Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
for this offer, though with no great hope of his quest being successful;
and so with many lamentations on her side, and many hopeful words on
his, and much weakness on the part of Dolly and much tender supporting
on the part of Joe, they reached the Maypole bar at last, where the
locksmith and his wife and old John were yet keeping high festival.
Mr Willet received the intelligence of Dolly’s trouble with that
surprising presence of mind and readiness of speech for which he was so
eminently distinguished above all other men. Mrs Varden expressed her
sympathy for her daughter’s distress by scolding her roundly for being
so late; and the honest locksmith divided himself between condoling with
and kissing Dolly, and shaking hands heartily with Joe, whom he could
not sufficiently praise or thank.
In reference to this latter point, old John was far from agreeing with
his friend; for besides that he by no means approved of an adventurous
spirit in the abstract, it occurred to him that if his son and heir had
been seriously damaged in a scuffle, the consequences would assuredly
have been expensive and inconvenient, and might perhaps have proved
detrimental to the Maypole business. Wherefore, and because he looked
with no favourable eye upon young girls, but rather considered that they
and the whole female sex were a kind of nonsensical mistake on the part
of Nature, he took occasion to retire and shake his head in private at
the boiler; inspired by which silent oracle, he was moved to give Joe
various stealthy nudges with his elbow, as a parental reproof and gentle
admonition to mind his own business and not make a fool of himself.
Joe, however, took down the lantern and lighted it; and arming himself
with a stout stick, asked whether Hugh was in the stable.
‘He’s lying asleep before the kitchen fire, sir,’ said Mr Willet. ‘What
do you want him for?’
‘I want him to come with me to look after this bracelet and letter,’
answered Joe. ‘Halloa there! Hugh!’
Dolly turned pale as death, and felt as if she must faint forthwith.
After a few moments, Hugh came staggering in, stretching himself and
yawning according to custom, and presenting every appearance of having
been roused from a sound nap.
‘Here, sleepy-head,’ said Joe, giving him the lantern. ‘Carry this, and
bring the dog, and that small cudgel of yours. And woe betide the fellow
if we come upon him.’
‘What fellow?’ growled Hugh, rubbing his eyes and shaking himself.
‘What fellow?’ returned Joe, who was in a state of great valour and
bustle; ‘a fellow you ought to know of and be more alive about. It’s
well for the like of you, lazy giant that you are, to be snoring your
time away in chimney-corners, when honest men’s daughters can’t cross
even our quiet meadows at nightfall without being set upon by footpads,
and frightened out of their precious lives.’
‘They never rob me,’ cried Hugh with a laugh. ‘I have got nothing to
lose. But I’d as lief knock them at head as any other men. How many are
there?’
‘Only one,’ said Dolly faintly, for everybody looked at her.
‘And what was he like, mistress?’ said Hugh with a glance at young
Willet, so slight and momentary that the scowl it conveyed was lost on
all but her. ‘About my height?’
‘Not--not so tall,’ Dolly replied, scarce knowing what she said.
‘His dress,’ said Hugh, looking at her keenly, ‘like--like any of ours
now? I know all the people hereabouts, and maybe could give a guess at
the man, if I had anything to guide me.’
Dolly faltered and turned paler yet; then answered that he was wrapped
in a loose coat and had his face hidden by a handkerchief and that she
could give no other description of him.
‘You wouldn’t know him if you saw him then, belike?’ said Hugh with a
malicious grin.
‘I should not,’ answered Dolly, bursting into tears again. ‘I don’t wish
to see him. I can’t bear to think of him. I can’t talk about him any
more. Don’t go to look for these things, Mr Joe, pray don’t. I entreat
you not to go with that man.’
‘Not to go with me!’ cried Hugh. ‘I’m too rough for them all. They’re
all afraid of me. Why, bless you mistress, I’ve the tenderest heart
alive. I love all the ladies, ma’am,’ said Hugh, turning to the
locksmith’s wife.
Mrs Varden opined that if he did, he ought to be ashamed of himself;
such sentiments being more consistent (so she argued) with a benighted
Mussulman or wild Islander than with a stanch Protestant. Arguing from
this imperfect state of his morals, Mrs Varden further opined that he
had never studied the Manual. Hugh admitting that he never had, and
moreover that he couldn’t read, Mrs Varden declared with much severity,
that he ought to be even more ashamed of himself than before, and
strongly recommended him to save up his pocket-money for the purchase
of one, and further to teach himself the contents with all convenient
diligence. She was still pursuing this train of discourse, when Hugh,
somewhat unceremoniously and irreverently, followed his young master
out, and left her to edify the rest of the company. This she proceeded
to do, and finding that Mr Willet’s eyes were fixed upon her with an
appearance of deep attention, gradually addressed the whole of her
discourse to him, whom she entertained with a moral and theological
lecture of considerable length, in the conviction that great workings
were taking place in his spirit. The simple truth was, however, that Mr
Willet, although his eyes were wide open and he saw a woman before
him whose head by long and steady looking at seemed to grow bigger
and bigger until it filled the whole bar, was to all other intents and
purposes fast asleep; and so sat leaning back in his chair with his
hands in his pockets until his son’s return caused him to wake up with
a deep sigh, and a faint impression that he had been dreaming about
pickled pork and greens--a vision of his slumbers which was no doubt
referable to the circumstance of Mrs Varden’s having frequently
pronounced the word ‘Grace’ with much emphasis; which word, entering
the portals of Mr Willet’s brain as they stood ajar, and coupling itself
with the words ‘before meat,’ which were there ranging about, did in
time suggest a particular kind of meat together with that description of
vegetable which is usually its companion.
