Martin Chuzzlewit
tremendous oath:
‘Where is he?’
Before Tom, in his indignation and amazement, could return an answer to
a question he so little understood, a gentleman approached Tom behind,
and saluted Jonas Chuzzlewit by name. He has a gentleman of foreign
appearance, with a black moustache and whiskers; and addressed him with
a polite composure, strangely different from his own distracted and
desperate manner.
‘Chuzzlewit, my good fellow!’ said the gentleman, raising his hat in
compliment to Mrs Chuzzlewit, ‘I ask your pardon twenty thousand times.
I am most unwilling to interfere between you and a domestic trip of this
nature (always so very charming and refreshing, I know, although I
have not the happiness to be a domestic man myself, which is the great
infelicity of my existence); but the beehive, my dear friend, the
beehive--will you introduce me?’
‘This is Mr Montague,’ said Jonas, whom the words appeared to choke.
‘The most unhappy and most penitent of men, Mrs Chuzzlewit,’ pursued
that gentleman, ‘for having been the means of spoiling this excursion;
but as I tell my friend, the beehive, the beehive. You projected a short
little continental trip, my dear friend, of course?’
Jonas maintained a dogged silence.
‘May I die,’ cried Montague, ‘but I am shocked! Upon my soul I am
shocked. But that confounded beehive of ours in the city must be
paramount to every other consideration, when there is honey to be made;
and that is my best excuse. Here is a very singular old female dropping
curtseys on my right,’ said Montague, breaking off in his discourse,
and looking at Mrs Gamp, ‘who is not a friend of mine. Does anybody know
her?’
‘Ah! Well they knows me, bless their precious hearts!’ said Mrs Gamp,
‘not forgettin’ your own merry one, sir, and long may it be so! Wishin’
as every one’ (she delivered this in the form of a toast or sentiment)
‘was as merry, and as handsome-lookin’, as a little bird has whispered
me a certain gent is, which I will not name for fear I give offence
where none is doo! My precious lady,’ here she stopped short in her
merriment, for she had until now affected to be vastly entertained,
‘you’re too pale by half!’
‘YOU are here too, are you?’ muttered Jonas. ‘Ecod, there are enough of
you.’
‘I hope, sir,’ returned Mrs Gamp, dropping an indignant curtsey, ‘as no
bones is broke by me and Mrs Harris a-walkin’ down upon a public wharf.
Which was the very words she says to me (although they was the last
I ever had to speak) was these: “Sairey,” she says, “is it a public
wharf?” “Mrs Harris,” I makes answer, “can you doubt it? You have know’d
me now, ma’am, eight and thirty year; and did you ever know me go, or
wish to go, where I was not made welcome, say the words.” “No, Sairey,”
Mrs Harris says, “contrairy quite.” And well she knows it too. I am but
a poor woman, but I’ve been sought after, sir, though you may not think
it. I’ve been knocked up at all hours of the night, and warned out by
a many landlords, in consequence of being mistook for Fire. I goes out
workin’ for my bread, ‘tis true, but I maintains my independency, with
your kind leave, and which I will till death. I has my feelins as a
woman, sir, and I have been a mother likeways; but touch a pipkin as
belongs to me, or make the least remarks on what I eats or drinks, and
though you was the favouritest young for’ard hussy of a servant-gal as
ever come into a house, either you leaves the place, or me. My earnins
is not great, sir, but I will not be impoged upon. Bless the babe, and
save the mother, is my mortar, sir; but I makes so free as add to that,
Don’t try no impogician with the Nuss, for she will not abear it!’
Mrs Gamp concluded by drawing her shawl tightly over herself with both
hands, and, as usual, referring to Mrs Harris for full corroboration of
these particulars. She had that peculiar trembling of the head which,
in ladies of her excitable nature, may be taken as a sure indication
of their breaking out again very shortly; when Jonas made a timely
interposition.
‘As you ARE here,’ he said, ‘you had better see to her, and take her
home. I am otherwise engaged.’ He said nothing more; but looked at
Montague as if to give him notice that he was ready to attend him.
‘I am sorry to take you away,’ said Montague.
Jonas gave him a sinister look, which long lived in Tom’s memory, and
which he often recalled afterwards.
‘I am, upon my life,’ said Montague. ‘Why did you make it necessary?’
With the same dark glance as before, Jonas replied, after a moment’s
silence:
‘The necessity is none of my making. You have brought it about
yourself.’
He said nothing more. He said even this as if he were bound, and in the
other’s power, but had a sullen and suppressed devil within him, which
he could not quite resist. His very gait, as they walked away together,
was like that of a fettered man; but, striving to work out at his
clenched hands, knitted brows, and fast-set lips, was the same
imprisoned devil still.
They got into a handsome cabriolet which was waiting for them and drove
away.
