Our Mutual Friend, Page 66

  Chapter 16

  PERSONS AND THINGS IN GENERAL

  Mr and Mrs John Harmon's first delightful occupation was, to set allmatters right that had strayed in any way wrong, or that might, could,would, or should, have strayed in any way wrong, while their name was inabeyance. In tracing out affairs for which John's fictitious death wasto be considered in any way responsible, they used a very broad and freeconstruction; regarding, for instance, the dolls' dressmaker as havinga claim on their protection, because of her association with Mrs EugeneWrayburn, and because of Mrs Eugene's old association, in her turn, withthe dark side of the story. It followed that the old man, Riah, as agood and serviceable friend to both, was not to be disclaimed. Nor evenMr Inspector, as having been trepanned into an industrious hunt on afalse scent. It may be remarked, in connexion with that worthy officer,that a rumour shortly afterwards pervaded the Force, to the effect thathe had confided to Miss Abbey Potterson, over a jug of mellow flip inthe bar of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, that he 'didn't stand tolose a farthing' through Mr Harmon's coming to life, but was quite aswell satisfied as if that gentleman had been barbarously murdered, andhe (Mr Inspector) had pocketed the government reward.

  In all their arrangements of such nature, Mr and Mrs John Harmon derivedmuch assistance from their eminent solicitor, Mr Mortimer Lightwood; wholaid about him professionally with such unwonted despatch and intention,that a piece of work was vigorously pursued as soon as cut out; wherebyYoung Blight was acted on as by that transatlantic dram which ispoetically named An Eye-Opener, and found himself staring at realclients instead of out of window. The accessibility of Riah provingvery useful as to a few hints towards the disentanglement of Eugene'saffairs, Lightwood applied himself with infinite zest to attacking andharassing Mr Fledgeby: who, discovering himself in danger of being blowninto the air by certain explosive transactions in which he had beenengaged, and having been sufficiently flayed under his beating, cameto a parley and asked for quarter. The harmless Twemlow profited bythe conditions entered into, though he little thought it. Mr Riahunaccountably melted; waited in person on him over the stable yard inDuke Street, St James's, no longer ravening but mild, to inform himthat payment of interest as heretofore, but henceforth at Mr Lightwood'soffices, would appease his Jewish rancour; and departed with the secretthat Mr John Harmon had advanced the money and become the creditor.Thus, was the sublime Snigsworth's wrath averted, and thus did he snortno larger amount of moral grandeur at the Corinthian column in theprint over the fireplace, than was normally in his (and the British)constitution.

  Mrs Wilfer's first visit to the Mendicant's bride at the new abode ofMendicancy, was a grand event. Pa had been sent for into the City,on the very day of taking possession, and had been stunned withastonishment, and brought-to, and led about the house by one ear, tobehold its various treasures, and had been enraptured and enchanted. Pahad also been appointed Secretary, and had been enjoined to give instantnotice of resignation to Chicksey, Veneering, and Stobbles, for ever andever. But Ma came later, and came, as was her due, in state.

  The carriage was sent for Ma, who entered it with a bearing worthy ofthe occasion, accompanied, rather than supported, by Miss Lavinia, whoaltogether declined to recognize the maternal majesty. Mr George Sampsonmeekly followed. He was received in the vehicle, by Mrs Wilfer, as ifadmitted to the honour of assisting at a funeral in the family, and shethen issued the order, 'Onward!' to the Mendicant's menial.

  'I wish to goodness, Ma,' said Lavvy, throwing herself back among thecushions, with her arms crossed, 'that you'd loll a little.'

  'How!' repeated Mrs Wilfer. 'Loll!'

  'Yes, Ma.'

  'I hope,' said the impressive lady, 'I am incapable of it.'

  'I am sure you look so, Ma. But why one should go out to dine with one'sown daughter or sister, as if one's under-petticoat was a blackboard, Ido NOT understand.'

  'Neither do I understand,' retorted Mrs Wilfer, with deep scorn, 'howa young lady can mention the garment in the name of which you haveindulged. I blush for you.'

