcels, are they, John?"</p> + +<p>"That's all," said John. "Why—no—I"—laying down his +knife and fork, and taking a long breath—"I declare—I've +clean forgotten the old gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"The old gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"In the cart," said John. "He was asleep among the straw, +the last time I saw him. I've very nearly remembered him, +twice, since I came in; but he went out of my head again. +Halloa! Yahip there! Rouse up! That's my hearty!"</p> + +<p>John said these latter words outside the door, whither he had +hurried with the candle in his hand.</p> + +<p>Miss Slowboy, conscious of some mysterious reference to +The Old Gentleman, and connecting, in her mystified imagina<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>tion, +certain associations of a religious nature with the phrase, +was so disturbed, that hastily rising from the low chair by the +fire to seek protection near the skirt of her mistress, and coming +into contact, as she crossed the doorway, with an ancient Stranger, +she instinctively made a charge or butt at him with the only +offensive instrument within her reach. This instrument happening +to be the baby, great commotion and alarm ensued, +which the sagacity of Boxer rather tended to increase; for that +good dog, more thoughtful than his master, had, it seemed, been +watching the old gentleman in his sleep, lest he should walk off +with a few young poplar-trees that were tied up behind the cart; +and he still attended on him very closely, worrying his gaiters, +in fact, and making dead sets at the buttons.</p> + +<p>"You're such an undeniably good sleeper, sir," said John, +when tranquillity was restored (in the meantime the old gentleman +had stood, bareheaded and motionless, in the centre of the +room), "that I have half a mind to ask you where the other six +are—only that would be a joke, and I know I should spoil it. +Very near, though," murmured the Carrier with a chuckle; +"very near!"</p> + +<p>The Stranger, who had long white hair, good features, +singularly bold and well defined for an old man, and dark, bright, +penetrating eyes, looked round with a smile, and saluted the +Carrier's wife by gravely inclining his head.</p> + +<p>His garb was very quaint and odd—a long, long way behind +the time. Its hue was brown, all over. In his hand he held a +great brown club or walking-stick; and, striking this upon the +floor, it fell asunder, and became a chair. On which he sat +down quite composedly.</p> + +<p>"There!" said the Carrier, turning to his wife. "That's +the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! Upright as a +milestone. And almost as deaf."</p> + +<p>"Sitting in the open air, John?"</p> + +<p>"In the open air," replied the Carrier, "just at dusk. 'Car<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>riage +Paid,' he said; and gave me eighteen-pence. Then he +got in. And there he is."</p> + +<p>"He's going, John, I think!"</p> + +<p>Not at all. He was only going to speak.</p> + +<p>"If you please, I was to be left till called for," said the +Stranger mildly. "Don't mind me."</p> + +<p>With that he took a pair of spectacles from one of his large +pockets, and a book from another, and leisurely began to read. +Making no more of Boxer than if he had been a house lamb!</p> + +<p>The Carrier and his wife exchanged a look of perplexity. +The Stranger raised his head; and, glancing from the latter to +the former, said:</p> + +<p>"Your daughter, my good friend?"</p> + +<p>"Wife," returned John.</p> + +<p>"Niece?" said the Stranger.</p> + +<p>"Wife!" roared John.</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" observed the Stranger. "Surely? Very young!"</p> + +<p>He quietly turned over, and resumed his reading. But, +before he could have read two lines, he again interrupted himself +to say:</p> + +<p>"Baby yours?"</p> + +<p>John gave him a gigantic nod: equivalent to an answer in +the affirmative, delivered through a speaking trumpet.</p> + +<p>"Girl?"</p> + +<p>"Bo-o-oy!" roared John.</p> + +<p>"Also very young, eh?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peerybingle instantly struck in. "Two months and +three da-ays. Vaccinated just six weeks ago-o! Took very +fine-ly! Considered, by the doctor, a remarkably beautiful +chi-ild! Equal to the general run of children at five months o-ld! +Takes notice in a way quite wonder-ful! May seem impossible +to you, but feels his legs al-ready!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 282px;"> +<a name="illo4" id="illo4" href="images/i04.jpg"> +<img src="images/i04_tn.jpg" width="282" height="414" alt=""That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! +Upright as a milestone."" title=""That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! +Upright as a milestone."" /> +<span class="caption">"That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! +Upright as a milestone."</span> +</a> +</div> + +<p>Here, the breathless little mother, who had been shrieking +these short sentences into the old man's ear, until her pretty +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>face was crimsoned, held up the Baby before him as a stubborn +and triumphant fact; while Tilly Slowboy, with a melodious +cry of "Ketcher, Ketcher"—which sounded like some unknown +words, adapted to a popular Sneeze—performed some cow-like +gambols around that all unconscious Innocent.</p> + +<p>"Hark! He's called for, sure enough," said John. "There's +somebody at the door. Open it, Tilly."</p> + +<p>Before she could reach it, however, it was opened from without; +being a primitive sort of door, with a latch that any one could +lift if he chose—and a good many people did choose, for all +kinds of neighbours liked to have a cheerful word or two with +the Carrier, though he was no great talker himself. Being +opened, it gave admission to a little, meagre, thoughtful, dingy-faced +man, who seemed to have made himself a great-coat from +the sackcloth covering of some old box; for, when he turned to +shut the door and keep the weather out, he disclosed upon the +back of that garment the inscription G & T in large black capitals. +Also the word GLASS in bold characters.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, John!" said the little man. "Good evening, +mum! Good evening, Tilly! Good evening, Unbeknown! +How's Baby, mum? Boxer's pretty well I hope?"</p> + +<p>"All thriving, Caleb," replied Dot. "I am sure you need +only look at the dear child, for one, to know that."</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure I need only look at you for another," said +Caleb.</p> + +<p>He didn't look at her, though; he had a wandering and +thoughtful eye, which seemed to be always projecting itself +into some other time and place, no matter what he said; a description +which will equally apply to his voice.</p> + +<p>"Or at John for another," said Caleb. "Or at Tilly, as +far as that goes. Or certainly at Boxer."</p> + +<p>"Busy just now, Caleb?" asked the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"Why, pretty well, John," he returned, with the distraught +air of a man who was casting about for the Philosopher's stone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +at least. "Pretty much so. There's rather a run on Noah's +Arks at present. I could have wished to improve on the Family, +but I don't see how it's to be done at the price. It would be +a satisfaction to one's mind to make it clearer which was Shems +and Hams, and which was Wives. Flies an't on that scale, +neither, as compared with elephants, you know! Ah, well! +Have you got anything in the parcel line for me, John?"</p> + +<p>The Carrier put his hand into a pocket of the coat he had +taken off; and brought out, carefully preserved in moss and +paper, a tiny flower-pot.</p> + +<p>"There it is!" he said, adjusting it with great care. "Not +so much as a leaf damaged. Full of buds!"</p> + +<p>Caleb's dull eye brightened as he took it, and thanked him.</p> + +<p>"Dear, Caleb," said the Carrier. "Very dear at this season."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. It would be cheap to me, what ever it +cost," returned the little man. "Anything else, John?"</p> + +<p>"A small box," replied the Carrier. "Here you are!"</p> + +<p>"'For Caleb Plummer,'" said the little man, spelling out +the direction. "'With Cash.' With Cash, John? I don't +think it's for me."</p> + +<p>"With Care," returned the Carrier, looking over his shoulder. +"Where do you make out cash?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! To be sure!" said Caleb. "It's all right. With +care! Yes, yes; that's mine. It might have been with cash, +indeed, if my dear Boy in the Golden South Americas had lived, +John. You loved him like a son; didn't you? You needn't say +you did. <i>I</i> know, of course. 'Caleb Plummer. With care.' +Yes, yes, it's all right. It's a box of dolls' eyes for my daughters' +work. I wish it was her own sight in a box, John."</p> + +<p>"I wish it was, or could be!" cried the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"Thankee," said the little man. "You speak very hearty. +To think that she should never see the Dolls—and them a +staring at her, so bold, all day long! That's where it cuts. +What's the damage, John?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll damage you," said John, "if you inquire. Dot! Very +near?"</p> + +<p>"Well! it's like you to say so," observed the little man. "It's +your kind way. Let me see. I think that's all."</p> + +<p>"I think not," said the Carrier. "Try again."</p> + +<p>"Something for our Governor, eh?" said Caleb after pondering +a little while. "To be sure. That's what I came for; but +my head's so running on them Arks and things! He hasn't +been here, has he?"</p> + +<p>"Not he," returned the Carrier. "He's too busy, courting."</p> + +<p>"He's coming round, though," said Caleb; "for he told me +to keep on the near side of the road going home, and it was ten +to one he'd take me up. I had better go, by-the-bye.—You +couldn't have the goodness to let me pinch Boxer's tail, mum, +for half a moment, could you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Caleb, what a question!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind, mum!" said the little man. "He mightn't +like it, perhaps. There's a small order just come in for barking +dogs; and I should wish to go as close to Natur' as I could +for sixpence. That's all. Never mind, mum."</p> + +<p>It happened opportunely that Boxer, without receiving the +proposed stimulus, began to bark with great zeal. But, as this +implied the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his +study from the life to a more convenient season, shouldered the +round box, and took a hurried leave. He might have spared +himself the trouble, for he met the visitor upon the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Oh! You are here, are you? Wait a bit. I'll take you +home. John Peerybingle, my service to you. More of my +service to your pretty wife. Handsomer every day! Better +too, if possible! And younger," mused the speaker in a low +voice, "that's the devil of it!"</p> + +<p>"I should be astonished at your paying compliments, Mr. +Tackleton," said Dot, not with the best grace in the world, +"but for your condition."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You know all about it, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have got myself to believe it somehow," said Dot.</p> + +<p>"After a hard struggle, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>Tackleton the Toy merchant, pretty generally known as +Gruff and Tackleton—for that was the firm, though Gruff had +been bought out long ago; only leaving his name, and, as some +said, his nature, according to its Dictionary meaning, in the +business—Tackleton the Toy merchant was a man whose +vocation had been quite misunderstood by his Parents and +Guardians. If they had made him a Money Lender, or a sharp +Attorney, or a Sheriff's Officer, or a Broker, he might have sown +his discontented oats in his youth, and, after having had the +full run of himself in ill-natured transactions, might have turned +out amiable, at last, for the sake of a little freshness and novelty. +But, cramped and chafing in the peaceable pursuit of toymaking, +he was a domestic Ogre, who had been living on children all his +life, and was their implacable enemy. He despised all toys; +wouldn't have bought one for the world; delighted, in his malice, +to insinuate grim expressions into the faces of brown-paper +farmers who drove pigs to market, bellmen who advertised lost +lawyers' consciences, movable old ladies who darned stockings +or carved pies; and other like samples of his stock-in-trade. +In appalling masks; hideous, hairy, red-eyed Jacks in Boxes; +Vampire Kites; demoniacal Tumblers who wouldn't lie down, +and were perpetually flying forward, to stare infants out of +countenance; his soul perfectly revelled. They were his only +relief, and safety-valve. He was great in such inventions. +Anything suggestive of a Pony nightmare was delicious to him. +He had even lost money (and he took to that toy very kindly) +by getting up Goblin slides for magic lanterns, whereon the +Powers of Darkness were depicted as a sort of supernatural +shell-fish, with human faces. In intensifying the portraiture +of Giants, he had sunk quite a little capital; and, though no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +painter himself, he could indicate, for the instruction of his +artists, with a piece of chalk, a certain furtive leer for the countenances +of those monsters, which was safe to destroy the peace of +mind of any young gentleman between the ages of six and eleven, +for the whole Christmas or Midsummer Vacation.</p> + +<p>What he was in toys, he was (as most men are) in other +things. You may easily suppose, therefore, that within the +great green cape, which reached down to the calves of his legs, +there was buttoned up to the chin an uncommonly pleasant +fellow; and that he was about as choice a spirit, and as agreeable +a companion, as ever stood in a pair of bull-headed-looking +boots with mahogany-coloured tops.</p> + +<p>Still, Tackleton, the toy merchant, was going to be married. +In spite of all this, he was going to be married. And to a young +wife too, a beautiful young wife.</p> + +<p>He didn't look much like a Bridegroom, as he stood in the +Carrier's kitchen, with a twist in his dry face, and a screw in +his body, and his hat jerked over the bridge of his nose, and his +hands tucked down into the bottoms of his pockets, and his +whole sarcastic, ill-conditioned self peering out of one little +corner of one little eye, like the concentrated essence of any +number of ravens. But a Bridegroom he designed to be.</p> + +<p>"In three days' time. Next Thursday. The last day of +the first month in the year. That's my wedding-day," said +Tackleton.</p> + +<p>Did I mention that he had always one eye wide open, and +one eye nearly shut; and that the one eye nearly shut was always +the expressive eye? I don't think I did.</p> + +<p>"That's my wedding-day!" said Tackleton, rattling his +money.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's our wedding-day too," exclaimed the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha!" laughed Tackleton. "Odd! You're just such +another couple. Just!"</p> + +<p>The indignation of Dot at this presumptuous assertion is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +to be described. What next? His imagination would compass +the possibility of just such another Baby, perhaps. The man +was mad.</p> + +<p>"I say! A word with you," murmured Tackleton, nudging +the Carrier with his elbow, and taking him a little apart. +"You'll come to the wedding? We're in the same boat, you +know."</p> + +<p>"How in the same boat?" inquired the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"A little disparity, you know," said Tackleton with another +nudge. "Come and spend an evening with us beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Why?" demanded John, astonished at this pressing hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Why?" returned the other. "That's a new way of receiving +an invitation. Why, for pleasure—sociability, you know, +and all that."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were never sociable," said John in his plain +way.</p> + +<p>"Tchah! It's of no use to be anything but free with you, +I see," said Tackleton. "Why, then, the truth is, you have a—what +tea-drinking people call a sort of a comfortable appearance +together, you and your wife. We know better, you know, +but——"</p> + +<p>"No, we don't know better," interposed John. "What are +you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Well! We <i>don't</i> know better, then," said Tackleton. +"We'll agree that we don't. As you like; what does it matter? +I was going to say, as you have that sort of appearance, your +company will produce a favourable effect on Mrs. Tackleton +that will be. And, though I don't think your good lady's very +friendly to me in this matter, still she can't help herself from +falling into my views, for there's a compactness and cosiness of +appearance about her that always tells, even in an indifferent +case. You'll say you'll come?"</p> + +<p>"We have arranged to keep our Wedding-day (as far as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +that goes) at home," said John. "We have made the promise +to ourselves these six months. We think, you see, that home—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! what's home?" cried Tackleton. "Four walls and a +ceiling! (Why don't you kill that Cricket? <i>I</i> would! I +always do. I hate their noise.) There are four walls and a +ceiling at my house. Come to me!"</p> + +<p>"You kill your Crickets, eh?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Scrunch 'em, sir," returned the other, setting his heel +heavily on the floor. "You'll say you'll come? It's as much +your interest as mine, you know, that the women should persuade +each other that they're quiet and contented, and couldn't +be better off. I know their way. Whatever one woman says, +another woman is determined to clinch always. There's that +spirit of emulation among 'em, sir, that if your wife says to my +wife, 'I'm the happiest woman in the world, and mine's the best +husband in the world, and I dote on him,' my wife will say the +same to yours, or more, and half believe it."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say she don't, then?" asked the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" cried Tackleton with a short, sharp laugh. "Don't +what?"</p> + +<p>The Carrier had some faint idea of adding, "dote upon you." +But, happening to meet the half-closed eye, as it twinkled upon +him over the turned-up collar of the cape, which was within +an ace of poking it out, he felt it such an unlikely part and +parcel of anything to be doted on, that he substituted, "that she +don't believe it?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you dog! You're joking," said Tackleton.</p> + +<p>But the Carrier, though slow to understand the full drift +of his meaning, eyed him in such a serious manner, that he was +obliged to be a little more explanatory.</p> + +<p>"I have the humour," said Tackleton: holding up the +fingers of his left hand, and tapping the forefinger, to imply, +"There I am, Tackleton to wit": "I have the humour, sir, to +marry a young wife, and a pretty wife": here he rapped his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +little finger, to express the Bride; not sparingly, but sharply; +with a sense of power. "I'm able to gratify that humour, and +I do. It's my whim. But—now look there!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to where Dot was sitting, thoughtfully before +the fire: leaning her dimpled chin upon her hand, and watching +the bright blaze. The Carrier looked at her, and then at him, +and then at her, and then at him again.</p> + +<p>"She honours and obeys, no doubt, you know," said Tackleton; +"and that, as I am not a man of sentiment, is quite enough +for <i>me</i>. But do you think there's anything more in it?"</p> + +<p>"I think," observed the Carrier, "that I should chuck any +man out of window who said there wasn't."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so," returned the other with an unusual alacrity +of assent. "To be sure! Doubtless you would. Of course. +I'm certain of it. Good night. Pleasant dreams!"</p> + +<p>The Carrier was puzzled, and made uncomfortable and uncertain, +in spite of himself. He couldn't help showing it in his +manner.