Barnaby Rudge

Chapter 27

Mr Haredale stood in the widow's parlour with the door-key in his
hand, gazing by turns at Mr Chester and at Gabriel Varden, and
occasionally glancing downward at the key as in the hope that of
its own accord it would unlock the mystery; until Mr Chester,
putting on his hat and gloves, and sweetly inquiring whether they
were walking in the same direction, recalled him to himself.

'No,' he said. 'Our roads diverge--widely, as you know. For the
present, I shall remain here.'

'You will be hipped, Haredale; you will be miserable, melancholy,
utterly wretched,' returned the other. 'It's a place of the very
last description for a man of your temper. I know it will make you
very miserable.'

'Let it,' said Mr Haredale, sitting down; 'and thrive upon the
thought. Good night!'

Feigning to be wholly unconscious of the abrupt wave of the hand
which rendered this farewell tantamount to a dismissal, Mr Chester
retorted with a bland and heartfelt benediction, and inquired of
Gabriel in what direction HE was going.

'Yours, sir, would be too much honour for the like of me,' replied
the locksmith, hesitating.

'I wish you to remain here a little while, Varden,' said Mr
Haredale, without looking towards them. 'I have a word or two to
say to you.'

'I will not intrude upon your conference another moment,' said Mr
Chester with inconceivable politeness. 'May it be satisfactory to
you both! God bless you!' So saying, and bestowing upon the
locksmith a most refulgent smile, he left them.

'A deplorably constituted creature, that rugged person,' he said,
as he walked along the street; 'he is an atrocity that carries its
own punishment along with it--a bear that gnaws himself. And here
is one of the inestimable advantages of having a perfect command
over one's inclinations. I have been tempted in these two short
interviews, to draw upon that fellow, fifty times. Five men in six
would have yielded to the impulse. By suppressing mine, I wound
him deeper and more keenly than if I were the best swordsman in all
Europe, and he the worst. You are the wise man's very last
resource,' he said, tapping the hilt of his weapon; 'we can but
appeal to you when all else is said and done. To come to you
before, and thereby spare our adversaries so much, is a barbarian
mode of warfare, quite unworthy of any man with the remotest
pretensions to delicacy of feeling, or refinement.'

He smiled so very pleasantly as he communed with himself after this
manner, that a beggar was emboldened to follow for alms, and to dog
his footsteps for some distance. He was gratified by the
circumstance, feeling it complimentary to his power of feature, and
as a reward suffered the man to follow him until he called a chair,
when he graciously dismissed him with a fervent blessing.

'Which is as easy as cursing,' he wisely added, as he took his
seat, 'and more becoming to the face.--To Clerkenwell, my good
creatures, if you please!' The chairmen were rendered quite
vivacious by having such a courteous burden, and to Clerkenwell
they went at a fair round trot.

Alighting at a certain point he had indicated to them upon the
road, and paying them something less than they expected from a fare
of such gentle speech, he turned into the street in which the
locksmith dwelt, and presently stood beneath the shadow of the
Golden Key. Mr Tappertit, who was hard at work by lamplight, in a
corner of the workshop, remained unconscious of his presence until
a hand upon his shoulder made him start and turn his head.

'Industry,' said Mr Chester, 'is the soul of business, and the
keystone of prosperity. Mr Tappertit, I shall expect you to invite
me to dinner when you are Lord Mayor of London.'

'Sir,' returned the 'prentice, laying down his hammer, and rubbing
his nose on the back of a very sooty hand, 'I scorn the Lord Mayor
and everything that belongs to him. We must have another state of
society, sir, before you catch me being Lord Mayor. How de do, sir?'

'The better, Mr Tappertit, for looking into your ingenuous face
once more. I hope you are well.'

'I am as well, sir,' said Sim, standing up to get nearer to his
ear, and whispering hoarsely, 'as any man can be under the
aggrawations to which I am exposed. My life's a burden to me. If
it wasn't for wengeance, I'd play at pitch and toss with it on the
losing hazard.'

'Is Mrs Varden at home?' said Mr Chester.

'Sir,' returned Sim, eyeing him over with a look of concentrated
expression,--'she is. Did you wish to see her?'

Mr Chester nodded.