  'Thank you, Ma,' said Lavvy, yawning, 'but I can do it for myself, I amobliged to you, when there's any occasion.'

  Here, Mr Sampson, with the view of establishing harmony, which he neverunder any circumstances succeeded in doing, said with an agreeablesmile: 'After all, you know, ma'am, we know it's there.' And immediatelyfelt that he had committed himself.

  'We know it's there!' said Mrs Wilfer, glaring.

  'Really, George,' remonstrated Miss Lavinia, 'I must say that I don'tunderstand your allusions, and that I think you might be more delicateand less personal.'

  'Go it!' cried Mr Sampson, becoming, on the shortest notice, a prey todespair. 'Oh yes! Go it, Miss Lavinia Wilfer!'

  'What you may mean, George Sampson, by your omnibus-driving expressions,I cannot pretend to imagine. Neither,' said Miss Lavinia, 'Mr GeorgeSampson, do I wish to imagine. It is enough for me to know in my ownheart that I am not going to--' having imprudently got into a sentencewithout providing a way out of it, Miss Lavinia was constrained toclose with 'going to it'. A weak conclusion which, however, derived someappearance of strength from disdain.

  'Oh yes!' cried Mr Sampson, with bitterness. 'Thus it ever is. Inever--'

  'If you mean to say,' Miss Lavvy cut him short, that you never broughtup a young gazelle, you may save yourself the trouble, because nobodyin this carriage supposes that you ever did. We know you better.' (As ifthis were a home-thrust.)

  'Lavinia,' returned Mr Sampson, in a dismal vein, 'I did not mean tosay so. What I did mean to say, was, that I never expected to retain myfavoured place in this family, after Fortune shed her beams upon it. Whydo you take me,' said Mr Sampson, 'to the glittering halls with whichI can never compete, and then taunt me with my moderate salary? Is itgenerous? Is it kind?'

  The stately lady, Mrs Wilfer, perceiving her opportunity of delivering afew remarks from the throne, here took up the altercation.

  'Mr Sampson,' she began, 'I cannot permit you to misrepresent theintentions of a child of mine.'

  'Let him alone, Ma,' Miss Lavvy interposed with haughtiness. 'It isindifferent to me what he says or does.'

  'Nay, Lavinia,' quoth Mrs Wilfer, 'this touches the blood of the family.If Mr George Sampson attributes, even to my youngest daughter--'

  ('I don't see why you should use the word "even", Ma,' Miss Lavvyinterposed, 'because I am quite as important as any of the others.')

  'Peace!' said Mrs Wilfer, solemnly. 'I repeat, if Mr George Sampsonattributes, to my youngest daughter, grovelling motives, he attributesthem equally to the mother of my youngest daughter. That motherrepudiates them, and demands of Mr George Sampson, as a youth of honour,what he WOULD have? I may be mistaken--nothing is more likely--but MrGeorge Sampson,' proceeded Mrs Wilfer, majestically waving her gloves,'appears to me to be seated in a first-class equipage. Mr George Sampsonappears to me to be on his way, by his own admission, to a residencethat may be termed Palatial. Mr George Sampson appears to me to beinvited to participate in the--shall I say the--Elevation which hasdescended on the family with which he is ambitious, shall I say toMingle? Whence, then, this tone on Mr Sampson's part?'

  'It is only, ma'am,' Mr Sampson explained, in exceedingly low spirits,'because, in a pecuniary sense, I am painfully conscious of myunworthiness. Lavinia is now highly connected. Can I hope that she willstill remain the same Lavinia as of old? And is it not pardonable ifI feel sensitive, when I see a disposition on her part to take me upshort?'

  'If you are not satisfied with your position, sir,' observed MissLavinia, with much politeness, 'we can set you down at any turning youmay please to indicate to my sister's coachman.'

  'Dearest Lavinia,' urged Mr Sampson, pathetically, 'I adore you.'

  'Then if you can't do it in a more agreeable manner,' returned the younglady, 'I wish you wouldn't.'