</p> + +<p>"Good night, my dear friend!" said Tackleton compassionately. +"I'm off. We're exactly alike in reality, I see. +You won't give us to-morrow evening? Well! Next day you +go out visiting, I know. I'll meet you there, and bring my +wife that is to be. It'll do her good. You're agreeable? +Thankee. What's that?"</p> + +<p>It was a loud cry from the Carrier's wife: a loud, sharp, +sudden cry, that made the room ring like a glass vessel. She +had risen from her seat, and stood like one transfixed by terror +and surprise. The Stranger had advanced towards the fire to +warm himself, and stood within a short stride of her chair. +But quite still.</p> + +<p>"Dot!" cried the Carrier. "Mary! Darling! What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>They were all about her in a moment. Caleb, who had been +dozing on the cake-box, in the first imperfect recovery of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +suspended presence of mind, seized Miss Slowboy by the hair +of her head, but immediately apologised.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" exclaimed the Carrier, supporting her in his arms. +"Are you ill? What is it? Tell me dear!"</p> + +<p>She only answered by beating her hands together, and falling +into a wild fit of laughter. Then, sinking from his grasp +upon the ground, she covered her face with her apron, and wept +bitterly. And then, she laughed again, and then she cried +again, and then she said how cold she was, and suffered him to +lead her to the fire, where she sat down as before. The old man +standing, as before, quite still.</p> + +<p>"I'm better, John," she said. "I'm quite well now—I——"</p> + +<p>"John!" But John was on the other side of her. Why +turn her face towards the strange old gentleman, as if addressing +him. Was her brain wandering?</p> + +<p>"Only a fancy, John dear—a kind of shock—a something +coming suddenly before my eyes—I don't know what it was. +It's quite gone, quite gone."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it's gone," muttered Tackleton, turning the expressive +eye all round the room. "I wonder where it's gone, +and what it was. Humph! Caleb, come here! Who's that +with the grey hair?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir," returned Caleb in a whisper. "Never +see him before in all my life. A beautiful figure for a nut-cracker; +quite a new model. With a screw-jaw opening down +into his waistcoat, he'd be lovely."</p> + +<p>"Not ugly enough," said Tackleton.</p> + +<p>"Or for a fire-box either," observed Caleb in deep contemplation, +"what a model! Unscrew his head to put the matches +in; turn him heels up'ards for the light; and what a fire-box for +a gentleman's mantel-shelf, just as he stands!"</p> + +<p>"Not half ugly enough," said Tackleton. "Nothing in +him at all. Come! Bring that box! All right now, I hope?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, quite gone! Quite gone!" said the little woman, +waving him hurriedly away. "Good night!"</p> + +<p>"Good night!" said Tackleton. "Good night, John Peerybingle! +Take care how you carry that box, Caleb. Let it fall, +and I'll murder you! Dark as pitch, and weather worse than +ever, eh? Good night!"</p> + +<p>So, with another sharp look round the room, he went out at +the door; followed by Caleb with the wedding-cake on his head.</p> + +<p>The Carrier had been so much astounded by his little wife, +and so busily engaged in soothing and tending her, that he had +scarcely been conscious of the Stranger's presence until now, +when he again stood there, their only guest.</p> + +<p>"He don't belong to them, you see," said John. "I must +give him a hint to go."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, friend," said the old gentleman, advancing +to him; "the more so as I fear your wife has not been +well; but the Attendant whom my infirmity," he touched his +ears, and shook his head, "renders almost indispensable, not +having arrived, I fear there must be some mistake. The bad +night which made the shelter of your comfortable cart (may I +never have a worse!) so acceptable, is still as bad as ever. Would +you, in your kindness, suffer me to rent a bed here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," cried Dot. "Yes! Certainly!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the Carrier, surprised by the rapidity of this +consent. "Well! I don't object; but still I'm not quite sure +that——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she interrupted. "Dear John!"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's stone deaf," urged John.</p> + +<p>"I know he is, but——Yes, sir, certainly. Yes, certainly! +I'll make him up a bed directly, John."</p> + +<p>As she hurried off to do it, the flutter of her spirits, and the +agitation of her manner, were so strange, that the Carrier stood +looking after her, quite confounded.</p> + +<p>"Did its mothers make it up a Beds, then!" cried Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +Slowboy to the Baby; "and did its hair grow brown and curly +when its caps was lifted off, and frighten it, a precious Pets, a +sitting by the fires!"</p> + +<p>With that unaccountable attraction of the mind to trifles, +which is often incidental to a state of doubt and confusion, the +Carrier, as he walked slowly to and fro, found himself mentally +repeating even these absurd words, many times. So many +times, that he got them by heart, and was still conning them +over and over, like a lesson, when Tilly, after administering as +much friction to the little bald head with her hand as she thought +wholesome (according to the practice of nurses), had once +more tied the Baby's cap on.</p> + +<p>"And frighten it, a precious Pets, a sitting by the fires. +What frightened Dot, I wonder?" mused the Carrier, pacing +to and fro.</p> + +<p>He scouted, from his heart, the insinuations of the toy merchant, +and yet they filled him with a vague, indefinite uneasiness. +For Tackleton was quick and sly; and he had that painful +sense, himself, of being a man of slow perception, that a broken +hint was always worrying to him. He certainly had no intention +in his mind of linking anything that Tackleton had said +with the unusual conduct of his wife, but the two subjects of +reflection came into his mind together, and he could not keep +them asunder.</p> + +<p>The bed was soon made ready; and the visitor, declining +all refreshment but a cup of tea, retired. Then, Dot—quite +well again, she said, quite well again—arranged the great +chair in the chimney-corner for her husband; filled his pipe and +gave it him; and took her usual little stool beside him on the +hearth.</p> + +<p>She always <i>would</i> sit on that little stool. I think she must +have had a kind of notion that it was a coaxing, wheedling +little stool.</p> + +<p>She was, out and out, the very best filler of a pipe, I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +say, in the four quarters of the globe. To see her put that +chubby little finger in the bowl, and then blow down the pipe +to clear the tube, and, when she had done so, affect to think +that there was really something in the tube, and blow a dozen +times, and hold it to her eye like a telescope, with a most provoking +twist in her capital little face, as she looked down it, +was quite a brilliant thing. As to the tobacco, she was perfect +mistress of the subject; and her lighting of the pipe, with a wisp +of paper, when the Carrier had it in his mouth—going so very +near his nose, and yet not scorching it—was Art, high Art.</p> + +<p>And the Cricket and the Kettle, turning up again, acknowledged +it! The bright fire, blazing up again, acknowledged it! +The little Mower on the clock, in his unheeded work, acknowledged +it! The Carrier, in his smoothing forehead and expanding +face, acknowledged it, the readiest of all.</p> + +<p>And as he soberly and thoughtfully puffed at his old pipe, +and as the Dutch clock ticked, and as the red fire gleamed, and +as the Cricket chirped, that Genius of his Hearth and Home +(for such the Cricket was) came out, in fairy shape, into the +room, and summoned many forms of Home about him. Dots +of all ages and all sizes filled the chamber. Dots who were +merry children, running on before him, gathering flowers in the +fields; coy Dots, half shrinking from, half yielding to, the pleading +of his own rough image; newly-married Dots, alighting at +the door, and taking wondering possession of the household +keys; motherly little Dots, attended by fictitious Slowboys, +bearing babies to be christened; matronly Dots, still young and +blooming, watching Dots of daughters, as they danced at rustic +balls; fat Dots, encircled and beset by troops of rosy grandchildren; +withered Dots, who leaned on sticks, and tottered as +they crept along. Old Carriers, too, appeared with blind old +Boxers lying at their feet; and newer carts with younger drivers +("Peerybingle Brothers" on the tilt); and sick old Carriers, +tended by the gentlest hands; and graves of dead and gone old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +Carriers, green in the churchyard. And as the Cricket showed +him all these things—he saw them plainly, though his eyes +were fixed upon the fire—the Carrier's heart grew light and +happy, and he thanked his Household Gods with all his might, +and cared no more for Gruff and Tackleton than you do.</p> + +<hr/> + +<p>But what was that young figure of a man, which the same +Fairy Cricket set so near Her stool, and which remained there, +singly and alone? Why did it linger still, so near her, with its +arm upon the chimney-piece, ever repeating "Married! and not +to me!"</p> + +<p>Oh, Dot! Oh, failing Dot! There is no place for it in all +your husband's visions. Why has its shadow fallen on his +hearth?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHIRP_THE_SECOND" id="CHIRP_THE_SECOND"></a>CHIRP THE SECOND</h2> + + +<p>Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived all alone +by themselves, as the Story Books say—and my blessing, +with yours, to back it I hope, on the Story Books, for saying +anything in this work-a-day world!—Caleb Plummer and his +Blind Daughter lived all alone by themselves, in a little cracked +nutshell of a wooden house, which was, in truth, no better than +a pimple on the prominent red-brick nose of Gruff and Tackleton. +The premises of Gruff and Tackleton were the great +feature of the street; but you might have knocked down Caleb +Plummer's dwelling with a hammer or two, and carried off the +pieces in a cart.</p> + +<p>If any one had done the dwelling-house of Caleb Plummer +the honour to miss it after such an inroad, it would have been, +no doubt, to commend its demolition as a vast improvement. +It stuck to the premises of Gruff and Tackleton like a barnacle +to a ship's keel, or a snail to a door, or a little bunch of toadstools +to the stem of a tree. But it was the germ from which +the full-grown trunk of Gruff and Tackleton had sprung; and, +under its crazy roof, the Gruff before last had, in a small way, +made toys for a generation of old boys and girls, who had played +with them, and found them out, and broken them, and gone to +sleep.</p> + +<p>I have said that Caleb and his poor Blind Daughter lived +here. I should have said that Caleb lived here, and his poor +Blind Daughter somewhere else—in an enchanted home of +Caleb's furnishing, where scarcity and shabbiness were not, +and trouble never entered. Caleb was no sorcerer; but in the +only magic art that still remains to us, the magic of devoted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +deathless love, Nature had been the mistress of his study; and, +from her teaching, all the wonder came.</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl never knew that ceilings were discoloured, +walls blotched and bare of plaster here and there, high crevices +unstopped and widening every day, beams mouldering and +tending downward. The Blind Girl never knew that iron was +rusting, wood rotting, paper peeling off; the size, and shape, +and true proportion of the dwelling, withering away. The +Blind Girl never knew that ugly shapes of delf and earthenware +were on the board; that sorrow and faint-heartedness were in +the house; that Caleb's scanty hairs were turning greyer and more +grey before her sightless face. The Blind Girl never knew they +had a master, cold, exacting, and uninterested—never knew +that Tackleton was Tackleton, in short; but lived in the belief +of an eccentric humorist, who loved to have his jest with them, +and who, while he was the Guardian Angel of their lives, disdained +to hear one word of thankfulness.</p> + +<p>And all was Caleb's doing; all the doing of her simple father! +But he, too, had a Cricket on his Hearth; and listening sadly +to its music when the motherless Blind Child was very young +that Spirit had inspired him with the thought that even her +great deprivation might be almost changed into a blessing, +and the girl made happy by these little means. For all the +Cricket tribe are potent Spirits, even though the people who +hold converse with them do not know it (which is frequently +the case), and there are not in the unseen world voices more +gentle and more true, that may be so implicitly relied on, or +that are so certain to give none but tenderest counsel, as the +Voices in which the Spirits of the Fireside and the Hearth address +themselves to humankind.</p> + +<p>Caleb and his daughter were at work together in their usual +working-room, which served them for their ordinary living-room +as well; and a strange place it was. There were houses in +it, finished and unfinished, for Dolls of all stations in life. Sub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>urban +tenements for Dolls of moderate means; kitchens and +single apartments for Dolls of the lower classes; capital town +residences for Dolls of high estate. Some of these establishments +were already furnished according to estimate, with a +view to the convenience of Dolls of limited income; others +could be fitted on the most expensive scale, at a moment's +notice, from whole shelves of chairs and tables, sofas, bedsteads, +and upholstery. The nobility and gentry and public in general, +for whose accommodation these tenements were designed, lay +here and there, in baskets, staring straight up at the ceiling; +but in denoting their degrees in society, and confining them to +their respective stations (which experience shows to be lamentably +difficult in real life), the makers of these Dolls had far +improved on Nature, who is often froward and perverse; for +they, not resting on such arbitrary marks as satin, cotton print, +and bits of rag, had superadded striking personal differences +which allowed of no mistake. Thus, the Doll-lady of distinction +had wax limbs of perfect symmetry; but only she and her compeers. +The next grade in the social scale being made of leather, +and the next of coarse linen stuff. As to the common people, +they had just so many matches out of tinder-boxes for their +arms and legs, and there they were—established in their +sphere at once, beyond the possibility of getting out of it.</p> + +<p>There were various other samples of his handicraft besides +Dolls in Caleb Plummer's room. There were Noah's arks, in +which the Birds and Beasts were an uncommonly tight fit, I +assure you; though they could be crammed in, anyhow, at the +roof, and rattled and shaken into the smallest compass. By a +bold poetical licence, most of these Noah's arks had knockers +on the doors; inconsistent appendages, perhaps, as suggestive +of morning callers and a Postman, yet a pleasant finish to the +outside of the building. There were scores of melancholy +little carts, which, when the wheels went round, performed +most doleful music. Many small fiddles, drums, and other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +instruments of torture; no end of cannon, shields, swords, +spears, and guns. There were little tumblers in red breeches, +incessantly swarming up high obstacles of red tape, and coming +down, head first, on the other side; and there were innumerable +old gentlemen of respectable, not to say venerable appearance, +insanely flying over horizontal pegs, inserted, for the purpose, in +their own street-doors. There were beasts of all sorts; horses, +in particular, of every breed, from the spotted barrel on four +pegs with a small tippet for a mane, to the thorough-bred rocker +on his highest mettle. As it would have been hard to count the +dozens upon dozens of grotesque figures that were ever ready +to commit all sorts of absurdities on the turning of a handle, +so it would have been no easy task to mention any human folly, +vice, or weakness that had not its type, immediate or remote, +in Caleb Plummer's room. And not in an exaggerated form, +for very little handles will move men and women to as strange +performances as any Toy was ever made to undertake.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and his daughter sat +at work. The Blind Girl busy as a Doll's dressmaker; Caleb +painting and glazing the four-pair front of a desirable family +mansion.</p> + +<p>The care imprinted in the lines of Caleb's face, and his +absorbed and dreamy manner, which would have sat well on +some alchemist or abstruse student, were at first sight an odd +contrast to his occupation and the trivialities about him. But +trivial things, invented and pursued for bread, become very +serious matters of fact: and, apart from this consideration, I +am not at all prepared to say, myself, that if Caleb had been +a Lord Chamberlain, or a Member of Parliament, or a lawyer, +or even a great speculator, he would have dealt in toys one whit +less whimsical, while I have a very great doubt whether they +would have been as harmless.</p> + +<p>"So you were out in the rain last night, father, in your +beautiful new great-coat," said Caleb's daughter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In my beautiful new great-coat," answered Caleb, glancing +towards a clothes-line in the room, on which the sackcloth +garment previously described was carefully hung up to dry.</p> + +<p>"How glad I am you bought it, father!"</p> + +<p>"And of such a tailor too," said Caleb. "Quite a fashionable +tailor. It's too good for me."</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl rested from her work, and laughed with delight. +"Too good, father! What can be too good for you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm half ashamed to wear it, though," said Caleb, watching +the effect of what he said upon her brightening face, "upon my +word! When I hear the boys and people say behind me, 'Halloa! +Here's a swell!' I don't know which way to look. And +when the beggar wouldn't go away last night; and, when I said +I was a very common man, said, 'No, your Honour! Bless +your Honour, don't say that!' I was quite ashamed. I really +felt as if I hadn't a right to wear it."</p> + +<p>Happy Blind Girl! How merry she was in her exultation!</p> + +<p>"I see you, father," she said, clasping her hands, "as plainly +as if I had the eyes I never want when you are with me. A blue +coat——"</p> + +<p>"Bright blue," said Caleb.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! Bright blue!" exclaimed the girl, turning up +her radiant face; "the colour I can just remember in the blessed +sky! You told me it was blue before! A bright blue coat——"</p> + +<p>"Made loose to the figure," suggested Caleb.</p> + +<p>"Yes! loose to the figure!" cried the Blind Girl, laughing +heartily; "and in it, you, dear father, with your merry eye, +your smiling face, your free step, and your dark hair—looking +so young and handsome!"</p> + +<p>"Halloa! Halloa!" said Caleb. "I shall be vain presently!"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> think you are already," cried the Blind Girl, pointing at +him in her glee. "I know you, father! Ha, ha, ha! I've +found you out, you see!"</p> + +<p>How different the picture in her mind, from Caleb, as he sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +observing her! She had spoken of his free step. She was +right in that. For years and years he had never once crossed +that threshold at his own slow pace, but with a footfall counterfeited +for her ear; and never had he, when his heart was heaviest, +forgotten the light tread that was to render hers so cheerful and +courageous!</p> + +<p>Heaven knows! But I think Caleb's vague bewilderment of +manner may have half originated in his having confused himself +about himself and everything around him, for the love of his +Blind Daughter. How could the little man be otherwise than +bewildered, after labouring for so many years to destroy his +own identity, and that of all the objects that had any bearing +on it?