Chapter Chapter 8 · 第8章

Business disposed of, Mr Swiveller was inwardly reminded of its being

nigh dinner-time, and to the intent that his health might not be

endangered by longer abstinence, dispatched a message to the nearest

eating-house requiring an immediate supply of boiled beef and greens

for two. With this demand, however, the eating-house (having experience

of its customer) declined to comply, churlishly sending back for answer

that if Mr Swiveller stood in need of beef perhaps he would be so

obliging as to come there and eat it, bringing with him, as grace

before meat, the amount of a certain small account which had long been

outstanding. Not at all intimidated by this rebuff, but rather

sharpened in wits and appetite, Mr Swiveller forwarded the same message

to another and more distant eating-house, adding to it by way of rider

that the gentleman was induced to send so far, not only by the great

fame and popularity its beef had acquired, but in consequence of the

extreme toughness of the beef retailed at the obdurant cook’s shop,

which rendered it quite unfit not merely for gentlemanly food, but for

any human consumption. The good effect of this politic course was

demonstrated by the speedy arrival of a small pewter pyramid, curiously

constructed of platters and covers, whereof the boiled-beef-plates

formed the base, and a foaming quart-pot the apex; the structure being

resolved into its component parts afforded all things requisite and

necessary for a hearty meal, to which Mr Swiveller and his friend

applied themselves with great keenness and enjoyment.

‘May the present moment,’ said Dick, sticking his fork into a large

carbuncular potato, ‘be the worst of our lives! I like the plan of

sending ‘em with the peel on; there’s a charm in drawing a potato from

its native element (if I may so express it) to which the rich and

powerful are strangers. Ah! “Man wants but little here below, nor wants

that little long!” How true that is!--after dinner.’

‘I hope the eating-house keeper will want but little and that he may

not want that little long,’ returned his companion; but I suspect

you’ve no means of paying for this!’

‘I shall be passing present, and I’ll call,’ said Dick, winking his eye

significantly. ‘The waiter’s quite helpless. The goods are gone, Fred,

and there’s an end of it.’

In point of fact, it would seem that the waiter felt this wholesome

truth, for when he returned for the empty plates and dishes and was

informed by Mr Swiveller with dignified carelessness that he would call

and settle when he should be passing presently, he displayed some

perturbation of spirit and muttered a few remarks about ‘payment on

delivery’ and ‘no trust,’ and other unpleasant subjects, but was fain

to content himself with inquiring at what hour it was likely that the

gentleman would call, in order that being presently responsible for the

beef, greens, and sundries, he might take to be in the way at the time.

Mr Swiveller, after mentally calculating his engagements to a nicety,

replied that he should look in at from two minutes before six and seven

minutes past; and the man disappearing with this feeble consolation,

Richard Swiveller took a greasy memorandum-book from his pocket and

made an entry therein.

‘Is that a reminder, in case you should forget to call?’ said Trent

with a sneer.

‘Not exactly, Fred,’ replied the imperturbable Richard, continuing to

write with a businesslike air. ‘I enter in this little book the names

of the streets that I can’t go down while the shops are open. This

dinner today closes Long Acre. I bought a pair of boots in Great Queen

Street last week, and made that no throughfare too. There’s only one

avenue to the Strand left often now, and I shall have to stop up that

to-night with a pair of gloves. The roads are closing so fast in every

direction, that in a month’s time, unless my aunt sends me a

remittance, I shall have to go three or four miles out of town to get

over the way.’

‘There’s no fear of failing, in the end?’ said Trent.

‘Why, I hope not,’ returned Mr Swiveller, ‘but the average number of

letters it take to soften her is six, and this time we have got as far

as eight without any effect at all. I’ll write another to-morrow

morning. I mean to blot it a good deal and shake some water over it out

of the pepper-castor to make it look penitent. “I’m in such a state of

mind that I hardly know what I write”--blot--“if you could see me at

this minute shedding tears for my past misconduct”--pepper-castor--“my

hand trembles when I think”--blot again--if that don’t produce the

effect, it’s all over.’

