Our Mutual Friend
to say, with appropriate action on the part of a very limp arm and a
speckled fist: ‘Three cheers, ladies and gemplemorums. Hoo—ray!’
‘I am afraid, my life,’ said John, ‘that you have become very much
attached to this cottage?’
‘Afraid I have, John? Of course I have.’
‘The reason why I said afraid,’ returned John, ‘is, because we must
move.’
‘O John!’
‘Yes, my dear, we must move. We must have our head-quarters in London
now. In short, there’s a dwelling-house rent-free, attached to my new
position, and we must occupy it.’
‘That’s a gain, John.’
‘Yes, my dear, it is undoubtedly a gain.’
He gave her a very blithe look, and a very sly look. Which occasioned
the inexhaustible baby to square at him with the speckled fists, and
demand in a threatening manner what he meant?
‘My love, you said it was a gain, and I said it was a gain. A very
innocent remark, surely.’
‘I won’t,’ said the inexhaustible baby,
‘—allow—you—to—make—game—of—my—venerable—Ma.’ At each division
administering a soft facer with one of the speckled fists.
John having stooped down to receive these punishing visitations, Bella
asked him, would it be necessary to move soon? Why yes, indeed (said
John), he did propose that they should move very soon. Taking the
furniture with them, of course? (said Bella). Why, no (said John), the
fact was, that the house was—in a sort of a kind of a way—furnished
already.
The inexhaustible baby, hearing this, resumed the offensive, and said:
‘But there’s no nursery for me, sir. What do you mean, marble-hearted
parent?’ To which the marble-hearted parent rejoined that there was
a—sort of a kind of a—nursery, and it might be ‘made to do’. ‘Made to
do?’ returned the Inexhaustible, administering more punishment, ‘what do
you take me for?’ And was then turned over on its back in Bella’s lap,
and smothered with kisses.
‘But really, John dear,’ said Bella, flushed in quite a lovely manner
by these exercises, ‘will the new house, just as it stands, do for baby?
That’s the question.’
‘I felt that to be the question,’ he returned, ‘and therefore I arranged
that you should come with me and look at it, to-morrow morning.’
Appointment made, accordingly, for Bella to go up with him to-morrow
morning; John kissed; and Bella delighted.
When they reached London in pursuance of their little plan, they took
coach and drove westward. Not only drove westward, but drove into that
particular westward division, which Bella had seen last when she turned
her face from Mr Boffin’s door. Not only drove into that particular
division, but drove at last into that very street. Not only drove into
that very street, but stopped at last at that very house.
‘John dear!’ cried Bella, looking out of window in a flutter. ‘Do you
see where we are?’
‘Yes, my love. The coachman’s quite right.’
The house-door was opened without any knocking or ringing, and John
promptly helped her out. The servant who stood holding the door, asked
no question of John, neither did he go before them or follow them as
they went straight up-stairs. It was only her husband’s encircling arm,
urging her on, that prevented Bella from stopping at the foot of the
staircase. As they ascended, it was seen to be tastefully ornamented
with most beautiful flowers.
‘O John!’ said Bella, faintly. ‘What does this mean?’
‘Nothing, my darling, nothing. Let us go on.’
Going on a little higher, they came to a charming aviary, in which a
number of tropical birds, more gorgeous in colour than the flowers,
were flying about; and among those birds were gold and silver fish, and
mosses, and water-lilies, and a fountain, and all manner of wonders.
‘O my dear John!’ said Bella. ‘What does this mean?’
‘Nothing, my darling, nothing. Let us go on.’
They went on, until they came to a door. As John put out his hand to
open it, Bella caught his hand.
‘I don’t know what it means, but it’s too much for me. Hold me, John,
love.’
John caught her up in his arm, and lightly dashed into the room with
her.
Behold Mr and Mrs Boffin, beaming! Behold Mrs Boffin clapping her hands
in an ecstacy, running to Bella with tears of joy pouring down her
comely face, and folding her to her breast, with the words: ‘My deary
deary, deary girl, that Noddy and me saw married and couldn’t wish joy
to, or so much as speak to! My deary, deary, deary, wife of John and
mother of his little child! My loving loving, bright bright, Pretty
Pretty! Welcome to your house and home, my deary!’
Chapter 13
SHOWING HOW THE GOLDEN DUSTMAN HELPED TO SCATTER DUST
In all the first bewilderment of her wonder, the most bewilderingly
wonderful thing to Bella was the shining countenance of Mr Boffin. That
his wife should be joyous, open-hearted, and genial, or that her face
should express every quality that was large and trusting, and no quality
that was little or mean, was accordant with Bella’s experience. But,
that he, with a perfectly beneficent air and a plump rosy face, should
be standing there, looking at her and John, like some jovial good
spirit, was marvellous. For, how had he looked when she last saw him in
that very room (it was the room in which she had given him that piece of
her mind at parting), and what had become of all those crooked lines of
suspicion, avarice, and distrust, that twisted his visage then?
Mrs Boffin seated Bella on the large ottoman, and seated herself beside
her, and John her husband seated himself on the other side of her, and
Mr Boffin stood beaming at every one and everything he could see, with
surpassing jollity and enjoyment. Mrs Boffin was then taken with a
laughing fit of clapping her hands, and clapping her knees, and rocking
herself to and fro, and then with another laughing fit of embracing
Bella, and rocking her to and fro—both fits, of considerable duration.
‘Old lady, old lady,’ said Mr Boffin, at length; ‘if you don’t begin
somebody else must.’
‘I’m a going to begin, Noddy, my dear,’ returned Mrs Boffin. ‘Only it
isn’t easy for a person to know where to begin, when a person is in this
state of delight and happiness. Bella, my dear. Tell me, who’s this?’
