Our Mutual Friend
it surely cannot be a little thing that causes you so much uneasiness.
It’s very considerate of you to try to hide from me that you are
uncomfortable about something, but it’s quite impossible to be done,
John love.’
‘I admit that I am rather uneasy, my own.’
‘Then please to tell me what about, sir.’
But no, he evaded that. ‘Never mind!’ thought Bella, resolutely.
‘John requires me to put perfect faith in him, and he shall not be
disappointed.’
She went up to London one day, to meet him, in order that they might
make some purchases. She found him waiting for her at her journey’s
end, and they walked away together through the streets. He was in gay
spirits, though still harping on that notion of their being rich; and
he said, now let them make believe that yonder fine carriage was theirs,
and that it was waiting to take them home to a fine house they had; what
would Bella, in that case, best like to find in the house? Well! Bella
didn’t know: already having everything she wanted, she couldn’t say.
But, by degrees she was led on to confess that she would like to have
for the inexhaustible baby such a nursery as never was seen. It was
to be ‘a very rainbow for colours’, as she was quite sure baby noticed
colours; and the staircase was to be adorned with the most exquisite
flowers, as she was absolutely certain baby noticed flowers; and there
was to be an aviary somewhere, of the loveliest little birds, as there
was not the smallest doubt in the world that baby noticed birds.
Was there nothing else? No, John dear. The predilections of the
inexhaustible baby being provided for, Bella could think of nothing
else.
They were chatting on in this way, and John had suggested, ‘No jewels
for your own wear, for instance?’ and Bella had replied laughing. O! if
he came to that, yes, there might be a beautiful ivory case of jewels
on her dressing-table; when these pictures were in a moment darkened and
blotted out.
They turned a corner, and met Mr Lightwood.
He stopped as if he were petrified by the sight of Bella’s husband, who
in the same moment had changed colour.
‘Mr Lightwood and I have met before,’ he said.
‘Met before, John?’ Bella repeated in a tone of wonder. ‘Mr Lightwood
told me he had never seen you.’
‘I did not then know that I had,’ said Lightwood, discomposed on her
account. ‘I believed that I had only heard of—Mr Rokesmith.’ With an
emphasis on the name.
‘When Mr Lightwood saw me, my love,’ observed her husband, not avoiding
his eye, but looking at him, ‘my name was Julius Handford.’
Julius Handford! The name that Bella had so often seen in old
newspapers, when she was an inmate of Mr Boffin’s house! Julius
Handford, who had been publicly entreated to appear, and for
intelligence of whom a reward had been publicly offered!
‘I would have avoided mentioning it in your presence,’ said Lightwood to
Bella, delicately; ‘but since your husband mentions it himself, I must
confirm his strange admission. I saw him as Mr Julius Handford, and I
afterwards (unquestionably to his knowledge) took great pains to trace
him out.’
‘Quite true. But it was not my object or my interest,’ said Rokesmith,
quietly, ‘to be traced out.’
Bella looked from the one to the other, in amazement.
‘Mr Lightwood,’ pursued her husband, ‘as chance has brought us face to
face at last—which is not to be wondered at, for the wonder is, that,
in spite of all my pains to the contrary, chance has not confronted
us together sooner—I have only to remind you that you have been at my
house, and to add that I have not changed my residence.’
‘Sir’ returned Lightwood, with a meaning glance towards Bella, ‘my
position is a truly painful one. I hope that no complicity in a very
dark transaction may attach to you, but you cannot fail to know that
your own extraordinary conduct has laid you under suspicion.’
‘I know it has,’ was all the reply.
‘My professional duty,’ said Lightwood hesitating, with another glance
towards Bella, ‘is greatly at variance with my personal inclination; but
I doubt, Mr Handford, or Mr Rokesmith, whether I am justified in taking
leave of you here, with your whole course unexplained.’
Bella caught her husband by the hand.
‘Don’t be alarmed, my darling. Mr Lightwood will find that he is quite
justified in taking leave of me here. At all events,’ added Rokesmith,
‘he will find that I mean to take leave of him here.’
‘I think, sir,’ said Lightwood, ‘you can scarcely deny that when I came
to your house on the occasion to which you have referred, you avoided me
of a set purpose.’
‘Mr Lightwood, I assure you I have no disposition to deny it, or
intention to deny it. I should have continued to avoid you, in pursuance
of the same set purpose, for a short time longer, if we had not met now.
I am going straight home, and shall remain at home to-morrow until noon.
Hereafter, I hope we may be better acquainted. Good-day.’
Lightwood stood irresolute, but Bella’s husband passed him in the
steadiest manner, with Bella on his arm; and they went home without
encountering any further remonstrance or molestation from any one.
When they had dined and were alone, John Rokesmith said to his wife, who
had preserved her cheerfulness: ‘And you don’t ask me, my dear, why I
bore that name?’
‘No, John love. I should dearly like to know, of course;’ (which her
anxious face confirmed;) ‘but I wait until you can tell me of your own
free will. You asked me if I could have perfect faith in you, and I said
yes, and I meant it.’
It did not escape Bella’s notice that he began to look triumphant. She
wanted no strengthening in her firmness; but if she had had need of any,
she would have derived it from his kindling face.
‘You cannot have been prepared, my dearest, for such a discovery as that
this mysterious Mr Handford was identical with your husband?’
‘No, John dear, of course not. But you told me to prepare to be tried,
and I prepared myself.’