  'I also,' pursued Mr Sampson, 'respect you, ma'am, to an extent whichmust ever be below your merits, I am well aware, but still up to
anuncommon mark. Bear with a wretch, Lavinia, bear with a wretch, ma'am,who feels the noble sacrifices you make for him, but is goaded almost tomadness,' Mr Sampson slapped his forehead, 'when he thinks of competingwith the rich and influential.'

  'When you have to compete with the rich and influential, it willprobably be mentioned to you,' said Miss Lavvy, 'in good time. At least,it will if the case is MY case.'

  Mr Sampson immediately expressed his fervent Opinion that this was 'morethan human', and was brought upon his knees at Miss Lavinia's feet.

  It was the crowning addition indispensable to the full enjoyment of bothmother and daughter, to bear Mr Sampson, a grateful captive, into theglittering halls he had mentioned, and to parade him through the same,at once a living witness of their glory, and a bright instance of theircondescension. Ascending the staircase, Miss Lavinia permitted him towalk at her side, with the air of saying: 'Notwithstanding all thesesurroundings, I am yours as yet, George. How long it may last is anotherquestion, but I am yours as yet.' She also benignantly intimated to him,aloud, the nature of the objects upon which he looked, and to which hewas unaccustomed: as, 'Exotics, George,' 'An aviary, George,' 'Anormolu clock, George,' and the like. While, through the whole of thedecorations, Mrs Wilfer led the way with the bearing of a Savage Chief,who would feel himself compromised by manifesting the slightest token ofsurprise or admiration.

  Indeed, the bearing of this impressive woman, throughout the day, was apattern to all impressive women under similar circumstances. She renewedthe acquaintance of Mr and Mrs Boffin, as if Mr and Mrs Boffin had saidof her what she had said of them, and as if Time alone could quite wearher injury out. She regarded every servant who approached her, as hersworn enemy, expressly intending to offer her affronts with the dishes,and to pour forth outrages on her moral feelings from the decanters.She sat erect at table, on the right hand of her son-in-law, as halfsuspecting poison in the viands, and as bearing up with native force ofcharacter against other deadly ambushes. Her carriage towards Bella wasas a carriage towards a young lady of good position, whom she had met insociety a few years ago. Even when, slightly thawing under the influenceof sparkling champagne, she related to her son-in-law some passages ofdomestic interest concerning her papa, she infused into the narrativesuch Arctic suggestions of her having been an unappreciated blessing tomankind, since her papa's days, and also of that gentleman's havingbeen a frosty impersonation of a frosty race, as struck cold to thevery soles of the feet of the hearers. The Inexhaustible being produced,staring, and evidently intending a weak and washy smile shortly, nosooner beheld her, than it was stricken spasmodic and inconsolable. Whenshe took her leave at last, it would have been hard to say whether itwas with the air of going to the scaffold herself, or of leaving theinmates of the house for immediate execution. Yet, John Harmon enjoyedit all merrily, and told his wife, when he and she were alone, that hernatural ways had never seemed so dearly natural as beside this foil,and that although he did not dispute her being her father's daughter,he should ever remain stedfast in the faith that she could not be hermother's.

  This visit was, as has been said, a grand event. Another event, notgrand but deemed in the house a special one, occurred at about the sameperiod; and this was, the first interview between Mr Sloppy and MissWren.

  The dolls' dressmaker, being at work for the Inexhaustible upon afull-dressed doll some two sizes larger than that young person, MrSloppy undertook to call for it, and did so.

  'Come in, sir,' said Miss Wren, who was working at her bench. 'And whomay you be?'

  Mr Sloppy introduced himself by name and buttons.

  'Oh indeed!' cried Jenny. 'Ah! I have been looking forward to knowingyou. I heard of your distinguishing yourself.'

  'Did you, Miss?' grinned Sloppy. 'I am sure I am glad to hear it, but Idon't know how.'

  'Pitching somebody into a mud-cart,' said Miss Wren.

  'Oh! That way!' cried Sloppy. 'Yes, Miss.' And threw back his head andlaughed.