</p> + +<p>"There we are," said Caleb, falling back a pace or two to +form the better judgment of his work; "as near the real thing +as sixpenn'orth of halfpence is to sixpence. What a pity that +the whole front of the house opens at once! If there was only a +staircase in it now, and regular doors to the rooms to go in at! +But that's the worst of my calling, I'm always deluding myself, +and swindling myself."</p> + +<p>"You are speaking quite softly. You are not tired, father?"</p> + +<p>"Tired!" echoed Caleb with a great burst of animation. +"What should tire me, Bertha? <i>I</i> was never tired. What +does it mean?"</p> + +<p>To give the greater force to his words, he checked himself +in an involuntary imitation of two half-length stretching and +yawning figures on the mantel-shelf, who were represented as in +one eternal state of weariness from the waist upwards; and +hummed a fragment of a song. It was a Bacchanalian song, +something about a Sparkling Bowl. He sang it with an assumption +of a Devil-may-care voice, that made his face a thousand +times more meagre and more thoughtful than ever.</p> + +<p>"What! You're singing, are you?" said Tackleton, putting +his head in at the door. "Go it! <i>I</i> can't sing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody would have suspected him of it. He hadn't what is +generally termed a singing face, by any means.</p> + +<p>"I can't afford to sing," said Tackleton. "I'm glad <i>you</i> +can. I hope you can afford to work too. Hardly time for both, +I should think?"</p> + +<p>"If you could only see him, Bertha, how he's winking at +me!" whispered Caleb. "Such a man to joke! You'd think, +if you didn't know him, he was in earnest—wouldn't you now?"</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl smiled and nodded.</p> + +<p>"The bird that can sing and won't sing must be made to +sing, they say," grumbled Tackleton. "What about the owl +that can't sing, and oughtn't to sing, and will sing; is there anything +that <i>he</i> should be made to do?"</p> + +<p>"The extent to which he's winking at this moment!" whispered +Caleb to his daughter. "Oh, my gracious!"</p> + +<p>"Always merry and light-hearted with us!" cried the smiling +Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you're there, are you?" answered Tackleton. "Poor +Idiot!"</p> + +<p>He really did believe she was an Idiot; and he founded the +belief, I can't say whether consciously or not, upon her being +fond of him.</p> + +<p>"Well! and being there,—how are you?" said Tackleton +in his grudging way.</p> + +<p>"Oh! well; quite well! And as happy as even you can wish +me to be. As happy as you would make the whole world, if +you could!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Idiot!" muttered Tackleton. "No gleam of reason. +Not a gleam!"</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl took his hand and kissed it; held it for a +moment in her own two hands; and laid her cheek against it +tenderly before releasing it. There was such unspeakable +affection and such fervent gratitude in the act, that Tackleton +himself was moved to say, in a milder growl than usual:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's the matter now?"</p> + +<p>"I stood it close beside my pillow when I went to sleep last +night, and remembered it in my dreams. And when the day +broke, and the glorious red sun—the <i>red</i> sun, father?"</p> + +<p>"Red in the mornings and the evenings, Bertha," said poor +Caleb with a woeful glance at his employer.</p> + +<p>"When it rose, and the bright light I almost fear to strike +myself against in walking, came into the room, I turned the little +tree towards it, and blessed Heaven for making things so precious, +and blessed you for sending them to cheer me!"</p> + +<p>"Bedlam broke loose!" said Tackleton under his breath. +"We shall arrive at the strait-waistcoat and mufflers soon. +We're getting on!"</p> + +<p>Caleb, with his hands hooked loosely in each other, stared +vacantly before him while his daughter spoke, as if he really +were uncertain (I believe he was) whether Tackleton had done +anything to deserve her thanks or not. If he could have been +a perfectly free agent at that moment, required, on pain of +death, to kick the toy merchant, or fall at his feet, according +to his merits, I believe it would have been an even chance which +course he would have taken. Yet Caleb knew that with his +own hands he had brought the little rose-tree home for her so +carefully, and that with his own lips he had forged the innocent +deception which should help to keep her from suspecting how +much, how very much, he every day denied himself, that she +might be happier.</p> + +<p>"Bertha!" said Tackleton, assuming, for the nonce, a little +cordiality. "Come here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can come straight to you! You needn't guide me!" +she rejoined.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you a secret, Bertha?"</p> + +<p>"If you will!" she answered eagerly.</p> + +<p>How bright the darkened face! How adorned with light +the listening head!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is the day on which little what's-her-name, the spoilt +child, Peerybingle's wife, pays her regular visit to you—makes +her fantastic Picnic here, an't it?" said Tackleton with a strong +expression of distaste for the whole concern.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Bertha. "This is the day."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said Tackleton. "I should like to join the +party."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, father?" cried the Blind Girl in an +ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I hear it," murmured Caleb with the fixed look +of a sleep-walker; "but I don't believe it. It's one of my lies, +I've no doubt."</p> + +<p>"You see I—I want to bring the Peerybingles a little more +into company with May Fielding," said Tackleton. "I'm +going to be married to May."</p> + +<p>"Married!" cried the Blind Girl, starting from him.</p> + +<p>"She's such a con-founded idiot," muttered Tackleton, +"that I was afraid she'd never comprehend me. Ah, Bertha! +Married! Church, parson, clerk, beadle, glass coach, bells, +breakfast, bridecake, favours, marrow-bones, cleavers, and all +the rest of the tomfoolery. A wedding, you know; a wedding. +Don't you know what a wedding is?"</p> + +<p>"I know," replied the Blind Girl in a gentle tone. "I +understand!"</p> + +<p>"Do you?" muttered Tackleton. "It's more than I expected. +Well! On that account I want to join the party, +and to bring May and her mother. I'll send in a little something +or other, before the afternoon. A cold leg of mutton, or +some comfortable trifle of that sort. You'll expect me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.</p> + +<p>She had drooped her head, and turned away; and so stood, +with her hands crossed, musing.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you will," muttered Tackleton, looking at her; +"for you seem to have forgotten all about it already. Caleb!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose," thought Caleb. +"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"Take care she don't forget what I've been saying to her."</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> never forgets," returned Caleb. "It's one of the few +things she an't clever in."</p> + +<p>"Every man thinks his own geese swans," observed the toy +merchant with a shrug. "Poor devil!"</p> + +<p>Having delivered himself of which remark with infinite contempt, +old Gruff and Tackleton withdrew.</p> + +<p>Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in meditation. +The gaiety had vanished from her downcast face, and it was very +sad. Three or four times she shook her head, as if bewailing +some remembrance or some loss; but her sorrowful reflections +found no vent in words.</p> + +<p>It was not until Caleb had been occupied some time in +yoking a team of horses to a waggon by the summary process +of nailing the harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she +drew near to his working-stool, and, sitting down beside him, +said:</p> + +<p>"Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my +patient, willing eyes."</p> + +<p>"Here they are," said Caleb. "Always ready. They are +more yours than mine, Bertha, any hour in the four-and-twenty. +What shall your eyes do for you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Look round the room, father."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Caleb. "No sooner said than done, +Bertha."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it."</p> + +<p>"It's much the same as usual," said Caleb. "Homely, but +very snug. The gay colours on the walls; the bright flowers +on the plates and dishes; the shining wood, where there are +beams or panels; the general cheerfulness and neatness of the +building,—make it very pretty."</p> + +<p>Cheerful and neat it was, wherever Bertha's hands could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +busy themselves. But nowhere else were cheerfulness and +neatness possible in the old crazy shed which Caleb's fancy so +transformed.</p> + +<p>"You have your working dress on, and are not so gallant as +when you wear the handsome coat?" said Bertha, touching +him.</p> + +<p>"Not quite so gallant," answered Caleb. "Pretty brisk, +though."</p> + +<p>"Father," said the Blind Girl, drawing close to his side, +and stealing one arm round his neck, "tell me something about +May. She is very fair?"</p> + +<p>"She is indeed," said Caleb. And she was indeed. It was +quite a rare thing to Caleb not to have to draw on his invention.</p> + +<p>"Her hair is dark," said Bertha pensively, "darker than +mine. Her voice is sweet and musical, I know. I have often +loved to hear it. Her shape——"</p> + +<p>"There's not a Doll's in all the room to equal it," said +Caleb. "And her eyes!——"</p> + +<p>He stopped; for Bertha had drawn closer round his neck, +and, from the arm that clung about him, came a warning pressure +which he understood too well.</p> + +<p>He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment, and then +fell back upon the song about the sparkling bowl, his infallible +resource in all such difficulties.</p> + +<p>"Our friend, father, our benefactor. I am never tired, you +know, of hearing about him.—Now, was I ever?" she said +hastily.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," answered Caleb, "and with reason."</p> + +<p>"Ah! With how much reason!" cried the Blind Girl. +With such fervency, that Caleb, though his motives were so +pure, could not endure to meet her face; but dropped his eyes, +as if she could have read in them his innocent deceit.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me again about him, dear father," said Bertha. +"Many times again! His face is benevolent, kind, and tender.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +Honest and true, I am sure it is. The manly heart that tries to +cloak all favours with a show of roughness and unwillingness, +beats in its every look and glance."</p> + +<p>"And makes it noble," added Caleb in his quiet desperation.</p> + +<p>"And makes it noble," cried the Blind Girl. "He is older +than May, father."</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," said Caleb reluctantly. "He's a little older than +May. But that don't signify."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, yes! To be his patient companion in infirmity +and age; to be his gentle nurse in sickness, and his constant +friend in suffering and sorrow; to know no weariness in working +for his sake; to watch him, tend him, sit beside his bed and talk +to him awake, and pray for him asleep; what privileges these +would be! What opportunities for proving all her truth and +her devotion to him! Would she do all this, dear father?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt of it," said Caleb.</p> + +<p>"I love her, father; I can love her from my soul!" exclaimed +the Blind Girl. And, saying so, she laid her poor blind face on +Caleb's shoulder, and so wept and wept, that he was almost +sorry to have brought that tearful happiness upon her.</p> + +<p>In the meantime there had been a pretty sharp commotion +at John Peerybingle's, for little Mrs. Peerybingle naturally +couldn't think of going anywhere without the Baby; and to get +the Baby under way took time. Not that there was much of +the Baby, speaking of it as a thing of weight and measure, but +there was a vast deal to do about and about it, and it all had to +be done by easy stages. For instance, when the Baby was got, +by hook and by crook, to a certain point of dressing, and you +might have rationally supposed that another touch or two +would finish him off, and turn him out a tiptop Baby challenging +the world, he was unexpectedly extinguished in a flannel cap, +and hustled off to bed; where he simmered (so to speak) between +two blankets for the best part of an hour. From this state of +inaction he was then recalled, shining very much and roaring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +violently, to partake of—well? I would rather say, if you'll +permit me to speak generally—of a slight repast. After which +he went to sleep again. Mrs. Peerybingle took advantage of +this interval, to make herself as smart in a small way as ever +you saw anybody in all your life; and, during the same short +truce, Miss Slowboy insinuated herself into a spencer of a fashion +so surprising and ingenious, that it had no connection with +herself, or anything else in the universe, but was a shrunken, +dog's-eared, independent fact, pursuing its lonely course without +the least regard to anybody. By this time, the Baby, being +all alive again, was invested, by the united efforts of Mrs. Peerybingle +and Miss Slowboy, with a cream-coloured mantle for its +body, and a sort of nankeen raised pie for its head; and so, in +course of time, they all three got down to the door, where the +old horse had already taken more than the full value of his +day's toll out of the Turnpike Trust, by tearing up the road +with his impatient autographs; and whence Boxer might be +dimly seen in the remote perspective, standing looking back, +and tempting him to come on without orders.</p> + +<p>As to a chair, or anything of that kind for helping Mrs. +Peerybingle into the cart, you know very little of John, if you +think <i>that</i> was necessary. Before you could have seen him lift +her from the ground, there she was in her place, fresh and rosy, +saying, "John! How <i>can</i> you? Think of Tilly!"</p> + +<p>If I might be allowed to mention a young lady's legs on any +terms, I would observe of Miss Slowboy's that there was a fatality +about them which rendered them singularly liable to be grazed; +and that she never effected the smallest ascent or descent without +recording the circumstance upon them with a notch, as +Robinson Crusoe marked the days upon his wooden calendar. +But, as this might be considered ungenteel, I'll think of it.</p> + +<p>"John! You've got the basket with the Veal and Ham Pie +and things, and the bottles of Beer?" said Dot. "If you haven't +you must turn round again this very minute."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're a nice little article," returned the Carrier, "to be +talking about turning round, after keeping me a full quarter +of an hour behind my time."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for it, John," said Dot in a great bustle, "but +I really could not think of going to Bertha's—I would not do +it, John, on any account—without the Veal and Ham Pie and +things, and the bottles of Beer. Way!"</p> + +<p>This monosyllable was addressed to the horse, who didn't +mind it at all.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>do</i> way, John!" said Mrs. Peerybingle. "Please!"</p> + +<p>"It'll be time enough to do that," returned John, "when I +begin to leave things behind me. The basket's safe enough."</p> + +<p>"What a hard-hearted monster you must be, John, not to +have said so at once, and save me such a turn! I declare I +wouldn't go to Bertha's without the Veal and Ham Pie and +things, and the bottles of Beer, for any money. Regularly +once a fortnight ever since we have been married, John, have +we made our little Picnic there. If anything was to go wrong +with it, I should almost think we were never to be lucky +again."</p> + +<p>"It was a kind thought in the first instance," said the Carrier; +"and I honour you for it, little woman."</p> + +<p>"My dear John!" replied Dot, turning very red. "Don't +talk about honouring <i>me</i>. Good gracious!"</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye"—observed the Carrier—"that old gentleman——"</p> + +<p>Again so visibly and instantly embarrassed!</p> + +<p>"He's an odd fish," said the Carrier, looking straight along +the road before them. "I can't make him out. I don't believe +there's any harm in him."</p> + +<p>"None at all. I'm—I'm sure there's none at all."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Carrier, with his eyes attracted to her face +by the great earnestness of her manner. "I am glad you feel +so certain of it, because it's a confirmation to me. It's curious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +that he should have taken it into his head to ask leave to go on +lodging with us; an't it? Things come about so strangely."</p> + +<p>"So very strangely," she rejoined in a low voice, scarcely +audible.</p> + +<p>"However, he's a good-natured old gentleman," said John, +"and pays as a gentleman, and I think his word is to be relied +upon, like a gentleman's. I had quite a long talk with him this +morning: he can hear me better already, he says, as he gets +more used to my voice. He told me a great deal about himself, +and I told him a good deal about myself, and a rare lot of +questions he asked me. I gave him information about my +having two beats, you know, in my business; one day to the right +from our house and back again; another day to the left from +our house and back again (for he's a stranger, and don't know +the names of places about here); and he seemed quite pleased. +'Why, then I shall be returning home to-night your way,' he +says, 'when I thought you'd be coming in an exactly opposite +direction. That's capital! I may trouble you for another +lift, perhaps, but I'll engage not to fall so sound asleep again.' +He <i>was</i> sound asleep, sure-ly!—Dot! what are you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"Thinking of, John? I—I was listening to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That's all right!" said the honest Carrier. "I was +afraid, from the look of your face, that I had gone rambling on +so long as to set you thinking about something else. I was very +near it, I'll be bound."</p> + +<p>Dot making no reply, they jogged on, for some little time, +in silence. But, it was not easy to remain silent very long in +John Peerybingle's cart, for everybody on the road had something +to say. Though it might only be "How are you?" and, +indeed, it was very often nothing else, still, to give that back +again in the right spirit of cordiality, required, not merely a nod +and a smile, but as wholesome an action of the lungs withal as a +long-winded Parliamentary speech. Sometimes, passengers on +foot, or horseback, plodded on a little way beside the cart, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +the express purpose of having a chat; and then there was a great +deal to be said on both sides.</p> + +<p>Then, Boxer gave occasion to more good-natured recognitions +of, and by, the Carrier, than half-a-dozen Christians could +have done! Everybody knew him all along the road—especially +the fowls and pigs, who, when they saw him approaching, +with his body all on one side, and his ears pricked up inquisitively, +and that knob of a tail making the most of itself in the air, +immediately withdrew into remote back-settlements, without +waiting for the honour of a nearer acquaintance. He had business +elsewhere; going down all the turnings, looking into all the +wells, bolting in and out of all the cottages, dashing into the +midst of all the Dame Schools, fluttering all the pigeons, magnifying +the tails of all the cats, and trotting into the +public-houses +like a regular customer. Wherever he went, somebody +or other might have been heard to cry, "Halloa! here's Boxer!" +and out came that somebody forthwith, accompanied by at least +two or three other somebodies, to give John Peerybingle and his +pretty wife Good day.