24

The caravan came upon the paved streets of a town which were clear of passengers, and quiet, for it was by this time near midnight. They turned aside into a piece of waste ground that lay just within the old town-gate, and drew up there for the night, near to another caravan, which bore on its panel the great name of Jarley, and was employed in conveying from place to place the wax-work.

Nell decided to walk for a little while in the air. The moon was shining down upon the old gateway of the town; and with a mingled sensation of curiosity and fear, she slowly approached the gate, and stood still to look up at it, wondering to see how dark, and grim, and old, and cold, it looked.

There was an empty niche from which some old statue had fallen or been carried away hundreds of years ago. There suddenly a man emerged from the black shade of the arch. She recognised him: it was ugly misshapen Quilp! The child withdrew into a dark corner, and saw him pass close to her. He had a stick in his hand, and he leant upon it, looked back directly, as it seemed, towards where she stood and beckoned.

To her? Oh no, thank God, not to her; there issued slowly forth from the arch another figure – a boy who carried on his back a trunk.

“Faster, fool!” cried Quilp, looking up at the old gateway, “faster!”

“It’s a dreadful heavy load, sir,” the boy pleaded. “I go very fast, indeed.”

“What?” retorted Quilp; “You creep, you dog, you crawl, like a worm. There are the chimes now, half-past twelve. Come on then, or I shall be too late. Faster, do you hear me? Faster!”

The boy made all the speed he could. Nell did not dare to move until they were out of sight.

25

Mrs. Jarley ordered the room to be cleared of all but herself and the child, and, sitting herself down in an arm-chair in the centre, gave Nell with a willow wand to point out the characters, and began to instruct her in her duty.

“That,” said Mrs. Jarley in her exhibition tone, as Nell touched a figure at the beginning of the platform, “is an unfortunate Maid of Honour in the Time of Queen Elizabeth, who died from pricking her finger in consequence of working upon a Sunday. Observe the blood which is trickling from her finger; also the gold-eyed needle, with which she is at work.”

All this Nell repeated twice or thrice: pointing to the finger and the needle at the right times, and then passed on to the next.

“That, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mrs. Jarley, “is Jasper Packlemerton, who courted and married fourteen wives, and destroyed them all, by tickling the soles of their feet when they were sleeping in the consciousness of innocence and virtue. When he was brought to the scaffold and asked if he was sorry for what he had done, he replied yes, he was sorry for having let them off so easy. Let this be a warning to all young ladies to be particular in the character of the gentlemen of their choice. Observe that his fingers are curled as if in the act of tickling, and that his face is represented with a wink.”

When Nell knew all about Mr. Packlemerton, and could say it without faltering, Mrs. Jarley passed on to the fat man, and then to the thin man, the tall man, the short man, the old lady who died of dancing at a hundred and thirty-two, the wild boy of the woods, the woman who poisoned fourteen families with pickled walnuts, and other historical characters and interesting but individuals.

Nell was very apt to remember them, and in a couple of hours she was in full possession of the history of the whole establishment, and perfectly competent to the enlightenment of visitors.

26

Mrs. Jarley had an inventive genius for attracting visitors to the exhibition. Little Nell was not forgotten. Although her duties were sufficiently laborious, Nell found the lady of the caravan a very kind person. Her grandfather too was well-treated and useful, but she had recollection of Quilp, and feared that he might return and one day suddenly encounter them.

Quilp indeed was a perpetual nightmare to the child, who was constantly haunted by a vision of his ugly face and stunted figure. She slept in the room where the wax-work figures were. Sometimes she recalled the old house and the window at which she used to sit alone; and then she thought of poor Kit and all his kindness, until the tears came into her eyes, and she wept and smiled together.

Often and anxiously at this silent hour, her thoughts reverted to her grandfather, and she wondered how much he remembered of their former life. He was very patient and willing, happy to execute any little task, and glad to be of use; but he was in the same listless state, with no prospect of improvement. He was a harmless old man, susceptible of tender love and regard for her, and of pleasant and painful impressions.

One evening, Nell and her grandfather went out to walk. They strolled a long distance. They took a footpath which struck through some pleasant fields, finally they reached the track, and stopped to rest.

The sky was dark and lowering, the wind began to moan in hollow murmurs. Large drops of rain soon began to fall. The old man and the child hurried along the high road, hoping to find some house in which they could seek a refuge from the storm. Soon they saw a solitary house. A man was standing at the door, he called lustily to them to enter.

“You had better stand by the fire here, and dry yourselves a bit! This is a public-house, The Valiant Soldier.”

“Is this house called the Valiant Soldier, sir?” asked Nell.

“I thought everybody knew that,” replied the landlord. “Where have you come from, if you don’t know the Valiant Soldier well? This is the Valiant Soldier, by Jem Groves honest Jem Groves, a man of unblemished moral character!”

With these words, the speaker tapped himself on the waistcoat to show that he was Jem Groves himself. They entered the house. Some people were playing cards.

“Nell, they’re playing cards,” whispered the old man. “Don’t you see them? Do you hear, Nell, do you hear them?”

The child saw with astonishment and alarm that his whole appearance had undergone a complete change. His face was flushed and eager, his eyes were strained, his teeth set, his breath came short and thick, and the hand he laid upon her arm trembled violently.