By this time, Mr Swiveller had finished his entry, and he now replaced

his pencil in its little sheath and closed the book, in a perfectly

grave and serious frame of mind. His friend discovered that it was time

for him to fulfil some other engagement, and Richard Swiveller was

accordingly left alone, in company with the rosy wine and his own

meditations touching Miss Sophy Wackles.

‘It’s rather sudden,’ said Dick shaking his head with a look of

infinite wisdom, and running on (as he was accustomed to do) with

scraps of verse as if they were only prose in a hurry; ‘when the heart

of a man is depressed with fears, the mist is dispelled when Miss

Wackles appears; she’s a very nice girl. She’s like the red red rose

that’s newly sprung in June--there’s no denying that--she’s also like a

melody that’s sweetly played in tune. It’s really very sudden. Not that

there’s any need, on account of Fred’s little sister, to turn cool

directly, but its better not to go too far. If I begin to cool at all I

must begin at once, I see that. There’s the chance of an action for

breach, that’s another. There’s the chance of--no, there’s no chance of

that, but it’s as well to be on the safe side.’

This undeveloped was the possibility, which Richard Swiveller sought to

conceal even from himself, of his not being proof against the charms of

Miss Wackles, and in some unguarded moment, by linking his fortunes to

hers forever, of putting it out of his own power to further their

notable scheme to which he had so readily become a party. For all these

reasons, he decided to pick a quarrel with Miss Wackles without delay,

and casting about for a pretext determined in favour of groundless

jealousy. Having made up his mind on this important point, he

circulated the glass (from his right hand to left, and back again)

pretty freely, to enable him to act his part with the greater

discretion, and then, after making some slight improvements in his

toilet, bent his steps towards the spot hallowed by the fair object of

his meditations.

The spot was at Chelsea, for there Miss Sophia Wackles resided with her

widowed mother and two sisters, in conjunction with whom she maintained

a very small day-school for young ladies of proportionate dimensions; a

circumstance which was made known to the neighbourhood by an oval board

over the front first-floor windows, whereupon appeared in circumambient

flourishes the words ‘Ladies’ Seminary’; and which was further

published and proclaimed at intervals between the hours of half-past

nine and ten in the morning, by a straggling and solitary young lady of

tender years standing on the scraper on the tips of her toes and making

futile attempts to reach the knocker with a spelling-book. The several

duties of instruction in this establishment were thus discharged.

English grammar, composition, geography, and the use of the dumb-bells,

by Miss Melissa Wackles; writing, arithmetic, dancing, music, and

general fascination, by Miss Sophia Wackles; the art of needle-work,

marking, and samplery, by Miss Jane Wackles; corporal punishment,

fasting, and other tortures and terrors, by Mrs Wackles. Miss Melissa

Wackles was the eldest daughter, Miss Sophy the next, and Miss Jane the

youngest. Miss Melissa might have seen five-and-thirty summers or

thereabouts, and verged on the autumnal; Miss Sophy was a fresh, good

humoured, buxom girl of twenty; and Miss Jane numbered scarcely sixteen

years. Mrs Wackles was an excellent but rather venomous old lady of

three-score.

To this Ladies’ Seminary, then, Richard Swiveller hied, with designs

obnoxious to the peace of the fair Sophia, who, arrayed in virgin

white, embellished by no ornament but one blushing rose, received him

on his arrival, in the midst of very elegant not to say brilliant

preparations; such as the embellishment of the room with the little

flower-pots which always stood on the window-sill outside, save in

windy weather when they blew into the area; the choice attire of the

day-scholars who were allowed to grace the festival; the unwonted curls

of Miss Jane Wackles who had kept her head during the whole of the

preceding day screwed up tight in a yellow play-bill; and the solemn

gentility and stately bearing of the old lady and her eldest daughter,

which struck Mr Swiveller as being uncommon but made no further

impression upon him.