</p> + +<p>The packages and parcels for the errand cart were numerous; +and there were many stoppages to take them in and give them +out, which were not by any means the worst parts of the journey. +Some people were so full of expectation about their parcels, and +other people were so full of wonder about their parcels, and +other people were so full of inexhaustible directions about their +parcels, and John had such a lively interest in all the parcels, +that it was as good as a play. Likewise, there were articles to +carry, which required to be considered and discussed, and in +reference to the adjustment and disposition of which councils +had to be holden by the Carrier and the senders: at which Boxer +usually assisted, in short fits of the closest attention, and long +fits of tearing round and round the assembled sages, and barking +himself hoarse. Of all these little incidents, Dot was the +amused and open-eyed spectatress from her chair in the cart;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +and as she sat there, looking on—a charming little portrait +framed to admiration by the tilt—there was no lack of nudgings +and glancings and whisperings and envyings among the +younger men. And this delighted John the Carrier beyond +measure; for he was proud to have his little wife admired, knowing +that she didn't mind it—that, if anything, she rather liked +it perhaps.</p> + +<p>The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the January weather; +and was raw and cold. But who cared for such trifles? Not +Dot, decidedly. Not Tilly Slowboy, for she deemed sitting in a +cart, on any terms, to be the highest point of human joys; the +crowning circumstance of earthly hope. Not the Baby, I'll +be sworn; for it's not in Baby nature to be warmer or more sound +asleep, though its capacity is great in both respects, than that +blessed young Peerybingle was, all the way.</p> + +<p>You couldn't see very far in the fog, of course; but you could +see a great deal! It's astonishing how much you may see in a +thicker fog than that, if you will only take the trouble to look +for it. Why, even to sit watching for the Fairyrings in the +fields, and for the patches of hoar frost still lingering in the shade, +near hedges and by trees, was a pleasant occupation, to make no +mention of the unexpected shapes in which the trees themselves +came starting out of the mist, and glided into it again. The +hedges were tangled and bare, and waved a multitude of blighted +garlands in the wind; but there was no discouragement in this. +It was agreeable to contemplate; for it made the fireside warmer +in possession, and the summer greener in expectancy. The +river looked chilly; but it was in motion, and moving at a good +pace—which was a great point. The canal was rather slow +and torpid; that must be admitted. Never mind. It would +freeze the sooner when the frost set fairly in, and then there +would be skating and sliding; and the heavy old barges, frozen +up somewhere near a wharf, would smoke their rusty iron +chimney-pipes all day, and have a lazy time of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>In one place there was a great mound of weeds or stubble +burning; and they watched the fire, so white in the daytime, flaring +through the fog, with only here and there a dash of red in +it, until, in consequence, as she observed, of the smoke "getting +up her nose," Miss Slowboy choked—she could do anything +of that sort, on the smallest provocation—and woke the Baby, +who wouldn't go to sleep again. But Boxer, who was in advance +some quarter of a mile or so, had already passed the outposts +of the town, and gained the corner of the street where +Caleb and his daughter lived; and, long before they had reached +the door, he and the Blind Girl were on the pavement waiting +to receive them.</p> + +<p>Boxer, by the way, made certain delicate distinctions of +his own, in his communication with Bertha, which persuade me +fully that he knew her to be blind. He never sought to attract +her attention by looking at her, as he often did with other people, +but touched her invariably. What experience he could ever +have had of blind people or blind dogs I don't know. He had +never lived with a blind master; nor had Mr. Boxer the elder, +nor Mrs. Boxer, nor any of his respectable family on either side, +ever been visited with blindness, that I am aware of. He may +have found it out for himself, perhaps, but he had got hold of it +somehow; and therefore he had hold of Bertha too, by the skirt, +and kept hold, until Mrs. Peerybingle and the Baby, and Miss +Slowboy and the basket, were all got safely within doors.</p> + +<p>May Fielding was already come; and so was her mother—a +little querulous chip of an old lady with a peevish face, who, +in right of having preserved a waist like a bedpost, was supposed +to be a most transcendent figure; and who, in consequence of +having once been better off, or of labouring under an impression +that she might have been, if something had happened which +never did happen, and seemed to have never been particularly +likely to come to pass—but it's all the same—was very genteel +and patronising indeed. Gruff and Tackleton was also there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +doing the agreeable, with the evident sensation of being as perfectly +at home, and as unquestionably in his own element, as a +fresh young salmon on the top of the Great Pyramid.</p> + +<p>"May! My dear old friend!" cried Dot, running up to +meet her. "What a happiness to see you!"</p> + +<p>Her old friend was, to the full, as hearty and as glad as she; +and it really was, if you'll believe me, quite a pleasant sight to +see them embrace. Tackleton was a man of taste, beyond all +question. May was very pretty.</p> + +<p>You know sometimes, when you are used to a pretty face, +how, when it comes into contact and comparison with another +pretty face, it seems for the moment to be homely and faded, +and hardly to deserve the high opinion you have had of it. Now, +this was not at all the case, either with Dot or May; for May's +face set off Dot's, and Dot's face set off May's, so naturally and +agreeably, that, as John Peerybingle was very near saying when +he came into the room, they ought to have been born sisters—which +was the only improvement you could have suggested.</p> + +<p>Tackleton had brought his leg of mutton, and, wonderful to +relate, a tart besides—but we don't mind a little dissipation +when our brides are in the case; we don't get married every day—and, +in addition to these dainties, there were the Veal and +Ham Pie, and "things," as Mrs. Peerybingle called them; which +were chiefly nuts and oranges, and cakes, and such small deer. +When the repast was set forth on the board, flanked by Caleb's +contribution, which was a great wooden bowl of smoking potatoes +(he was prohibited, by solemn compact, from producing any +other viands), Tackleton led his intended mother-in-law to the +post of honour. For the better gracing of this place at the high +festival, the majestic old soul had adorned herself with a cap, +calculated to inspire the thoughtless with sentiments of awe. +She also wore her gloves. But let us be genteel, or die!</p> + +<p>Caleb sat next his daughter; Dot and her old schoolfellow +were side by side; the good Carrier took care of the bottom of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +table. Miss Slowboy was isolated, for the time being, from +every article of furniture but the chair she sat on, that she might +have nothing else to knock the Baby's head against.</p> + +<p>As Tilly stared about her at the dolls and toys, they stared +at her and at the company. The venerable old gentlemen at +the street-doors (who were all in full action) showed especial +interest in the party, pausing occasionally before leaping, as if +they were listening to the conversation, and then plunging wildly +over and over, a great many times, without halting for breath—as +in a frantic state of delight with the whole proceedings.</p> + +<p>Certainly, if these old gentlemen were inclined to have a +fiendish joy in the contemplation of Tackleton's discomfiture, +they had good reason to be satisfied. Tackleton couldn't get +on at all; and the more cheerful his intended bride became in +Dot's society, the less he liked it, though he had brought them +together for that purpose. For he was a regular dog in the +manger, was Tackleton; and, when they laughed and he couldn't, +he took it into his head, immediately, that they must be laughing +at him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, May!" said Dot. "Dear, dear, what changes! To +talk of those merry school days makes one young again."</p> + +<p>"Why, you an't particularly old at any time, are you?" said +Tackleton.</p> + +<p>"Look at my sober, plodding husband there," returned +Dot. "He adds twenty years to my age at least. Don't you, +John?"</p> + +<p>"Forty," John replied.</p> + +<p>"How many <i>you</i>'ll add to Mary's, I am sure I don't know," +said Dot, laughing. "But she can't be much less than a hundred +years of age on her next birthday."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha!" laughed Tackleton. Hollow as a drum that +laugh, though. And he looked as if he could have twisted +Dot's neck comfortably.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" said Dot. "Only to remember how we used<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +to talk, at school, about the husbands we would choose. I don't +know how young, and how handsome, and how gay, and how +lively mine was not to be! And as to May's!—Ah dear! I +don't know whether to laugh or cry, when I think what silly +girls we were."</p> + +<p>May seemed to know which to do; for the colour flashed into +her face, and tears stood in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Even the very persons themselves—real live young men—we +fixed on sometimes," said Dot. "We little thought how +things would come about. I never fixed on John, I'm sure; I +never so much as thought of him. And, if I had told you you +were ever to be married to Mr. Tackleton, why, you'd have +slapped me. Wouldn't you, May?"</p> + +<p>Though May didn't say yes, she certainly didn't say no, or +express no, by any means.</p> + +<p>Tackleton laughed—quite shouted, he laughed so loud. +John Peerybingle laughed too, in his ordinary good-natured and +contented manner; but his was a mere whisper of a laugh to +Tackleton's.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't help yourselves, for all that. You couldn't +resist us, you see," said Tackleton. "Here we are! Here we +are! Where are your gay young bridegrooms now?"</p> + +<p>"Some of them are dead," said Dot; "and some of them +forgotten. Some of them, if they could stand among us at this +moment, would not believe we were the same creatures; would +not believe that what they saw and heard was real, and we <i>could</i> +forget them so. No! they would not believe one word of it!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Dot!" exclaimed the Carrier. "Little woman!"</p> + +<p>She had spoken with such earnestness and fire, that she +stood in need of some recalling to herself, without doubt. Her +husband's check was very gentle, for he merely interfered, as he +supposed, to shield old Tackleton; but it proved effectual, for +she stopped, and said no more. There was an uncommon +agitation, even in her silence, which the wary Tackleton, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +had brought his half-shut eye to bear upon her, noted closely, +and remembered to some purpose too.</p> + +<p>May uttered no word, good or bad, but sat quite still, with +her eyes cast down, and made no sign of interest in what had +passed. The good lady her mother now interposed, observing, +in the first instance, that girls were girls, and bygones bygones, +and that, so long as young people were young and thoughtless, +they would probably conduct themselves like young and thoughtless +persons: with two or three other positions of a no less sound +and incontrovertible character. She then remarked, in a devout +spirit, that she thanked Heaven she had always found in +her daughter May a dutiful and obedient child: for which she +took no credit to herself, though she had every reason to believe +it was entirely owing to herself. With regard to Mr. Tackleton, +she said, That he was in a moral point of view an undeniable +individual, and That he was in an eligible point of view a son-in-law +to be desired, no one in their senses could doubt. (She +was very emphatic here.) With regard to the family into which +he was so soon about, after some solicitation, to be admitted, +she believed Mr. Tackleton knew that, although reduced in +purse, it had some pretensions to gentility; and that if certain circumstances, +not wholly unconnected, she would go so far as to +say, with the Indigo Trade, but to which she would not more +particularly refer, had happened differently, it might perhaps +have been in possession of wealth. She then remarked that she +would not allude to the past, and would not mention that her +daughter had for some time rejected the suit of Mr. Tackleton; +and that she would not say a great many other things which +she did say at great length. Finally, she delivered it as the +general result of her observation and experience, that those +marriages in which there was least of what was romantically +and sillily called love, were always the happiest; and that she +anticipated the greatest possible amount of bliss—not rapturous +bliss; but the solid, steady-going article—from the approach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>ing +nuptials. She concluded by informing the company that +to-morrow was the day she had lived for expressly; and that, +when it was over, she would desire nothing better than to be +packed up and disposed of in any genteel place of burial.</p> + +<p>As these remarks were quite unanswerable—which is the +happy property of all remarks that are sufficiently wide of the +purpose—they changed the current of the conversation, and +diverted the general attention to the Veal and Ham Pie, the +cold mutton, the potatoes, and the tart. In order that the +bottled beer might not be slighted, John Peerybingle proposed +To-morrow: the Wedding-day; and called upon them to drink +a bumper to it, before he proceeded on his journey.</p> + +<p>For you ought to know that he only rested there, and gave +the old horse a bait. He had to go some four or five miles +farther on; and, when he returned in the evening, he called for +Dot, and took another rest on his way home. This was the +order of the day on all the Picnic occasions, and had been ever +since their institution.</p> + +<p>There were two persons present, besides the bride and bridegroom +elect, who did but indifferent honour to the toast. One +of these was Dot, too flushed and discomposed to adapt herself +to any small occurrence of the moment; the other, Bertha, who +rose up hurriedly before the rest, and left the table.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" said stout John Peerybingle, pulling on his +dreadnought coat. "I shall be back at the old time. Good-bye +all!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, John," returned Caleb.</p> + +<p>He seemed to say it by rote, and to wave his hand in the +same unconscious manner; for he stood observing Bertha with +an anxious wondering face, that never altered its expression.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, young shaver!" said the jolly Carrier, bending +down to kiss the child; which Tilly Slowboy, now intent upon +her knife and fork, had deposited asleep (and, strange to say, +without damage) in a little cot of Bertha's furnishing; "good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>-bye! +Time will come, I suppose, when <i>you</i>'ll turn out into the +cold, my little friend, and leave your old father to enjoy his pipe +and his rheumatics in the chimney-corner; eh? Where's Dot?"</p> + +<p>"I'm here, John!" she said, starting.</p> + +<p>"Come, come!" returned the Carrier, clapping his sounding +hands. "Where's the pipe?"</p> + +<p>"I quite forgot the pipe, John."</p> + +<p>Forgot the pipe! Was such a wonder ever heard of? She! +Forgot the pipe!</p> + +<p>"I'll—I'll fill it directly. It's soon done."</p> + +<p>But it was not so soon done, either. It lay in the usual +place—the Carrier's dreadnought pocket—with the little +pouch, her own work, from which she was used to fill it; but +her hand shook so, that she entangled it (and yet her hand was +small enough to have come out easily, I am sure), and bungled +terribly. The filling of the pipe and lighting it, those little +offices in which I have commended her discretion, were vilely +done from first to last. During the whole process, Tackleton +stood looking on maliciously with the half-closed eye; which, +whenever it met hers—or caught it, for it can hardly be said to +have ever met another eye: rather being a kind of trap to snatch +it up—augmented her confusion in a most remarkable degree.</p> + +<p>"Why, what a clumsy Dot you are this afternoon!" said +John. "I could have done it better myself, I verily believe!"</p> + +<p>With these good-natured words, he strode away, and presently +was heard, in company with Boxer, and the old horse, +and the cart, making lively music down the road. What time +the dreamy Caleb still stood, watching his blind daughter, with +the same expression on his face.</p> + +<p>"Bertha!" said Caleb, softly. "What has happened? How +changed you are, my darling, in a few hours—since this morning! +<i>You</i> silent and dull all day! What is it? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, father!" cried the Blind Girl, bursting into +tears. "Oh, my hard, hard fate!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>Caleb drew his hand across his eyes before he answered +her.</p> + +<p>"But think how cheerful and how happy you have been, +Bertha! How good, and how much loved, by many people."</p> + +<p>"That strikes me to the heart, dear father! Always so +mindful of me! Always so kind to me!"</p> + +<p>Caleb was very much perplexed to understand her.</p> + +<p>"To be—to be blind, Bertha, my poor dear," he faltered, +"is a great affliction; but——"</p> + +<p>"I have never felt it!" cried the Blind Girl. "I have never +felt it in its fulness. Never! I have sometimes wished that I +could see you, or could see him—only once, dear father, only +for one little minute—that I might know what it is I treasure +up," she laid her hands upon her breast, "and hold here! That +I might be sure I have it right! And sometimes (but then I was +a child) I have wept in my prayers at night, to think that, when +your images ascended from my heart to Heaven, they might not +be the true resemblance of yourselves. But I have never had +these feelings long. They have passed away, and left me tranquil +and contented."</p> + +<p>"And they will again," said Caleb.</p> + +<p>"But, father! Oh, my good gentle father, bear with me, if +I am wicked!" said the Blind Girl. "This is not the sorrow +that so weighs me down!"</p> + +<p>Her father could not choose but let his moist eyes overflow; +she was so earnest and pathetic. But he did not understand +her yet.</p> + +<p>"Bring her to me," said Bertha. "I cannot hold it closed +and shut within myself. Bring her to me, father!"</p> + +<p>She knew he hesitated, and said, "May. Bring May!"</p> + +<p>May heard the mention of her name, and, coming quietly +towards her, touched her on the arm. The Blind Girl turned +immediately, and held her by both hands.</p> + +<p>"Look into my face, Dear heart, Sweet heart!" said Bertha.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +"Read it with your beautiful eyes, and tell me if the truth is +written on it."</p> + +<p>"Dear Bertha, yes!"</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl, still upturning the blank sightless face, +down which the tears were coursing fast, addressed her in these +words:</p> + +<p>"There is not, in my soul, a wish or thought that is not for +your good, bright May! There is not, in my soul, a grateful +recollection stronger than the deep remembrance which is stored +there of the many many times when, in the full pride of sight +and beauty, you have had consideration for Blind Bertha, even +when we two were children, or when Bertha was as much a child +as ever blindness can be! Every blessing on your head! Light +upon your happy course! Not the less, my dear May,"—and +she drew towards her in a closer grasp,—"not the less, my bird, +because, to-day, the knowledge that you are to be His wife has +wrung my heart almost to breaking! Father, May, Mary! +Oh, forgive me that it is so, for the sake of all he has done to +relieve the weariness of my dark life: and for the sake of the belief +you have in me, when I call Heaven to witness that I could +not wish him married to a wife more worthy of his goodness!"