“What face?” asked her husband, looking about him.
“For a moment it was the old man’s, and then it got younger. For a moment it was both the children’s, and then it got older. For a moment it was a strange face, and then it was all the faces.”
“And then it was gone?”
“Yes; and then it was gone.”
“Where were you then, old lady?”
“Here, at the chest. Well; I got the better of it, and went on sorting, and went on singing to myself. ‘Lor!’ I says, ‘I’ll think of something else—something comfortable—and put it out of my head.’ So I thought of the new house and Miss Bella Wilfer, and was thinking at a great rate with that sheet there in my hand, when all of a sudden, the faces seemed to be hidden in among the folds of it and I let it drop.”
As it still lay on the floor where it had fallen, Mr. Boffin picked it up and laid it on the chest.
“And then you ran downstairs?”
“No. I thought I’d try another room, and shake it off. I says to myself, ‘I’ll go and walk slowly up and down the old man’s room three times, from end to end, and then I shall have conquered it.’ I went in with the candle in my hand; but the moment I came near the bed, the air got thick with them.”
“With the faces?”
“Yes, and I even felt that they were in the dark behind the side-door, and on the little staircase, floating away into the yard. Then, I called you.”
Mr. Boffin, lost in amazement, looked at Mrs. Boffin. Mrs. Boffin, lost in her own fluttered inability to make this out, looked at Mr. Boffin.
“I think, my dear,” said the Golden Dustman, “I’ll at once get rid of Wegg for the night, because he’s coming to inhabit the Bower, and it might be put into his head or somebody else’s, if he heard this and it got about that the house is haunted. Whereas we know better. Don’t we?”
“I never had the feeling in the house before,” said Mrs. Boffin; “and I have been about it alone at all hours of the night. I have been in the house when death was in it, and I have been in the house when murder was a new part of its adventures, and I never had a fright in it yet.”
“And won’t again, my dear,” said Mr. Boffin. “Depend upon it, it comes of thinking and dwelling on that dark spot.”
“Yes; but why didn’t it come before?” asked Mrs. Boffin.
This draft on Mr. Boffin’s philosophy could only be met by that gentleman with the remark that everything that is at all, must begin at some time. Then, tucking his wife’s arm under his own, that she might not be left by herself to be troubled again, he descended to release Wegg. Who, being something drowsy after his plentiful repast, and constitutionally of a shirking temperament, was well enough pleased to stump away, without doing what he had come to do, and was paid for doing.
Mr. Boffin then put on his hat, and Mrs. Boffin her shawl; and the pair, further provided with a bunch of keys and a lighted lantern, went all over the dismal house—dismal everywhere, but in their own two rooms—from cellar to cockloft. Not resting satisfied with giving that much chase to Mrs. Boffin’s fancies, they pursued them into the yard and outbuildings, and under the mounds. And setting the lantern, when all was done, at the foot of one of the mounds, they comfortably trotted to and fro for an evening walk, to the end that the murky cobwebs in Mrs. Boffin’s brain might be blown away.
“There, my dear!” said Mr. Boffin when they came in to supper. “That was the treatment, you see. Completely worked round, haven’t you?”
“Yes, deary,” said Mrs. Boffin, laying aside her shawl. “I’m not nervous any more. I’m not a bit troubled now. I’d go anywhere about the house the same as ever. But—”
“Eh!” said Mr. Boffin.
“But I’ve only to shut my eyes.”
“And what then?”
“Why then,” said Mrs. Boffin, speaking with her eyes closed, and her left hand thoughtfully touching her brow, “then, there they are! The old man’s face, and it gets younger. The two children’s faces, and they get older. A face that I don’t know. And then all the faces!”
Opening her eyes again, and seeing her husband’s face across the table, she leaned forward to give it a pat on the cheek, and sat down to supper, declaring it to be the best face in the world.
XVI
Minders and Reminders
The Secretary lost no time in getting to work, and his vigilance and method soon set their mark on the Golden Dustman’s affairs. His earnestness in determining to understand the length and breadth and depth of every piece of work submitted to him by his employer, was as special as his despatch in transacting it. He accepted no information or explanation at second hand, but made himself the master of everything confided to him.
One part of the Secretary’s conduct, underlying all the rest, might have been mistrusted by a man with a better knowledge of men than the Golden Dustman had. The Secretary was as far from being inquisitive or intrusive as Secretary could be, but nothing less than a complete understanding of the whole of the affairs would content him. It soon became apparent (from the knowledge with which he set out) that he must have been to the office where the Harmon will was registered, and must have read the will. He anticipated Mr. Boffin’s consideration whether he should be advised with on this or that topic, by showing that he already knew of it and understood it. He did
