The Complete Short Stories of Charles Dickens: 190+ Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Чарльз Диккенс

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СКАЧАТЬ customary cheerful avocations—he wanted spirit for them—but it mattered the less, that it was Tackleton’s wedding-day, and he had arranged to make his rounds by proxy. He thought to have gone merrily to church with Dot. But such plans were at an end. It was their own wedding-day too. Ah! how little he had looked for such a close to such a year!

      The Carrier had expected that Tackleton would pay him an early visit; and he was right. He had not walked to and fro before his own door, many minutes, when he saw the Toy-merchant coming in his chaise along the road. As the chaise drew nearer, he perceived that Tackleton was dressed out sprucely for his marriage, and that he had decorated his horse’s head with flowers and favours.

      The horse looked much more like a bridegroom than Tackleton, whose half-closed eye was more disagreeably expressive than ever. But the Carrier took little heed of this. His thoughts had other occupation.

      ‘John Peerybingle!’ said Tackleton, with an air of condolence. ‘My good fellow, how do you find yourself this morning?’

      ‘I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton,’ returned the Carrier, shaking his head: ‘for I have been a good deal disturbed in my mind. But it’s over now! Can you spare me half an hour or so, for some private talk?’

      ‘I came on purpose,’ returned Tackleton, alighting. ‘Never mind the horse. He’ll stand quiet enough, with the reins over this post, if you’ll give him a mouthful of hay.’

      The Carrier having brought it from his stable, and set it before him, they turned into the house.

      ‘You are not married before noon,’ he said, ‘I think?’

      ‘No,’ answered Tackleton. ‘Plenty of time. Plenty of time.’

      When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy was rapping at the Stranger’s door; which was only removed from it by a few steps. One of her very red eyes (for Tilly had been crying all night long, because her mistress cried) was at the keyhole; and she was knocking very loud; and seemed frightened.

      ‘If you please I can’t make nobody hear,’ said Tilly, looking round. ‘I hope nobody an’t gone and been and died if you please!’

      This philanthropic wish, Miss Slowboy emphasised with various new raps and kicks at the door; which led to no result whatever.

      ‘Shall I go?’ said Tackleton. ‘It’s curious.’

      The Carrier, who had turned his face from the door, signed to him to go if he would.

      So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy’s relief; and he too kicked and knocked; and he too failed to get the least reply. But he thought of trying the handle of the door; and as it opened easily, he peeped in, looked in, went in, and soon came running out again.

      ‘John Peerybingle,’ said Tackleton, in his ear. ‘I hope there has been nothing—nothing rash in the night?’

      The Carrier turned upon him quickly.

      ‘Because he’s gone!’ said Tackleton; ‘and the window’s open. I don’t see any marks—to be sure it’s almost on a level with the garden: but I was afraid there might have been some—some scuffle. Eh?’

      He nearly shut up the expressive eye altogether; he looked at him so hard. And he gave his eye, and his face, and his whole person, a sharp twist. As if he would have screwed the truth out of him.

      ‘Make yourself easy,’ said the Carrier. ‘He went into that room last night, without harm in word or deed from me, and no one has entered it since. He is away of his own free will. I’d go out gladly at that door, and beg my bread from house to house, for life, if I could so change the past that he had never come. But he has come and gone. And I have done with him!’

      ‘Oh!—Well, I think he has got off pretty easy,’ said Tackleton, taking a chair.

      The sneer was lost upon the Carrier, who sat down too, and shaded his face with his hand, for some little time, before proceeding.

      ‘You showed me last night,’ he said at length, ‘my wife; my wife that I love; secretly—’

      ‘And tenderly,’ insinuated Tackleton.

      ‘Conniving at that man’s disguise, and giving him opportunities of meeting her alone. I think there’s no sight I wouldn’t have rather seen than that. I think there’s no man in the world I wouldn’t have rather had to show it me.’

      ‘I confess to having had my suspicions always,’ said Tackleton. ‘And that has made me objectionable here, I know.’

      ‘But as you did show it me,’ pursued the Carrier, not minding him; ‘and as you saw her, my wife, my wife that I love’—his voice, and eye, and hand, grew steadier and firmer as he repeated these words: evidently in pursuance of a steadfast purpose—‘as you saw her at this disadvantage, it is right and just that you should also see with my eyes, and look into my breast, and know what my mind is, upon the subject. For it’s settled,’ said the Carrier, regarding him attentively. ‘And nothing can shake it now.’

      Tackleton muttered a few general words of assent, about its being necessary to vindicate something or other; but he was overawed by the manner of his companion. Plain and unpolished as it was, it had a something dignified and noble in it, which nothing but the soul of generous honour dwelling in the man could have imparted.

      ‘I am a plain, rough man,’ pursued the Carrier, ‘with very little to recommend me. I am not a clever man, as you very well know. I am not a young man. I loved my little Dot, because I had seen her grow up, from a child, in her father’s house; because I knew how precious she was; because she had been my life, for years and years. There’s many men I can’t compare with, who never could have loved my little Dot like me, I think!’

      He paused, and softly beat the ground a short time with his foot, before resuming.

      ‘I often thought that though I wasn’t good enough for her, I should make her a kind husband, and perhaps know her value better than another; and in this way I reconciled it to myself, and came to think it might be possible that we should be married. And in the end it came about, and we were married.’

      ‘Hah!’ said Tackleton, with a significant shake of the head.

      ‘I had studied myself; I had had experience of myself; I knew how much I loved her, and how happy I should be,’ pursued the Carrier. ‘But I had not—I feel it now—sufficiently considered her.’

      ‘To be sure,’ said Tackleton. ‘Giddiness, frivolity, fickleness, love of admiration! Not considered! All left out of sight! Hah!’

      ‘You had best not interrupt me,’ said the Carrier, with some sternness, ‘till you understand me; and you’re wide of doing so. If, yesterday, I’d have struck that man down at a blow, who dared to breathe a word against her, to-day I’d set my foot upon his face, if he was my brother!’

      The Toy-merchant gazed at him in astonishment. He went on in a softer tone:

      ‘Did I consider,’ said the Carrier, ‘that I took her—at her age, and with her beauty—from her young companions, and the many scenes of which she was the ornament; in which she was the brightest little star that ever shone, to shut her up from day to day in my dull house, and keep my tedious company? Did I consider how little suited I was to her sprightly СКАЧАТЬ