第 53 页

‘What is it? Something to drink?’ asked Steerforth.

‘To drink?’ returned Miss Mowcher, stopping to slap his cheek. ‘To

doctor his own moustachios with, you know. There was a woman in the

shop--elderly female--quite a Griffin--who had never even heard of it

by name. “Begging pardon, sir,” said the Griffin to Charley, “it’s

not--not--not ROUGE, is it?” “Rouge,” said Charley to the Griffin. “What

the unmentionable to ears polite, do you think I want with rouge?” “No

offence, sir,” said the Griffin; “we have it asked for by so many names,

I thought it might be.” Now that, my child,’ continued Miss Mowcher,

rubbing all the time as busily as ever, ‘is another instance of

the refreshing humbug I was speaking of. I do something in that way

myself--perhaps a good deal--perhaps a little--sharp’s the word, my dear

boy--never mind!’

‘In what way do you mean? In the rouge way?’ said Steerforth.

‘Put this and that together, my tender pupil,’ returned the wary

Mowcher, touching her nose, ‘work it by the rule of Secrets in all

trades, and the product will give you the desired result. I say I do a

little in that way myself. One Dowager, SHE calls it lip-salve. Another,

SHE calls it gloves. Another, SHE calls it tucker-edging. Another, SHE

calls it a fan. I call it whatever THEY call it. I supply it for ‘em,

but we keep up the trick so, to one another, and make believe with

such a face, that they’d as soon think of laying it on, before a whole

drawing-room, as before me. And when I wait upon ‘em, they’ll say to

me sometimes--WITH IT ON--thick, and no mistake--“How am I looking,

Mowcher? Am I pale?” Ha! ha! ha! ha! Isn’t THAT refreshing, my young

friend!’

I never did in my days behold anything like Mowcher as she stood upon

the dining table, intensely enjoying this refreshment, rubbing busily at

Steerforth’s head, and winking at me over it.

‘Ah!’ she said. ‘Such things are not much in demand hereabouts. That

sets me off again! I haven’t seen a pretty woman since I’ve been here,

jemmy.’

‘No?’ said Steerforth.

‘Not the ghost of one,’ replied Miss Mowcher.

‘We could show her the substance of one, I think?’ said Steerforth,

addressing his eyes to mine. ‘Eh, Daisy?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said I.

‘Aha?’ cried the little creature, glancing sharply at my face, and then

peeping round at Steerforth’s. ‘Umph?’

The first exclamation sounded like a question put to both of us, and the

second like a question put to Steerforth only. She seemed to have found

no answer to either, but continued to rub, with her head on one side and

her eye turned up, as if she were looking for an answer in the air and

were confident of its appearing presently.

‘A sister of yours, Mr. Copperfield?’ she cried, after a pause, and

still keeping the same look-out. ‘Aye, aye?’

‘No,’ said Steerforth, before I could reply. ‘Nothing of the sort. On

the contrary, Mr. Copperfield used--or I am much mistaken--to have a

great admiration for her.’

‘Why, hasn’t he now?’ returned Miss Mowcher. ‘Is he fickle? Oh, for

shame! Did he sip every flower, and change every hour, until Polly his

passion requited?--Is her name Polly?’

The Elfin suddenness with which she pounced upon me with this question,

and a searching look, quite disconcerted me for a moment.

‘No, Miss Mowcher,’ I replied. ‘Her name is Emily.’

‘Aha?’ she cried exactly as before. ‘Umph? What a rattle I am! Mr.

Copperfield, ain’t I volatile?’

Her tone and look implied something that was not agreeable to me in

connexion with the subject. So I said, in a graver manner than any of us

had yet assumed: ‘She is as virtuous as she is pretty. She is engaged

to be married to a most worthy and deserving man in her own station of

life. I esteem her for her good sense, as much as I admire her for her

good looks.’

‘Well said!’ cried Steerforth. ‘Hear, hear, hear! Now I’ll quench the

curiosity of this little Fatima, my dear Daisy, by leaving her nothing

to guess at. She is at present apprenticed, Miss Mowcher, or articled,

or whatever it may be, to Omer and Joram, Haberdashers, Milliners, and

so forth, in this town. Do you observe? Omer and Joram. The promise of

which my friend has spoken, is made and entered into with her cousin;

Christian name, Ham; surname, Peggotty; occupation, boat-builder;

also of this town. She lives with a relative; Christian name, unknown;

surname, Peggotty; occupation, seafaring; also of this town. She is the

prettiest and most engaging little fairy in the world. I admire her--as

my friend does--exceedingly. If it were not that I might appear to

disparage her Intended, which I know my friend would not like, I would

add, that to me she seems to be throwing herself away; that I am sure

she might do better; and that I swear she was born to be a lady.’

