The Old Curiosity Shop
‘Sir!’
‘Sir, I am your humble servant,’ said Mr Quilp, to whom the
monosyllable was addressed.
‘Before I leave the gay and festive scene, and halls of dazzling light,
sir,’ said Mr Swiveller, ‘I will with your permission, attempt a slight
remark. I came here, sir, this day, under the impression that the old
min was friendly.’
‘Proceed, sir,’ said Daniel Quilp; for the orator had made a sudden
stop.
‘Inspired by this idea and the sentiments it awakened, sir, and feeling
as a mutual friend that badgering, baiting, and bullying, was not the
sort of thing calculated to expand the souls and promote the social
harmony of the contending parties, I took upon myself to suggest a
course which is THE course to be adopted to the present occasion. Will
you allow me to whisper half a syllable, sir?’
Without waiting for the permission he sought, Mr Swiveller stepped up
to the dwarf, and leaning on his shoulder and stooping down to get at
his ear, said in a voice which was perfectly audible to all present,
‘The watch-word to the old min is--fork.’
‘Is what?’ demanded Quilp.
‘Is fork, sir, fork,’ replied Mr Swiveller slapping his pocket. ‘You
are awake, sir?’
The dwarf nodded. Mr Swiveller drew back and nodded likewise, then drew
a little further back and nodded again, and so on. By these means he in
time reached the door, where he gave a great cough to attract the
dwarf’s attention and gain an opportunity of expressing in dumb show,
the closest confidence and most inviolable secrecy. Having performed
the serious pantomime that was necessary for the due conveyance of
these idea, he cast himself upon his friend’s track, and vanished.
‘Humph!’ said the dwarf with a sour look and a shrug of his shoulders,
‘so much for dear relations. Thank God I acknowledge none! Nor need you
either,’ he added, turning to the old man, ‘if you were not as weak as
a reed, and nearly as senseless.’
‘What would you have me do?’ he retorted in a kind of helpless
desperation. ‘It is easy to talk and sneer. What would you have me do?’
‘What would I do if I was in your case?’ said the dwarf.
‘Something violent, no doubt.’
‘You’re right there,’ returned the little man, highly gratified by the
compliment, for such he evidently considered it; and grinning like a
devil as he rubbed his dirty hands together. ‘Ask Mrs Quilp, pretty Mrs
Quilp, obedient, timid, loving Mrs Quilp. But that reminds me--I have
left her all alone, and she will be anxious and know not a moment’s
peace till I return. I know she’s always in that condition when I’m
away, thought she doesn’t dare to say so, unless I lead her on and tell
her she may speak freely and I won’t be angry with her. Oh!
well-trained Mrs Quilp.’
The creature appeared quite horrible with his monstrous head and little
body, as he rubbed his hands slowly round, and round, and round
again--with something fantastic even in his manner of performing this
slight action--and, dropping his shaggy brows and cocking his chin in
the air, glanced upward with a stealthy look of exultation that an imp
might have copied and appropriated to himself.
‘Here,’ he said, putting his hand into his breast and sidling up to the
old man as he spoke; ‘I brought it myself for fear of accidents, as,
being in gold, it was something large and heavy for Nell to carry in
her bag. She need be accustomed to such loads betimes though,
neighbor, for she will carry weight when you are dead.’
‘Heaven send she may! I hope so,’ said the old man with something like
a groan.
‘Hope so!’ echoed the dwarf, approaching close to his ear; ‘neighbour,
I would I knew in what good investment all these supplies are sunk. But
you are a deep man, and keep your secret close.’
‘My secret!’ said the other with a haggard look. ‘Yes, you’re
right--I--I--keep it close--very close.’
He said no more, but taking the money turned away with a slow,
uncertain step, and pressed his hand upon his head like a weary and
dejected man. The dwarf watched him sharply, while he passed into the
little sitting-room and locked it in an iron safe above the
chimney-piece; and after musing for a short space, prepared to take his
leave, observing that unless he made good haste, Mrs Quilp would
certainly be in fits on his return.
‘And so, neighbour,’ he added, ‘I’ll turn my face homewards, leaving my
love for Nelly and hoping she may never lose her way again, though her
doing so HAS procured me an honour I didn’t expect.’ With that he bowed
and leered at me, and with a keen glance around which seemed to
comprehend every object within his range of vision, however, small or
trivial, went his way.
I had several times essayed to go myself, but the old man had always
opposed it and entreated me to remain. As he renewed his entreaties on
our being left along, and adverted with many thanks to the former
occasion of our being together, I willingly yielded to his persuasions,
and sat down, pretending to examine some curious miniatures and a few
old medals which he placed before me. It needed no great pressing to
induce me to stay, for if my curiosity has been excited on the occasion
of my first visit, it certainly was not diminished now.
Nell joined us before long, and bringing some needle-work to the table,
sat by the old man’s side. It was pleasant to observe the fresh flowers
in the room, the pet bird with a green bough shading his little cage,
the breath of freshness and youth which seemed to rustle through the
old dull house and hover round the child. It was curious, but not so
pleasant, to turn from the beauty and grace of the girl, to the
stooping figure, care-worn face, and jaded aspect of the old man. As
he grew weaker and more feeble, what would become of this lonely little
creature; poor protector as he was, say that he died--what would be her
fate, then?
