第 103 页

My aunt rubbed her nose sometimes when she happened to be alone with

me, and said she couldn’t make it out; she wished they were happier; she

didn’t think our military friend (so she always called the Old Soldier)

mended the matter at all. My aunt further expressed her opinion, ‘that

if our military friend would cut off those butterflies, and give ‘em to

the chimney-sweepers for May-day, it would look like the beginning of

something sensible on her part.’

But her abiding reliance was on Mr. Dick. That man had evidently an

idea in his head, she said; and if he could only once pen it up into a

corner, which was his great difficulty, he would distinguish himself in

some extraordinary manner.

Unconscious of this prediction, Mr. Dick continued to occupy precisely

the same ground in reference to the Doctor and to Mrs. Strong. He seemed

neither to advance nor to recede. He appeared to have settled into his

original foundation, like a building; and I must confess that my faith

in his ever Moving, was not much greater than if he had been a building.

But one night, when I had been married some months, Mr. Dick put his

head into the parlour, where I was writing alone (Dora having gone out

with my aunt to take tea with the two little birds), and said, with a

significant cough:

‘You couldn’t speak to me without inconveniencing yourself, Trotwood, I

am afraid?’

‘Certainly, Mr. Dick,’ said I; ‘come in!’

‘Trotwood,’ said Mr. Dick, laying his finger on the side of his nose,

after he had shaken hands with me. ‘Before I sit down, I wish to make an

observation. You know your aunt?’

‘A little,’ I replied.

‘She is the most wonderful woman in the world, sir!’

After the delivery of this communication, which he shot out of himself

as if he were loaded with it, Mr. Dick sat down with greater gravity

than usual, and looked at me.

‘Now, boy,’ said Mr. Dick, ‘I am going to put a question to you.’

‘As many as you please,’ said I.

‘What do you consider me, sir?’ asked Mr. Dick, folding his arms.

‘A dear old friend,’ said I. ‘Thank you, Trotwood,’ returned Mr. Dick,

laughing, and reaching across in high glee to shake hands with me. ‘But

I mean, boy,’ resuming his gravity, ‘what do you consider me in this

respect?’ touching his forehead.

I was puzzled how to answer, but he helped me with a word.

‘Weak?’ said Mr. Dick.

‘Well,’ I replied, dubiously. ‘Rather so.’

‘Exactly!’ cried Mr. Dick, who seemed quite enchanted by my reply. ‘That

is, Trotwood, when they took some of the trouble out of you-know-who’s

head, and put it you know where, there was a--’ Mr. Dick made his two

hands revolve very fast about each other a great number of times, and

then brought them into collision, and rolled them over and over one

another, to express confusion. ‘There was that sort of thing done to me

somehow. Eh?’

I nodded at him, and he nodded back again.

‘In short, boy,’ said Mr. Dick, dropping his voice to a whisper, ‘I am

simple.’

I would have qualified that conclusion, but he stopped me.

‘Yes, I am! She pretends I am not. She won’t hear of it; but I am. I

know I am. If she hadn’t stood my friend, sir, I should have been shut

up, to lead a dismal life these many years. But I’ll provide for her!

I never spend the copying money. I put it in a box. I have made a will.

I’ll leave it all to her. She shall be rich--noble!’

Mr. Dick took out his pocket-handkerchief, and wiped his eyes. He then

folded it up with great care, pressed it smooth between his two hands,

put it in his pocket, and seemed to put my aunt away with it.

‘Now you are a scholar, Trotwood,’ said Mr. Dick. ‘You are a fine

scholar. You know what a learned man, what a great man, the Doctor is.

You know what honour he has always done me. Not proud in his wisdom.

Humble, humble--condescending even to poor Dick, who is simple and knows

nothing. I have sent his name up, on a scrap of paper, to the kite,

along the string, when it has been in the sky, among the larks. The kite

has been glad to receive it, sir, and the sky has been brighter with

it.’

I delighted him by saying, most heartily, that the Doctor was deserving

of our best respect and highest esteem.

‘And his beautiful wife is a star,’ said Mr. Dick. ‘A shining star. I

have seen her shine, sir. But,’ bringing his chair nearer, and laying

one hand upon my knee--‘clouds, sir--clouds.’

I answered the solicitude which his face expressed, by conveying the

same expression into my own, and shaking my head.

‘What clouds?’ said Mr. Dick.

He looked so wistfully into my face, and was so anxious to understand,

that I took great pains to answer him slowly and distinctly, as I might

have entered on an explanation to a child.

