Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
‘Oh no, sir,’ Joe replied, and endeavouring, but not with the greatest
possible success, to hide his disappointment. ‘I shall be very glad, I’m
sure.’
‘That’s right,’ said the locksmith, patting him on the back. ‘It don’t
matter who has ‘em, Joe?’
‘Not a bit, sir.’--Dear heart, how the words stuck in his throat!
‘Come in,’ said Gabriel. ‘I have just been called to tea. She’s in the
parlour.’
‘She,’ thought Joe. ‘Which of ‘em I wonder--Mrs or Miss?’ The locksmith
settled the doubt as neatly as if it had been expressed aloud, by
leading him to the door, and saying, ‘Martha, my dear, here’s young Mr
Willet.’
Now, Mrs Varden, regarding the Maypole as a sort of human mantrap,
or decoy for husbands; viewing its proprietor, and all who aided and
abetted him, in the light of so many poachers among Christian men; and
believing, moreover, that the publicans coupled with sinners in Holy
Writ were veritable licensed victuallers; was far from being favourably
disposed towards her visitor. Wherefore she was taken faint directly;
and being duly presented with the crocuses and snowdrops, divined on
further consideration that they were the occasion of the languor which
had seized upon her spirits. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t bear the room
another minute,’ said the good lady, ‘if they remained here. WOULD you
excuse my putting them out of window?’
Joe begged she wouldn’t mention it on any account, and smiled feebly as
he saw them deposited on the sill outside. If anybody could have known
the pains he had taken to make up that despised and misused bunch of
flowers!--
‘I feel it quite a relief to get rid of them, I assure you,’ said Mrs
Varden. ‘I’m better already.’ And indeed she did appear to have plucked
up her spirits.
Joe expressed his gratitude to Providence for this favourable
dispensation, and tried to look as if he didn’t wonder where Dolly was.
‘You’re sad people at Chigwell, Mr Joseph,’ said Mrs V.
‘I hope not, ma’am,’ returned Joe.
‘You’re the cruellest and most inconsiderate people in the world,’ said
Mrs Varden, bridling. ‘I wonder old Mr Willet, having been a married
man himself, doesn’t know better than to conduct himself as he does. His
doing it for profit is no excuse. I would rather pay the money twenty
times over, and have Varden come home like a respectable and sober
tradesman. If there is one character,’ said Mrs Varden with great
emphasis, ‘that offends and disgusts me more than another, it is a sot.’
‘Come, Martha, my dear,’ said the locksmith cheerily, ‘let us have tea,
and don’t let us talk about sots. There are none here, and Joe don’t
want to hear about them, I dare say.’
At this crisis, Miggs appeared with toast.
‘I dare say he does not,’ said Mrs Varden; ‘and I dare say you do not,
Varden. It’s a very unpleasant subject, I have no doubt, though I
won’t say it’s personal’--Miggs coughed--‘whatever I may be forced to
think’--Miggs sneezed expressively. ‘You never will know, Varden, and
nobody at young Mr Willet’s age--you’ll excuse me, sir--can be expected
to know, what a woman suffers when she is waiting at home under such
circumstances. If you don’t believe me, as I know you don’t, here’s
Miggs, who is only too often a witness of it--ask her.’
‘Oh! she were very bad the other night, sir, indeed she were, said
Miggs. ‘If you hadn’t the sweetness of an angel in you, mim, I don’t
think you could abear it, I raly don’t.’
‘Miggs,’ said Mrs Varden, ‘you’re profane.’
‘Begging your pardon, mim,’ returned Miggs, with shrill rapidity, ‘such
was not my intentions, and such I hope is not my character, though I am
but a servant.’
‘Answering me, Miggs, and providing yourself,’ retorted her mistress,
looking round with dignity, ‘is one and the same thing. How
dare you speak of angels in connection with your sinful
fellow-beings--mere’--said Mrs Varden, glancing at herself in a
neighbouring mirror, and arranging the ribbon of her cap in a more
becoming fashion--‘mere worms and grovellers as we are!’
‘I did not intend, mim, if you please, to give offence,’ said Miggs,
confident in the strength of her compliment, and developing strongly in
the throat as usual, ‘and I did not expect it would be took as such. I
hope I know my own unworthiness, and that I hate and despise myself and
all my fellow-creatures as every practicable Christian should.’
‘You’ll have the goodness, if you please,’ said Mrs Varden, loftily, ‘to
step upstairs and see if Dolly has finished dressing, and to tell her
that the chair that was ordered for her will be here in a minute, and
that if she keeps it waiting, I shall send it away that instant.--I’m
sorry to see that you don’t take your tea, Varden, and that you don’t
take yours, Mr Joseph; though of course it would be foolish of me to
expect that anything that can be had at home, and in the company of
females, would please YOU.’
This pronoun was understood in the plural sense, and included both
gentlemen, upon both of whom it was rather hard and undeserved, for
Gabriel had applied himself to the meal with a very promising appetite,
until it was spoilt by Mrs Varden herself, and Joe had as great a liking
for the female society of the locksmith’s house--or for a part of it at
all events--as man could well entertain.
But he had no opportunity to say anything in his own defence, for at
that moment Dolly herself appeared, and struck him quite dumb with her
beauty. Never had Dolly looked so handsome as she did then, in all the
glow and grace of youth, with all her charms increased a hundredfold by
a most becoming dress, by a thousand little coquettish ways which nobody
could assume with a better grace, and all the sparkling expectation of
that accursed party. It is impossible to tell how Joe hated that party
wherever it was, and all the other people who were going to it, whoever
they were.