Miss Mowcher listened to these words, which were very slowly and

distinctly spoken, with her head on one side, and her eye in the air

as if she were still looking for that answer. When he ceased she became

brisk again in an instant, and rattled away with surprising volubility.

‘Oh! And that’s all about it, is it?’ she exclaimed, trimming his

whiskers with a little restless pair of scissors, that went glancing

round his head in all directions. ‘Very well: very well! Quite a long

story. Ought to end “and they lived happy ever afterwards”; oughtn’t

it? Ah! What’s that game at forfeits? I love my love with an E, because

she’s enticing; I hate her with an E, because she’s engaged. I took her

to the sign of the exquisite, and treated her with an elopement, her

name’s Emily, and she lives in the east? Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Copperfield,

ain’t I volatile?’

Merely looking at me with extravagant slyness, and not waiting for any

reply, she continued, without drawing breath:

‘There! If ever any scapegrace was trimmed and touched up to perfection,

you are, Steerforth. If I understand any noddle in the world, I

understand yours. Do you hear me when I tell you that, my darling? I

understand yours,’ peeping down into his face. ‘Now you may mizzle,

jemmy (as we say at Court), and if Mr. Copperfield will take the chair

I’ll operate on him.’

‘What do you say, Daisy?’ inquired Steerforth, laughing, and resigning

his seat. ‘Will you be improved?’

‘Thank you, Miss Mowcher, not this evening.’

‘Don’t say no,’ returned the little woman, looking at me with the aspect

of a connoisseur; ‘a little bit more eyebrow?’

‘Thank you,’ I returned, ‘some other time.’

‘Have it carried half a quarter of an inch towards the temple,’ said

Miss Mowcher. ‘We can do it in a fortnight.’

‘No, I thank you. Not at present.’

‘Go in for a tip,’ she urged. ‘No? Let’s get the scaffolding up, then,

for a pair of whiskers. Come!’

I could not help blushing as I declined, for I felt we were on my weak

point, now. But Miss Mowcher, finding that I was not at present disposed

for any decoration within the range of her art, and that I was, for the

time being, proof against the blandishments of the small bottle which

she held up before one eye to enforce her persuasions, said we would

make a beginning on an early day, and requested the aid of my hand to

descend from her elevated station. Thus assisted, she skipped down with

much agility, and began to tie her double chin into her bonnet.

‘The fee,’ said Steerforth, ‘is--’

‘Five bob,’ replied Miss Mowcher, ‘and dirt cheap, my chicken. Ain’t I

volatile, Mr. Copperfield?’

I replied politely: ‘Not at all.’ But I thought she was rather so, when

she tossed up his two half-crowns like a goblin pieman, caught them,

dropped them in her pocket, and gave it a loud slap.

‘That’s the Till!’ observed Miss Mowcher, standing at the chair again,

and replacing in the bag a miscellaneous collection of little objects

she had emptied out of it. ‘Have I got all my traps? It seems so. It

won’t do to be like long Ned Beadwood, when they took him to church “to

marry him to somebody”, as he says, and left the bride behind. Ha! ha!

ha! A wicked rascal, Ned, but droll! Now, I know I’m going to break

your hearts, but I am forced to leave you. You must call up all your

fortitude, and try to bear it. Good-bye, Mr. Copperfield! Take care of

yourself, jockey of Norfolk! How I have been rattling on! It’s all

the fault of you two wretches. I forgive you! “Bob swore!”--as the

Englishman said for “Good night”, when he first learnt French, and

thought it so like English. “Bob swore,” my ducks!’

With the bag slung over her arm, and rattling as she waddled away, she

waddled to the door, where she stopped to inquire if she should leave

us a lock of her hair. ‘Ain’t I volatile?’ she added, as a commentary on

this offer, and, with her finger on her nose, departed.

Steerforth laughed to that degree, that it was impossible for me to help

laughing too; though I am not sure I should have done so, but for this

inducement. When we had had our laugh quite out, which was after some

time, he told me that Miss Mowcher had quite an extensive connexion, and

made herself useful to a variety of people in a variety of ways. Some

people trifled with her as a mere oddity, he said; but she was as

shrewdly and sharply observant as anyone he knew, and as long-headed as

she was short-armed. He told me that what she had said of being here,

and there, and everywhere, was true enough; for she made little darts

into the provinces, and seemed to pick up customers everywhere, and to

know everybody. I asked him what her disposition was: whether it was at

all mischievous, and if her sympathies were generally on the right side

of things: but, not succeeding in attracting his attention to these

questions after two or three attempts, I forbore or forgot to repeat

them. He told me instead, with much rapidity, a good deal about her

skill, and her profits; and about her being a scientific cupper, if I

should ever have occasion for her service in that capacity.

