Part 73 (2/2)
He stopped to kiss me on the forehead, and I sobbed and wept afresh. For I felt as if I could not bear the painful delight of his praise.
”Hush, little woman! Don't cry; this is to be a day of joy. I have looked forward to it,” he said exultingly, ”for months on months! A few words more, Dame Trot, and I have said my say. Determined not to throw away one atom of my Esther's worth, I took Mrs. Woodcourt into a separate confidence. 'Now, madam,' said I, 'I clearly perceive--and indeed I know, to boot--that your son loves my ward. I am further very sure that my ward loves your son, but will sacrifice her love to a sense of duty and affection, and will sacrifice it so completely, so entirely, so religiously, that you should never suspect it though you watched her night and day.' Then I told her all our story--ours--yours and mine. 'Now, madam,' said I, 'come you, knowing this, and live with us. Come you, and see my child from hour to hour; set what you see against her pedigree, which is this, and this'--for I scorned to mince it--'and tell me what is the true legitimacy when you shall have quite made up your mind on that subject.' Why, honour to her old Welsh blood, my dear,” cried my guardian with enthusiasm, ”I believe the heart it animates beats no less warmly, no less admiringly, no less lovingly, towards Dame Durden than my own!”
He tenderly raised my head, and as I clung to him, kissed me in his old fatherly way again and again. What a light, now, on the protecting manner I had thought about!
”One more last word. When Allan Woodcourt spoke to you, my dear, he spoke with my knowledge and consent--but I gave him no encouragement, not I, for these surprises were my great reward, and I was too miserly to part with a sc.r.a.p of it. He was to come and tell me all that pa.s.sed, and he did. I have no more to say. My dearest, Allan Woodcourt stood beside your father when he lay dead --stood beside your mother. This is Bleak House. This day I give this house its little mistress; and before G.o.d, it is the brightest day in all my life!”
He rose and raised me with him. We were no longer alone. My husband--I have called him by that name full seven happy years now --stood at my side.
”Allan,” said my guardian, ”take from me a willing gift, the best wife that ever man had. What more can I say for you than that I know you deserve her! Take with her the little home she brings you. You know what she will make it, Allan; you know what she has made its namesake. Let me share its felicity sometimes, and what do I sacrifice? Nothing, nothing.”
He kissed me once again, and now the tears were in his eyes as he said more softly, ”Esther, my dearest, after so many years, there is a kind of parting in this too. I know that my mistake has caused you some distress. Forgive your old guardian, in restoring him to his old place in your affections; and blot it out of your memory. Allan, take my dear.”
He moved away from under the green roof of leaves, and stopping in the sunlight outside and turning cheerfully towards us, said, ”I shall be found about here somewhere. It's a west wind, little woman, due west! Let no one thank me any more, for I am going to revert to my bachelor habits, and if anybody disregards this warning, I'll run away and never come back!”
What happiness was ours that day, what joy, what rest, what hope, what grat.i.tude, what bliss! We were to be married before the month was out, but when we were to come and take possession of our own house was to depend on Richard and Ada.
We all three went home together next day. As soon as we arrived in town, Allan went straight to see Richard and to carry our joyful news to him and my darling. Late as it was, I meant to go to her for a few minutes before lying down to sleep, but I went home with my guardian first to make his tea for him and to occupy the old chair by his side, for I did not like to think of its being empty so soon.
When we came home we found that a young man had called three times in the course of that one day to see me and that having been told on the occasion of his third call that I was not expected to return before ten o'clock at night, he had left word that he would call about then. He had left his card three times. Mr. Guppy.
As I naturally speculated on the object of these visits, and as I always a.s.sociated something ludicrous with the visitor, it fell out that in laughing about Mr. Guppy I told my guardian of his old proposal and his subsequent retraction. ”After that,” said my guardian, ”we will certainly receive this hero.” So instructions were given that Mr. Guppy should be shown in when he came again, and they were scarcely given when he did come again.
He was embarra.s.sed when he found my guardian with me, but recovered himself and said, ”How de do, sir?”
”How do you do, sir?” returned my guardian.
”Thank you, sir, I am tolerable,” returned Mr. Guppy. ”Will you allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs. Guppy of the Old Street Road, and my particular friend, Mr. Weevle. That is to say, my friend has gone by the name of Weevle, but his name is really and truly Jobling.”
My guardian begged them to be seated, and they all sat down.
”Tony,” said Mr. Guppy to his friend after an awkward silence. ”Will you open the case?”
”Do it yourself,” returned the friend rather tartly.
”Well, Mr. Jarndyce, sir,” Mr. Guppy, after a moment's consideration, began, to the great diversion of his mother, which she displayed by nudging Mr. Jobling with her elbow and winking at me in a most remarkable manner, ”I had an idea that I should see Miss Summerson by herself and was not quite prepared for your esteemed presence. But Miss Summerson has mentioned to you, perhaps, that something has pa.s.sed between us on former occasions?”
”Miss Summerson,” returned my guardian, smiling, ”has made a communication to that effect to me.”