And she hardly looked at him--no, hardly looked at him. And when
the chair was seen through the open door coming blundering into the
workshop, she actually clapped her hands and seemed glad to go. But Joe
gave her his arm--there was some comfort in that--and handed her into
it. To see her seat herself inside, with her laughing eyes brighter
than diamonds, and her hand--surely she had the prettiest hand in
the world--on the ledge of the open window, and her little finger
provokingly and pertly tilted up, as if it wondered why Joe didn’t
squeeze or kiss it! To think how well one or two of the modest snowdrops
would have become that delicate bodice, and how they were lying
neglected outside the parlour window! To see how Miggs looked on with
a face expressive of knowing how all this loveliness was got up, and
of being in the secret of every string and pin and hook and eye, and
of saying it ain’t half as real as you think, and I could look quite as
well myself if I took the pains! To hear that provoking precious little
scream when the chair was hoisted on its poles, and to catch that
transient but not-to-be-forgotten vision of the happy face within--what
torments and aggravations, and yet what delights were these! The very
chairmen seemed favoured rivals as they bore her down the street.
There never was such an alteration in a small room in a small time as in
that parlour when they went back to finish tea. So dark, so deserted,
so perfectly disenchanted. It seemed such sheer nonsense to be sitting
tamely there, when she was at a dance with more lovers than man could
calculate fluttering about her--with the whole party doting on and
adoring her, and wanting to marry her. Miggs was hovering about too; and
the fact of her existence, the mere circumstance of her ever having been
born, appeared, after Dolly, such an unaccountable practical joke. It
was impossible to talk. It couldn’t be done. He had nothing left for it
but to stir his tea round, and round, and round, and ruminate on all the
fascinations of the locksmith’s lovely daughter.
Gabriel was dull too. It was a part of the certain uncertainty of Mrs
Varden’s temper, that when they were in this condition, she should be
gay and sprightly.
‘I need have a cheerful disposition, I am sure,’ said the smiling
housewife, ‘to preserve any spirits at all; and how I do it I can
scarcely tell.’
‘Ah, mim,’ sighed Miggs, ‘begging your pardon for the interruption,
there an’t a many like you.’
‘Take away, Miggs,’ said Mrs Varden, rising, ‘take away, pray. I know
I’m a restraint here, and as I wish everybody to enjoy themselves as
they best can, I feel I had better go.’
‘No, no, Martha,’ cried the locksmith. ‘Stop here. I’m sure we shall be
very sorry to lose you, eh Joe!’ Joe started, and said ‘Certainly.’
‘Thank you, Varden, my dear,’ returned his wife; ‘but I know your wishes
better. Tobacco and beer, or spirits, have much greater attractions than
any I can boast of, and therefore I shall go and sit upstairs and look
out of window, my love. Good night, Mr Joseph. I’m very glad to have
seen you, and I only wish I could have provided something more suitable
to your taste. Remember me very kindly if you please to old Mr Willet,
and tell him that whenever he comes here I have a crow to pluck with
him. Good night!’
Having uttered these words with great sweetness of manner, the good
lady dropped a curtsey remarkable for its condescension, and serenely
withdrew.
And it was for this Joe had looked forward to the twenty-fifth of March
for weeks and weeks, and had gathered the flowers with so much care, and
had cocked his hat, and made himself so smart! This was the end of all
his bold determination, resolved upon for the hundredth time, to speak
out to Dolly and tell her how he loved her! To see her for a minute--for
but a minute--to find her going out to a party and glad to go; to be
looked upon as a common pipe-smoker, beer-bibber, spirit-guzzler, and
tosspot! He bade farewell to his friend the locksmith, and hastened to
take horse at the Black Lion, thinking as he turned towards home, as
many another Joe has thought before and since, that here was an end to
all his hopes--that the thing was impossible and never could be--that
she didn’t care for him--that he was wretched for life--and that the
only congenial prospect left him, was to go for a soldier or a sailor,
and get some obliging enemy to knock his brains out as soon as possible.
Chapter 14
Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding mood, picturing the
locksmith’s daughter going down long country-dances, and poussetting
dreadfully with bold strangers--which was almost too much to bear--when
he heard the tramp of a horse’s feet behind him, and looking back, saw
a well-mounted gentleman advancing at a smart canter. As this rider
passed, he checked his steed, and called him of the Maypole by his name.
Joe set spurs to the grey mare, and was at his side directly.
‘I thought it was you, sir,’ he said, touching his hat. ‘A fair evening,
sir. Glad to see you out of doors again.’
The gentleman smiled and nodded. ‘What gay doings have been going on
to-day, Joe? Is she as pretty as ever? Nay, don’t blush, man.’
‘If I coloured at all, Mr Edward,’ said Joe, ‘which I didn’t know I did,
it was to think I should have been such a fool as ever to have any hope
of her. She’s as far out of my reach as--as Heaven is.’
‘Well, Joe, I hope that’s not altogether beyond it,’ said Edward,
good-humouredly. ‘Eh?’
‘Ah!’ sighed Joe. ‘It’s all very fine talking, sir. Proverbs are easily
made in cold blood. But it can’t be helped. Are you bound for our house,
sir?’
‘Yes. As I am not quite strong yet, I shall stay there to-night, and
ride home coolly in the morning.’
‘If you’re in no particular hurry,’ said Joe after a short silence, ‘and
will bear with the pace of this poor jade, I shall be glad to ride on