“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 dialogue by frowning mutually. Mr. Cheggs hastened to tender his hand to Miss Sophy, and Mr. Swiveller 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 Swiveller’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 offence 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 Swiveller 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 towards 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 sunk 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 the desolating truth that my best affections have experienced this night a stifler!”
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Swiveller,” 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 apologise for trespassing so long upon your attention. Good night.”
“There’s one good thing springs out of all this,” said Richard Swiveller 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 tomorrow, and in the meantime, as it’s rather late, I’ll try and get a wink or two of the balmy.”
“The balmy” came almost as soon as it was courted. In a very few minutes Mr. Swiveller 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.
IX
The child, in her confidence with Mrs. Quilp, had but feebly described the sadness and sorrow of her thoughts, or the heaviness of the cloud which overhung her home, and cast dark shadows on its hearth. Besides that it was very difficult to impart to any person not intimately acquainted with the life she led, an adequate sense of its gloom and loneliness, a constant fear of in some way committing or injuring the old man to whom she was so tenderly attached, had restrained her even in the midst of her heart’s overflowing, and made