‘There is some unfortunate division between them,’ I replied. ‘Some

unhappy cause of separation. A secret. It may be inseparable from the

discrepancy in their years. It may have grown up out of almost nothing.’

Mr. Dick, who had told off every sentence with a thoughtful nod, paused

when I had done, and sat considering, with his eyes upon my face, and

his hand upon my knee.

‘Doctor not angry with her, Trotwood?’ he said, after some time.

‘No. Devoted to her.’

‘Then, I have got it, boy!’ said Mr. Dick.

The sudden exultation with which he slapped me on the knee, and leaned

back in his chair, with his eyebrows lifted up as high as he could

possibly lift them, made me think him farther out of his wits than

ever. He became as suddenly grave again, and leaning forward as before,

said--first respectfully taking out his pocket-handkerchief, as if it

really did represent my aunt:

‘Most wonderful woman in the world, Trotwood. Why has she done nothing

to set things right?’

‘Too delicate and difficult a subject for such interference,’ I replied.

‘Fine scholar,’ said Mr. Dick, touching me with his finger. ‘Why has HE

done nothing?’

‘For the same reason,’ I returned.

‘Then, I have got it, boy!’ said Mr. Dick. And he stood up before me,

more exultingly than before, nodding his head, and striking himself

repeatedly upon the breast, until one might have supposed that he had

nearly nodded and struck all the breath out of his body.

‘A poor fellow with a craze, sir,’ said Mr. Dick, ‘a simpleton, a

weak-minded person--present company, you know!’ striking himself again,

‘may do what wonderful people may not do. I’ll bring them together, boy.

I’ll try. They’ll not blame me. They’ll not object to me. They’ll not

mind what I do, if it’s wrong. I’m only Mr. Dick. And who minds Dick?

Dick’s nobody! Whoo!’ He blew a slight, contemptuous breath, as if he

blew himself away.

It was fortunate he had proceeded so far with his mystery, for we heard

the coach stop at the little garden gate, which brought my aunt and Dora

home.

‘Not a word, boy!’ he pursued in a whisper; ‘leave all the blame with

Dick--simple Dick--mad Dick. I have been thinking, sir, for some time,

that I was getting it, and now I have got it. After what you have said

to me, I am sure I have got it. All right!’ Not another word did Mr.

Dick utter on the subject; but he made a very telegraph of himself for

the next half-hour (to the great disturbance of my aunt’s mind), to

enjoin inviolable secrecy on me.

To my surprise, I heard no more about it for some two or three weeks,

though I was sufficiently interested in the result of his endeavours;

descrying a strange gleam of good sense--I say nothing of good feeling,

for that he always exhibited--in the conclusion to which he had come. At

last I began to believe, that, in the flighty and unsettled state of his

mind, he had either forgotten his intention or abandoned it.

One fair evening, when Dora was not inclined to go out, my aunt and I

strolled up to the Doctor’s cottage. It was autumn, when there were no

debates to vex the evening air; and I remember how the leaves smelt like

our garden at Blunderstone as we trod them under foot, and how the old,

unhappy feeling, seemed to go by, on the sighing wind.

It was twilight when we reached the cottage. Mrs. Strong was just coming

out of the garden, where Mr. Dick yet lingered, busy with his knife,

helping the gardener to point some stakes. The Doctor was engaged with

someone in his study; but the visitor would be gone directly, Mrs.

Strong said, and begged us to remain and see him. We went into the

drawing-room with her, and sat down by the darkening window. There was

never any ceremony about the visits of such old friends and neighbours

as we were.

We had not sat here many minutes, when Mrs. Markleham, who usually

contrived to be in a fuss about something, came bustling in, with her

newspaper in her hand, and said, out of breath, ‘My goodness gracious,

Annie, why didn’t you tell me there was someone in the Study!’

‘My dear mama,’ she quietly returned, ‘how could I know that you desired

the information?’

‘Desired the information!’ said Mrs. Markleham, sinking on the sofa. ‘I

never had such a turn in all my life!’

‘Have you been to the Study, then, mama?’ asked Annie.

‘BEEN to the Study, my dear!’ she returned emphatically. ‘Indeed I have!

I came upon the amiable creature--if you’ll imagine my feelings, Miss

Trotwood and David--in the act of making his will.’

Her daughter looked round from the window quickly.