‘Who is this?’ repeated Bella. ‘My husband.’
‘Ah! But tell me his name, deary!’ cried Mrs Boffin.
‘Rokesmith.’
‘No, it ain’t!’ cried Mrs Boffin, clapping her hands, and shaking her
head. ‘Not a bit of it.’
‘Handford then,’ suggested Bella.
‘No, it ain’t!’ cried Mrs Boffin, again clapping her hands and shaking
her head. ‘Not a bit of it.’
‘At least, his name is John, I suppose?’ said Bella.
‘Ah! I should think so, deary!’ cried Mrs Boffin. ‘I should hope so!
Many and many is the time I have called him by his name of John. But
what’s his other name, his true other name? Give a guess, my pretty!’
‘I can’t guess,’ said Bella, turning her pale face from one to another.
‘I could,’ cried Mrs Boffin, ‘and what’s more, I did! I found him out,
all in a flash as I may say, one night. Didn’t I, Noddy?’
‘Ay! That the old lady did!’ said Mr Boffin, with stout pride in the
circumstance.
‘Harkee to me, deary,’ pursued Mrs Boffin, taking Bella’s hands between
her own, and gently beating on them from time to time. ‘It was after a
particular night when John had been disappointed—as he thought—in
his affections. It was after a night when John had made an offer to a
certain young lady, and the certain young lady had refused it. It was
after a particular night, when he felt himself cast-away-like, and had
made up his mind to go seek his fortune. It was the very next night. My
Noddy wanted a paper out of his Secretary’s room, and I says to Noddy,
“I am going by the door, and I’ll ask him for it.” I tapped at his door,
and he didn’t hear me. I looked in, and saw him a sitting lonely by his
fire, brooding over it. He chanced to look up with a pleased kind of
smile in my company when he saw me, and then in a single moment every
grain of the gunpowder that had been lying sprinkled thick about him
ever since I first set eyes upon him as a man at the Bower, took fire!
Too many a time had I seen him sitting lonely, when he was a poor child,
to be pitied, heart and hand! Too many a time had I seen him in need of
being brightened up with a comforting word! Too many and too many a time
to be mistaken, when that glimpse of him come at last! No, no! I just
makes out to cry, “I know you now! You’re John!” And he catches me as
I drops.—So what,’ says Mrs Boffin, breaking off in the rush of her
speech to smile most radiantly, ‘might you think by this time that your
husband’s name was, dear?’
‘Not,’ returned Bella, with quivering lips; ‘not Harmon? That’s not
possible?’
‘Don’t tremble. Why not possible, deary, when so many things are
possible?’ demanded Mrs Boffin, in a soothing tone.
‘He was killed,’ gasped Bella.
‘Thought to be,’ said Mrs Boffin. ‘But if ever John Harmon drew the
breath of life on earth, that is certainly John Harmon’s arm round your
waist now, my pretty. If ever John Harmon had a wife on earth, that wife
is certainly you. If ever John Harmon and his wife had a child on earth,
that child is certainly this.’
By a master-stroke of secret arrangement, the inexhaustible baby here
appeared at the door, suspended in mid-air by invisible agency. Mrs
Boffin, plunging at it, brought it to Bella’s lap, where both Mrs and Mr
Boffin (as the saying is) ‘took it out of’ the Inexhaustible in a shower
of caresses. It was only this timely appearance that kept Bella from
swooning. This, and her husband’s earnestness in explaining further to
her how it had come to pass that he had been supposed to be slain, and
had even been suspected of his own murder; also, how he had put a pious
fraud upon her which had preyed upon his mind, as the time for its
disclosure approached, lest she might not make full allowance for
the object with which it had originated, and in which it had fully
developed.
‘But bless ye, my beauty!’ cried Mrs Boffin, taking him up short at this
point, with another hearty clap of her hands. ‘It wasn’t John only that
was in it. We was all of us in it.’
‘I don’t,’ said Bella, looking vacantly from one to another, ‘yet
understand—’
‘Of course you don’t, my deary,’ exclaimed Mrs Boffin. ‘How can you till
you’re told! So now I am a going to tell you. So you put your two hands
between my two hands again,’ cried the comfortable creature, embracing
her, ‘with that blessed little picter lying on your lap, and you shall
be told all the story. Now, I’m a going to tell the story. Once, twice,
three times, and the horses is off. Here they go! When I cries out that
night, “I know you now, you’re John!”—which was my exact words; wasn’t
they, John?’
‘Your exact words,’ said John, laying his hand on hers.
‘That’s a very good arrangement,’ cried Mrs Boffin. ‘Keep it there,
John. And as we was all of us in it, Noddy you come and lay yours a top
of his, and we won’t break the pile till the story’s done.’
Mr Boffin hitched up a chair, and added his broad brown right hand to
the heap.
‘That’s capital!’ said Mrs Boffin, giving it a kiss. ‘Seems quite a
family building; don’t it? But the horses is off. Well! When I cries
out that night, “I know you now! you’re John!” John catches of me, it
is true; but I ain’t a light weight, bless ye, and he’s forced to let me
down. Noddy, he hears a noise, and in he trots, and as soon as I anyways
comes to myself I calls to him, “Noddy, well I might say as I did say,
that night at the Bower, for the Lord be thankful this is John!” On
which he gives a heave, and down he goes likewise, with his head under
the writing-table. This brings me round comfortable, and that brings him
round comfortable, and then John and him and me we all fall a crying for
joy.’
‘Yes! They cry for joy, my darling,’ her husband struck in. ‘You