The truth is--and, as there is no accounting for tastes, even a taste

so strange as this may be recorded without being looked upon as a

wilful and malicious invention--the truth is that neither Mrs Wackles

nor her eldest daughter had at any time greatly favoured the

pretensions of Mr Swiveller, being accustomed to make slight mention of

him as ‘a gay young man’ and to sigh and shake their heads ominously

whenever his name was mentioned. Mr Swiveller’s conduct in respect to

Miss Sophy having been of that vague and dilatory kind which is usually

looked upon as betokening no fixed matrimonial intentions, the young

lady herself began in course of time to deem it highly desirable, that

it should be brought to an issue one way or other. Hence she had at

last consented to play off against Richard Swiveller a stricken

market-gardner known to be ready with his offer on the smallest

encouragement, and hence--as this occasion had been specially assigned

for the purpose--that great anxiety on her part for Richard Swiveller’s

presence which had occasioned her to leave the note he has been seen to

receive. ‘If he has any expectations at all or any means of keeping a

wife well,’ said Mrs Wackles to her eldest daughter, ‘he’ll state ‘em

to us now or never.’--‘If he really cares about me,’ thought Miss

Sophy, ‘he must tell me so, to-night.’

But all these sayings and doings and thinkings being unknown to Mr

Swiveller, affected him not in the least; he was debating in his mind

how he could best turn jealous, and wishing that Sophy were for that

occasion only far less pretty than she was, or that she were her own

sister, which would have served his turn as well, when the company

came, and among them the market-gardener, whose name was Cheggs. But Mr

Cheggs came not alone or unsupported, for he prudently brought along

with him his sister, Miss Cheggs, who making straight to Miss Sophy and

taking her by both hands, and kissing her on both cheeks, hoped in an

audible whisper that they had not come too early.

‘Too early, no!’ replied Miss Sophy.

‘Oh, my dear,’ rejoined Miss Cheggs in the same whisper as before,

‘I’ve been so tormented, so worried, that it’s a mercy we were not here

at four o’clock in the afternoon. Alick has been in such a state of

impatience to come! You’d hardly believe that he was dressed before

dinner-time and has been looking at the clock and teasing me ever

since. It’s all your fault, you naughty thing.’

Hereupon Miss Sophy blushed, and Mr Cheggs (who was bashful before

ladies) blushed too, and Miss Sophy’s mother and sisters, to prevent Mr

Cheggs from blushing more, lavished civilities and attentions upon him,

and left Richard Swiveller to take care of himself. Here was the very

thing he wanted, here was good cause reason and foundation for

pretending to be angry; but having this cause reason and foundation

which he had come expressly to seek, not expecting to find, Richard

Swiveller was angry in sound earnest, and wondered what the devil

Cheggs meant by his impudence.

However, Mr Swiveller had Miss Sophy’s hand for the first quadrille

(country-dances being low, were utterly proscribed) and so gained an

advantage over his rival, who sat despondingly in a corner and

contemplated the glorious figure of the young lady as she moved through

the mazy dance. Nor was this the only start Mr Swiveller had of the

market-gardener, for determining to show the family what quality of man

they trifled with, and influenced perhaps by his late libations, he

performed such feats of agility and such spins and twirls as filled the

company with astonishment, and in particular caused a very long

gentleman who was dancing with a very short scholar, to stand quite

transfixed by wonder and admiration. Even Mrs Wackles forgot for the

moment to snub three small young ladies who were inclined to be happy,

and could not repress a rising thought that to have such a dancer as

that in the family would be a pride indeed.

At this momentous crisis, Miss Cheggs proved herself a vigourous and

useful ally, for not confining herself to expressing by scornful smiles

a contempt for Mr Swiveller’s accomplishments, she took every

opportunity of whispering into Miss Sophy’s ear expressions of

condolence and sympathy on her being worried by such a ridiculous

creature, declaring that she was frightened to death lest Alick should

fall upon, and beat him, in the fulness of his wrath, and entreating

Miss Sophy to observe how the eyes of the said Alick gleamed with love

and fury; passions, it may be observed, which being too much for his

eyes rushed into his nose also, and suffused it with a crimson glow.

