7

Nelly feebly described the sadness and sorrow of her thoughts. The pressure of some hidden grief burdened her grandfather.

One night, the third after Nelly’s interview with Mrs. Quilp, the old man said he would not leave home.

“Two days,” he said, “two whole, clear, days have passed, and there is no reply. What did he tell thee, Nell?”

“Exactly what I told you, dear grandfather, indeed.”

“True,” said the old man, faintly. “Yes. But tell me again, Nell. What was it that he told you? Nothing more than that he would see me tomorrow or next day? That was in the note.”

“Nothing more,” said the child. “Shall I go to him again tomorrow, dear grandfather? Very early? I will be there and back, before breakfast.”

The old man shook his head, and sighing mournfully, drew her towards him.

“It would be of no use, my dear.”

The old man covered his face with his hands, and hid it in the pillow of the couch on which he lay.

8

Mr. Daniel Quilp entered unseen when the child first placed herself at the old man’s side, and stood looking on with his accustomed grin. He soon cast his eyes upon a chair, into which he skipped. Here, then, he sat, one leg cocked carelessly over the other, his head turned a little on one side, and his ugly features twisted into a complacent grimace.

At length, the old man pronounced his name, and inquired how he came there.

“Through the door,” said Quilp pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m not quite small enough to get through key-holes. I wish I was. I want to have some talk with you, particularly, and in private. With nobody present, neighbour. Good-bye, little Nelly.”

Nell looked at the old man, who nodded to her to retire, and kissed her cheek.

“Ah!” said the dwarf, smacking his lips, “what a nice kiss! What a capital kiss!”

Nell went away.

“Tell me,” said the old man, “have you brought me any money?”

“No!” returned Quilp.

“Then,” said the old man, clenching his hands desperately, and looking upward, “the child and I are lost!”

“Neighbour,” said Quilp, “let me be plain with you. You have no secret from me now.”

The old man looked up, trembling.

“You are surprised,” said Quilp. “Well, perhaps that’s natural. You have no secret from me now, I say; no, not one. For now, I know, that all those sums of money, that all those loans, advances, and supplies that you have had from me, have gone… shall I say the word?”

“Yes!” replied the old man, “say it, if you will.”

“To the gaming-table,” rejoined Quilp, “This was your precious plan to become rich; this was the secret certain source of wealth in which I spent my money; this was your inexhaustible mine of gold, your El Dorado, eh?”

“Yes,” cried the old man, “it was. It is. It will be, till I die.”

“I have been blinded,” said Quilp looking contemptuously at him, “by a mere shallow gambler!”

“I am no gambler,” cried the old man fiercely. “I never played for gain of mine, or love of play. Every piece I staked, I whispered to myself that orphan’s name and called on Heaven to bless the venture; which it never did. Who were those with whom I played? Men who lived by plunder, profligacy, and riot.”

“When did you first begin this mad career?” asked Quilp.

“When did I first begin?” he rejoined, passing his hand across his brow. “When was it, that I first began? When I began to think how little I had saved, how long a time it took to save at all.”

“You lost your money, first, and then came to me. While I thought you were making your fortune (as you said you were) you were making yourself a beggar, eh? Dear me!” said Quilp. “But did you never win?”

“Never!” groaned the old man. “Never won back my loss.”

“I thought,” sneered the dwarf, “that if a man played long enough he was sure to win.”

“And so he is,” cried the old man, “so he is; I have always known it. Quilp, I have dreamed, three nights, of winning the same large sum, I never could dream that dream before, though I have often tried. Do not desert me, now I have this chance. I have no resource but you, give me some help, let me try this one last hope.”

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“See Quilp, good tender-hearted Quilp,” said the old man, drawing some papers from his pocket with a trembling hand, and clasping the dwarfs arm, “only see here. Look at these figures, the result of long calculation, and painful and hard experience. I must win. I only want a little help once more, a few pounds, dear Quilp.”

“The last advance was seventy,” said the dwarf; “and it went in one night.”

“I know it did,” answered the old man, “but that was the worst night of all. Quilp, consider, consider that orphan child! Help me for her sake, I implore you; not for mine; for hers!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it really,” said Quilp with unusual politeness. “I’d have advanced you, even now, what you want, on your simple note of hand, if I hadn’t unexpectedly known your secret way of life.”

“Who told you?” retorted the old man desperately, “Come. Let me know the name the person.”

The crafty dwarf said, “Now, who do you think?”

“It was Kit, it is the boy; he is the spy!” said the old man.

“Yes, you’re right” said the dwarf. “Yes, it was Kit. Poor Kit!”

So saying, he nodded in a friendly manner, and left, grinning with extraordinary delight.

“Poor Kit!” muttered Quilp. “I think it was Kit who said I was an uglier dwarf than could be seen anywhere for a penny, wasn’t it? Ha ha ha! Poor Kit!”

9

Kit lifted the latch of the door and passed in.

“Bless us!” cried a woman turning sharply round, “Who’s that? Oh! It’s you, Kit!”

“Yes, mother, it’s me.”