  'Bless us!' exclaimed Miss Wren, with a start. 'Don't open your mouthas wide as that, young man, or it'll catch so, and not shut again someday.'

  Mr Sloppy opened it, if possible, wider, and kept it open until hislaugh was out.

  'Why, you're like the giant,' said Miss Wren, 'when he came home in theland of Beanstalk, and wanted Jack for supper.'

  'Was he good-looking, Miss?' asked Sloppy.

  'No,' said Miss Wren. 'Ugly.'

  Her visitor glanced round the room--which had many comforts in it now,that had not been in it before--and said: 'This is a pretty place,Miss.'

  'Glad you think so, sir,' returned Miss Wren. 'And what do you think ofMe?'

  The honesty of Mr Sloppy being severely taxed by the question, hetwisted a button, grinned, and faltered.

  'Out with it!' said Miss Wren, with an arch look. 'Don't you think mea queer little comicality?' In shaking her head at him after asking thequestion, she shook her hair down.

  'Oh!' cried Sloppy, in a burst of admiration. 'What a lot, and what acolour!'

  Miss Wren, with her usual expressive hitch, went on with her work. But,left her hair as it was; not displeased by the effect it had made.

  'You don't live here alone; do you, Miss?' asked Sloppy.

  'No,' said Miss Wren, with a chop. 'Live here with my fairy godmother.'

  'With;' Mr Sloppy couldn't make it out; 'with who did you say, Miss?'

  'Well!' replied Miss Wren, more seriously. 'With my second father. Orwith my first, for that matter.' And she shook her head, and drew asigh. 'If you had known a poor child I used to have here,' she added,'you'd have understood me. But you didn't, and you can't. All thebetter!'

  'You must have been taught a long time,' said Sloppy, glancing at thearray of dolls in hand, 'before you came to work so neatly, Miss, andwith such a pretty taste.'

  'Never was taught a stitch, young man!' returned the dress-maker,tossing her head. 'Just gobbled and gobbled, till I found out how to doit. Badly enough at first, but better now.'

  'And here have I,' said Sloppy, in something of a self-reproachful tone,'been a learning and a learning, and here has Mr Boffin been a payingand a paying, ever so long!'

  'I have heard what your trade is,' observed Miss Wren; 'it'scabinet-making.'

  Mr Sloppy nodded. 'Now that the Mounds is done with, it is. I'll tellyou what, Miss. I should like to make you something.'

  'Much obliged. But what?'

  'I could make you,' said Sloppy, surveying the room, 'I could make youa handy set of nests to lay the dolls in. Or I could make you a handylittle set of drawers, to keep your silks and threads and scraps in. OrI could turn you a rare handle for that crutch-stick, if it belongs tohim you call your father.'

  'It belongs to me,' returned the little creature, with a quick flush ofher face and neck. 'I am lame.'

  Poor Sloppy flushed too, for there was an instinctive delicacy behindhis buttons, and his own hand had struck it. He said, perhaps, the bestthing in the way of amends that could be said. 'I am very glad it'syours, because I'd rather ornament it for you than for any one else.Please may I look at it?'

  Miss Wren was in the act of handing it to him over her bench, when shepaused. 'But you had better see me use it,' she said, sharply. 'This isthe way. Hoppetty, Kicketty, Pep-peg-peg. Not pretty; is it?'

  'It seems to me that you hardly want it at all,' said Sloppy.

  The little dressmaker sat down again, and gave it into his hand, saying,with that better look upon her, and with a smile: 'Thank you!'

  'And as concerning the nests and the drawers,' said Sloppy, aftermeasuring the handle on his sleeve, and softly standing the stick asideagainst the wall, 'why, it would be a real pleasure to me. I've heerdtell that you can sing most beautiful; and I should be better paid witha song than with any money, for I always loved the likes of that, andoften giv' Mrs Higden and Johnny a comic song myself, with "Spoken" init. Though that's not your sort, I'll wager.'