She was the principal theme of our conversation during the evening:

and when we parted for the night Steerforth called after me over the

banisters, ‘Bob swore!’ as I went downstairs.

I was surprised, when I came to Mr. Barkis’s house, to find Ham walking

up and down in front of it, and still more surprised to learn from him

that little Em’ly was inside. I naturally inquired why he was not there

too, instead of pacing the streets by himself?

‘Why, you see, Mas’r Davy,’ he rejoined, in a hesitating manner, ‘Em’ly,

she’s talking to some ‘un in here.’

‘I should have thought,’ said I, smiling, ‘that that was a reason for

your being in here too, Ham.’

‘Well, Mas’r Davy, in a general way, so ‘t would be,’ he returned;

‘but look’ee here, Mas’r Davy,’ lowering his voice, and speaking very

gravely. ‘It’s a young woman, sir--a young woman, that Em’ly knowed

once, and doen’t ought to know no more.’

When I heard these words, a light began to fall upon the figure I had

seen following them, some hours ago.

‘It’s a poor wurem, Mas’r Davy,’ said Ham, ‘as is trod under foot by all

the town. Up street and down street. The mowld o’ the churchyard don’t

hold any that the folk shrink away from, more.’

‘Did I see her tonight, Ham, on the sand, after we met you?’

‘Keeping us in sight?’ said Ham. ‘It’s like you did, Mas’r Davy. Not

that I know’d then, she was theer, sir, but along of her creeping soon

arterwards under Em’ly’s little winder, when she see the light come,

and whispering “Em’ly, Em’ly, for Christ’s sake, have a woman’s heart

towards me. I was once like you!” Those was solemn words, Mas’r Davy,

fur to hear!’

‘They were indeed, Ham. What did Em’ly do?’ ‘Says Em’ly, “Martha, is

it you? Oh, Martha, can it be you?”--for they had sat at work together,

many a day, at Mr. Omer’s.’

‘I recollect her now!’ cried I, recalling one of the two girls I had

seen when I first went there. ‘I recollect her quite well!’

‘Martha Endell,’ said Ham. ‘Two or three year older than Em’ly, but was

at the school with her.’

‘I never heard her name,’ said I. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’

‘For the matter o’ that, Mas’r Davy,’ replied Ham, ‘all’s told a’most

in them words, “Em’ly, Em’ly, for Christ’s sake, have a woman’s heart

towards me. I was once like you!” She wanted to speak to Em’ly. Em’ly

couldn’t speak to her theer, for her loving uncle was come home, and

he wouldn’t--no, Mas’r Davy,’ said Ham, with great earnestness, ‘he

couldn’t, kind-natur’d, tender-hearted as he is, see them two together,

side by side, for all the treasures that’s wrecked in the sea.’

I felt how true this was. I knew it, on the instant, quite as well as

Ham.

‘So Em’ly writes in pencil on a bit of paper,’ he pursued, ‘and gives it

to her out o’ winder to bring here. “Show that,” she says, “to my aunt,

Mrs. Barkis, and she’ll set you down by her fire, for the love of me,

till uncle is gone out, and I can come.” By and by she tells me what

I tell you, Mas’r Davy, and asks me to bring her. What can I do? She

doen’t ought to know any such, but I can’t deny her, when the tears is

on her face.’

He put his hand into the breast of his shaggy jacket, and took out with

great care a pretty little purse.

‘And if I could deny her when the tears was on her face, Mas’r Davy,’

said Ham, tenderly adjusting it on the rough palm of his hand, ‘how

could I deny her when she give me this to carry for her--knowing what

she brought it for? Such a toy as it is!’ said Ham, thoughtfully looking

on it. ‘With such a little money in it, Em’ly my dear.’

I shook him warmly by the hand when he had put it away again--for that

was more satisfactory to me than saying anything--and we walked up

and down, for a minute or two, in silence. The door opened then, and

Peggotty appeared, beckoning to Ham to come in. I would have kept away,

but she came after me, entreating me to come in too. Even then, I

would have avoided the room where they all were, but for its being the

neat-tiled kitchen I have mentioned more than once. The door opening

immediately into it, I found myself among them before I considered

whither I was going.

The girl--the same I had seen upon the sands--was near the fire. She

was sitting on the ground, with her head and one arm lying on a chair.