‘You must dance with Miss Cheggs,’ said Miss Sophy to Dick Swiviller,

after she had herself danced twice with Mr Cheggs and made great show

of encouraging his advances. ‘She’s a nice girl--and her brother’s

quite delightful.’

‘Quite delightful, is he?’ muttered Dick. ‘Quite delighted too, I

should say, from the manner in which he’s looking this way.’

Here Miss Jane (previously instructed for the purpose) interposed her

many curls and whispered her sister to observe how jealous Mr Cheggs

was.

‘Jealous! Like his impudence!’ said Richard Swiviller.

‘His impudence, Mr Swiviller!’ said Miss Jane, tossing her head. ‘Take

care he don’t hear you, sir, or you may be sorry for it.’

‘Oh, pray, Jane--’ said Miss Sophy.

‘Nonsense!’ replied her sister. ‘Why shouldn’t Mr Cheggs be jealous if

he likes? I like that, certainly. Mr Cheggs has a good a right to be

jealous as anyone else has, and perhaps he may have a better right soon

if he hasn’t already. You know best about that, Sophy!’

Though this was a concerted plot between Miss Sophy and her sister,

originating in humane intentions and having for its object the inducing

Mr Swiviller to declare himself in time, it failed in its effect; for

Miss Jane being one of those young ladies who are prematurely shrill

and shrewish, gave such undue importance to her part that Mr Swiviller

retired in dudgeon, resigning his mistress to Mr Cheggs and conveying a

defiance into his looks which that gentleman indignantly returned.

‘Did you speak to me, sir?’ said Mr Cheggs, following him into a

corner. ‘Have the kindness to smile, sir, in order that we may not be

suspected. Did you speak to me, sir’?

Mr Swiviller looked with a supercilious smile at Mr Chegg’s toes, then

raised his eyes from them to his ankles, from that to his shin, from

that to his knee, and so on very gradually, keeping up his right leg,

until he reached his waistcoat, when he raised his eyes from button to

button until he reached his chin, and travelling straight up the middle

of his nose came at last to his eyes, when he said abruptly,

‘No, sir, I didn’t.’

‘’Hem!’ said Mr Cheggs, glancing over his shoulder, ‘have the goodness

to smile again, sir. Perhaps you wished to speak to me, sir.’

‘No, sir, I didn’t do that, either.’

‘Perhaps you may have nothing to say to me now, sir,’ said Mr Cheggs

fiercely.

At these words Richard Swiviller withdrew his eyes from Mr Chegg’s

face, and travelling down the middle of his nose and down his waistcoat

and down his right leg, reached his toes again, and carefully surveyed

him; this done, he crossed over, and coming up the other leg, and

thence approaching by the waistcoat as before, said when had got to his

eyes, ‘No sir, I haven’t.’

‘Oh, indeed, sir!’ said Mr Cheggs. ‘I’m glad to hear it. You know where

I’m to be found, I suppose, sir, in case you should have anything to

say to me?’

‘I can easily inquire, sir, when I want to know.’

‘There’s nothing more we need say, I believe, sir?’

‘Nothing more, sir’--With that they closed the tremendous dialog by

frowning mutually. Mr Cheggs hastened to tender his hand to Miss Sophy,

and Mr Swiviller sat himself down in a corner in a very moody state.

Hard by this corner, Mrs Wackles and Miss Wackles were seated, looking

on at the dance; and unto Mrs and Miss Wackles, Miss Cheggs

occasionally darted when her partner was occupied with his share of the

figure, and made some remark or other which was gall and wormwood to

Richard Swiviller’s soul. Looking into the eyes of Mrs and Miss Wackles

for encouragement, and sitting very upright and uncomfortable on a

couple of hard stools, were two of the day-scholars; and when Miss

Wackles smiled, and Mrs Wackles smiled, the two little girls on the

stools sought to curry favour by smiling likewise, in gracious

acknowledgement of which attention the old lady frowned them down

instantly, and said that if they dared to be guilty of such an

impertinence again, they should be sent under convoy to their

respective homes. This threat caused one of the young ladies, she being

of a weak and trembling temperament, to shed tears, and for this

offense they were both filed off immediately, with a dreadful

promptitude that struck terror into the souls of all the pupils.