'Then come this way, sir,' said Sim, wiping his face upon his
apron. 'Follow me, sir.--Would you permit me to whisper in your
ear, one half a second?'

'By all means.'

Mr Tappertit raised himself on tiptoe, applied his lips to Mr
Chester's ear, drew back his head without saying anything, looked
hard at him, applied them to his ear again, again drew back, and
finally whispered--'The name is Joseph Willet. Hush! I say no
more.'

Having said that much, he beckoned the visitor with a mysterious
aspect to follow him to the parlour-door, where he announced him
in the voice of a gentleman-usher. 'Mr Chester.'

'And not Mr Ed'dard, mind,' said Sim, looking into the door again,
and adding this by way of postscript in his own person; 'it's his
father.'

'But do not let his father,' said Mr Chester, advancing hat in
hand, as he observed the effect of this last explanatory
announcement, 'do not let his father be any check or restraint on
your domestic occupations, Miss Varden.'

'Oh! Now! There! An't I always a-saying it!' exclaimed Miggs,
clapping her hands. 'If he an't been and took Missis for her own
daughter. Well, she DO look like it, that she do. Only think of
that, mim!'

'Is it possible,' said Mr Chester in his softest tones, 'that this
is Mrs Varden! I am amazed. That is not your daughter, Mrs
Varden? No, no. Your sister.'

'My daughter, indeed, sir,' returned Mrs V., blushing with great
juvenility.

'Ah, Mrs Varden!' cried the visitor. 'Ah, ma'am--humanity is
indeed a happy lot, when we can repeat ourselves in others, and
still be young as they. You must allow me to salute you--the
custom of the country, my dear madam--your daughter too.'

Dolly showed some reluctance to perform this ceremony, but was
sharply reproved by Mrs Varden, who insisted on her undergoing it
that minute. For pride, she said with great severity, was one of
the seven deadly sins, and humility and lowliness of heart were
virtues. Wherefore she desired that Dolly would be kissed
immediately, on pain of her just displeasure; at the same time
giving her to understand that whatever she saw her mother do, she
might safely do herself, without being at the trouble of any
reasoning or reflection on the subject--which, indeed, was
offensive and undutiful, and in direct contravention of the church
catechism.

Thus admonished, Dolly complied, though by no means willingly; for
there was a broad, bold look of admiration in Mr Chester's face,
refined and polished though it sought to be, which distressed her
very much. As she stood with downcast eyes, not liking to look up
and meet his, he gazed upon her with an approving air, and then
turned to her mother.

'My friend Gabriel (whose acquaintance I only made this very
evening) should be a happy man, Mrs Varden.'

'Ah!' sighed Mrs V., shaking her head.

'Ah!' echoed Miggs.

'Is that the case?' said Mr Chester, compassionately. 'Dear me!'

'Master has no intentions, sir,' murmured Miggs as she sidled up
to him, 'but to be as grateful as his natur will let him, for
everythink he owns which it is in his powers to appreciate. But we
never, sir'--said Miggs, looking sideways at Mrs Varden, and
interlarding her discourse with a sigh--'we never know the full
value of SOME wines and fig-trees till we lose 'em. So much the
worse, sir, for them as has the slighting of 'em on their
consciences when they're gone to be in full blow elsewhere.' And
Miss Miggs cast up her eyes to signify where that might be.

As Mrs Varden distinctly heard, and was intended to hear, all that
Miggs said, and as these words appeared to convey in metaphorical
terms a presage or foreboding that she would at some early period
droop beneath her trials and take an easy flight towards the stars,
she immediately began to languish, and taking a volume of the
Manual from a neighbouring table, leant her arm upon it as though
she were Hope and that her Anchor. Mr Chester perceiving this,
and seeing how the volume was lettered on the back, took it gently
from her hand, and turned the fluttering leaves.

'My favourite book, dear madam. How often, how very often in his
early life--before he can remember'--(this clause was strictly
true) 'have I deduced little easy moral lessons from its pages, for
my dear son Ned! You know Ned?'

Mrs Varden had that honour, and a fine affable young gentleman he
was.

'You're a mother, Mrs Varden,' said Mr Chester, taking a pinch of
snuff, 'and you know what I, as a father, feel, when he is praised.
He gives me some uneasiness--much uneasiness--he's of a roving
nature, ma'am--from flower to flower--from sweet to sweet--but his
is the butterfly time of life, and we must not be hard upon such
trifling.'

He glanced at Dolly. She was attending evidently to what he said.
Just what he desired!

'The only thing I object to in this little trait of Ned's, is,'
said Mr Chester, '--and the mention of his name reminds me, by the
way, that I am about to beg the favour of a minute's talk with you
alone--the only thing I object to in it, is, that it DOES partake
of insincerity. Now, however I may attempt to disguise the fact
from myself in my affection for Ned, still I always revert to this--
that if we are not sincere, we are nothing. Nothing upon earth.
Let us be sincere, my dear madam--'

'--and Protestant,' murmured Mrs Varden.

'--and Protestant above all things. Let us be sincere and
Protestant, strictly moral, strictly just (though always with a
leaning towards mercy), strictly honest, and strictly true, and we
gain--it is a slight point, certainly, but still it is something
tangible; we throw up a groundwork and foundation, so to speak, of
goodness, on which we may afterwards erect some worthy
superstructure.'

Now, to be sure, Mrs Varden thought, here is a perfect character.
Here is a meek, righteous, thoroughgoing Christian, who, having
mastered all these qualities, so difficult of attainment; who,
having dropped a pinch of salt on the tails of all the cardinal
virtues, and caught them every one; makes light of their
possession, and pants for more morality. For the good woman never
doubted (as many good men and women never do), that this slighting
kind of profession, this setting so little store by great matters,
this seeming to say, 'I am not proud, I am what you hear, but I
consider myself no better than other people; let us change the
subject, pray'--was perfectly genuine and true. He so contrived
it, and said it in that way that it appeared to have been forced
from him, and its effect was marvellous.

Aware of the impression he had made--few men were quicker than he
at such discoveries--Mr Chester followed up the blow by propounding
certain virtuous maxims, somewhat vague and general in their
nature, doubtless, and occasionally partaking of the character of
truisms, worn a little out at elbow, but delivered in so charming a
voice and with such uncommon serenity and peace of mind, that they
answered as well as the best. Nor is this to be wondered at; for
as hollow vessels produce a far more musical sound in falling than
those which are substantial, so it will oftentimes be found that
sentiments which have nothing in them make the loudest ringing in
the world, and are the most relished.

Mr Chester, with the volume gently extended in one hand, and with
the other planted lightly on his breast, talked to them in the most
delicious manner possible; and quite enchanted all his hearers,
notwithstanding their conflicting interests and thoughts. Even
Dolly, who, between his keen regards and her eyeing over by Mr
Tappertit, was put quite out of countenance, could not help owning
within herself that he was the sweetest-spoken gentleman she had
ever seen. Even Miss Miggs, who was divided between admiration of
Mr Chester and a mortal jealousy of her young mistress, had
sufficient leisure to be propitiated. Even Mr Tappertit, though
occupied as we have seen in gazing at his heart's delight, could
not wholly divert his thoughts from the voice of the other charmer.
Mrs Varden, to her own private thinking, had never been so improved
in all her life; and when Mr Chester, rising and craving permission
to speak with her apart, took her by the hand and led her at arm's
length upstairs to the best sitting-room, she almost deemed him
something more than human.

'Dear madam,' he said, pressing her hand delicately to his lips;
'be seated.'

Mrs Varden called up quite a courtly air, and became seated.

'You guess my object?' said Mr Chester, drawing a chair towards
her. 'You divine my purpose? I am an affectionate parent, my dear
Mrs Varden.'

'That I am sure you are, sir,' said Mrs V.

'Thank you,' returned Mr Chester, tapping his snuff-box lid.
'Heavy moral responsibilities rest with parents, Mrs Varden.'

Mrs Varden slightly raised her hands, shook her head, and looked at
the ground as though she saw straight through the globe, out at the
other end, and into the immensity of space beyond.

'I may confide in you,' said Mr Chester, 'without reserve. I love
my son, ma'am, dearly; and loving him as I do, I would save him
from working certain misery. You know of his attachment to Miss
Haredale. You have abetted him in it, and very kind of you it was
to do so. I am deeply obliged to you--most deeply obliged to you--
for your interest in his behalf; but my dear ma'am, it is a
mistaken one, I do assure you.'

Mrs Varden stammered that she was sorry--'

'Sorry, my dear ma'am,' he interposed. 'Never be sorry for what is
so very amiable, so very good in intention, so perfectly like
yourself. But there are grave and weighty reasons, pressing family
considerations, and apart even from these, points of religious
difference, which interpose themselves, and render their union
impossible; utterly im-possible. I should have mentioned these
circumstances to your husband; but he has--you will excuse my
saying this so freely--he has NOT your quickness of apprehension or
depth of moral sense. What an extremely airy house this is, and
how beautifully kept! For one like myself--a widower so long--
these tokens of female care and superintendence have inexpressible
charms.'

Mrs Varden began to think (she scarcely knew why) that the young Mr
Chester must be in the wrong and the old Mr Chester must he in the
right.

'My son Ned,' resumed her tempter with his most winning air, 'has
had, I am told, your lovely daughter's aid, and your open-hearted
husband's.'

'--Much more than mine, sir,' said Mrs Varden; 'a great deal more.
I have often had my doubts. It's a--'

'A bad example,' suggested Mr Chester. 'It is. No doubt it is.
Your daughter is at that age when to set before her an
encouragement for young persons to rebel against their parents on
this most important point, is particularly injudicious. You are
quite right. I ought to have thought of that myself, but it
escaped me, I confess--so far superior are your sex to ours, dear
madam, in point of penetration and sagacity.'

Mrs Varden looked as wise as if she had really said something to
deserve this compliment--firmly believed she had, in short--and her
faith in her own shrewdness increased considerably.

'My dear ma'am,' said Mr Chester, 'you embolden me to be plain
with you. My son and I are at variance on this point. The young
lady and her natural guardian differ upon it, also. And the
closing point is, that my son is bound by his duty to me, by his
honour, by every solemn tie and obligation, to marry some one
else.'

'Engaged to marry another lady!' quoth Mrs Varden, holding up her
hands.

'My dear madam, brought up, educated, and trained, expressly for
that purpose. Expressly for that purpose.--Miss Haredale, I am
told, is a very charming creature.'

'I am her foster-mother, and should know--the best young lady in
the world,' said Mrs Varden.

'I have not the smallest doubt of it. I am sure she is. And you,
who have stood in that tender relation towards her, are bound to
consult her happiness. Now, can I--as I have said to Haredale, who
quite agrees--can I possibly stand by, and suffer her to throw
herself away (although she IS of a Catholic family), upon a young
fellow who, as yet, has no heart at all? It is no imputation upon
him to say he has not, because young men who have plunged deeply
into the frivolities and conventionalities of society, very seldom
have. Their hearts never grow, my dear ma'am, till after thirty.
I don't believe, no, I do NOT believe, that I had any heart myself
when I was Ned's age.'

'Oh sir,' said Mrs Varden, 'I think you must have had. It's
impossible that you, who have so much now, can ever have been
without any.'

'I hope,' he answered, shrugging his shoulders meekly, 'I have a
little; I hope, a very little--Heaven knows! But to return to Ned;
I have no doubt you thought, and therefore interfered benevolently
in his behalf, that I objected to Miss Haredale. How very
natural! My dear madam, I object to him--to him--emphatically to
Ned himself.'

Mrs Varden was perfectly aghast at the disclosure.

'He has, if he honourably fulfils this solemn obligation of which I
have told you--and he must be honourable, dear Mrs Varden, or he is
no son of mine--a fortune within his reach. He is of most
expensive, ruinously expensive habits; and if, in a moment of
caprice and wilfulness, he were to marry this young lady, and so
deprive himself of the means of gratifying the tastes to which he
has been so long accustomed, he would--my dear madam, he would
break the gentle creature's heart. Mrs Varden, my good lady, my
dear soul, I put it to you--is such a sacrifice to be endured? Is
the female heart a thing to be trifled with in this way? Ask your
own, my dear madam. Ask your own, I beseech you.'

'Truly,' thought Mrs Varden, 'this gentleman is a saint. But,' she
added aloud, and not unnaturally, 'if you take Miss Emma's lover
away, sir, what becomes of the poor thing's heart then?'

'The very point,' said Mr Chester, not at all abashed, 'to which I
wished to lead you. A marriage with my son, whom I should be
compelled to disown, would be followed by years of misery; they
would be separated, my dear madam, in a twelvemonth. To break off
this attachment, which is more fancied than real, as you and I know
very well, will cost the dear girl but a few tears, and she is
happy again. Take the case of your own daughter, the young lady
downstairs, who is your breathing image'--Mrs Varden coughed and
simpered--'there is a young man (I am sorry to say, a dissolute
fellow, of very indifferent character) of whom I have heard Ned
speak--Bullet was it--Pullet--Mullet--'

'There is a young man of the name of Joseph Willet, sir,' said Mrs
Varden, folding her hands loftily.

'That's he,' cried Mr Chester. 'Suppose this Joseph Willet now,
were to aspire to the affections of your charming daughter, and
were to engage them.'

'It would be like his impudence,' interposed Mrs Varden, bridling,
'to dare to think of such a thing!'

'My dear madam, that's the whole case. I know it would be like his
impudence. It is like Ned's impudence to do as he has done; but
you would not on that account, or because of a few tears from your
beautiful daughter, refrain from checking their inclinations in
their birth. I meant to have reasoned thus with your husband when
I saw him at Mrs Rudge's this evening--'

'My husband,' said Mrs Varden, interposing with emotion, 'would be
a great deal better at home than going to Mrs Rudge's so often. I
don't know what he does there. I don't see what occasion he has to
busy himself in her affairs at all, sir.'

'If I don't appear to express my concurrence in those last
sentiments of yours,' returned Mr Chester, 'quite so strongly as
you might desire, it is because his being there, my dear madam, and
not proving conversational, led me hither, and procured me the
happiness of this interview with one, in whom the whole management,
conduct, and prosperity of her family are centred, I perceive.'

With that he took Mrs Varden's hand again, and having pressed it to
his lips with the highflown gallantry of the day--a little
burlesqued to render it the more striking in the good lady's
unaccustomed eyes--proceeded in the same strain of mingled
sophistry, cajolery, and flattery, to entreat that her utmost
influence might be exerted to restrain her husband and daughter
from any further promotion of Edward's suit to Miss Haredale, and
from aiding or abetting either party in any way. Mrs Varden was
but a woman, and had her share of vanity, obstinacy, and love of
power. She entered into a secret treaty of alliance, offensive and
defensive, with her insinuating visitor; and really did believe, as
many others would have done who saw and heard him, that in so doing
she furthered the ends of truth, justice, and morality, in a very
uncommon degree.

Overjoyed by the success of his negotiation, and mightily amused
within himself, Mr Chester conducted her downstairs in the same
state as before; and having repeated the previous ceremony of
salutation, which also as before comprehended Dolly, took his
leave; first completing the conquest of Miss Miggs's heart, by
inquiring if 'this young lady' would light him to the door.

'Oh, mim,' said Miggs, returning with the candle. 'Oh gracious me,
mim, there's a gentleman! Was there ever such an angel to talk as
he is--and such a sweet-looking man! So upright and noble, that he
seems to despise the very ground he walks on; and yet so mild and
condescending, that he seems to say "but I will take notice on it
too." And to think of his taking you for Miss Dolly, and Miss
Dolly for your sister--Oh, my goodness me, if I was master wouldn't
I be jealous of him!'

Mrs Varden reproved her handmaid for this vain-speaking; but very
gently and mildly--quite smilingly indeed--remarking that she was a
foolish, giddy, light-headed girl, whose spirits carried her
beyond all bounds, and who didn't mean half she said, or she would
be quite angry with her.

'For my part,' said Dolly, in a thoughtful manner, 'I half believe
Mr Chester is something like Miggs in that respect. For all his
politeness and pleasant speaking, I am pretty sure he was making
game of us, more than once.'

'If you venture to say such a thing again, and to speak ill of
people behind their backs in my presence, miss,' said Mrs Varden,
'I shall insist upon your taking a candle and going to bed
directly. How dare you, Dolly? I'm astonished at you. The
rudeness of your whole behaviour this evening has been disgraceful.
Did anybody ever hear,' cried the enraged matron, bursting into
tears, 'of a daughter telling her own mother she has been made game
of!'

What a very uncertain temper Mrs Varden's was!