“Why, how tired you look, my dear!”

“Old master did not go out tonight,” said Kit. With which words, he sat down by the fire and looked very mournful and discontented.

Kit’s room was an extremely poor and homely place. His mother was still hard at work at an ironing-table; a young child lay sleeping in a cradle near the fire; and another, a sturdy boy of two or three years old, was sitting bolt upright in a clothes-basket.

“Ah mother!” said Kit, falling upon a great piece of bread and meat, “what a kind woman you are!”

“I hope there are many better, Kit,” said Mrs. Nubbles; “Did you tell me, just now, that your master hadn’t gone out tonight?”

“Yes,” said Kit, “worse luck!”

“I wonder what Mrs. Nelly’d say, if she knew that every night, when she is sitting alone at the window, you are watching in the open street.”

“Never mind what she’d say,” replied Kit; “she’ll never know it, and consequently, she’ll never say anything.”

Mrs. Nubbles ironed away in silence for a minute or two, then she observed:

“I know what some people would say, Kit. Some people would say that you’d fallen in love with her.”

“It’s somebody crossing over here,” said Kit, “and coming very fast too, mother!”

The boy stood. The footsteps drew nearer, the door was opened with a hasty hand, and the child herself, pale and breathless, hurried into the room.

“Miss Nelly! What is the matter?” cried mother and son together.

“I must not stay a moment,” she returned, “grandfather is very ill. I found him upon the floor.”

“I’ll run for a doctor” said Kit, seizing his brimless hat. “I’ll be there directly.”

“No, no,” cried Nell, “there is one there, you… you must never come near us any more!”

“What?” roared Kit.

“Never again,” said the child. “Don’t ask me why, for I don’t know. Pray don’t ask me why, pray don’t be sorry! I have nothing to do with it indeed!”

Kit looked at her with his eyes opened wide.

“Grandfather complains and raves of you,” said the child, “I don’t know what you have done, but I hope it’s nothing very bad. He cries that you’re the cause of all his misery. You must not return to us any more. I came to tell you. Oh, Kit, what have you done? You, in whom I trusted so much! You were almost the only friend I had!”

The unfortunate Kit looked at his young mistress, but was perfectly motionless and silent.

“I have brought his money for the week,” said the child, looking to the woman and laying it on the table “and a little more, for he was always good and kind to me. It grieves me very much to part with him like this, but there is no help. Good-night!”

The child hastened to the door, and disappeared as rapidly as she had come. Kit remained in a state of utter stupefaction.

10

The old man was in a raging fever accompanied with delirium. The child was more alone than she had ever been before. The house was no longer theirs. Mr. Quilp took formal possession of the premises and all upon them. The dwarf proceeded to establish himself and his coadjutor in the house.

First, he put an effectual stop to any further business by shutting up the shop. His coadjutor, Mr. Brass, was an attorney of no very good repute. He was a tall, meagre man, with a nose like a wen, a protruding forehead, retreating eyes, and hair of a deep red. He wore a long black surtout reaching nearly to his ankles, short black trousers, high shoes, and bluish-grey stockings. He had a cringing manner, but a very harsh voice.

Quilp looked at his legal adviser, and was quite overjoyed and rubbed his hands with glee.

“Is it good, Brass, is it nice, is it fragrant?” said Quilp. He smoked a lot. “This is the way to keep off fever, this is the way to keep off every calamity of life!”

“Shall we stop here long, Mr. Quilp?” inquired his legal friend.

“We must stop, I suppose, till the old gentleman upstairs is dead,” returned Quilp.

“He he he!” laughed Mr. Brass, “Oh! Very good!”

“Smoke!” cried Quilp. “Never stop! you can talk as you smoke. Don’t lose time.”

“He he he!” cried Brass faintly. “But if he should get better, Mr. Quilp?”

“Then we shall stop till he does, and no longer,” returned the dwarf.

The sentinel at the door interposed in this place, and without taking his pipe from his lips, growled:

“Here’s the girl coming down.”

“Aha! Nelly! Oh!” said Quilp, “My dear young friend! How is he now, my lady?”

“He’s very bad,” replied the weeping child.

“What a pretty little Nell!” cried Quilp.

“Oh beautiful, sir, beautiful indeed,” said Brass. “Quite charming!”

“Has Nell come to sit upon Quilp’s knee,” said the dwarf, “or is she going to bed in her own little room inside here? What is poor Nelly going to do?”

“What a remarkable pleasant way he has with children!” muttered Brass.

“I’m not going to stay at all,” faltered Nell. “I want a few things out of that room, and then I won’t come down here any more.”

“You’re sure you’re not going to use that little room anymore; you’re sure you’re not coming back, Nelly?’

“No,” replied the child, hurrying away, with the few articles of dress “never again! Never again.”

“She’s very sensitive,” said Quilp, looking after her. “Very sensitive; that’s a pity. The bed is just my size. I think I shall make it my little room.”

The dwarf threw himself on his back upon the child’s bed with his pipe in his mouth. Mr. Brass applauded this picture very much.