Martin Chuzzlewit - Charles Dickens (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

ground, motioned Tom away.

‘As you cannot suppose,’ said Tom, ‘that I am here with any view of conciliating you or pleasing myself, I am quite indifferent to your reception of me, or your dismissal of me. Hear what I have to say, if you are not a madman! I gave you a letter the other day, when you were about to go abroad.’

‘You Thief, you did!’ retorted Jonas. ‘I’ll pay you for the carriage of it one day, and settle an old score besides. I will!’

‘Tut, tut,’ said Tom, ‘you needn’t waste words or threats. I wish you to understand—plainly because I would rather keep clear of you and everything that concerns you: not because I have the least apprehension of your doing me any injury: which would be weak indeed—that I am no party to the contents of that letter. That I know nothing of it. That I was not even aware that it was to be delivered to you; and that I had it from—’

‘By the Lord!’ cried Jonas, fiercely catching up the chair, ‘I’ll knock your brains out, if you speak another word.’

Tom, nevertheless, persisting in his intention, and opening his lips to speak again, Jonas set upon him like a savage; and in the quickness and ferocity of his attack would have surely done him some grievous injury, defenceless as he was, and embarrassed by having his frightened sister clinging to his arm, if Merry had not run between them, crying to Tom for the love of Heaven to leave the house. The agony of this poor creature, the terror of his sister, the impossibility of making himself audible, and the equal impossibility of bearing up against Mrs Gamp, who threw herself upon him like a feather-bed, and forced him backwards down the stairs by the mere oppression of her dead weight, prevailed. Tom shook the dust of that house off his feet, without having mentioned Nadgett’s name.

If the name could have passed his lips; if Jonas, in the insolence of his vile nature, had never roused him to do that old act of manliness, for which (and not for his last offence) he hated him with such malignity; if Jonas could have learned, as then he could and would have learned, through Tom’s means, what unsuspected spy there was upon him; he would have been saved from the commission of a Guilty Deed, then drawing on towards its black accomplishment. But the fatality was of his own working; the pit was of his own digging; the gloom that gathered round him was the shadow of his own life.

His wife had closed the door, and thrown herself before it, on the ground, upon her knees. She held up her hands to him now, and besought him not to be harsh with her, for she had interposed in fear of bloodshed.

‘So, so!’ said Jonas, looking down upon her, as he fetched his breath. ‘These are your friends, are they, when I am away? You plot and tamper with this sort of people, do you?’

‘No, indeed! I have no knowledge of these secrets, and no clue to their meaning. I have never seen him since I left home but once— but twice—before to-day.’

‘Oh!’ sneered Jonas, catching at this correction. ‘But once, but twice, eh? Which do you mean? Twice and once, perhaps. Three times! How many more, you lying jade?’

As he made an angry motion with his hand, she shrunk down hastily. A suggestive action! Full of a cruel truth!

‘How many more times?’ he repeated.

‘No more. The other morning, and to-day, and once besides.’

He was about to retort upon her, when the clock struck. He started stopped, and listened; appearing to revert to some engagement, or to some other subject, a secret within his own breast, recalled to him by this record of the progress of the hours.

‘Don’t lie there! Get up!’

Having helped her to rise, or rather hauled her up by the arm, he went on to say:

‘Listen to me, young lady; and don’t whine when you have no occasion, or I may make some for you. If I find him in my house again, or find that you have seen him in anybody else’s house, you’ll repent it. If you are not deaf and dumb to everything that concerns me, unless you have my leave to hear and speak, you’ll repent it. If you don’t obey exactly what I order, you’ll repent it. Now, attend. What’s the time?’

‘It struck eight a minute ago.’

He looked towards her intently; and said, with a laboured distinctness, as if he had got the words off by heart:

‘I have been travelling day and night, and am tired. I have lost some money, and that don’t improve me. Put my supper in the little off-room below, and have the truckle-bed made. I shall sleep there tonight, and maybe tomorrow night; and if I can sleep all day tomorrow, so much the better, for I’ve got trouble to sleep off, if I can. Keep the house quiet, and don’t call me. Mind! Don’t call me. Don’t let anybody call me. Let me lie there.’

She said it should be done. Was that all?

‘All what? You must be prying and questioning!’ he angrily retorted. ‘What more do you want to know?’