</p> + +<p>While speaking, she had released May Fielding's hands, +and clasped her garments in an attitude of mingled supplication +and love. Sinking lower and lower down, as she proceeded in +her strange confession, she dropped at last at the feet of her +friend, and hid her blind face in the folds of her dress.</p> + +<p>"Great Power!" exclaimed her father, smitten at one blow +with the truth, "have I deceived her from her cradle, but to +break her heart at last?"</p> + +<p>It was well for all of them that Dot, that beaming, useful, +busy little Dot—for such she was, whatever faults she had, +and however you may learn to hate her, in good time—it was +well for all of them, I say, that she was there, or where this +would have ended, it were hard to tell. But Dot, recovering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +her self-possession, interposed, before May could reply, or Caleb +say another word.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, dear Bertha! come away with me! Give +her your arm, May! So. How composed she is, you see, +already; and how good it is of her to mind us," said the cheery +little woman, kissing her upon the forehead. "Come away, +dear Bertha! Come! and here's her good father will come with +her, won't you, Caleb? To—be—sure!"</p> + +<p>Well, well! she was a noble little Dot in such things, and it +must have been an obdurate nature that could have withstood +her influence. When she had got poor Caleb and his Bertha +away, that they might comfort and console each other, as she +knew they only could, she presently came bouncing back,—the +saying is, as fresh as any daisy; <i>I</i> say fresher—to mount +guard over that bridling little piece of consequence in the cap +and gloves, and prevent the dear old creature from making discoveries.</p> + +<p>"So bring me the precious Baby, Tilly," said she, drawing +a chair to the fire; "and while I have it in my lap, here's Mrs. +Fielding, Tilly, will tell me all about the management of Babies, +and put me right in twenty points where I'm as wrong as can +be. Won't you, Mrs. Fielding?"</p> + +<p>Not even the Welsh Giant, who, according to the popular +expression, was so "slow" as to perform a fatal surgical operation +upon himself, in emulation of a juggling trick achieved by +his arch enemy at breakfast-time; not even he fell half so readily +into the snare prepared for him as the old lady into this artful +pitfall. The fact of Tackleton having walked out; and furthermore, +of two or three people having been talking together at a +distance, for two minutes, leaving her to her own resources; +was quite enough to have put her on her dignity, and the bewailment +of that mysterious convulsion in the Indigo Trade, for +four-and-twenty hours. But this becoming deference to her +experience, on the part of the young mother, was so irresistible,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +that after a short affectation of humility, she began to enlighten +her with the best grace in the world; and, sitting bolt upright +before the wicked Dot, she did, in half an hour, deliver more +infallible domestic recipes and precepts than would (if acted +on) have utterly destroyed and done up that Young Peerybingle, +though he had been an Infant Samson.</p> + +<p>To change the theme, Dot did a little needlework—she +carried the contents of a whole workbox in her pocket; however +she contrived it, <i>I</i> don't know—then did a little nursing; then +a little more needlework; then had a little whispering chat with +May, while the old lady dozed; and so in little bits of bustle, +which was quite her manner always, found it a very short afternoon. +Then, as it grew dark, and as it was a solemn part of +this Institution of the Picnic that she should perform all Bertha's +household tasks, she trimmed the fire, and swept the hearth, and +set the tea-board out, and drew the curtain, and lighted a candle. +Then she played an air or two on a rude kind of harp, which +Caleb had contrived for Bertha, and played them very well; +for Nature had made her delicate little ear as choice a one for +music as it would have been for jewels, if she had had any to +wear. By this time it was the established hour for having tea; +and Tackleton came back again to share the meal, and spend +the evening.</p> + +<p>Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before, and Caleb +had sat down to his afternoon's work. But he couldn't settle +to it, poor fellow, being anxious and remorseful for his daughter. +It was touching to see him sitting idle on his working stool, regarding +her so wistfully, and always saying in his face, "Have I +deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart?"</p> + +<p>When it was night, and tea was done, and Dot had nothing +more to do in washing up the cups and saucers; in a word—for +I must come to it, and there is no use in putting it off—when +the time drew nigh for expecting the Carrier's return in +every sound of distant wheels, her manner changed again, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +colour came and went, and she was very restless. Not as good +wives are when listening for their husbands. No, no, no. It +was another sort of restlessness from that.</p> + +<p>Wheels heard. A horse's feet. The barking of a dog. +The gradual approach of all the sounds. The scratching paw +of Boxer at the door!</p> + +<p>"Whose step is that?" cried Bertha, starting up.</p> + +<p>"Whose step?" returned the Carrier, standing in the portal, +with his brown face ruddy as a winter berry from the keen night +air. "Why, mine."</p> + +<p>"The other step," said Bertha. "The man's tread behind +you!"</p> + +<p>"She is not to be deceived," observed the Carrier, laughing. +"Come along, sir. You'll be welcome, never fear!"</p> + +<p>He spoke in a loud tone; and, as he spoke, the deaf old gentleman +entered.</p> + +<p>"He's not so much a stranger that you haven't seen him once, +Caleb," said the Carrier. "You'll give him house room till +we go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely, John, and take it as an honour!"</p> + +<p>"He's the best company on earth to talk secrets in," said +John. "I have reasonable good lungs, but he tries 'em I can +tell you. Sit down, sir. All friends here, and glad to see you!"</p> + +<p>When he had imparted this assurance, in a voice that amply +corroborated what he had said about his lungs, he added in his +natural tone, "A chair in the chimney-corner, and leave to +sit quite silent and look pleasantly about him, is all he cares for. +He's easily pleased."</p> + +<p>Bertha had been listening intently. She called Caleb to her +side, when he had set the chair, and asked him, in a low voice, +to describe their visitor. When he had done so (truly now, with +scrupulous fidelity), she moved, for the first time since he had +come in, and sighed, and seemed to have no further interest +concerning him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Carrier was in high spirits, good fellow that he was, +and fonder of his little wife than ever.</p> + +<p>"A clumsy Dot she was, this afternoon!" he said, encircling +her with his rough arm, as she stood, removed from the rest; +"and yet I like her somehow. See yonder, Dot!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the old man. She looked down. I think +she trembled.</p> + +<p>"He's—ha, ha, ha!—he's full of admiration for you!" +said the Carrier. "Talked of nothing else the whole way here. +Why, he's a brave old boy! I like him for it!"</p> + +<p>"I wish he had a better subject, John," she said with an +uneasy glance about the room. At Tackleton especially.</p> + +<p>"A better subject!" cried the jovial John. "There's no +such thing. Come! off with the great-coat, off with the thick +shawl, off with the heavy wrappers! and a cosy half-hour by the +fire. My humble service, mistress. A game at cribbage, you +and I? That's hearty. The cards and board, Dot. And a +glass of beer here, if there's any left, small wife!"</p> + +<p>His challenge was addressed to the old lady, who, accepting it +with gracious readiness, they were soon engaged upon the game. +At first, the Carrier looked about him sometimes with a smile, or +now and then called Dot to peep over his shoulder at his hand, +and advise him on some knotty point. But his adversary being +a rigid disciplinarian, and subject to an occasional weakness in +respect of pegging more than she was entitled to, required such +vigilance on his part, as left him neither eyes nor ears to spare. +Thus, his whole attention gradually became absorbed upon the +cards; and he thought of nothing else, until a hand upon his +shoulder restored him to a consciousness of Tackleton.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to disturb you—but a word directly."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to deal," returned the Carrier. "It's a crisis."</p> + +<p>"It is," said Tackleton. "Come here, man!"</p> + +<p>There was that in his pale face which made the other rise +immediately, and ask him, in a hurry, what the matter was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hush! John Peerybingle," said Tackleton, "I am sorry +for this. I am indeed. I have been afraid of it. I have suspected +it from the first."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked the Carrier with a frightened aspect.</p> + +<p>"Hush! I'll show you, if you'll come with me."</p> + +<p>The Carrier accompanied him without another word. They +went across a yard, where the stars were shining, and by a little +side-door, into Tackleton's own counting-house, where there +was a glass window, commanding the ware-room, which was +closed for the night. There was no light in the counting-house +itself, but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-room; and +consequently the window was bright.</p> + +<p>"A moment!" said Tackleton. "Can you bear to look +through that window, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" returned the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"A moment more," said Tackleton. "Don't commit any +violence. It's of no use. It's dangerous too. You're a strong-made +man; and you might do murder before you know it."</p> + +<p>The Carrier looked him in the face, and recoiled a step as if +he had been struck. In one stride he was at the window, and +he saw——</p> + +<p>Oh, Shadow on the Hearth! Oh, truthful Cricket! Oh, +perfidious wife!</p> + +<p>He saw her with the old man—old no longer, but erect and +gallant—bearing in his hand the false white hair that had won +his way into their desolate and miserable home. He saw her +listening to him, as he bent his head to whisper in her ear; and +suffering him to clasp her round the waist, as they moved slowly +down the dim wooden gallery towards the door by which they +had entered it. He saw them stop, and saw her turn—to have +the face, the face he loved so, so presented to his view!—and +saw her, with her own hands, adjust the lie upon his head, +laughing, as she did it, at his unsuspicious nature!</p> + +<p>He clenched his strong right hand at first, as if it would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +have beaten down a lion. But, opening it immediately again, +he spread it out before the eyes of Tackleton (for he was tender +of her even then), and so, as they passed out, fell down upon a +desk, and was as weak as any infant.</p> + +<p>He was wrapped up to the chin, and busy with his horse and +parcels, when she came into the room, prepared for going home.</p> + +<p>"Now, John dear! Good night, May! Good night, Bertha!"</p> + +<p>Could she kiss them? Could she be blithe and cheerful in +her parting? Could she venture to reveal her face to them +without a blush? Yes. Tackleton observed her closely, and +she did all this.</p> + +<p>Tilly was hushing the baby, and she crossed and recrossed +Tackleton a dozen times, repeating drowsily:</p> + +<p>"Did the knowledge that it was to be its wives, then, wring +its hearts almost to breaking; and did its fathers deceive it from +its cradles but to break its hearts at last!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Tilly, give me the Baby! Good night, Mr. Tackleton. +Where's John, for goodness' sake?"</p> + +<p>"He's going to walk beside the horse's head," said Tackleton; +who helped her to her seat.</p> + +<p>"My dear John! Walk? To-night?"</p> + +<p>The muffled figure of her husband made a hasty sign in the +affirmative; and, the false stranger and the little nurse being in +their places, the old horse moved off. Boxer, the unconscious +Boxer, running on before, running back, running round and +round the cart, and barking as triumphantly and merrily as ever.</p> + +<p>When Tackleton had gone off likewise, escorting May and +her mother home, poor Caleb sat down by the fire beside his +daughter; anxious and remorseful at the core; and still saying, +in his wistful contemplation of her, "Have I deceived her from +her cradle, but to break her heart at last?"</p> + +<p>The toys that had been set in motion for the Baby had all +stopped and run down long ago. In the faint light and silence, +the imperturbably calm dolls, the agitated rocking-horses with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +distended eyes and nostrils, the old gentlemen at the street-doors, +standing half doubled up upon their failing knees and +ankles, the wry-faced nut-crackers, the very Beasts upon their +way into the Ark, in twos, like a Boarding-School out walking, +might have been imagined to be stricken motionless with fantastic +wonder at Dot being false, or Tackleton beloved, under +any combination of circumstances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHIRP_THE_THIRD" id="CHIRP_THE_THIRD"></a>CHIRP THE THIRD</h2> + + +<p>The Dutch clock in the corner struck Ten when the Carrier +sat down by his fireside. So troubled and grief-worn +that he seemed to scare the Cuckoo, who, having cut his ten +melodious announcements as short as possible, plunged back +into the Moorish Palace again, and clapped his little door behind +him, as if the unwonted spectacle were too much for his feelings.</p> + +<p>If the little Hay-maker had been armed with the sharpest of +scythes, and had cut at every stroke into the Carrier's heart, he +never could have gashed and wounded it as Dot had done.</p> + +<p>It was a heart so full of love for her; so bound up and held +together by innumerable threads of winning remembrance, +spun from the daily working of her many qualities of endearment; +it was a heart in which she had enshrined herself so gently +and so closely; a heart so single and so earnest in its Truth, so +strong in right, so weak in wrong,—that it could cherish neither +passion nor revenge at first, and had only room to hold the broken +image of its Idol.</p> + +<p>But, slowly, slowly, as the Carrier sat brooding on his hearth, +now cold and dark, other and fiercer thoughts began to rise +within him, as an angry wind comes rising in the night. The +Stranger was beneath his outraged roof. Three steps would +take him to his chamber door. One blow would beat it in. +"You might do murder before you know it," Tackleton had +said. How could it be murder, if he gave the villain time to +grapple with him hand to hand? He was the younger man.</p> + +<p>It was an ill-timed thought, bad for the dark mood of his +mind. It was an angry thought, goading him to some avenging +act, that should change the cheerful house into a haunted place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +which lonely travellers would dread to pass by night; and where +the timid would see shadows struggling in the ruined windows +when the moon was dim, and hear wild noises in the stormy +weather.</p> + +<p>He was the younger man! Yes, yes; some lover who had +won the heart that <i>he</i> had never touched. Some lover of her +early choice, of whom she had thought and dreamed, for whom +she had pined and pined, when he had fancied her so happy +by his side. Oh, agony to think of it!</p> + +<p>She had been above-stairs with the Baby; getting it to bed. +As he sat brooding on the hearth, she came close beside him, +without his knowledge—in the turning of the rack of his great +misery, he lost all other sounds—and put her little stool at his +feet. He only knew it when he felt her hand upon his own, and +saw her looking up into his face.</p> + +<p>With wonder? No. It was his first impression, and he +was fain to look at her again, to set it right. No, not with +wonder. With an eager and inquiring look; but not with wonder. +At first it was alarmed and serious; then, it changed into a strange, +wild, dreadful smile of recognition of his thoughts; then, there +was nothing but her clasped hands on her brow, and her bent +head, and falling hair.</p> + +<p>Though the power of Omnipotence had been his to wield +at that moment, he had too much of its diviner property of +Mercy in his breast, to have turned one feather's weight of it +against her. But he could not bear to see her crouching down +upon the little seat where he had often looked on her, with love +and pride, so innocent and gay; and, when she rose and left +him, sobbing as she went, he felt it a relief to have the vacant +place beside him rather than her so long-cherished presence. +This in itself was anguish keener than all, reminding him how +desolate he was become, and how the great bond of his life was +rent asunder.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="illo5" id="illo5" href="images/i05.jpg"> +<img src="images/i05_tn.jpg" width="400" height="279" alt="When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the +Hearth began to Chirp!" title="When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the +Hearth began to Chirp!" /> +<span class="caption">When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the +Hearth began to Chirp!</span> +</a> +</div> + +<p>The more he felt this, and the more he knew he could have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>better borne to see her lying prematurely dead before him with +her little child upon her breast, the higher and the stronger rose +his wrath against his enemy. He looked about him for a weapon.</p> + +<p>There was a gun hanging on the wall. He took it down, +and moved a pace or two towards the door of the perfidious +Stranger's room. He knew the gun was loaded. Some shadowy +idea that it was just to shoot this man like a wild beast seized +him, and dilated in his mind until it grew into a monstrous +demon in complete possession of him, casting out all milder +thoughts, and setting up its undivided empire.</p> + +<p>That phrase is wrong. Not casting out his milder thoughts, +but artfully transforming them. Changing them into scourges +to drive him on. Turning water into blood, love into hate, +gentleness into blind ferocity. Her image, sorrowing, humbled, +but still pleading to his tenderness and mercy with resistless +power, never left his mind; but, staying there, it urged him to +the door; raised the weapon to his shoulder; fitted and nerved +his fingers to the trigger; and cried "Kill him! In his bed!"</p> + +<p>He reversed the gun to beat the stock upon the door; he +already held it lifted in the air; some indistinct design was in +his thoughts of calling out to him to fly, for God's sake, by +the window——</p> + +<p>When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole +chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the Hearth +began to Chirp!</p> + +<p>No sound he could have heard, no human voice, not even +hers, could so have moved and softened him. The artless +words in which she had told him of her love for this same Cricket +were once more freshly spoken; her trembling, earnest manner +at the moment was again before him; her pleasant voice—oh, +what a voice it was for making household music at the fireside +of an honest man!—thrilled through and through his better +nature, and awoke it into life and action.</p> + +<p>He recoiled from the door, like a man walking in his sleep,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +awakened from a frightful dream; and put the gun aside. Clasping +his hands before his face, he then sat down again beside +the fire, and found relief in tears.</p> + +<p>The Cricket on the Hearth came out into the room, and +stood in Fairy shape before him.