He drew her to nestle closer to him, and told her it would soon be over,
and the truth would soon appear. ‘And now,’ he went on, ‘lay stress,
my dear, on these words that I am going to add. I stand in no kind of
peril, and I can by possibility be hurt at no one’s hand.’
‘You are quite, quite sure of that, John dear?’
‘Not a hair of my head! Moreover, I have done no wrong, and have injured
no man. Shall I swear it?’
‘No, John!’ cried Bella, laying her hand upon his lips, with a proud
look. ‘Never to me!’
‘But circumstances,’ he went on ‘—I can, and I will, disperse them in
a moment—have surrounded me with one of the strangest suspicions ever
known. You heard Mr Lightwood speak of a dark transaction?’
‘Yes, John.’
‘You are prepared to hear explicitly what he meant?’
‘Yes, John.’
‘My life, he meant the murder of John Harmon, your allotted husband.’
With a fast palpitating heart, Bella grasped him by the arm. ‘You cannot
be suspected, John?’
‘Dear love, I can be—for I am!’
There was silence between them, as she sat looking in his face, with the
colour quite gone from her own face and lips. ‘How dare they!’ she cried
at length, in a burst of generous indignation. ‘My beloved husband, how
dare they!’
He caught her in his arms as she opened hers, and held her to his heart.
‘Even knowing this, you can trust me, Bella?’
‘I can trust you, John dear, with all my soul. If I could not trust you,
I should fall dead at your feet.’
The kindling triumph in his face was bright indeed, as he looked up and
rapturously exclaimed, what had he done to deserve the blessing of this
dear confiding creature’s heart! Again she put her hand upon his lips,
saying, ‘Hush!’ and then told him, in her own little natural pathetic
way, that if all the world were against him, she would be for him; that
if all the world repudiated him, she would believe him; that if he were
infamous in other eyes, he would be honoured in hers; and that, under
the worst unmerited suspicion, she could devote her life to consoling
him, and imparting her own faith in him to their little child.
A twilight calm of happiness then succeeding to their radiant noon, they
remained at peace, until a strange voice in the room startled them both.
The room being by that time dark, the voice said, ‘Don’t let the lady
be alarmed by my striking a light,’ and immediately a match rattled, and
glimmered in a hand. The hand and the match and the voice were then seen
by John Rokesmith to belong to Mr Inspector, once meditatively active in
this chronicle.
‘I take the liberty,’ said Mr Inspector, in a business-like manner, ‘to
bring myself to the recollection of Mr Julius Handford, who gave me his
name and address down at our place a considerable time ago. Would the
lady object to my lighting the pair of candles on the chimneypiece, to
throw a further light upon the subject? No? Thank you, ma’am. Now, we
look cheerful.’
Mr Inspector, in a dark-blue buttoned-up frock coat and pantaloons,
presented a serviceable, half-pay, Royal Arms kind of appearance, as he
applied his pocket handkerchief to his nose and bowed to the lady.
‘You favoured me, Mr Handford,’ said Mr Inspector, ‘by writing down your
name and address, and I produce the piece of paper on which you wrote
it. Comparing the same with the writing on the fly-leaf of this book on
the table—and a sweet pretty volume it is—I find the writing of the
entry, “Mrs John Rokesmith. From her husband on her birthday”—and very
gratifying to the feelings such memorials are—to correspond exactly.
Can I have a word with you?’
‘Certainly. Here, if you please,’ was the reply.
‘Why,’ retorted Mr Inspector, again using his pocket handkerchief,
‘though there’s nothing for the lady to be at all alarmed at, still,
ladies are apt to take alarm at matters of business—being of that
fragile sex that they’re not accustomed to them when not of a strictly
domestic character—and I do generally make it a rule to propose
retirement from the presence of ladies, before entering upon business
topics. Or perhaps,’ Mr Inspector hinted, ‘if the lady was to step
up-stairs, and take a look at baby now!’
‘Mrs Rokesmith,’—her husband was beginning; when Mr Inspector,
regarding the words as an introduction, said, ‘Happy I am sure, to have
the honour.’ And bowed, with gallantry.
‘Mrs Rokesmith,’ resumed her husband, ‘is satisfied that she can have no
reason for being alarmed, whatever the business is.’
‘Really? Is that so?’ said Mr Inspector. ‘But it’s a sex to live and
learn from, and there’s nothing a lady can’t accomplish when she once
fully gives her mind to it. It’s the case with my own wife. Well, ma’am,
this good gentleman of yours has given rise to a rather large amount
of trouble which might have been avoided if he had come forward and
explained himself. Well you see! He DIDN’T come forward and explain
himself. Consequently, now that we meet, him and me, you’ll say—and say
right—that there’s nothing to be alarmed at, in my proposing to him
TO come forward—or, putting the same meaning in another form, to come
along with me—and explain himself.’
When Mr Inspector put it in that other form, ‘to come along with me,’
there was a relishing roll in his voice, and his eye beamed with an
official lustre.
‘Do you propose to take me into custody?’ inquired John Rokesmith, very
coolly.
‘Why argue?’ returned Mr Inspector in a comfortable sort of
remonstrance; ‘ain’t it enough that I propose that you shall come along
with me?’
‘For what reason?’
‘Lord bless my soul and body!’ returned Mr Inspector, ‘I wonder at it in
a man of your education. Why argue?’
‘What do you charge against me?’
‘I wonder at you before a lady,’ said Mr Inspector, shaking his head
reproachfully: ‘I wonder, brought up as you have been, you haven’t a