”That,” said Mr. Guppy, ”makes matters easier. Sir, I have come out of my articles at Kenge and Carboy's, and I believe with satisfaction to all parties. I am now admitted (after undergoing an examination that's enough to badger a man blue, touching a pack of nonsense that he don't want to know) on the roll of attorneys and have taken out my certificate, if it would be any satisfaction to you to see it.”
”Thank you, Mr. Guppy,” returned my guardian. ”I am quite willing --I believe I use a legal phrase--to admit the certificate.”
Mr. Guppy therefore desisted from taking something out of his pocket and proceeded without it.
”I have no capital myself, but my mother has a little property which takes the form of an annuity”--here Mr. Guppy's mother rolled her head as if she never could sufficiently enjoy the observation, and put her handkerchief to her mouth, and again winked at me--”and a few pounds for expenses out of pocket in conducting business will never be wanting, free of interest, which is an advantage, you know,” said Mr. Guppy feelingly.
”Certainly an advantage,” returned my guardian.
”I HAVE some connexion,” pursued Mr. Guppy, ”and it lays in the direction of Walcot Square, Lambeth. I have therefore taken a 'ouse in that locality, which, in the opinion of my friends, is a hollow bargain (taxes ridiculous, and use of fixtures included in the rent), and intend setting up professionally for myself there forthwith.”
Here Mr. Guppy's mother fell into an extraordinary pa.s.sion of rolling her head and smiling waggishly at anybody who would look at her.
”It's a six-roomer, exclusive of kitchens,” said Mr. Guppy, ”and in the opinion of my friends, a commodious tenement. When I mention my friends, I refer princ.i.p.ally to my friend Jobling, who I believe has known me,” Mr. Guppy looked at him with a sentimental air, ”from boyhood's hour.”
Mr. Jobling confirmed this with a sliding movement of his legs.
”My friend Jobling will render me his a.s.sistance in the capacity of clerk and will live in the 'ouse,” said Mr. Guppy. ”My mother will likewise live in the 'ouse when her present quarter in the Old Street Road shall have ceased and expired; and consequently there will be no want of society. My friend Jobling is naturally aristocratic by taste, and besides being acquainted with the movements of the upper circles, fully backs me in the intentions I am now developing.”
Mr. Jobling said ”Certainly” and withdrew a little from the elbow of Mr Guppy's mother.
”Now, I have no occasion to mention to you, sir, you being in the confidence of Miss Summerson,” said Mr. Guppy, ”(mother, I wish you'd be so good as to keep still), that Miss Summerson's image was formerly imprinted on my 'eart and that I made her a proposal of marriage.”
”That I have heard,” returned my guardian.
”Circ.u.mstances,” pursued Mr. Guppy, ”over which I had no control, but quite the contrary, weakened the impression of that image for a time. At which time Miss Summerson's conduct was highly genteel; I may even add, magnanimous.”
My guardian patted me on the shoulder and seemed much amused.
”Now, sir,” said Mr. Guppy, ”I have got into that state of mind myself that I wish for a reciprocity of magnanimous behaviour. I wish to prove to Miss Summerson that I can rise to a heighth of which perhaps she hardly thought me capable. I find that the image which I did suppose had been eradicated from my 'eart is NOT eradicated. Its influence over me is still tremenjous, and yielding to it, I am willing to overlook the circ.u.mstances over which none of us have had any control and to renew those proposals to Miss Summerson which I had the honour to make at a former period. I beg to lay the 'ouse in Walcot Square, the business, and myself before Miss Summerson for her acceptance.”
”Very magnanimous indeed, sir,” observed my guardian.
”Well, sir,” replied Mr. Guppy with candour, ”my wish is to BE magnanimous. I do not consider that in making this offer to Miss Summerson I am by any means throwing myself away; neither is that the opinion of my friends. Still, there are circ.u.mstances which I submit may be taken into account as a set off against any little drawbacks of mine, and so a fair and equitable balance arrived at.”
”I take upon myself, sir,” said my guardian, laughing as he rang the bell, ”to reply to your proposals on behalf of Miss Summerson. She is very sensible of your handsome intentions, and wishes you good evening, and wishes you well.”
”Oh!” said Mr. Guppy with a blank look. ”Is that tantamount, sir, to acceptance, or rejection, or consideration?”
”To decided rejection, if you please,” returned my guardian.
Mr. Guppy looked incredulously at his friend, and at his mother, who suddenly turned very angry, and at the floor, and at the ceiling.
”Indeed?” said he. ”Then, Jobling, if you was the friend you represent yourself, I should think you might hand my mother out of the gangway instead of allowing her to remain where she ain't wanted.”
But Mrs. Guppy positively refused to come out of the gangway. She wouldn't hear of it. ”Why, get along with you,” said she to my guardian, ”what do you mean? Ain't my son good enough for you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Get out with you!”
”My good lady,” returned my guardian, ”it is hardly reasonable to ask me to get out of my own room.”
”I don't care for that,” said Mrs. Guppy. ”Get out with you. If we ain't good enough for you, go and procure somebody that is good enough. Go along and find 'em.”
I was quite unprepared for the rapid manner in which Mrs. Guppy's power of jocularity merged into a power of taking the profoundest offence.
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