‘I’ve got such news for you,’ said Miss Cheggs approaching once more,

‘Alick has been saying such things to Sophy. Upon my word, you know,

it’s quite serious and in earnest, that’s clear.’

‘What’s he been saying, my dear?’ demanded Mrs Wackles.

‘All manner of things,’ replied Miss Cheggs, ‘you can’t think how out

he has been speaking!’

Richard Swiviller considered it advisable to hear no more, but taking

advantage of a pause in the dancing, and the approach of Mr Cheggs to

pay his court to the old lady, swaggered with an extremely careful

assumption of extreme carelessness toward the door, passing on the way

Miss Jane Wackles, who in all the glory of her curls was holding a

flirtation, (as good practice when no better was to be had) with a

feeble old gentleman who lodged in the parlour. Near the door sat Miss

Sophy, still fluttered and confused by the attentions of Mr Cheggs, and

by her side Richard Swiveller lingered for a moment to exchange a few

parting words.

‘My boat is on the shore and my bark is on the sea, but before I pass

this door I will say farewell to thee,’ murmured Dick, looking gloomily

upon her.

‘Are you going?’ said Miss Sophy, whose heart sank within her at the

result of her stratagem, but who affected a light indifference

notwithstanding.

‘Am I going!’ echoed Dick bitterly. ‘Yes, I am. What then?’

‘Nothing, except that it’s very early,’ said Miss Sophy; ‘but you are

your own master, of course.’

‘I would that I had been my own mistress too,’ said Dick, ‘before I had

ever entertained a thought of you. Miss Wackles, I believed you true,

and I was blest in so believing, but now I mourn that e’er I knew, a

girl so fair yet so deceiving.’

Miss Sophy bit her lip and affected to look with great interest after

Mr Cheggs, who was quaffing lemonade in the distance.

‘I came here,’ said Dick, rather oblivious of the purpose with which he

had really come, ‘with my bosom expanded, my heart dilated, and my

sentiments of a corresponding description. I go away with feelings that

may be conceived but cannot be described, feeling within myself that

desolating truth that my best affections have experienced this night a

stifler!’

‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr Swiviller,’ said Miss Sophy

with downcast eyes. ‘I’m very sorry if--’

‘Sorry, Ma’am!’ said Dick, ‘sorry in the possession of a Cheggs! But I

wish you a very good night, concluding with this slight remark, that

there is a young lady growing up at this present moment for me, who has

not only great personal attractions but great wealth, and who has

requested her next of kin to propose for my hand, which, having a

regard for some members of her family, I have consented to promise.

It’s a gratifying circumstance which you’ll be glad to hear, that a

young and lovely girl is growing into a woman expressly on my account,

and is now saving up for me. I thought I’d mention it. I have now

merely to apologize for trespassing so long upon your attention. Good

night.’

‘There’s one good thing springs out of all this,’ said Richard

Swiviller to himself when he had reached home and was hanging over the

candle with the extinguisher in his hand, ‘which is, that I now go

heart and soul, neck and heels, with Fred in all his scheme about

little Nelly, and right glad he’ll be to find me so strong upon it. He

shall know all about that to-morrow, and in the meantime, as it’s

rather late, I’ll try and get a wink of the balmy.’

‘The balmy’ came almost as soon as it was courted. In a very few

minutes Mr Swiviller was fast asleep, dreaming that he had married

Nelly Trent and come into the property, and that his first act of power

was to lay waste the market-garden of Mr Cheggs and turn it into a

brick-field.