</p> + +<p>"'I love it,'" said the Fairy Voice, repeating what he well +remembered, "'for the many times I have heard it, and the +many thoughts its harmless music has given me.'"</p> + +<p>"She said so!" cried the Carrier. "True!"</p> + +<p>"'This has been a happy home, John! and I love the Cricket +for its sake!'"</p> + +<p>"It has been, Heaven knows," returned the Carrier. "She +made it happy, always,—until now."</p> + +<p>"So gracefully sweet-tempered; so domestic, joyful, busy, +and light-hearted!" said the Voice.</p> + +<p>"Otherwise I never could have loved her as I did," returned +the Carrier.</p> + +<p>The Voice, correcting him, said "do."</p> + +<p>The Carrier repeated "as I did." But not firmly. His +faltering tongue resisted his control, and would speak in its +own way for itself and him.</p> + +<p>The Figure, in an attitude of invocation, raised its hand and +said:</p> + +<p>"Upon your own hearth——"</p> + +<p>"The hearth she has blighted," interposed the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"The hearth she has—how often!—blessed and brightened," +said the Cricket; "the hearth which, but for her, were only a +few stones and bricks and rusty bars, but which has been, +through her, the Altar of your Home; on which you have nightly +sacrificed some petty passion, selfishness, or care, and offered up +the homage of a tranquil mind, a trusting nature, and an overflowing +heart; so that the smoke from this poor chimney has +gone upward with a better fragrance than the richest incense +that is burnt before the richest shrines in all the gaudy temples<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +of this world!—Upon your own hearth; in its quiet sanctuary; +surrounded by its gentle influences and associations; hear her! +Hear me! Hear everything that speaks the language of your +hearth and home!"</p> + +<p>"And pleads for her?" inquired the Carrier.</p> + +<p>"All things that speak the language of your hearth and home +<i>must</i> plead for her!" returned the Cricket. "For they speak +the truth."</p> + +<p>And while the Carrier, with his head upon his hands, continued +to sit meditating in his chair, the Presence stood beside +him, suggesting his reflections by its power, and presenting +them before him, as in a glass or picture. It was not a solitary +Presence. From the hearth-stone, from the chimney, from +the clock, the pipe, the kettle, and the cradle; from the floor, the +walls, the ceiling, and the stairs; from the cart without, and the +cupboard within, and the household implements; from everything +and every place with which she had ever been familiar, +and with which she had ever entwined one recollection of herself +in her unhappy husband's mind,—Fairies came trooping +forth. Not to stand beside him as the Cricket did, but to busy +and bestir themselves. To do all honour to her image. To pull +him by the skirts, and point to it when it appeared. To cluster +round it, and embrace it, and strew flowers for it to tread on. +To try to crown its fair head with their tiny hands. To show +that they were fond of it, and loved it; and that there was not +one ugly, wicked, or accusatory creature to claim knowledge +of it—none but their playful and approving selves.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were constant to her image. It was always +there.</p> + +<p>She sat plying her needle, before the fire, and singing to herself. +Such a blithe, thriving, steady little Dot! The Fairy +figures turned upon him all at once, by one consent, with one +prodigious concentrated stare, and seemed to say, "Is this the +light wife you are mourning for?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were sounds of gaiety outside, musical instruments, +and noisy tongues, and laughter. A crowd of young merry-makers +came pouring in, among whom were May Fielding and +a score of pretty girls. Dot was the fairest of them all; as young +as any of them too. They came to summon her to join their +party. It was a dance. If ever little foot were made for dancing, +hers was, surely. But she laughed, and shook her head, +and pointed to her cookery on the fire, and her table ready +spread; with an exulting defiance that rendered her more charming +than she was before. And so she merrily dismissed them, +nodding to her would-be partners, one by one, as they passed +out, with a comical indifference, enough to make them go and +drown themselves immediately if they were her admirers—and +they must have been so, more or less; they couldn't help +it. And yet indifference was not her character. Oh no! For +presently there came a certain Carrier to the door; and, bless +her, what a welcome she bestowed upon him!</p> + +<p>Again the staring figures turned upon him all at once, and +seemed to say, "Is this the wife who has forsaken you?"</p> + +<p>A shadow fell upon the mirror or the picture: call it what you +will. A great shadow of the Stranger, as he first stood underneath +their roof; covering its surface, and blotting out all other +objects. But, the nimble Fairies worked like bees to clear it +off again. And Dot again was there. Still bright and beautiful.</p> + +<p>Rocking her little Baby in its cradle, singing to it softly, and +resting her head upon a shoulder which had its counterpart in +the musing figure by which the Fairy Cricket stood.</p> + +<p>The night—I mean the real night: not going by Fairy +clocks—was wearing now; and, in this stage of the Carrier's +thoughts, the moon burst out, and shone brightly in the sky. +Perhaps some calm and quiet light had risen also in his mind; +and he could think more soberly of what had happened.</p> + +<p>Although the shadow of the Stranger fell at intervals upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +the glass—always distinct, and big, and thoroughly defined—it +never fell so darkly as at first. Whenever it appeared, the +Fairies uttered a general cry of consternation, and plied their +little arms and legs with inconceivable activity to rub it out. +And whenever they got at Dot again, and showed her to him +once more, bright and beautiful, they cheered in the most +inspiring manner.</p> + +<p>They never showed her otherwise than beautiful and bright, +for they were Household Spirits to whom falsehood is an annihilation; +and being so, what Dot was there for them, but the one +active, beaming, pleasant little creature who had been the light +and sun of the Carrier's Home?</p> + +<p>The Fairies were prodigiously excited when they showed +her, with the Baby, gossipping among a knot of sage old matrons, +and affecting to be wondrous old and matronly herself, and +leaning in a staid demure old way upon her husband's arm, +attempting—she! such a bud of a little woman—to convey the +idea of having abjured the vanities of the world in general, and +of being the sort of person to whom it was no novelty at all to be +a mother; yet, in the same breath, they showed her laughing at +the Carrier for being awkward, and pulling up his shirt collar +to make him smart, and mincing merrily about that very room +to teach him how to dance!</p> + +<p>They turned, and stared immensely at him when they showed +her with the Blind Girl; for, though she carried cheerfulness +and animation with her wheresoever she went, she bore those +influences into Caleb Plummer's home, heaped up and running +over. The Blind Girl's love for her, and trust in her, and gratitude +to her; her own good busy way of setting Bertha's thanks +aside; her dexterous little arts for filling up each moment of +the visit in doing something useful to the house, and really working +hard while feigning to make holiday; her bountiful provision +of those standing delicacies, the Veal and Ham Pie and the +bottles of Beer; her radiant little face arriving at the door, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +taking leave; the wonderful expression in her whole self, from +her neat foot to the crown of her head, of being a part of the +establishment—a something necessary to it, which it couldn't +be without,—all this the Fairies revelled in, and loved her for. +And once again they looked upon him all at once, appealingly, +and seemed to say, while some among them nestled in her dress +and fondled her, "Is this the wife who has betrayed your confidence?"</p> + +<p>More than once, or twice, or thrice, in the long thoughtful +night, they showed her to him sitting on her favourite seat, with +her bent head, her hands clasped on her brow, her falling hair. +As he had seen her last. And when they found her thus, they +neither turned nor looked upon him, but gathered close round +her, and comforted and kissed her, and pressed on one another, +to show sympathy and kindness to her, and forgot him altogether.</p> + +<p>Thus the night passed. The moon went down; the stars +grew pale; the cold day broke; the sun rose. The Carrier still +sat, musing, in the chimney-corner. He had sat there, with his +head upon his hands, all night. All night the faithful Cricket +had been Chirp, Chirp, Chirping on the Hearth. All night he +had listened to its voice. All night the Household Fairies had +been busy with him. All night she had been amiable and blameless +in the glass, except when that one shadow fell upon it.</p> + +<p>He rose up when it was broad day, and washed and dressed +himself. He couldn't go about his customary cheerful avocations—he +wanted spirit for them—but it mattered the less +that it was Tackleton's wedding-day, and he had arranged to +make his rounds by proxy. He had thought to have gone +merrily to church with Dot. But such plans were at an end. +It was their own wedding-day too. Ah! how little he had looked +for such a close to such a year!</p> + +<p>The Carrier expected that Tackleton would pay him an early +visit; and he was right. He had not walked to and fro before +his own door many minutes, when he saw the toy merchant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +coming in his chaise along the road. As the chaise drew nearer, +he perceived that Tackleton was dressed out sprucely for his +marriage, and that he had decorated his horse's head with +flowers and favours.</p> + +<p>The horse looked much more like a bridegroom than Tackleton, +whose half-closed eye was more disagreeably expressive +than ever. But the Carrier took little heed of this. His thoughts +had other occupation.</p> + +<p>"John Peerybingle!" said Tackleton with an air of condolence. +"My good fellow, how do you find yourself this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton," returned +the Carrier, shaking his head: "for I have been a good deal disturbed +in my mind. But it's over now! Can you spare me half +an hour or so, for some private talk?"</p> + +<p>"I came on purpose," returned Tackleton, alighting. "Never +mind the horse. He'll stand quiet enough, with the reins over +this post, if you'll give him a mouthful of hay."</p> + +<p>The Carrier having brought it from his stable and set it before +him, they turned into the house.</p> + +<p>"You are not married before noon," he said, "I think?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Tackleton. "Plenty of time. Plenty of +time."</p> + +<p>When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy was rapping +at the Stranger's door; which was only removed from it by a +few steps. One of her very red eyes (for Tilly had been crying +all night long, because her mistress cried) was at the keyhole; +and she was knocking very loud, and seemed frightened.</p> + +<p>"If you please I can't make nobody hear," said Tilly, looking +round. "I hope nobody an't gone and been and died if +you please!"</p> + +<p>This philanthropic wish Miss Slowboy emphasized with +various new raps and kicks at the door, which led to no result +whatever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I go?" said Tackleton. "It's curious."</p> + +<p>The Carrier, who had turned his face from the door, signed +him to go if he would.</p> + +<p>So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy's relief; and he too +kicked and knocked; and he too failed to get the least reply. +But he thought of trying the handle of the door; and, as it opened +easily, he peeped in, looked in, went in, and soon came running +out again.</p> + +<p>"John Peerybingle," said Tackleton in his ear, "I hope +there has been nothing—nothing rash in the night?"</p> + +<p>The Carrier turned upon him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Because he's gone!" said Tackleton; "and the window's +open. I don't see any marks—to be sure, it's almost on a +level with the garden: but I was afraid there might have been +some—some scuffle. Eh?"</p> + +<p>He nearly shut up the expressive eye altogether; he looked +at him so hard. And he gave his eye, and his face, and his +whole person, a sharp twist. As if he would have screwed the +truth out of him.</p> + +<p>"Make yourself easy," said the Carrier. "He went into +that room last night, without harm in word or deed from me, +and no one has entered it since. He is away of his own free-will. +I'd go out gladly at that door, and beg my bread from +house to house, for life, if I could so change the past that he +had never come. But he has come and gone. And I have done +with him!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—Well, I think he has got off pretty easy," said Tackleton, +taking a chair.</p> + +<p>The sneer was lost upon the Carrier, who sat down too, and +shaded his face with his hand, for some little time, before proceeding.</p> + +<p>"You showed me last night," he said at length, "my wife—my +wife that I love—secretly——"</p> + +<p>"And tenderly," insinuated Tackleton.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"—Conniving at that man's disguise, and giving him opportunities +of meeting her alone. I think there's no sight I wouldn't +have rather seen than that. I think there's no man in the world +I wouldn't have rather had to show it me."</p> + +<p>"I confess to having had my suspicions always," said Tackleton. +"And that has made me objectionable here, I know."</p> + +<p>"But, as you did show it me," pursued the Carrier, not minding +him; "and as you saw her, my wife, my wife that I love"—his +voice, and eye, and hand grew steadier and firmer as he repeated +these words: evidently in pursuance of a steadfast purpose—"as +you saw her at this disadvantage, it is right and +just that you should also see with my eyes, and look into my +breast, and know what my mind is upon the subject. For it's +settled," said the Carrier, regarding him attentively. "And +nothing can shake it now."</p> + +<p>Tackleton muttered a few general words of assent about its +being necessary to vindicate something or other; but he was +overawed by the manner of his companion. Plain and unpolished +as it was, it had a something dignified and noble in it, +which nothing but the soul of generous honour dwelling in the +man could have imparted.</p> + +<p>"I am a plain, rough man," pursued the Carrier "with very +little to recommend me. I am not a clever man, as you very +well know. I am not a young man. I loved my little Dot, because +I had seen her grow up, from a child, in her father's house; +because I knew how precious she was; because she had been my +life for years and years. There's many men I can't compare +with, who never could have loved my little Dot like me, I +think!"</p> + +<p>He paused, and softly beat the ground a short time with his +foot, before resuming:</p> + +<p>"I often thought that though I wasn't good enough for her, +I should make her a kind husband, and perhaps know her value +better than another; and in this way I reconciled it to myself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +and came to think it might be possible that we should be married. +And, in the end, it came about, and we <i>were</i> married!"</p> + +<p>"Hah!" said Tackleton with a significant shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"I had studied myself; I had had experience of myself; I +knew how much I loved her, and how happy I should be," +pursued the Carrier. "But I had not—I feel it now—sufficiently +considered her."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Tackleton. "Giddiness, frivolity, fickleness, +love of admiration! Not considered! All left out of +sight! Hah!"</p> + +<p>"You had best not interrupt me," said the Carrier with +some sternness, "till you understand me; and you're wide of +doing so. If, yesterday, I'd have struck that man down at a +blow, who dared to breathe a word against her, to-day I'd set +my foot upon his face, if he was my brother!"</p> + +<p>The toy merchant gazed at him in astonishment. He went +on in a softer tone:</p> + +<p>"Did I consider," said the Carrier, "that I took her—at +her age, and with her beauty—from her young companions, +and the many scenes of which she was the ornament; in which +she was the brightest little star that ever shone, to shut her up +from day to day in my dull house, and keep my tedious company? +Did I consider how little suited I was to her sprightly +humour, and how wearisome a plodding man like me must be +to one of her quick spirit? Did I consider that it was no merit +in me, or claim in me, that I loved her, when everybody must +who knew her? Never. I took advantage of her hopeful +nature and her cheerful disposition; and I married her. I wish +I never had! For her sake; not for mine!"</p> + +<p>The toy merchant gazed at him without winking. Even +the half-shut eye was open now.</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless her!" said the Carrier, "for the cheerful +constancy with which she has tried to keep the knowledge of this +from me! And Heaven help me, that, in my slow mind, I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +not found it out before! Poor child! Poor Dot! <i>I</i> not to +find it out, who have seen her eyes fill with tears when such a +marriage as our own was spoken of! I, who have seen the +secret trembling on her lips a hundred times, and never suspected +it, till last night! Poor girl! That I could ever hope +she would be fond of me! That I could ever believe she was!"</p> + +<p>"She made a show of it," said Tackleton. "She made such +a show of it, that, to tell you the truth, it was the origin of my +misgivings."</p> + +<p>And here he asserted the superiority of May Fielding, who +certainly made no sort of show of being fond of <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p>"She has tried," said the poor Carrier with greater emotion +than he had exhibited yet; "I only now begin to know how hard +she has tried, to be my dutiful and zealous wife. How good +she has been; how much she has done; how brave and strong a +heart she has; let the happiness I have known under this roof +bear witness! It will be some help and comfort to me when I +am here alone."</p> + +<p>"Here alone?" said Tackleton. "Oh! Then you do mean +to take some notice of this?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," returned the Carrier, "to do her the greatest +kindness, and make her the best reparation, in my power. I +can release her from the daily pain of an unequal marriage, and +the struggle to conceal it. She shall be as free as I can render +her."</p> + +<p>"Make <i>her</i> reparation!" exclaimed Tackleton, twisting and +turning his great ears with his hands. "There must be something +wrong here. You didn't say that, of course."</p> + +<p>The Carrier set his grip upon the collar of the toy merchant, +and shook him like a reed.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me!" he said. "And take care that you hear +me right. Listen to me. Do I speak plainly?"</p> + +<p>"Very plainly indeed," answered Tackleton.</p> + +<p>"As if I meant it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very much as if you meant it."</p> + +<p>"I sat upon that hearth, last night, all night," exclaimed the +Carrier. "On the spot where she has often sat beside me, with +her sweet face looking into mine. I called up her whole life +day by day. I had her dear self, in its every passage, in review +before me. And, upon my soul, she is innocent, if there is One +to judge the innocent and guilty!"</p> + +<p>Staunch Cricket on the Hearth! Loyal Household Fairies!</p> + +<p>"Passion and distrust have left me!" said the Carrier; "and +nothing but my grief remains. In an unhappy moment some +old lover, better suited to her tastes and years than I, forsaken, +perhaps, for me, against her will, returned. In an unhappy +moment, taken by surprise, and wanting time to think of what +she did, she made herself a party to his treachery by concealing +it. Last night she saw him, in the interview we witnessed. It +was wrong. But, otherwise than this, she is innocent, if there +is truth on earth!"