CHAPTER VIII--DAGGERS DRAWN
The two young men, having seen the damsels, their charges, enter thecourtyard of the Nuns' House, and finding themselves coldly stared at bythe brazen door-plate, as if the battered old beau with the glass in hiseye were insolent, look at one another, look along the perspective of themoonlit street, and slowly walk away together.
'Do you stay here long, Mr. Drood?' says Neville.
'Not this time,' is the careless answer. 'I leave for London again,to-morrow. But I shall be here, off and on, until next Midsummer; then Ishall take my leave of Cloisterham, and England too; for many a long day,I expect.'
'Are you going abroad?'
'Going to wake up Egypt a little,' is the condescending answer.
'Are you reading?'
'Reading?' repeats Edwin Drood, with a touch of contempt. 'No. Doing,working, engineering. My small patrimony was left a part of the capitalof the Firm I am with, by my father, a former partner; and I am a chargeupon the Firm until I come of age; and then I step into my modest sharein the concern. Jack--you met him at dinner--is, until then, my guardianand trustee.'
'I heard from Mr. Crisparkle of your other good fortune.'
'What do you mean by my other good fortune?'
Neville has made his remark in a watchfully advancing, and yet furtiveand shy manner, very expressive of that peculiar air already noticed, ofbeing at once hunter and hunted. Edwin has made his retort with anabruptness not at all polite. They stop and interchange a rather heatedlook.
'I hope,' says Neville, 'there is no offence, Mr. Drood, in my innocentlyreferring to your betrothal?'
'By George!' cries Edwin, leading on again at a somewhat quicker pace;'everybody in this chattering old Cloisterham refers to it I wonder nopublic-house has been set up, with my portrait for the sign of TheBetrothed's Head. Or Pussy's portrait. One or the other.'
'I am not accountable for Mr. Crisparkle's mentioning the matter to me,quite openly,' Neville begins.
'No; that's true; you are not,' Edwin Drood assents.
'But,' resumes Neville, 'I am accountable for mentioning it to you. AndI did so, on the supposition that you could not fail to be highly proudof it.'
Now, there are these two curious touches of human nature working thesecret springs of this dialogue. Neville Landless is already enoughimpressed by Little Rosebud, to feel indignant that Edwin Drood (farbelow her) should hold his prize so lightly. Edwin Drood is alreadyenough impressed by Helena, to feel indignant that Helena's brother (farbelow her) should dispose of him so coolly, and put him out of the way soentirely.
However, the last remark had better be answered. So, says Edwin:
'I don't know, Mr. Neville' (adopting that mode of address from Mr.Crisparkle), 'that what people are proudest of, they usually talk mostabout; I don't know either, that what they are proudest of, they mostlike other people to talk about. But I live a busy life, and I speakunder correction by you readers, who ought to know everything, and Idaresay do.'
By this time they had both become savage; Mr. Neville out in the open;Edwin Drood under the transparent cover of a popular tune, and a stop nowand then to pretend to admire picturesque effects in the moonlight beforehim.
'It does not seem to me very civil in you,' remarks Neville, at length,'to reflect upon a stranger who comes here, not having had youradvantages, to try to make up for lost time. But, to be sure, I was notbrought up in "busy life," and my ideas of civility were formed amongHeathens.'
'Perhaps, the best civility, whatever kind of people we are brought upamong,' retorts Edwin Drood, 'is to mind our own business. If you willset me that example, I promise to follow it.'
'Do you know that you take a great deal too much upon yourself?' is theangry rejoinder, 'and that in the part of the world I come from, youwould be called to account for it?'
'By whom, for instance?' asks Edwin Drood, coming to a halt, andsurveying the other with a look of disdain.
But, here a startling right hand is laid on Edwin's shoulder, and Jasperstands between them. For, it would seem that he, too, has strolled roundby the Nuns' House, and has come up behind them on the shadowy side ofthe road.
'Ned, Ned, Ned!' he says; 'we must have no more of this. I don't likethis. I have overheard high words between you two. Remember, my dearboy, you are almost in the position of host to-night. You belong, as itwere, to the place, and in a manner represent it towards a stranger. Mr.Neville is a stranger, and you should respect the obligations ofhospitality. And, Mr. Neville,' laying his left hand on the innershoulder of that young gentleman, and thus walking on between them, handto shoulder on either side: 'you will pardon me; but I appeal to you togovern your temper too. Now, what is amiss? But why ask! Let there benothing amiss, and the question is superfluous. We are all three on agood understanding, are we not?'