‘In the act, my dear Annie,’ repeated Mrs. Markleham, spreading the

newspaper on her lap like a table-cloth, and patting her hands upon it,

‘of making his last Will and Testament. The foresight and affection of

the dear! I must tell you how it was. I really must, in justice to the

darling--for he is nothing less!--tell you how it was. Perhaps you know,

Miss Trotwood, that there is never a candle lighted in this house, until

one’s eyes are literally falling out of one’s head with being stretched

to read the paper. And that there is not a chair in this house, in which

a paper can be what I call, read, except one in the Study. This took me

to the Study, where I saw a light. I opened the door. In company with

the dear Doctor were two professional people, evidently connected with

the law, and they were all three standing at the table: the

darling Doctor pen in hand. “This simply expresses then,” said the

Doctor--Annie, my love, attend to the very words--“this simply expresses

then, gentlemen, the confidence I have in Mrs. Strong, and gives her all

unconditionally?” One of the professional people replied, “And gives her

all unconditionally.” Upon that, with the natural feelings of a mother,

I said, “Good God, I beg your pardon!” fell over the door-step, and came

away through the little back passage where the pantry is.’

Mrs. Strong opened the window, and went out into the verandah, where she

stood leaning against a pillar.

‘But now isn’t it, Miss Trotwood, isn’t it, David, invigorating,’ said

Mrs. Markleham, mechanically following her with her eyes, ‘to find a man

at Doctor Strong’s time of life, with the strength of mind to do this

kind of thing? It only shows how right I was. I said to Annie, when

Doctor Strong paid a very flattering visit to myself, and made her the

subject of a declaration and an offer, I said, “My dear, there is no

doubt whatever, in my opinion, with reference to a suitable provision

for you, that Doctor Strong will do more than he binds himself to do.”’

Here the bell rang, and we heard the sound of the visitors’ feet as they

went out.

‘It’s all over, no doubt,’ said the Old Soldier, after listening; ‘the

dear creature has signed, sealed, and delivered, and his mind’s at rest.

Well it may be! What a mind! Annie, my love, I am going to the Study

with my paper, for I am a poor creature without news. Miss Trotwood,

David, pray come and see the Doctor.’

I was conscious of Mr. Dick’s standing in the shadow of the room,

shutting up his knife, when we accompanied her to the Study; and of my

aunt’s rubbing her nose violently, by the way, as a mild vent for her

intolerance of our military friend; but who got first into the Study, or

how Mrs. Markleham settled herself in a moment in her easy-chair, or how

my aunt and I came to be left together near the door (unless her eyes

were quicker than mine, and she held me back), I have forgotten, if I

ever knew. But this I know,--that we saw the Doctor before he saw us,

sitting at his table, among the folio volumes in which he delighted,

resting his head calmly on his hand. That, in the same moment, we saw

Mrs. Strong glide in, pale and trembling. That Mr. Dick supported her on

his arm. That he laid his other hand upon the Doctor’s arm, causing him

to look up with an abstracted air. That, as the Doctor moved his head,

his wife dropped down on one knee at his feet, and, with her hands

imploringly lifted, fixed upon his face the memorable look I had never

forgotten. That at this sight Mrs. Markleham dropped the newspaper,

and stared more like a figure-head intended for a ship to be called The

Astonishment, than anything else I can think of.

The gentleness of the Doctor’s manner and surprise, the dignity that

mingled with the supplicating attitude of his wife, the amiable concern

of Mr. Dick, and the earnestness with which my aunt said to herself,

‘That man mad!’ (triumphantly expressive of the misery from which she

had saved him)--I see and hear, rather than remember, as I write about

it.

‘Doctor!’ said Mr. Dick. ‘What is it that’s amiss? Look here!’

‘Annie!’ cried the Doctor. ‘Not at my feet, my dear!’

‘Yes!’ she said. ‘I beg and pray that no one will leave the room! Oh, my

husband and father, break this long silence. Let us both know what it is

that has come between us!’

Mrs. Markleham, by this time recovering the power of speech, and seeming

to swell with family pride and motherly indignation, here exclaimed,

‘Annie, get up immediately, and don’t disgrace everybody belonging to

you by humbling yourself like that, unless you wish to see me go out of

my mind on the spot!’

‘Mama!’ returned Annie. ‘Waste no words on me, for my appeal is to my

husband, and even you are nothing here.’

‘Nothing!’ exclaimed Mrs. Markleham. ‘Me, nothing! The child has taken

leave of her senses. Please to get me a glass of water!’