</p> + +<p>"If that is your opinion——" Tackleton began.</p> + +<p>"So, let her go!" pursued the Carrier. "Go, with my blessing +for the many happy hours she has given me, and my forgiveness +for any pang she has caused me. Let her go, and have the +peace of mind I wish her! She'll never hate me. She'll learn +to like me better when I'm not a drag upon her, and she wears +the chain I have riveted more lightly. This is the day on which +I took her, with so little thought for her enjoyment, from her +home. To-day she shall return to it, and I will trouble her no +more. Her father and mother will be here to-day—we had +made a little plan for keeping it together—and they shall take +her home. I can trust her there, or anywhere. She leaves me +without blame, and she will live so I am sure. If I should die—I +may perhaps while she is still young; I have lost some +courage in a few hours—she'll find that I remembered her, +and loved her to the last! This is the end of what you showed +me. Now, it's over!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh no, John, not over! Do not say it's over yet! Not +quite yet. I have heard your noble words. I could not steal +away, pretending to be ignorant of what has affected me with +such deep gratitude. Do not say it's over till the clock has +struck again!"</p> + +<p>She had entered shortly after Tackleton, and had remained +there. She never looked at Tackleton, but fixed her eyes upon +her husband. But she kept away from him, setting as wide a +space as possible between them; and, though she spoke with +most impassioned earnestness, she went no nearer to him even +then. How different in this from her old self!</p> + +<p>"No hand can make the clock which will strike again for me +the hours that are gone," replied the Carrier with a faint smile. +"But let it be so, if you will, my dear. It will strike soon. It's +of little matter what we say. I'd try to please you in a harder +case than that."</p> + +<p>"Well!" muttered Tackleton. "I must be off, for, when +the clock strikes again, it'll be necessary for me to be upon my +way to church. Good morning, John Peerybingle. I'm sorry +to be deprived of the pleasure of your company. Sorry for the +loss, and the occasion of it too!"</p> + +<p>"I have spoken plainly?" said the Carrier, accompanying +him to the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite!"</p> + +<p>"And you'll remember what I have said?"</p> + +<p>"Why, if you compel me to make the observation," said +Tackleton, previously taking the precaution of getting into his +chaise, "I must say that it was so very unexpected, that I'm far +from being likely to forget it."</p> + +<p>"The better for us both," returned the Carrier. "Good-bye. +I give you joy!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could give it to <i>you</i>," said Tackleton. "As I +can't, thankee. Between ourselves (as I told you before, eh?) +I don't much think I shall have the less joy in my married life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +because May hasn't been too officious about me, and too +demonstrative. Good-bye! Take care of yourself."</p> + +<p>The Carrier stood looking after him until he was smaller in +the distance than his horse's flowers and favours near at hand; +and then, with a deep sigh, went strolling like a restless, broken +man, among some neighbouring elms; unwilling to return until +the clock was on the eve of striking.</p> + +<p>His little wife, being left alone, sobbed piteously; but often +dried her eyes and checked herself, to say how good he was, how +excellent he was! and once or twice she laughed; so heartily, +triumphantly, and incoherently (still crying all the time), that +Tilly was quite horrified.</p> + +<p>"Ow, if you please, don't!" said Tilly. "It's enough to +dead and bury the Baby, so it is if you please."</p> + +<p>"Will you bring him sometimes to see his father, Tilly," +inquired her mistress, drying her eyes,—"when I can't live +here, and have gone to my old home?"</p> + +<p>"Ow, if you please, don't!" cried Tilly, throwing back her +head, and bursting out into a howl—she looked at the moment +uncommonly like Boxer. "Ow, if you please, don't! Ow, +what has everybody gone and been and done with everybody, +making everybody else so wretched? Ow-w-w-w!"</p> + +<p>The soft-hearted Slowboy tailed off at this juncture into +such a deplorable howl, the more tremendous from its long suppression, +that she must infallibly have awakened the Baby, and +frightened him into something serious (probably convulsions), +if her eyes had not encountered Caleb Plummer leading in his +daughter. This spectacle restoring her to a sense of the proprieties, +she stood for some few moments silent, with her mouth +wide open; and then, posting off to the bed on which the Baby +lay asleep, danced in a weird, St. Vitus manner on the floor, +and at the same time rummaged with her face and head among +the bedclothes, apparently deriving much relief from those +extraordinary operations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mary!" said Bertha. "Not at the marriage!"</p> + +<p>"I told her you would not be there, mum," whispered Caleb. +"I heard as much last night. But bless you," said the little +man, taking her tenderly by both hands, "<i>I</i> don't care for what +they say. <i>I</i> don't believe them. There an't much of me, but +that little should be torn to pieces sooner than I'd trust a word +against you!"</p> + +<p>He put his arms about her neck and hugged her, as a child +might have hugged one of his own dolls.</p> + +<p>"Bertha couldn't stay at home this morning," said Caleb. +"She was afraid, I know, to hear the bells ring, and couldn't +trust herself to be so near them on their wedding-day. So we +started in good time, and came here. I have been thinking of +what I have done," said Caleb after a moment's pause; "I have +been blaming myself till I hardly knew what to do, or where +to turn, for the distress of mind I have caused her; and I've come +to the conclusion that I'd better, if you'll stay with me, mum, +the while, tell her the truth. You'll stay with me the while?" +he inquired, trembling from head to foot. "I don't know what +effect it may have upon her; I don't know what she'll think of +me; I don't know that she'll ever care for her poor father afterwards. +But it's best for her that she should be undeceived, +and I must bear the consequences as I deserve!"</p> + +<p>"Mary," said Bertha, "where is your hand? Ah! Here +it is; here it is!" pressing it to her lips with a smile, and drawing +it through her arm. "I heard them speaking softly among +themselves last night of some blame against you. They were +wrong."</p> + +<p>The Carrier's wife was silent. Caleb answered for her.</p> + +<p>"They were wrong," he said.</p> + +<p>"I knew it!" cried Bertha, proudly. "I told them so. I +scorned to hear a word! Blame <i>her</i> with justice!" she pressed +the hand between her own, and the soft cheek against her face. +"No, I am not so blind as that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her father went on one side of her, while Dot remained +upon the other, holding her hand.</p> + +<p>"I know you all," said Bertha, "better than you think. +But none so well as her. Not even you, father. There is nothing +half so real and so true about me as she is. If I could be restored +to sight this instant, and not a word were spoken, I could +choose her from a crowd! My sister!"</p> + +<p>"Bertha, my dear!" said Caleb. "I have something on +my mind I want to tell you while we three are alone. Hear me +kindly! I have a confession to make to you, my darling!"</p> + +<p>"A confession, father?"</p> + +<p>"I have wandered from the truth, and lost myself, my child," +said Caleb with a pitiable expression in his bewildered face. +"I have wandered from the truth, intending to be kind to you; +and have been cruel."</p> + +<p>She turned her wonder-stricken face towards him, and repeated +"Cruel!"</p> + +<p>"He accuses himself too strongly, Bertha," said Dot. "You'll +say so presently. You'll be the first to tell him so."</p> + +<p>"He cruel to me!" cried Bertha with a smile of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Not meaning it, my child," said Caleb. "But I have +been: though I never suspected it till yesterday. My dear blind +daughter, hear me and forgive me. The world you live in, +heart of mine, doesn't exist as I have represented it. The eyes +you have trusted in have been false to you."</p> + +<p>She turned her wonder-stricken face towards him still; but +drew back, and clung closer to her friend.</p> + +<p>"Your road in life was rough, my poor one," said Caleb, +"and I meant to smooth it for you. I have altered objects, +changed the characters of people, invented many things that +never have been, to make you happier. I have had concealments +from you, put deceptions on you, God forgive me! and +surrounded you with fancies."</p> + +<p>"But living people are not fancies?" she said hurriedly, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +turning very pale, and still retiring from him. "You can't +change them."</p> + +<p>"I have done so, Bertha," pleaded Caleb. "There is one +person that you know, my dove——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! why do you say, I know?" she answered in a +term of keen reproach. "What and whom do <i>I</i> know? I +who have no leader! I so miserably blind!"</p> + +<p>In the anguish of her heart, she stretched out her hands, +as if she were groping her way; then spread them, in a manner +most forlorn and sad, upon her face.</p> + +<p>"The marriage that takes place to-day," said Caleb, "is +with a stern, sordid, grinding man. A hard master to you and +me, my dear, for many years. Ugly in his looks, and in his +nature. Cold and callous always. Unlike what I have painted +him to you in everything, my child. In everything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why," cried the Blind Girl, tortured, as it seemed, +almost beyond endurance, "why did you ever do this? Why +did you ever fill my heart so full, and then come in like Death, +and tear away the objects of my love? O Heaven, how blind +I am! How helpless and alone!"</p> + +<p>Her afflicted father hung his head, and offered no reply but +in his penitence and sorrow.</p> + +<p>She had been but a short time in this passion of regret when +the Cricket on the Hearth, unheard by all but her, began to +chirp. Not merrily, but in a low, faint, sorrowing way. It was +so mournful, that her tears began to flow; and, when the Presence +which had been beside the Carrier all night, appeared behind +her, pointing to her father, they fell down like rain.</p> + +<p>She heard the Cricket-voice more plainly soon, and was +conscious, through her blindness, of the Presence hovering +about her father.</p> + +<p>"Mary," said the Blind Girl, "tell me what my home is. +What it truly is."</p> + +<p>"It is a poor place, Bertha; very poor and bare indeed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +The house will scarcely keep out wind and rain another winter. +It is as roughly shielded from the weather, Bertha," Dot continued +in a low, clear voice, "as your poor father in his sackcloth +coat."</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl, greatly agitated, rose, and led the Carrier's +little wife aside.</p> + +<p>"Those presents that I took such care of; that came almost +at my wish, and were so dearly welcome to me," she said, trembling; +"where did they come from? Did you send them?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Who, then?"</p> + +<p>Dot saw she knew already, and was silent. The Blind Girl +spread her hands before her face again. But in quite another +manner now.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mary, a moment. One moment. More this way. +Speak softly to me. You are true I know. You'd not deceive +me now; would you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Bertha, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"No, I am sure you would not. You have too much pity +for me. Mary, look across the room to where we were just +now—to where my father is—my father, so compassionate +and loving to me—and tell me what you see."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Dot, who understood her well, "an old man +sitting in a chair, and leaning sorrowfully on the back, with his +face resting on his hand. As if his child should comfort him, +Bertha."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. She will. Go on."</p> + +<p>"He is an old man, worn with care and work. He is a spare, +dejected, thoughtful, grey-haired man. I see him now, despondent +and bowed down, and striving against nothing. But, +Bertha, I have seen him many times before, and striving hard +in many ways, for one great sacred object. And I honour his +grey head, and bless him!"</p> + +<p>The Blind Girl broke away from her; and, throwing her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>self +upon her knees before him, took the grey head to her +breast.</p> + +<p>"It is my sight restored. It is my sight!" she cried. "I +have been blind, and now my eyes are open. I never knew him! +To think I might have died, and never truly seen the father who +has been so loving to me!"</p> + +<p>There were no words for Caleb's emotion.</p> + +<p>"There is not a gallant figure on this earth," exclaimed the +Blind Girl, holding him in her embrace, "that I would love so +dearly, and would cherish so devotedly, as this! The greyer, +and more worn, the dearer, father! Never let them say I am +blind again. There's not a furrow in his face, there's not a hair +upon his head, that shall be forgotten in my prayers and thanks +to Heaven!"</p> + +<p>Caleb managed to articulate, "My Bertha!"</p> + +<p>"And in my blindness I believed him," said the girl, caressing +him with tears of exquisite affection, "to be so different. +And having him beside me day by day, so mindful of me always, +never dreamed of this!"</p> + +<p>"The fresh smart father in the blue coat, Bertha," said poor +Caleb. "He's gone!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing is gone," she answered. "Dearest father, no! +Everything is here—in you. The father that I loved so well; +the father that I never loved enough, and never knew; the benefactor +whom I first began to reverence and love, because he had +such sympathy for me,—all are here in you. Nothing is dead +to me. The soul of all that was most dear to me is here—here, +with the worn face, and the grey head. And I am <span class="smcap">not</span> blind, +father, any longer!"</p> + +<p>Dot's whole attention had been concentrated, during this +discourse, upon the father and daughter; but looking, now, +towards the little Hay-maker in the Moorish meadow, she saw +that the clock was within a few minutes of striking, and fell, +immediately, into a nervous and excited state.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Father!" said Bertha, hesitating. "Mary!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear," returned Caleb. "Here she is."</p> + +<p>"There is no change in <i>her</i>. You never told me anything +of <i>her</i> that was not true?"</p> + +<p>"I should have done it, my dear, I'm afraid," returned +Caleb, "if I could have made her better than she was. But I +must have changed her for the worse, if I had changed her at all. +Nothing could improve her, Bertha."</p> + +<p>Confident as the Blind Girl had been when she asked the +question, her delight and pride in the reply, and her renewed +embrace of Dot, were charming to behold.</p> + +<p>"More changes than you think for may happen, though, +my dear," said Dot. "Changes for the better, I mean; changes +for great joy to some of us. You mustn't let them startle you +too much, if any such should ever happen, and affect you. Are +those wheels upon the road? You've a quick ear, Bertha. +Are they wheels?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Coming very fast."</p> + +<p>"I—I—I know you have a quick ear," said Dot, placing +her hand upon her heart, and evidently talking on as fast as she +could, to hide its palpitating state, "because I have noticed it +often, and because you were so quick to find out that strange +step last night. Though why you should have said, as I very +well recollect you did say, Bertha, 'Whose step is that?' and +why you should have taken any greater observation of it than of +any other step, I don't know. Though, as I said just now, +there are great changes in the world: great changes: and we can't +do better than prepare ourselves to be surprised at hardly anything."</p> + +<p>Caleb wondered what this meant; perceiving that she spoke +to him, no less than to his daughter. He saw her, with astonishment, +so fluttered and distressed that she could scarcely breathe; +and holding to a chair, to save herself from falling.</p> + +<p>"They are wheels indeed!" she panted. "Coming nearer!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +Nearer! Very close! And now you hear them stopping at +the garden-gate! And now you hear a step outside the door—the +same step, Bertha, is it not?—and now——!"</p> + +<p>She uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight; and running +up to Caleb, put her hands upon his eyes, as a young man rushed +into the room, and, flinging away his hat into the air, came +sweeping down upon them.</p> + +<p>"Is it over?" cried Dot.</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Happily over?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever +hear the like of it before?" cried Dot.</p> + +<p>"If my boy in the Golden South Americas was alive——!" +said Caleb, trembling.</p> + +<p>"He is alive!" shrieked Dot, removing her hands from his +eyes, and clapping them in ecstasy. "Look at him! See where +he stands before you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son. +Your own dear living, loving brother, Bertha!"</p> + +<p>All honour to the little creature for her transports! All +honour to her tears and laughter, when the three were locked +in one another's arms! All honour to the heartiness with which +she met the sunburnt sailor-fellow, with his dark streaming +hair, half-way, and never turned her rosy little mouth aside, but +suffered him to kiss it freely, and to press her to his bounding +heart!</p> + +<p>And honour to the Cuckoo too—why not?—for bursting +out of the trap-door in the Moorish Palace like a housebreaker, +and hiccoughing twelve times on the assembled company, as if +he had got drunk for joy!</p> + +<p>The Carrier, entering, started back. And well he might, +to find himself in such good company.</p> + +<p>"Look, John!" said Caleb, exultingly, "look here! My +own boy from the Golden South Americas! My own son!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +Him that you fitted out, and sent away yourself! Him that you +were always such a friend to!"</p> + +<p>The Carrier advanced to seize him by the hand; but, recoiling, +as some feature in his face awakened a remembrance of the +Deaf Man in the Cart, said:</p> + +<p>"Edward! Was it you?"</p> + +<p>"Now tell him all!" cried Dot. "Tell him all, Edward; +and don't spare me, for nothing shall make me spare myself in +his eyes, ever again."</p> + +<p>"I was the man," said Edward.</p> + +<p>"And could you steal, disguised, into the house of your old +friend?" rejoined the Carrier. "There was a frank boy once—how +many years is it, Caleb, since we heard that he was +dead, and had it proved, we thought?—who never would have +done that."</p> + +<p>"There was a generous friend of mine once; more a father +to me than a friend," said Edward; "who never would have +judged me, or any other man, unheard. You were he. So I +am certain you will hear me now."</p> + +<p>The Carrier, with a troubled glance at Dot, who still kept +far away from him, replied, "Well! that's but fair. I will."</p> + +<p>"You must know that when I left here a boy," said Edward, +"I was in love, and my love was returned. She was a very +young girl, who perhaps (you may tell me) didn't know her own +mind. But I knew mine, and I had a passion for her."</p> + +<p>"You had!" exclaimed the Carrier. "You!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I had," returned the other. "And she returned it. +I have ever since believed she did, and now I am sure she did."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help me!" said the Carrier. "This is worse than +all."