After a silent struggle between the two young men who shall speak last,Edwin Drood strikes in with: 'So far as I am concerned, Jack, there is noanger in me.'
'Nor in me,' says Neville Landless, though not so freely; or perhaps socarelessly. 'But if Mr. Drood knew all that lies behind me, far awayfrom here, he might know better how it is that sharp-edged words havesharp edges to wound me.'
'Perhaps,' says Jasper, in a soothing manner, 'we had better not qualifyour good understanding. We had better not say anything having theappearance of a remonstrance or condition; it might not seem generous.Frankly and freely, you see there is no anger in Ned. Frankly andfreely, there is no anger in you, Mr. Neville?'
'None at all, Mr. Jasper.' Still, not quite so frankly or so freely; or,be it said once again, not quite so carelessly perhaps.
'All over then! Now, my bachelor gatehouse is a few yards from here, andthe heater is on the fire, and the wine and glasses are on the table, andit is not a stone's throw from Minor Canon Corner. Ned, you are up andaway to-morrow. We will carry Mr. Neville in with us, to take astirrup-cup.'
'With all my heart, Jack.'
'And with all mine, Mr. Jasper.' Neville feels it impossible to sayless, but would rather not go. He has an impression upon him that he haslost hold of his temper; feels that Edwin Drood's coolness, so far frombeing infectious, makes him red-hot.
Mr. Jasper, still walking in the centre, hand to shoulder on either side,beautifully turns the Refrain of a drinking song, and they all go up tohis rooms. There, the first object visible, when he adds the light of alamp to that of the fire, is the portrait over the chimneypicce. It isnot an object calculated to improve the understanding between the twoyoung men, as rather awkwardly reviving the subject of their difference.Accordingly, they both glance at it consciously, but say nothing.Jasper, however (who would appear from his conduct to have gained but animperfect clue to the cause of their late high words), directly callsattention to it.
'You recognise that picture, Mr. Neville?' shading the lamp to throw thelight upon it.
'I recognise it, but it is far from flattering the original.'
'O, you are hard upon it! It was done by Ned, who made me a present ofit.'
'I am sorry for that, Mr. Drood.' Neville apologises, with a realintention to apologise; 'if I had known I was in the artist's presence--'
'O, a joke, sir, a mere joke,' Edwin cuts in, with a provoking yawn. 'Alittle humouring of Pussy's points! I'm going to paint her gravely, oneof these days, if she's good.'
The air of leisurely patronage and indifference with which this is said,as the speaker throws himself back in a chair and clasps his hands at theback of his head, as a rest for it, is very exasperating to the excitableand excited Neville. Jasper looks observantly from the one to the other,slightly smiles, and turns his back to mix a jug of mulled wine at thefire. It seems to require much mixing and compounding.
'I suppose, Mr. Neville,' says Edwin, quick to resent the indignantprotest against himself in the face of young Landless, which is fully asvisible as the portrait, or the fire, or the lamp: 'I suppose that if youpainted the picture o
f your lady love--'
'I can't paint,' is the hasty interruption.
'That's your misfortune, and not your fault. You would if you could.But if you could, I suppose you would make her (no matter what she was inreality), Juno, Minerva, Diana, and Venus, all in one. Eh?'
'I have no lady love, and I can't say.'
'If I were to try my hand,' says Edwin, with a boyish boastfulnessgetting up in him, 'on a portrait of Miss Landless--in earnest, mind you;in earnest--you should see what I could do!'
'My sister's consent to sit for it being first got, I suppose? As itnever will be got, I am afraid I shall never see what you can do. I mustbear the loss.'
Jasper turns round from the fire, fills a large goblet glass for Neville,fills a large goblet glass for Edwin, and hands each his own; then fillsfor himself, saying:
'Come, Mr. Neville, we are to drink to my nephew, Ned. As it is his footthat is in the stirrup--metaphorically--our stirrup-cup is to be devotedto him. Ned, my dearest fellow, my love!'
Jasper sets the example of nearly emptying his glass, and Neville followsit. Edwin Drood says, 'Thank you both very much,' and follows the doubleexample.
'Look at him,' cries Jasper, stretching out his hand admiringly andtenderly, though rallyingly too. 'See where he lounges so easily, Mr.Neville! The world is all before him where to choose. A life ofstirring work and interest, a life of change and excitement, a life ofdomestic ease and love! Look at him!'