  'You are a very kind young man,' returned the dressma
ker; 'a really kindyoung man. I accept your offer.--I suppose He won't mind,' she added asan afterthought, shrugging her shoulders; 'and if he does, he may!'

  'Meaning him that you call your father, Miss,' asked Sloppy.

  'No, no,' replied Miss Wren. 'Him, Him, Him!'

  'Him, him, him?' repeated Sloppy; staring about, as if for Him.

  'Him who is coming to court and marry me,' returned Miss Wren. 'Dear me,how slow you are!'

  'Oh! HIM!' said Sloppy. And seemed to turn thoughtful and a littletroubled. 'I never thought of him. When is he coming, Miss?'

  'What a question!' cried Miss Wren. 'How should I know!'

  'Where is he coming from, Miss?'

  'Why, good gracious, how can I tell! He is coming from somewhere orother, I suppose, and he is coming some day or other, I suppose. I don'tknow any more about him, at present.'

  This tickled Mr Sloppy as an extraordinarily good joke, and he threwback his head and laughed with measureless enjoyment. At the sight ofhim laughing in that absurd way, the dolls' dressmaker laughed veryheartily indeed. So they both laughed, till they were tired.

  'There, there, there!' said Miss Wren. 'For goodness' sake, stop, Giant,or I shall be swallowed up alive, before I know it. And to this minuteyou haven't said what you've come for.'

  'I have come for little Miss Harmonses doll,' said Sloppy.

  'I thought as much,' remarked Miss Wren, 'and here is little MissHarmonses doll waiting for you. She's folded up in silver paper, yousee, as if she was wrapped from head to foot in new Bank notes. Takecare of her, and there's my hand, and thank you again.'

  'I'll take more care of her than if she was a gold image,' said Sloppy,'and there's both MY hands, Miss, and I'll soon come back again.'

  But, the greatest event of all, in the new life of Mr and Mrs JohnHarmon, was a visit from Mr and Mrs Eugene Wrayburn. Sadly wan and wornwas the once gallant Eugene, and walked resting on his wife's arm, andleaning heavily upon a stick. But, he was daily growing stronger andbetter, and it was declared by the medical attendants that he might notbe much disfigured by-and-by. It was a grand event, indeed, when Mrand Mrs Eugene Wrayburn came to stay at Mr and Mrs John Harmon's house:where, by the way, Mr and Mrs Boffin (exquisitely happy, and dailycruising about, to look at shops,) were likewise staying indefinitely.

  To Mr Eugene Wrayburn, in confidence, did Mrs John Harmon impart whatshe had known of the state of his wife's affections, in his recklesstime. And to Mrs John Harmon, in confidence, did Mr Eugene Wrayburnimpart that, please God, she should see how his wife had changed him!

  'I make no protestations,' said Eugene; '--who does, who means them!--Ihave made a resolution.'

  'But would you believe, Bella,' interposed his wife, coming to resumeher nurse's place at his side, for he never got on well without her:'that on our wedding day he told me he almost thought the best thing hecould do, was to die?'

  'As I didn't do it, Lizzie,' said Eugene, 'I'll do that better thing yousuggested--for your sake.'

  That same afternoon, Eugene lying on his couch in his own room upstairs,Lightwood came to chat with him, while Bella took his wife out for aride. 'Nothing short of force will make her go,' Eugene had said; so,Bella had playfully forced her.

  'Dear old fellow,' Eugene began with Lightwood, reaching up his hand,'you couldn't have come at a better time, for my mind is full, and Iwant to empty it. First, of my present, before I touch upon my future.M. R. F., who is a much younger cavalier than I, and a professed admirerof beauty, was so affable as to remark the other day (he paid us a visitof two days up the river there, and much objected to the accommodationof the hotel), that Lizzie ought to have her portrait painted. Which,coming from M. R. F., may be considered equivalent to a melodramaticblessing.'

  'You are getting well,' said Mortimer, with a smile.