The search was wholly unsuccessful. Joe had groped along the path a
dozen times, and among the grass, and in the dry ditch, and in the
hedge, but all in vain. Dolly, who was quite inconsolable for her loss,
wrote a note to Miss Haredale giving her the same account of it that she
had given at the Maypole, which Joe undertook to deliver as soon as the
family were stirring next day. That done, they sat down to tea in the
bar, where there was an uncommon display of buttered toast, and--in
order that they might not grow faint for want of sustenance, and
might have a decent halting-place or halfway house between dinner and
supper--a few savoury trifles in the shape of great rashers of broiled
ham, which being well cured, done to a turn, and smoking hot, sent forth
a tempting and delicious fragrance.
Mrs Varden was seldom very Protestant at meals, unless it happened that
they were underdone, or overdone, or indeed that anything occurred to
put her out of humour. Her spirits rose considerably on beholding these
goodly preparations, and from the nothingness of good works, she passed
to the somethingness of ham and toast with great cheerfulness. Nay,
under the influence of these wholesome stimulants, she sharply reproved
her daughter for being low and despondent (which she considered an
unacceptable frame of mind), and remarked, as she held her own plate for
a fresh supply, that it would be well for Dolly, who pined over the loss
of a toy and a sheet of paper, if she would reflect upon the voluntary
sacrifices of the missionaries in foreign parts who lived chiefly on
salads.
The proceedings of such a day occasion various fluctuations in the human
thermometer, and especially in instruments so sensitively and delicately
constructed as Mrs Varden. Thus, at dinner Mrs V. stood at summer heat;
genial, smiling, and delightful. After dinner, in the sunshine of the
wine, she went up at least half-a-dozen degrees, and was perfectly
enchanting. As its effect subsided, she fell rapidly, went to sleep for
an hour or so at temperate, and woke at something below freezing. Now
she was at summer heat again, in the shade; and when tea was over, and
old John, producing a bottle of cordial from one of the oaken cases,
insisted on her sipping two glasses thereof in slow succession, she
stood steadily at ninety for one hour and a quarter. Profiting by
experience, the locksmith took advantage of this genial weather to smoke
his pipe in the porch, and in consequence of this prudent management, he
was fully prepared, when the glass went down again, to start homewards
directly.
The horse was accordingly put in, and the chaise brought round to the
door. Joe, who would on no account be dissuaded from escorting them
until they had passed the most dreary and solitary part of the road,
led out the grey mare at the same time; and having helped Dolly into her
seat (more happiness!) sprung gaily into the saddle. Then, after many
good nights, and admonitions to wrap up, and glancing of lights, and
handing in of cloaks and shawls, the chaise rolled away, and Joe trotted
beside it--on Dolly’s side, no doubt, and pretty close to the wheel too.
Chapter 22
It was a fine bright night, and for all her lowness of spirits Dolly
kept looking up at the stars in a manner so bewitching (and SHE knew
it!) that Joe was clean out of his senses, and plainly showed that if
ever a man were--not to say over head and ears, but over the Monument
and the top of Saint Paul’s in love, that man was himself. The road was
a very good one; not at all a jolting road, or an uneven one; and yet
Dolly held the side of the chaise with one little hand, all the way. If
there had been an executioner behind him with an uplifted axe ready
to chop off his head if he touched that hand, Joe couldn’t have helped
doing it. From putting his own hand upon it as if by chance, and taking
it away again after a minute or so, he got to riding along without
taking it off at all; as if he, the escort, were bound to do that as an
important part of his duty, and had come out for the purpose. The most
curious circumstance about this little incident was, that Dolly didn’t
seem to know of it. She looked so innocent and unconscious when she
turned her eyes on Joe, that it was quite provoking.
She talked though; talked about her fright, and about Joe’s coming up to
rescue her, and about her gratitude, and about her fear that she might
not have thanked him enough, and about their always being friends from
that time forth--and about all that sort of thing. And when Joe said,
not friends he hoped, Dolly was quite surprised, and said not enemies
she hoped; and when Joe said, couldn’t they be something much better
than either, Dolly all of a sudden found out a star which was brighter
than all the other stars, and begged to call his attention to the same,
and was ten thousand times more innocent and unconscious than ever.
In this manner they travelled along, talking very little above a
whisper, and wishing the road could be stretched out to some dozen times
its natural length--at least that was Joe’s desire--when, as they were
getting clear of the forest and emerging on the more frequented road,
they heard behind them the sound of a horse’s feet at a round trot,
which growing rapidly louder as it drew nearer, elicited a scream from
Mrs Varden, and the cry ‘a friend!’ from the rider, who now came panting
up, and checked his horse beside them.
‘This man again!’ cried Dolly, shuddering.