“I always said that,” he muttered, looking upward, “I knew it, dreamed of it, felt it was the truth, and that it must be so! What money have we, Nell? Come! I saw you with money yesterday. What money have we? Give it to me.”

“No, no, let me keep it, grandfather,” said the frightened child. “Let us go away from here. Do not mind the rain. Pray let us go.”

“Give it to me, I say,” returned the old man fiercely. “Hush, hush, don’t cry, Nell. If I spoke sharply, dear, I didn’t mean it. It’s for your good. Where is the money?”

“Do not take it,” said the child. “Pray do not take it, dear. Let me keep it, or let me throw it away, better let me throw it away, than you take it now. Let us go; let us go!”

“Give me the money,” returned the old man, “I must have it. Give me the money! Never fear!”

She took from her pocket a little purse. He seized it with rapid impatience, and hastily made his way to the players. It was impossible to restrain him, and the trembling child followed grandfather.

“I had no intention to offend,” said the old man, looking anxiously at the cards. “I thought that…”

“The gentleman wants,” said one of the players with a cunning look, “to ask if he might have the honour to join us?”

“Yes, yes, I mean it,” cried the old man. “That is what I mean. That is what I want now!”

The old man shook the little purse in his eager hand, and then threw it down upon the table, and gathered up the cards.

The landlord approached the table and took his seat. The child, in a perfect agony, drew her grandfather aside, and implored him, even then, to come away.

“Come; and we may be so happy,” said the child.

“We will be happy,” replied the old man hastily. “Let me go, Nell, my darling.”

As he spoke he drew a chair to the table; and the other three closing round it at the same time, the game commenced. He was very excited.

On the contrary, the other three knaves and gamesters were cool and quiet.

27

At length the play came to an end, and one of the gamesters rose the only winner. The other knaves and the landlord bore their losses with professional fortitude. Nell’s little purse was empty; but although it lay empty by his side, and the other players had now risen from the table, the old man sat poring over the cards. He was quite absorbed in this occupation, when the child drew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder, telling him it was near midnight.

“See the curse of poverty, Nell,” he said. “If I could have played a little longer, only a little longer, the luck would have turned on my side! See here and there and here again.”

“Put them away,” urged the child. “Try to forget them.”

“Try to forget them!” he rejoined, raising his haggard face to hers. “To forget them! How are we ever to grow rich if I forget them?”

The child could only shake her head.

“No, no, Nell,” said the old man, patting her cheek; “they must not be forgotten. We must make amends for this as soon as we can. Patience, patience, and we’ll become rich, I promise you. Lose today, win tomorrow. Come. I am ready.”

“Do you know what the time is?” said the landlord, who was smoking with his friends. “Past twelve o’clock.”

“And a rainy night,” added another man.

“The Valiant Soldier, by James Groves. Good beds. Cheap entertainment for man and beast,” said the landlord, quoting his signboard. “Half-past twelve o’clock.”

“It’s very late,” said the uneasy child. “I wish we had gone before. What will they think of us! It will be two o’clock by the time we get back. What would it cost, sir, if we stopped here?”

“Two good beds, one-and-sixpence; supper and beer one shilling; total two shillings and sixpence,” replied the Valiant Soldier.

Now, Nell had still the piece of gold sewn in her dress. She therefore took her grandfather aside, and telling him that she had money to pay for the beds, proposed that they would stay there for the night.

“If I had had that money before! If I had only known of it a few minutes ago!” muttered the old man.

“We will decide to stop here if you please,” said Nell, turning hastily to the landlord.

“I think that’s prudent,” returned the landlord.

The child was anxious to pay for their entertainment before they retired to bed. She secretly took the piece of gold from its place of concealment, and gave it to the landlord when he went out of the room.

“Will you give me the change here, if you please?” said the child.

Mr. James Groves was evidently surprised, and looked at the money, and looked at the child, and at the money again. The coin was genuine, however, and he thought, like a wise landlord, that it was no business of his. He counted out the change, and gave it her. The child returned to the room where they had passed the evening, when she saw a figure just gliding in at the door. She had been watched!

But by whom? When she re-entered the room, she looked round to see if anyone else were there. No. Then she asked her grandfather in a whisper whether anybody had left the room while she was absent.

“No,” he said, “nobody.”

It was strange, because she saw this figure very distinctly.

The old man took leave of the company, and they went upstairs together. It was a great, rambling house, with dull corridors and wide staircases. She left her grandfather in his chamber, and followed her guide to another, which was at the end of a passage. This was prepared for her.

The child did not feel comfortable when she was left alone. The men were very ill-looking. They might get their living by robbing and murdering travellers. Who could tell?

At last, she was asleep. But soon she woke in great terror. That figure was in her room. She had no voice to cry for help, no power to move, but lay still, watching it.

On it came on, silently and stealthily, to the bed’s head. There it remained, motionless as she. Then it took something from her dress, and she heard the chink of money.

Then it dropped upon its hands and knees, and crawled away. It reached the door at last, and stood upon its feet. The steps creaked, and it was gone.

The first impulse of the child was to run to grandfather. His door was partly open. She staggered forward and looked in. What sight was that which met her view! At a table sat the old man; he was counting the money that he had just stolen.