Edwin Drood's face has become quickly and remarkably flushed with thewine; so has the face of Neville Landless. Edwin still sits thrown backin his chair, making that rest of clasped hands for his head.
'See how little he heeds it all!' Jasper proceeds in a bantering vein.'It is hardly worth his while to pluck the golden fruit that hangs ripeon the tree for him. And yet consider the contrast, Mr. Neville. Youand I have no prospect of stirring work and interest, or of change andexcitement, or of domestic ease and love. You and I have no prospect(unless you are more fortunate than I am, which may easily be), but thetedious unchanging round of this dull place.'
'Upon my soul, Jack,' says Edwin, complacently, 'I feel quite apologeticfor having my way smoothed as you describe. But you know what I know,Jack, and it may not be so very easy as it seems, after all. May it,Pussy?' To the portrait, with a snap of his thumb and finger. 'We havegot to hit it off yet; haven't we, Pussy? You know what I mean, Jack.'
[Picture: On dangerous ground]
His speech has become thick and indistinct. Jasper, quiet andself-possessed, looks to Neville, as expecting his answer or comment.When Neville speaks, _his_ speech is also thick and indistinct.
'It might have been better for Mr. Drood to have known some hardships,'he says, defiantly.
'Pray,' retorts Edwin, turning merely his eyes in that direction, 'praywhy might it have been better for Mr. Drood to have known somehardships?'
'Ay,' Jasper assents, with an air of interest; 'let us know why?'
'Because they might have made him more sensible,' says Neville, 'of goodfortune that is not by any means necessarily the result of his ownmerits.'
Mr. Jasper quickly looks to his nephew for his rejoinder.
'Have _you_ known hardships, may I ask?' says Edwin Drood, sittingupright.
Mr. Jasper quickly looks to the other for his retort.
'I have.'
'And what have they made you sensible of?'
Mr. Jasper's play of eyes between the two holds good throughout thedialogue, to the end.
'I have told you once before to-night.'
'You have done nothing of the sort.'
'I tell you I have. That you take a great deal too much upon yourself.'
'You added something else to that, if I remember?'
'Yes, I did say something else.'
'Say it again.'
'I said that in the part of the world I come from, you would be called toaccount for it.'
'Only there?' cries Edwin Drood, with a contemptuous laugh. 'A long wayoff, I believe? Yes; I see! That part of the world is at a safedistance.'
'Say here, then,' rejoins the other, rising in a fury. 'Say anywhere!Your vanity is intolerable, your conceit is beyond endurance; you talk asif you were some rare and precious prize, instead of a common boaster.You are a common fellow, and a common boaster.'
'Pooh, pooh,' says Edwin Drood, equally furious, but more collected; 'howshould you know? You may know a black common fellow, or a black commonboaster, when you see him (and no doubt you have a large acquaintancethat way); but you are no judge of white men.'
This insulting allusion to his dark skin infuriates Neville to thatviolent degree, that he flings the dregs of his wine at Edwin Drood, andis in the act of flinging the goblet after it, when his arm is caught inthe nick of time by Jasper.
'Ned, my dear fellow!' he cries in a loud voice; 'I entreat you, Icommand you, to be still!' There has been a rush of all the three, and aclattering of glasses and overturning of chairs. 'Mr. Neville, forshame! Give this glass to me. Open your hand, sir. I WILL have it!'
But Neville throws him off, and pauses for an instant, in a ragingpassion, with the goblet yet in his uplifted hand. Then, he dashes itdown under the grate, with such force that the broken splinters fly outagain in a shower; and he leaves the house.
When he first emerges into the night air, nothing around him is still orsteady; nothing around him shows like what it is; he only knows that hestands with a bare head in the midst of a blood-red whirl, waiting to bestruggled with, and to struggle to the death.
But, nothing happening, and the moon looking down upon him as if he weredead after a fit of wrath, he holds his steam-hammer beating head andheart, and staggers away. Then, he becomes half-conscious of havingheard himself bolted and barred out, like a dangerous animal; and thinkswhat shall he do?
Some wildly passionate ideas of the river dissolve under the spell of themoonlight on the Cathedral and the graves, and the remembrance of hissister, and the thought of what he owes to the good man who has but thatvery day won his confidence and given him his pledge. He repairs toMinor Canon Corner, and knocks softly at the door.