</p> + +<p>"Constant to her," said Edward, "and returning, full of +hope, after many hardships and perils, to redeem my part of +our old contract, I heard, twenty miles away, that she was false +to me; that she had forgotten me; and had bestowed herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +upon another and a richer man. I had no mind to reproach her; +but I wished to see her, and to prove beyond dispute that this +was true. I hoped she might have been forced into it against +her own desire and recollection. It would be small comfort, +but it would be some, I thought, and on I came. That I might +have the truth, the real truth, observing freely for myself, and +judging for myself, without obstruction on the one hand, or +presenting my own influence (if I had any) before her, on the +other, I dressed myself unlike myself—you know how; and +waited on the road—you know where. You had no suspicion +of me; neither had—had she," pointing to Dot, "until I +whispered in her ear at that fireside, and she so nearly betrayed +me."</p> + +<p>"But when she knew that Edward was alive, and had come +back," sobbed Dot, now speaking for herself, as she had burned +to do, all through this narrative; "and when she knew his purpose, +she advised him by all means to keep his secret close; +for his old friend John Peerybingle was much too open in his +nature, and too clumsy in all artifice—being a clumsy man in +general," said Dot, half laughing and half crying—"to keep +it for him. And when she—that's me, John," sobbed the little +woman—"told him all, and how his sweetheart had believed +him to be dead; and how she had at last been over-persuaded +by her mother into a marriage which the silly, dear old thing +called advantageous; and when she—that's me again, John—told +him they were not yet married (though close upon it), +and that it would be nothing but a sacrifice if it went on, for +there was no love on her side; and when he went nearly mad +with joy to hear it,—then she—that's me again—said she would +go between them, as she had often done before in old times, +John, and would sound his sweetheart, and be sure that what +she—me again, John—said and thought was right. And it +<span class="smcap">WAS</span> right, John! And they were brought together, John! +And they were married, John, an hour ago! And here's the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +Bride! And Gruff and Tackleton may die a bachelor! And +I'm a happy little woman, May, God bless you!"</p> + +<p>She was an irresistible little woman, if that be anything to +the purpose; and never so completely irresistible as in her +present transports. There never were congratulations so endearing +and delicious as those she lavished on herself and on +the Bride.</p> + +<p>Amid the tumult of emotions in his breast, the honest Carrier +had stood confounded. Flying, now, towards her, Dot stretched +out her hand to stop him, and retreated as before.</p> + +<p>"No, John, no! Hear all! Don't love me any more, John, +till you've heard every word I have to say. It was wrong to +have a secret from you, John. I'm very sorry. I didn't think +it any harm, till I came and sat down by you on the little stool +last night. But when I knew, by what was written in your +face, that you had seen me walking in the gallery with Edward, +and when I knew what you thought, I felt how giddy and how +wrong it was. But oh, dear John, how could you, could you +think so?"</p> + +<p>Little woman, how she sobbed again! John Peerybingle +would have caught her in his arms. But no; she wouldn't let +him.</p> + +<p>"Don't love me yet, please, John! Not for a long time yet! +When I was sad about this intended marriage, dear, it was because +I remembered May and Edward such young lovers; and +knew that her heart was far away from Tackleton. You believe +that, now, don't you, John?"</p> + +<p>John was going to make another rush at this appeal; but she +stopped him again.</p> + +<p>"No; keep there, please, John! When I laugh at you, as I +sometimes do, John, and call you clumsy and a dear old goose, +and names of that sort, it's because I love you, John, so well, +and take such pleasure in your ways, and wouldn't see you +altered in the least respect to have you made a king to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hooroar!" said Caleb with unusual vigour. "My opinion!"</p> + +<p>"And when I speak of people being middle-aged and steady, +John, and pretend that we are a humdrum couple, going on in +a jog-trot sort of way, it's only because I'm such a silly little +thing, John, that I like, sometimes, to act as a kind of Play +with Baby, and all that: and make believe."</p> + +<p>She saw that he was coming; and stopped him again. But +she was very nearly too late.</p> + +<p>"No, don't love me for another minute or two, if you please, +John! What I want most to tell you, I have kept to the last. +My dear, good, generous John, when we were talking the other +night about the Cricket, I had it on my lips to say, that at first +I did not love you quite so dearly as I do now; when I first came +home here, I was half afraid that I mightn't learn to love you +every bit as well as I hoped and prayed I might—being so very +young, John! But, dear John, every day and hour I loved you +more and more. And if I could have loved you better than I +do, the noble words I heard you say this morning would have +made me. But I can't. All the affection that I had (it was a +great deal, John) I gave you, as you well deserve, long, long +ago, and I have no more left to give. Now, my dear husband, +take me to your heart again! That's my home, John; and never, +never think of sending me to any other!"</p> + +<p>You never will derive so much delight from seeing a glorious +little woman in the arms of a third party as you would have +felt if you had seen Dot run into the Carrier's embrace. It was +the most complete, unmitigated, soul-fraught little piece of +earnestness that ever you beheld in all your days.</p> + +<p>You may be sure the Carrier was in a state of perfect rapture; +and you may be sure Dot was likewise; and you may be +sure they all were, inclusive of Miss Slowboy, who wept copiously +for joy, and, wishing to include her young charge in the general +interchange of congratulations, handed round the Baby to everybody +in succession, as if it were something to drink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>But, now, the sound of wheels was heard again outside the +door; and somebody exclaimed that Gruff and Tackleton was +coming back. Speedily that worthy gentleman appeared, looking +warm and flustered.</p> + +<p>"Why, what the Devil's this, John Peerybingle?" said +Tackleton. "There's some mistake. I appointed Mrs. Tackleton +to meet me at the church, and I'll swear I passed her on the +road, on her way here. Oh! here she is! I beg your pardon, +sir; I haven't the pleasure of knowing you; but, if you can do +me the favour to spare this young lady, she has rather a particular +engagement this morning."</p> + +<p>"But I can't spare her," returned Edward. "I couldn't +think of it."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, you vagabond?" said Tackleton.</p> + +<p>"I mean that, as I can make allowance for your being vexed," +returned the other with a smile, "I am as deaf to harsh discourse +this morning as I was to all discourse last night."</p> + +<p>The look that Tackleton bestowed upon him, and the start +he gave!</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, sir," said Edward, holding out May's left hand, +and especially the third finger, "that the young lady can't +accompany you to church; but, as she has been there once this +morning, perhaps you'll excuse her."</p> + +<p>Tackleton looked hard at the third finger, and took a little +piece of silver paper, apparently containing a ring, from his +waistcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>"Miss Slowboy," said Tackleton, "will you have the kindness +to throw that in the fire? Thankee."</p> + +<p>"It was a previous engagement, quite an old engagement, +that prevented my wife from keeping her appointment with you, +I assure you," said Edward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tackleton will do me the justice to acknowledge that +I revealed it to him faithfully; and that I told him, many times, +I never could forget it," said May, blushing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!" said Tackleton. "Oh, to be sure! Oh, +it's all right, it's quite correct! Mrs. Edward Plummer, I +infer?"</p> + +<p>"That's the name," returned the bridegroom.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I shouldn't have known you, sir," said Tackleton, +scrutinising his face narrowly, and making a low bow. "I give +you joy, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Thankee."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Peerybingle," said Tackleton, turning suddenly to +where she stood with her husband; "I'm sorry. You haven't +done me a very great kindness, but, upon my life, I am sorry. +You are better than I thought you. John Peerybingle, I am +sorry. You understand me; that's enough. It's quite correct, +ladies and gentlemen all, and perfectly satisfactory. Good +morning!"</p> + +<p>With these words he carried it off, and carried himself off +too: merely stopping at the door to take the flowers and favours +from his horse's head, and to kick that animal once in the ribs, +as a means of informing him that there was a screw loose in his +arrangements.</p> + +<p>Of course, it became a serious duty now to make such a day +of it as should mark these events for a high Feast and Festival +in the Peerybingle Calendar for evermore. Accordingly, Dot +went to work to produce such an entertainment as should reflect +undying honour on the house and on every one concerned; and, +in a very short space of time, she was up to her dimpled elbows in +flour, and whitening the Carrier's coat, every time he came near +her, by stopping him to give him a kiss. That good fellow +washed the greens, and peeled the turnips, and broke the plates, +and upset iron pots full of cold water on the fire, and made +himself useful in all sorts of ways: while a couple of professional +assistants, hastily called in from somewhere in the neighbourhood, +as on a point of life or death, ran against each other in all +the doorways and round all the corners, and everybody tumbled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +over Tilly Slowboy and the Baby, everywhere. Tilly never +came out in such force before. Her ubiquity was the theme of +general admiration. She was a stumbling-block in the passage +at five-and-twenty minutes past two; a man-trap in the kitchen +at half-past two precisely; and a pitfall in the garret at five-and-twenty +minutes to three. The Baby's head was, as it were, a +test and touchstone for every description of matter, animal, +vegetable, and mineral. Nothing was in use that day that didn't +come, at some time or other, into close acquaintance with it.</p> + +<p>Then there was a great Expedition set on foot to go and +find out Mrs. Fielding; and to be dismally penitent to that excellent +gentlewoman; and to bring her back, by force, if needful, +to be happy and forgiving. And when the Expedition first +discovered her, she would listen to no terms at all, but said, an +unspeakable number of times, that ever she should have lived +to see the day! and couldn't be got to say anything else, except +"Now carry me to the grave": which seemed absurd, on account +of her not being dead, or anything at all like it. After a time +she lapsed into a state of dreadful calmness, and observed that, +when that unfortunate train of circumstances had occurred in +the Indigo Trade, she had foreseen that she would be exposed, +during her whole life, to every species of insult and contumely; +and that she was glad to find it was the case; and begged they +wouldn't trouble themselves about her,—for what was she?—oh +dear! a nobody!—but would forget that such a being lived, +and would take their course in life without her. From this +bitterly sarcastic mood she passed into an angry one, in which +she gave vent to the remarkable expression that the worm would +turn if trodden on; and, after that, she yielded to a soft regret, +and said, if they had only given her their confidence, what might +she not have had it in her power to suggest! Taking advantage +of this crisis in her feelings, the Expedition embraced her; and +she very soon had her gloves on, and was on her way to John +Peerybingle's in a state of unimpeachable gentility; with a paper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +parcel at her side containing a cap of state, almost as tall, and +quite as stiff, as a mitre.</p> + +<p>Then, there were Dot's father and mother to come in another +little chaise; and they were behind their time; and fears were +entertained; and there was much looking out for them down the +road; and Mrs. Fielding always would look in the wrong and +morally impossible direction; and, being apprised thereof, +hoped she might take the liberty of looking where she pleased. +At last they came; a chubby little couple, jogging along in a snug +and comfortable little way that quite belonged to the Dot family; +and Dot and her mother, side by side, were wonderful to see. +They were so like each other.</p> + +<p>Then Dot's mother had to renew her acquaintance with +May's mother; and May's mother always stood on her gentility; +and Dot's mother never stood on anything but her active little +feet. And old Dot—so to call Dot's father, I forgot it wasn't +his right name, but never mind—took liberties, and shook +hands at first sight, and seemed to think a cap but so much +starch and muslin, and didn't defer himself at all to the Indigo +Trade, but said there was no help for it now; and, in Mrs. +Fielding's summing up, was a good-natured kind of man—but +coarse, my dear.</p> + +<p>I wouldn't have missed Dot, doing the honours in her wedding-gown, +my benison on her bright face! for any money. No! +nor the good Carrier, so jovial and so ruddy, at the bottom of +the table. Nor the brown, fresh sailor-fellow, and his handsome +wife. Nor any one among them. To have missed the +dinner would have been to miss as jolly and as stout a meal as +man need eat; and to have missed the overflowing cups in which +they drank The Wedding Day would have been the greatest +miss of all.</p> + +<p>After dinner Caleb sang the song about the Sparkling Bowl. +As I'm a living man, hoping to keep so for a year or two, he +sang it through.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>And, by-the-bye, a most unlooked-for incident occurred, +just as he finished the last verse.</p> + +<p>There was a tap at the door; and a man came staggering in, +without saying with your leave, or by your leave, with something +heavy on his head. Setting this down in the middle of the +table, symmetrically in the centre of the nuts and apples, he +said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and, as he hasn't got no +use for the cake himself, p'raps you'll eat it."</p> + +<p>And, with those words, he walked off.</p> + +<p>There was some surprise among the company, as you may +imagine. Mrs. Fielding, being a lady of infinite discernment, +suggested that the cake was poisoned, and related a narrative +of a cake which, within her knowledge, had turned a seminary +for young ladies blue. But she was overruled by acclamation; +and the cake was cut by May with much ceremony and rejoicing.</p> + +<p>I don't think any one had tasted it, when there came another +tap at the door, and the same man appeared again, having +under his arm a vast brown-paper parcel.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and he's sent a few toys for +the Babby. They ain't ugly."</p> + +<p>After the delivery of which expressions, he retired again.</p> + +<p>The whole party would have experienced great difficulty in +finding words for their astonishment, even if they had had +ample time to seek them. But they had none at all; for the +messenger had scarcely shut the door behind him, when there +came another tap, and Tackleton himself walked in.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Peerybingle!" said the toy merchant, hat in hand, +"I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than I was this morning. I have +had time to think of it. John Peerybingle! I am sour by disposition; +but I can't help being sweetened, more or less, by +coming face to face with such a man as you. Caleb! This +unconscious little nurse gave me a broken hint last night, of +which I have found the thread. I blush to think how easily I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +might have bound you and your daughter to me, and what a +miserable idiot I was when I took her for one! Friends, one +and all, my house is very lonely to-night. I have not so much +as a Cricket on my Hearth. I have scared them all away. Be +gracious to me: let me join this happy party!"</p> + +<p>He was at home in five minutes. You never saw such a +fellow. What <i>had</i> he been doing with himself all his life, never +to have known before his great capacity of being jovial? Or +what had the Fairies been doing with him, to have effected such +a change?</p> + +<p>"John! you won't send me home this evening, will you?" +whispered Dot.</p> + +<p>He had been very near it, though.</p> + +<p>There wanted but one living creature to make the party +complete; and, in the twinkling of an eye, there he was, very +thirsty with hard running, and engaged in hopeless endeavours +to squeeze his head into a narrow pitcher. He had gone with +the cart to its journey's end, very much disgusted with the +absence of his master, and stupendously rebellious to the Deputy. +After lingering about the stable for some little time, vainly +attempting to incite the old horse to the mutinous act of returning +on his own account, he had walked into the taproom, and +laid himself down before the fire. But, suddenly yielding to +the conviction that the Deputy was a humbug, and must be +abandoned, he had got up again, turned tail, and come home.</p> + +<p>There was a dance in the evening. With which general +mention of that recreation, I should have left it alone, if I had +not some reason to suppose that it was quite an original dance, +and one of a most uncommon figure. It was formed in an odd +way; in this way.</p> + +<p>Edward, that sailor-fellow—a good free dashing sort of +fellow he was—had been telling them various marvels concerning +parrots, and mines, and Mexicans, and gold dust, when +all at once he took it in his head to jump up from his seat and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +propose a dance; for Bertha's harp was there, and she such a +hand upon it as you seldom hear. Dot (sly little piece of affectation +when she chose) said her dancing days were over; I +think because the Carrier was smoking his pipe, and she liked +sitting by him best. Mrs. Fielding had no choice, of course, +but to say <i>her</i> dancing days were over, after that; and everybody +said the same, except May; May was ready.</p> + +<p>So, May and Edward get up, amid great applause, to dance +alone; and Bertha plays her liveliest tune.</p> + +<p>Well! if you'll believe me, they had not been dancing five +minutes, when suddenly the Carrier flings his pipe away, takes +Dot round the waist, dashes out into the room, and starts off +with her, toe and heel, quite wonderfully. Tackleton no sooner +sees this than he skims across to Mrs. Fielding, takes her round +the waist, and follows suit. Old Dot no sooner sees this than +up he is, all alive, whisks off Mrs. Dot into the middle of the +dance, and is foremost there. Caleb no sooner sees this than +he clutches Tilly Slowboy by both hands, and goes off at score; +Miss Slowboy, firm in the belief that diving hotly in among the +other couples, and effecting any number of concussions with +them, is your only principle of footing it.</p> + +<p>Hark! how the Cricket joins the music with its Chirp, Chirp, +Chirp; and how the kettle hums!</p> + +<hr/> + +<p>But what is this? Even as I listen to them blithely, and +turn towards Dot, for one last glimpse of a little figure very +pleasant to me, she and the rest have vanished into air, and I am +left alone. A Cricket sings upon the Hearth; a broken child's +toy lies upon the ground: and nothing else remains.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Cricket on the Hearth, by Charles Dickens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH *** + +***** This file should be named 20795-h.htm or 20795-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/9/20795/ + +Produced by Jason Isbell, Emma Morgan Isbell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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