  'Really,' said Eugene, 'I mean it. When M. R. F. said that, and followedit up by rolling the claret (for which he called, and I paid), in hismouth, and saying, "My dear son, why do you drink this trash?" it wastantamount in him--to a paternal benediction on our union, accompaniedwith a gush of tears. The coolness of M. R. F. is not to be measured byordinary standards.'

  'True enough,' said Lightwood.

  'That's all,' pursued Eugene, 'that I shall ever hear from M. R. F. onthe subject, and he will continue to saunter through the world withhis hat on one side. My marriage being thus solemnly recognized at thefamily altar, I have no further trouble on that score. Next, you reallyhave done wonders for me, Mortimer, in easing my money-perplexities, andwith such a guardian and steward beside me, as the preserver of my life(I am hardly strong yet, you see, for I am not man enough to referto her without a trembling voice--she is so inexpressibly dear to me,Mortimer!), the little that I can call my own will be more than it everhas been. It need be more, for you know what it always has been in myhands. Nothing.'

  'Worse than nothing, I fancy, Eugene. My own small income (I devoutlywish that my grandfather had left it to the Ocean rather than to me!)has been an effective Something, in the way of preventing me fromturning to at Anything. And I think yours has been much the same.'

  'There spake the voice of wisdom,' said Eugene. 'We are shepherds both.In turning to at last, we turn to in earnest. Let us say no more ofthat, for a few years to come. Now, I have had an idea, Mortimer, oftaking myself and my wife to one of the colonies, and working at myvocation there.'

  'I should be lost without you, Eugene; but you may be right.'

  'No,' said Eugene, emphatically. 'Not right. Wrong!'

  He said it with such a lively--almost angry--flash, that Mortimer showedhimself greatly surprised.

  'You think this thumped head of mine is excited?' Eugene went on, with ahigh look; 'not so, believe me. I can say to you of the healthful musicof my pulse what Hamlet said of his. My blood is up, but wholesomely up,when I think of it. Tell me! Shall I turn coward to Lizzie, and sneakaway with her, as if I were ashamed of her! Where would your friend'spart in this world be, Mortimer, if she had turned coward to him, and onimmeasurably better occasion?'

  'Honourable and stanch,' said Lightwood. 'And yet, Eugene--'

  'And yet what, Mortimer?'

  'And yet, are you sure that you might not feel (for her sake, I say forher sake) any slight coldness towards her on the part of--Society?'

  'O! You and I may well stumble at the word,' returned Eugene, laughing.'Do we mean our Tippins?'

  'Perhaps we do,' said Mortimer, laughing also.

  'Faith, we DO!' returned Eugene, with great animation. 'We may hidebehind the bush and beat about it, but we DO! Now, my wife is somethingnearer to my heart, Mortimer, than Tippins is, and I owe her a littlemore than I owe to Tippins, and I am rather prouder of her than I everwas of Tippins. Therefore, I will fight it out to the last gasp, withher and for her, here, in the open field. When I hide her, or strikefor her, faint-heartedly, in a hole or a corner, do you whom I love nextbest upon earth, tell me what I shall most righteously deserve to betold:--that she would have done well to turn me over with her foot thatnight when I lay bleeding to death, and spat in my dastard face.'

  The glow that shone upon him as he spoke the words, so irradiated hisfeatures that he looked, for the time, as though he had never beenmutilated. His friend responded as Eugene would have had him respond,and they discoursed of the future until Lizzie came back. After resumingher place at his side, and tenderly touching his hands and his head, shesaid:

  'Eugene, dear, you made me go out, but I ought to have stayed with you.You are more flushed than you have been for many days. What have youbeen doing?'

  'Nothing,' replied Eugene, 'but looking forward to your coming back.'

  'And talking to Mr Lightwood,' said Lizzie, turning to him with a smile.'But it cannot have been Society that disturbed you.'

  'Faith, my dear love!' retorted Eugene, in his old airy manner, as helaughed and kissed her, 'I rather think it WAS Society though!'

  The word ran so much in Mortimer Lightwood's thoughts as he we
nt home tothe Temple that night, that he resolved to take a look at Society, whichhe had not seen for a considerable period.