It is Mr. Crisparkle's custom to sit up last of the early household, verysoftly touching his piano and practising his favourite parts in concertedvocal music. The south wind that goes where it lists, by way of MinorCanon Corner on a still night, is not more subdued than Mr. Crisparkle atsuch times, regardful of the slumbers of the china shepherdess.
His knock is immediately answered by Mr. Crisparkle himself. When heopens the door, candle in hand, his cheerful face falls, and disappointedamazement is in it.
'Mr. Neville! In this disorder! Where have you been?'
'I have been to Mr. Jasper's, sir. With his nephew.'
'Come in.'
The Minor Canon props him by the elbow with a strong hand (in a strictlyscientific manner, worthy of his morning trainings), and turns him intohis own little book-room, and shuts the door.'
'I have begun ill, sir. I have begun dreadfully ill.'
'Too true. You are not sober, Mr. Neville.'
'I am afraid I am not, sir, though I can satisfy you at another time thatI have had a very little indeed to drink, and that it overcame me in thestrangest and most sudden manner.'
'Mr. Neville, Mr. Neville,' says the Minor Canon, shaking his head with asorrowful smile; 'I have heard that said before.'
'I think--my mind is much confused, but I think--it is equally true ofMr. Jasper's nephew, sir.'
'Very likely,' is the dry rejoinder.
'We quarrelled, sir. He insulted me most grossly. He had heated thattigerish blood I told you of to-day, before then.'
'Mr. Neville,' rejoins the Minor Canon, mildly, but firmly: 'I requestyou not to speak to me with that clenched right hand. Unclench it, ifyou please.'
'He goaded me, sir,' pursues the young man, instantly obeying, 'beyond mypower of endurance. I cannot say whether or no he mean
t it at first, buthe did it. He certainly meant it at last. In short, sir,' with anirrepressible outburst, 'in the passion into which he lashed me, I wouldhave cut him down if I could, and I tried to do it.'
'You have clenched that hand again,' is Mr. Crisparkle's quietcommentary.
'I beg your pardon, sir.'
'You know your room, for I showed it you before dinner; but I willaccompany you to it once more. Your arm, if you please. Softly, for thehouse is all a-bed.'
Scooping his hand into the same scientific elbow-rest as before, andbacking it up with the inert strength of his arm, as skilfully as aPolice Expert, and with an apparent repose quite unattainable by novices,Mr. Crisparkle conducts his pupil to the pleasant and orderly old roomprepared for him. Arrived there, the young man throws himself into achair, and, flinging his arms upon his reading-table, rests his head uponthem with an air of wretched self-reproach.
The gentle Minor Canon has had it in his thoughts to leave the room,without a word. But looking round at the door, and seeing this dejectedfigure, he turns back to it, touches it with a mild hand, says 'Goodnight!' A sob is his only acknowledgment. He might have had many aworse; perhaps, could have had few better.
Another soft knock at the outer door attracts his attention as he goesdown-stairs. He opens it to Mr. Jasper, holding in his hand the pupil'shat.
'We have had an awful scene with him,' says Jasper, in a low voice.
'Has it been so bad as that?'
'Murderous!'
Mr. Crisparkle remonstrates: 'No, no, no. Do not use such strong words.'
'He might have laid my dear boy dead at my feet. It is no fault of his,that he did not. But that I was, through the mercy of God, swift andstrong with him, he would have cut him down on my hearth.'
The phrase smites home. 'Ah!' thinks Mr. Crisparkle, 'his own words!'
'Seeing what I have seen to-night, and hearing what I have heard,' addsJasper, with great earnestness, 'I shall never know peace of mind whenthere is danger of those two coming together, with no one else tointerfere. It was horrible. There is something of the tiger in his darkblood.'
'Ah!' thinks Mr. Crisparkle, 'so he said!'
'You, my dear sir,' pursues Jasper, taking his hand, 'even you, haveaccepted a dangerous charge.'
'You need have no fear for me, Jasper,' returns Mr. Crisparkle, with aquiet smile. 'I have none for myself.'
'I have none for myself,' returns Jasper, with an emphasis on the lastpronoun, 'because I am not, nor am I in the way of being, the object ofhis hostility. But you may be, and my dear boy has been. Good night!'
Mr. Crisparkle goes in, with the hat that has so easily, so almostimperceptibly, acquired the right to be hung up in his hall; hangs it up;and goes thoughtfully to bed.