The old man almost answered my thoughts, as he laid his hand on hers,
and spoke aloud.
‘I’ll be of better cheer, Nell,’ he said; ‘there must be good fortune
in store for thee--I do not ask it for myself, but thee. Such miseries
must fall on thy innocent head without it, that I cannot believe but
that, being tempted, it will come at last!’
She looked cheerfully into his face, but made no answer.
‘When I think,’ said he, ‘of the many years--many in thy short
life--that thou has lived with me; of my monotonous existence, knowing
no companions of thy own age nor any childish pleasures; of the
solitude in which thou has grown to be what thou art, and in which thou
hast lived apart from nearly all thy kind but one old man; I sometimes
fear I have dealt hardly by thee, Nell.’
‘Grandfather!’ cried the child in unfeigned surprise.
‘Not in intention--no no,’ said he. ‘I have ever looked forward to the
time that should enable thee to mix among the gayest and prettiest, and
take thy station with the best. But I still look forward, Nell, I still
look forward, and if I should be forced to leave thee, meanwhile, how
have I fitted thee for struggles with the world? The poor bird yonder
is as well qualified to encounter it, and be turned adrift upon its
mercies--Hark! I hear Kit outside. Go to him, Nell, go to him.’
She rose, and hurrying away, stopped, turned back, and put her arms
about the old man’s neck, then left him and hurried away again--but
faster this time, to hide her falling tears.
‘A word in your ear, sir,’ said the old man in a hurried whisper. ‘I
have been rendered uneasy by what you said the other night, and can
only plead that I have done all for the best--that it is too late to
retract, if I could (though I cannot)--and that I hope to triumph yet.
All is for her sake. I have borne great poverty myself, and would spare
her the sufferings that poverty carries with it. I would spare her the
miseries that brought her mother, my own dear child, to an early grave.
I would leave her--not with resources which could be easily spent or
squandered away, but with what would place her beyond the reach of want
for ever. You mark me sir? She shall have no pittance, but a
fortune--Hush! I can say no more than that, now or at any other time,
and she is here again!’
The eagerness with which all this was poured into my ear, the trembling
of the hand with which he clasped my arm, the strained and starting
eyes he fixed upon me, the wild vehemence and agitation of his manner,
filled me with amazement. All that I had heard and seen, and a great
part of what he had said himself, led me to suppose that he was a
wealthy man. I could form no comprehension of his character, unless he
were one of those miserable wretches who, having made gain the sole end
and object of their lives and having succeeded in amassing great
riches, are constantly tortured by the dread of poverty, and beset by
fears of loss and ruin. Many things he had said which I had been at a
loss to understand, were quite reconcilable with the idea thus
presented to me, and at length I concluded that beyond all doubt he was
one of this unhappy race.
The opinion was not the result of hasty consideration, for which indeed
there was no opportunity at that time, as the child came directly, and
soon occupied herself in preparations for giving Kit a writing lesson,
of which it seemed he had a couple every week, and one regularly on
that evening, to the great mirth and enjoyment both of himself and his
instructress. To relate how it was a long time before his modesty could
be so far prevailed upon as it admit of his sitting down in the
parlour, in the presence of an unknown gentleman--how, when he did set
down, he tucked up his sleeves and squared his elbows and put his face
close to the copy-book and squinted horribly at the lines--how, from
the very first moment of having the pen in his hand, he began to wallow
in blots, and to daub himself with ink up to the very roots of his
hair--how, if he did by accident form a letter properly, he immediately
smeared it out again with his arm in his preparations to make
another--how, at every fresh mistake, there was a fresh burst of
merriment from the child and louder and not less hearty laugh from poor
Kit himself--and how there was all the way through, notwithstanding, a
gentle wish on her part to teach, and an anxious desire on his to
learn--to relate all these particulars would no doubt occupy more space
and time than they deserve. It will be sufficient to say that the
lesson was given--that evening passed and night came on--that the old
man again grew restless and impatient--that he quitted the house
secretly at the same hour as before--and that the child was once more
left alone within its gloomy walls.
And now that I have carried this history so far in my own character and
introduced these personages to the reader, I shall for the convenience
of the narrative detach myself from its further course, and leave those
who have prominent and necessary parts in it to speak and act for
themselves.
CHAPTER 4
Mr and Mrs Quilp resided on Tower Hill; and in her bower on Tower Hill
Mrs Quilp was left to pine the absence of her lord, when he quitted her
on the business which he had already seen to transact.
Mr Quilp could scarcely be said to be of any particular trade or
calling, though his pursuits were diversified and his occupations
numerous. He collected the rents of whole colonies of filthy streets
and alleys by the waterside, advanced money to the seamen and petty
officers of merchant vessels, had a share in the ventures of divers
mates of East Indiamen, smoked his smuggled cigars under the very nose
of the Custom House, and made appointments on ‘Change with men in
glazed hats and round jackets pretty well every day. On the Surrey side
of the river was a small rat-infested dreary yard called ‘Quilp’s