The whole of this extraordinary scene had passed so rapidly and the
tumult which prevailed around as so unconscious of any impression from
it, that, although Tom had been one of the chief actors, it was like
a dream. No one had noticed him after they had left the packet. He had
stood behind Jonas, and so near him, that he could not help hearing all
that passed. He had stood there, with his sister on his arm, expecting
and hoping to have an opportunity of explaining his strange share in
this yet stranger business. But Jonas had not raised his eyes from the
ground; no one else had even looked towards him; and before he could
resolve on any course of action, they were all gone.
He gazed round for his landlord. But he had done that more than once
already, and no such man was to be seen. He was still pursuing this
search with his eyes, when he saw a hand beckoning to him from a
hackney-coach; and hurrying towards it, found it was Merry’s. She
addressed him hurriedly, but bent out of the window, that she might not
be overheard by her companion, Mrs Gamp.
‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Good heaven, what is it? Why did he tell me
last night to prepare for a long journey, and why have you brought us
back like criminals? Dear Mr Pinch!’ she clasped her hands distractedly,
‘be merciful to us. Whatever this dreadful secret is, be merciful, and
God will bless you!’
‘If any power of mercy lay with me,’ cried Tom, ‘trust me, you shouldn’t
ask in vain. But I am far more ignorant and weak than you.’
She withdrew into the coach again, and he saw the hand waving towards
him for a moment; but whether in reproachfulness or incredulity or
misery, or grief, or sad adieu, or what else, he could not, being so
hurried, understand. SHE was gone now; and Ruth and he were left to walk
away, and wonder.
Had Mr Nadgett appointed the man who never came, to meet him upon London
Bridge that morning? He was certainly looking over the parapet, and
down upon the steamboat-wharf at that moment. It could not have been
for pleasure; he never took pleasure. No. He must have had some business
there.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND, ARRIVING AT A PLEASANT UNDERSTANDING, SET FORTH
UPON AN ENTERPRISE
The office of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance
Company being near at hand, and Mr Montague driving Jonas straight
there, they had very little way to go. But the journey might have been
one of several hours’ duration, without provoking a remark from either;
for it was clear that Jonas did not mean to break the silence which
prevailed between them, and that it was not, as yet, his dear friend’s
cue to tempt them into conversation.
He had thrown aside his cloak, as having now no motive for concealment,
and with that garment huddled on his knees, sat as far removed from his
companion as the limited space in such a carriage would allow. There
was a striking difference in his manner, compared with what it had been,
within a few minutes, when Tom encountered him so unexpectedly on board
the packet, or when the ugly change had fallen on him in Mr Montague’s
dressing-room. He had the aspect of a man found out and held at bay;
of being baffled, hunted, and beset; but there was now a dawning and
increasing purpose in his face, which changed it very much. It was
gloomy, distrustful, lowering; pale with anger and defeat; it still was
humbled, abject, cowardly and mean; but, let the conflict go on as it
would, there was one strong purpose wrestling with every emotion of his
mind, and casting the whole series down as they arose.
Not prepossessing in appearance at the best of times, it may be readily
supposed that he was not so now. He had left deep marks of his front
teeth in his nether lip; and those tokens of the agitation he had lately
undergone improved his looks as little as the heavy corrugations in his
forehead. But he was self-possessed now; unnaturally self-possessed,
indeed, as men quite otherwise than brave are known to be in desperate
extremities; and when the carriage stopped, he waited for no invitation,
but leapt hardily out, and went upstairs.
The chairman followed him; and closing the board-room door as soon as
they had entered, threw himself upon a sofa. Jonas stood before the
window, looking down into the street; and leaned against the sash,
resting his head upon his arms.
‘This is not handsome, Chuzzlewit!’ said Montague at length. ‘Not
handsome upon my soul!’
‘What would you have me do?’ he answered, looking round abruptly; ‘What
do you expect?’
‘Confidence, my good fellow. Some confidence!’ said Montague in an
injured tone.
‘Ecod! You show great confidence in me,’ retorted Jonas. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Do I not?’ said his companion, raising his head, and looking at him,
but he had turned again. ‘Do I not? Have I not confided to you the easy
schemes I have formed for our advantage; OUR advantage, mind; not mine
alone; and what is my return? Attempted flight!’
‘How do you know that? Who said I meant to fly?’
‘Who said? Come, come. A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a
figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn’t mean to jilt
me, why were you there? If you didn’t mean to jilt me, why did you come
back?’
‘I came back,’ said Jonas, ‘to avoid disturbance.’
‘You were wise,’ rejoined his friend.
Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and
resting his head upon his arms.
‘Now, Chuzzlewit,’ said Montague, ‘notwithstanding what has passed I
will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your
back.’
‘I hear you. Go on!’
‘I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.’
‘You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go
on.’
‘You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am,
fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how
circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear
fellow, that I thought I had discovered--’
‘Will you hold your tongue?’ said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and
glancing at the door.
‘Well, well!’ said Montague. ‘Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries
being published, would be like many other men’s discoveries in this
honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how
ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position!
To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take
an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of
confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was
reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is
nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours.