The Mystery of Edwin Drood

  CHAPTER XIII--BOTH AT THEIR BEST

  Miss Twinkleton's establishment was about to undergo a serene hush. TheChristmas recess was at hand. What had once, and at no remote period,been called, even by the erudite Miss Twinkleton herself, 'the half;' butwhat was now called, as being more elegant, and more strictly collegiate,'the term,' would expire to-morrow. A noticeable relaxation ofdiscipline had for some few days pervaded the Nuns' House. Club suppershad occurred in the bedrooms, and a dressed tongue had been carved with apair of scissors, and handed round with the curling tongs. Portions ofmarmalade had likewise been distributed on a service of platesconstructed of curlpaper; and cowslip wine had been quaffed from thesmall squat measuring glass in which little Rickitts (a junior of weaklyconstitution) took her steel drops daily. The housemaids had been bribedwith various fragments of riband, and sundry pairs of shoes more or lessdown at heel, to make no mention of crumbs in the beds; the airiestcostumes had been worn on these festive occasions; and the daring MissFerdinand had even surprised the company with a sprightly solo on thecomb-and-curlpaper, until suffocated in her own pillow by twoflowing-haired executioners.

  Nor were these the only tokens of dispersal. Boxes appeared in thebedrooms (where they were capital at other times), and a surprisingamount of packing took place, out of all proportion to the amount packed.Largess, in the form of odds and ends of cold cream and pomatum, and alsoof hairpins, was freely distributed among the attendants. On charges ofinviolable secrecy, confidences were interchanged respecting golden youthof England expected to call, 'at home,' on the first opportunity. MissGiggles (deficient in sentiment) did indeed profess that she, for herpart, acknowledged such homage by making faces at the golden youth; butthis young lady was outvoted by an immense majority.

  On the last night before a recess, it was always expressly made a pointof honour that nobody should go to sleep, and that Ghosts should beencouraged by all possible means. This compact invariably broke down,and all the young ladies went to sleep very soon, and got up very early.

  The concluding ceremony came off at twelve o'clock on the day ofdeparture; when Miss Twinkleton, supported by Mrs. Tisher, held adrawing-room in her own apartment (the globes already covered with brownHolland), where glasses of white-wine and plates of cut pound-cake werediscovered on the table. Miss Twinkleton then said: Ladies, anotherrevolving year had brought us round to that festive period at which thefirst feelings of our nature bounded in our--Miss Twinkleton was annuallygoing to add 'bosoms,' but annually stopped on the brink of thatexpression, and substituted 'hearts.' Hearts; our hearts. Hem! Again arevolving year, ladies, had brought us to a pause in our studies--let ushope our greatly advanced studies--and, like the mariner in his bark, thewarrior in his tent, the captive in his dungeon, and the traveller in hisvarious conveyances, we yearned for home. Did we say, on such anoccasion, in the opening words of Mr. Addison's impressive tragedy:

  'The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers, And heavily in clouds brings on the day, The great, th' important day--?'

  Not so. From horizon to zenith all was _couleur de rose_, for all wasredolent of our relations and friends. Might _we_ find _them_ prosperingas _we_ expected; might _they_ find _us_ prospering as _they_ expected!Ladies, we would now, with our love to one another, wish one anothergood-bye, and happiness, until we met again. And when the time shouldcome for our resumption of those pursuits which (here a generaldepression set in all round), pursuits which, pursuits which;--then letus ever remember what was said by the Spartan General, in words too tritefor repetition, at the battle it were superfluous to specify.

  The handmaidens of the establishment, in their best caps, then handed thetrays, and the young ladies sipped and crumbled, and the bespoken coachesbegan to choke the street. Then leave-taking was not long about; andMiss Twinkleton, in saluting each young lady's cheek, confided to her anexceedingly neat letter, addressed to her next friend at law, 'with MissTwinkleton's best compliments' in the corner. This missive she handedwith an air as if it had not the least connexion with the bill, but weresomething in the nature of a delicate and joyful surprise.

  So many times had Rosa seen such dispersals, and so very little did sheknow of any other Home, that she was contented to remain where she was,and was even better contented than ever before, having her latest friendwith her. And yet her latest friendship had a blank place in it of whichshe could not fail to be sensible. Helena Landless, having been a partyto her brother's revelation about Rosa, and having entered into thatcompact of silence with Mr. Crisparkle, shrank from any allusion to EdwinDrood's name. Why she so avoided it, was mysterious to Rosa, but sheperfectly perceived the fact. But for the fact, she might have relievedher own little perplexed heart of some of its doubts and hesitations, bytaking Helena into her confidence. As it was, she had no such vent: shecould only ponder on her own difficulties, and wonder more and more whythis avoidance of Edwin's name should last, now that she knew--for somuch Helena had told her--that a good understanding was to bereestablished between the two young men, when Edwin came down.

  It would have made a pretty picture, so many pretty girls kissing Rosa inthe cold porch of the Nuns' House, and that sunny little creature peepingout of it (unconscious of sly faces carved on spout and gable peeping ather), and waving farewells to the departing coaches, as if sherepresented the spirit of rosy youth abiding in the place to keep itbright and warm in its desertion. The hoarse High Street became musicalwith the cry, in various silvery voices, 'Good-bye, Rosebud darling!' andthe effigy of Mr. Sapsea's father over the opposite doorway seemed to sayto mankind: 'Gentlemen, favour me with your attention to this charminglittle last lot left behind, and bid with a spirit worthy of theoccasion!' Then the staid street, so unwontedly sparkling, youthful, andfresh for a few rippling moments, ran dry, and Cloisterham was itselfagain.

  [Picture: "Good-bye, Rosebud darling"]

  If Rosebud in her bower now waited Edwin Drood's coming with an uneasyheart, Edwin for his part was uneasy too. With far less force of purposein his composition than the childish beauty, crowned by acclamation fairyqueen of Miss Twinkleton's establishment, he had a conscience, and Mr.Grewgious had pricked it. That gentleman's steady convictions of whatwas right and what was wrong in such a case as his, were neither to befrowned aside nor laughed aside. They would not be moved. But for thedinner in Staple Inn, and but for the ring he carried in the breastpocket of his coat, he would have drifted into their wedding-day withoutanother pause for real thought, loosely trusting that all would go well,left alone. But that serious putting him on his truth to the living andthe dead had brought him to a check. He must either give the ring toRosa, or he must take it back. Once put into this narrowed way ofaction, it was curious that he began to consider Rosa's claims upon himmore unselfishly than he had ever considered them before, and began to beless sure of himself than he had ever been in all his easy-going days.

  'I will be guided by what she says, and by how we get on,' was hisdecision, walking from the gatehouse to the Nuns' House. 'Whatever comesof it, I will bear his words in mind, and try to be true to the livingand the dead.'

  Rosa was dressed for walking. She expected him. It was a bright, frostyday, and Miss Twinkleton had already graciously sanctioned fresh air.Thus they got out together before it became necessary for either MissTwinkleton, or the deputy high-priest Mrs. Tisher, to lay even so much asone of those usual offerings on the shrine of Propriety.

  'My dear Eddy,' said Rosa, when they had turned out of the High Street,and had got among the quiet walks in the neighbourhood of the Cathedraland the river: 'I want to say something very serious to you. I have beenthinking about it for a long, long time.'

  'I want to be serious with you too, Rosa dear. I mean to be serious andearnest.'

  'Thank you, Eddy. And you will not think me unkind because I begin, willyou? You will not think I speak for myself only, because I speak first?That would not be generous, would it? And I know
you are generous!'

  He said, 'I hope I am not ungenerous to you, Rosa.' He called her Pussyno more. Never again.

  'And there is no fear,' pursued Rosa, 'of our quarrelling, is there?Because, Eddy,' clasping her hand on his arm, 'we have so much reason tobe very lenient to each other!'

  'We will be, Rosa.'

  'That's a dear good boy! Eddy, let us be courageous. Let us change tobrother and sister from this day forth.'

  'Never be husband and wife?'

  'Never!'

  Neither spoke again for a little while. But after that pause he said,with some effort:

  'Of course I know that this has been in both our minds, Rosa, and ofcourse I am in honour bound to confess freely that it does not originatewith you.'

  'No, nor with you, dear,' she returned, with pathetic earnestness. 'Thatsprung up between us. You are not truly happy in our engagement; I amnot truly happy in it. O, I am so sorry, so sorry!' And there she brokeinto tears.

  'I am deeply sorry too, Rosa. Deeply sorry for you.'

  'And I for you, poor boy! And I for you!'

  This pure young feeling, this gentle and forbearing feeling of eachtowards the other, brought with it its reward in a softening light thatseemed to shine on their position. The relations between them did notlook wilful, or capricious, or a failure, in such a light; they becameelevated into something more self-denying, honourable, affectionate, andtrue.

  'If we knew yesterday,' said Rosa, as she dried her eyes, 'and we didknow yesterday, and on many, many yesterdays, that we were far from righttogether in those relations which were not of our own choosing, whatbetter could we do to-day than change them? It is natural that we shouldbe sorry, and you see how sorry we both are; but how much better to besorry now than then!'

  'When, Rosa?'

  'When it would be too late. And then we should be angry, besides.'

  Another silence fell upon them.

  'And you know,' said Rosa innocently, 'you couldn't like me then; and youcan always like me now, for I shall not be a drag upon you, or a worry toyou. And I can always like you now, and your sister will not tease ortrifle with you. I often did when I was not your sister, and I beg yourpardon for it.'

  'Don't let us come to that, Rosa; or I shall want more pardoning than Ilike to think of.'

  'No, indeed, Eddy; you are too hard, my generous boy, upon yourself. Letus sit down, brother, on these ruins, and let me tell you how it was withus. I think I know, for I have considered about it very much since youwere here last time. You liked me, didn't you? You thought I was a nicelittle thing?'

  'Everybody thinks that, Rosa.'

  'Do they?' She knitted her brow musingly for a moment, and then flashedout with the bright little induction: 'Well, but say they do. Surely itwas not enough that you should think of me only as other people did; now,was it?'

  The point was not to be got over. It was not enough.

  'And that is just what I mean; that is just how it was with us,' saidRosa. 'You liked me very well, and you had grown used to me, and hadgrown used to the idea of our being married. You accepted the situationas an inevitable kind of thing, didn't you? It was to be, you thought,and why discuss or dispute it?'

  It was new and strange to him to have himself presented to himself soclearly, in a glass of her holding up. He had always patronised her, inhis superiority to her share of woman's wit. Was that but anotherinstance of something radically amiss in the terms on which they had beengliding towards a life-long bondage?

  'All this that I say of you is true of me as well, Eddy. Unless it was,I might not be bold enough to say it. Only, the difference between uswas, that by little and little there crept into my mind a habit ofthinking about it, instead of dismissing it. My life is not so busy asyours, you see, and I have not so many things to think of. So I thoughtabout it very much, and I cried about it very much too (though that wasnot your fault, poor boy); when all at once my guardian came down, toprepare for my leaving the Nuns' House. I tried to hint to him that Iwas not quite settled in my mind, but I hesitated and failed, and hedidn't understand me. But he is a good, good man. And he put before meso kindly, and yet so strongly, how seriously we ought to consider, inour circumstances, that I resolved to speak to you the next moment wewere alone and grave. And if I seemed to come to it easily just now,because I came to it all at once, don't think it was so really, Eddy, forO, it was very, very hard, and O, I am very, very sorry!'

  Her full heart broke into tears again. He put his arm about her waist,and they walked by the river-side together.

  'Your guardian has spoken to me too, Rosa dear. I saw him before I leftLondon.' His right hand was in his breast, seeking the ring; but hechecked it, as he thought: 'If I am to take it back, why should I tellher of it?'

  'And that made you more serious about it, didn't it, Eddy? And if I hadnot spoken to you, as I have, you would have spoken to me? I hope youcan tell me so? I don't like it to be _all_ my doing, though it _is_ somuch better for us.'

  'Yes, I should have spoken; I should have put everything before you; Icame intending to do it. But I never could have spoken to you as youhave spoken to me, Rosa.'

  'Don't say you mean so coldly or unkindly, Eddy, please, if you can helpit.'

  'I mean so sensibly and delicately, so wisely and affectionately.'

  'That's my dear brother!' She kissed his hand in a little rapture. 'Thedear girls will be dreadfully disappointed,' added Rosa, laughing, withthe dewdrops glistening in her bright eyes. 'They have looked forward toit so, poor pets!'

  'Ah! but I fear it will be a worse disappointment to Jack,' said EdwinDrood, with a start. 'I never thought of Jack!'

  Her swift and intent look at him as he said the words could no more berecalled than a flash of lightning can. But it appeared as though shewould have instantly recalled it, if she could; for she looked down,confused, and breathed quickly.

  'You don't doubt its being a blow to Jack, Rosa?'

  She merely replied, and that evasively and hurriedly: Why should she?She had not thought about it. He seemed, to her, to have so little to dowith it.

  'My dear child! can you suppose that any one so wrapped up inanother--Mrs. Tope's expression: not mine--as Jack is in me, could failto be struck all of a heap by such a sudden and complete change in mylife? I say sudden, because it will be sudden to _him_, you know.'

  She nodded twice or thrice, and her lips parted as if she would haveassented. But she uttered no sound, and her breathing was no slower.

  'How shall I tell Jack?' said Edwin, ruminating. If he had been lessoccupied with the thought, he must have seen her singular emotion. 'Inever thought of Jack. It must be broken to him, before the town-crierknows it. I dine with the dear fellow to-morrow and next day--ChristmasEve and Christmas Day--but it would never do to spoil his feast-days. Healways worries about me, and moddley-coddleys in the merest trifles. Thenews is sure to overset him. How on earth shall this be broken to Jack?'

  'He must be told, I suppose?' said Rosa.

  'My dear Rosa! who ought to be in our confidence, if not Jack?'

  'My guardian promised to come down, if I should write and ask him. I amgoing to do so. Would you like to leave it to him?'

  'A bright idea!' cried Edwin. 'The other trustee. Nothing more natural.He comes down, he goes to Jack, he relates what we have agreed upon, andhe states our case better than we could. He has already spoken feelinglyto you, he has already spoken feelingly to me, and he'll put the wholething feelingly to Jack. That's it! I am not a coward, Rosa, but totell you a secret, I am a little afraid of Jack.'

  'No, no! you are not afraid of him!' cried Rosa, turning white, andclasping her hands.

  'Why, sister Rosa, sister Rosa, what do you see from the turret?' saidEdwin, rallying her. 'My dear girl!'

  'You frightened me.'

  'Most unintentionally, but I am as sorry as if I had meant to do it.Could you possibly suppose for a moment, from any loose
way of speakingof mine, that I was literally afraid of the dear fond fellow? What Imean is, that he is subject to a kind of paroxysm, or fit--I saw him init once--and I don't know but that so great a surprise, coming upon himdirect from me whom he is so wrapped up in, might bring it on perhaps.Which--and this is the secret I was going to tell you--is another reasonfor your guardian's making the communication. He is so steady, precise,and exact, that he will talk Jack's thoughts into shape, in no time:whereas with me Jack is always impulsive and hurried, and, I may say,almost womanish.'

  Rosa seemed convinced. Perhaps from her own very different point of viewof 'Jack,' she felt comforted and protected by the interposition of Mr.Grewgious between herself and him.

  And now, Edwin Drood's right hand closed again upon the ring in itslittle case, and again was checked by the consideration: 'It is certain,now, that I am to give it back to him; then why should I tell her of it?'That pretty sympathetic nature which could be so sorry for him in theblight of their childish hopes of happiness together, and could soquietly find itself alone in a new world to weave fresh wreaths of suchflowers as it might prove to bear, the old world's flowers beingwithered, would be grieved by those sorrowful jewels; and to whatpurpose? Why should it be? They were but a sign of broken joys andbaseless projects; in their very beauty they were (as the unlikeliest ofmen had said) almost a cruel satire on the loves, hopes, plans, ofhumanity, which are able to forecast nothing, and are so much brittledust. Let them be. He would restore them to her guardian when he camedown; he in his turn would restore them to the cabinet from which he hadunwillingly taken them; and there, like old letters or old vows, or otherrecords of old aspirations come to nothing, they would be disregarded,until, being valuable, they were sold into circulation again, to repeattheir former round.

  Let them be. Let them lie unspoken of, in his breast. Howeverdistinctly or indistinctly he entertained these thoughts, he arrived atthe conclusion, Let them be. Among the mighty store of wonderful chainsthat are for ever forging, day and night, in the vast iron-works of timeand circumstance, there was one chain forged in the moment of that smallconclusion, riveted to the foundations of heaven and earth, and giftedwith invincible force to hold and drag.

  They walked on by the river. They began to speak of their separateplans. He would quicken his departure from England, and she would remainwhere she was, at least as long as Helena remained. The poor dear girlsshould have their disappointment broken to them gently, and, as the firstpreliminary, Miss Twinkleton should be confided in by Rosa, even inadvance of the reappearance of Mr. Grewgious. It should be made clear inall quarters that she and Edwin were the best of friends. There hadnever been so serene an understanding between them since they were firstaffianced. And yet there was one reservation on each side; on hers, thatshe intended through her guardian to withdraw herself immediately fromthe tuition of her music-master; on his, that he did already entertainsome wandering speculations whether it might ever come to pass that hewould know more of Miss Landless.

  The bright, frosty day declined as they walked and spoke together. Thesun dipped in the river far behind them, and the old city lay red beforethem, as their walk drew to a close. The moaning water cast its seaweedduskily at their feet, when they turned to leave its margin; and therooks hovered above them with hoarse cries, darker splashes in thedarkening air.

  'I will prepare Jack for my flitting soon,' said Edwin, in a low voice,'and I will but see your guardian when he comes, and then go before theyspeak together. It will be better done without my being by. Don't youthink so?'

  'Yes.'

  'We know we have done right, Rosa?'

  'Yes.'

  'We know we are better so, even now?'

  'And shall be far, far better so by-and-by.'

  Still there was that lingering tenderness in their hearts towards the oldpositions they were relinquishing, that they prolonged their parting.When they came among the elm-trees by the Cathedral, where they had lastsat together, they stopped as by consent, and Rosa raised her face tohis, as she had never raised it in the old days;--for they were oldalready.

  'God bless you, dear! Good-bye!'

  'God bless you, dear! Good-bye!'

  They kissed each other fervently.

  'Now, please take me home, Eddy, and let me be by myself.'

  'Don't look round, Rosa,' he cautioned her, as he drew her arm throughhis, and led her away. 'Didn't you see Jack?'

  'No! Where?'

  'Under the trees. He saw us, as we took leave of each other. Poorfellow! he little thinks we have parted. This will be a blow to him, Iam much afraid!'

  She hurried on, without resting, and hurried on until they had passedunder the gatehouse into the street; once there, she asked:

  'Has he followed us? You can look without seeming to. Is he behind?'

  'No. Yes, he is! He has just passed out under the gateway. The dear,sympathetic old fellow likes to keep us in sight. I am afraid he will bebitterly disappointed!'

  She pulled hurriedly at the handle of the hoarse old bell, and the gatesoon opened. Before going in, she gave him one last, wide, wonderinglook, as if she would have asked him with imploring emphasis: 'O! don'tyou understand?' And out of that look he vanished from her view.