‘I want to know nothing, Jonas, but what you tell me. All hope of confidence between us has long deserted me!’

‘Ecod, I should hope so!’ he muttered.

‘But if you will tell me what you wish, I will be obedient and will try to please you. I make no merit of that, for I have no friend in my father or my sister, but am quite alone. I am very humble and submissive. You told me you would break my spirit, and you have done so. Do not break my heart too!’

She ventured, as she said these words, to lay her hand upon his shoulder. He suffered it to rest there, in his exultation; and the whole mean, abject, sordid, pitiful soul of the man, looked at her, for the moment, through his wicked eyes.

For the moment only; for, with the same hurried return to something within himself, he bade her, in a surly tone, show her obedience by executing his commands without delay. When she had withdrawn he paced up and down the room several times; but always with his right hand clenched, as if it held something; which it did not, being empty. When he was tired of this, he threw himself into a chair, and thoughtfully turned up the sleeve of his right arm, as if he were rather musing about its strength than examining it; but, even then, he kept the hand clenched.

He was brooding in this chair, with his eyes cast down upon the ground, when Mrs Gamp came in to tell him that the little room was ready. Not being quite sure of her reception after interfering in the quarrel, Mrs Gamp, as a means of interesting and propitiating her patron, affected a deep solicitude in Mr Chuffey.

‘How is he now, sir?’ she said.

‘Who?’ cried Jonas, raising his head, and staring at her.

‘To be sure!’ returned the matron with a smile and a curtsey. ‘What am I thinking of! You wasn’t here, sir, when he was took so strange. I never see a poor dear creetur took so strange in all my life, except a patient much about the same age, as I once nussed, which his calling was the custom-‘us, and his name was Mrs Harris’s own father, as pleasant a singer, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever you heerd, with a voice like a Jew’s-harp in the bass notes, that it took six men to hold at sech times, foaming frightful.’

‘Chuffey, eh?’ said Jonas carelessly, seeing that she went up to the old, clerk, and looked at him. ‘Ha!’

‘The creetur’s head’s so hot,’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘that you might heat a flat-iron at it. And no wonder I am sure, considerin’ the things he said!’

‘Said!’ cried Jonas. ‘What did he say?’

Mrs Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some check upon its palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in a faint voice:

‘The awfulest things, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd! Which Mrs Harris’s father never spoke a word when took so, some does and some don’t, except sayin’ when he come round, “Where is Sairey Gamp?” But raly, sir, when Mr Chuffey comes to ask who’s lyin’ dead upstairs, and—’

‘Who’s lying dead upstairs!’ repeated Jonas, standing aghast.

Mrs Gamp nodded, made as if she were swallowing, and went on.

‘Who’s lying dead upstairs; sech was his Bible language; and where was Mr Chuzzlewit as had the only son; and when he goes upstairs a-looking in the beds and wandering about the rooms, and comes down again a-whisperin’ softly to his-self about foul play and that; it gives me sech a turn, I don’t deny it, Mr Chuzzlewit, that I never could have kep myself up but for a little drain o’ spirits, which I seldom touches, but could always wish to know where to find, if so dispoged, never knowin’ wot may happen next, the world bein’ so uncertain.’

‘Why, the old fool’s mad!’ cried Jonas, much disturbed.

‘That’s my opinion, sir,’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘and I will not deceive you. I believe as Mr Chuffey, sir, rekwires attention (if I may make so bold), and should not have his liberty to wex and worrit your sweet lady as he does.’

‘Why, who minds what he says?’ retorted Jonas.

‘Still he is worritin’ sir,’ said Mrs Gamp. ‘No one don’t mind him, but he IS a ill conwenience.’

‘Ecod you’re right,’ said Jonas, looking doubtfully at the subject of this conversation. ‘I have half a mind to shut him up.’

Mrs Gamp rubbed her hands, and smiled, and shook her head, and sniffed expressively, as scenting a job.

‘Could you—could you take care of such an idiot, now, in some spare room upstairs?’ asked Jonas.

‘Me and a friend of mine, one off, one on, could do it, Mr Chuzzlewit,’ replied the nurse; ‘our charges not bein’ high, but wishin’ they was lower, and allowance made considerin’ not strangers. Me and Betsey Prig, sir, would undertake Mr Chuffey reasonable,’ said Mrs Gamp, looking at him with her head on one side, as if he had been a piece of goods, for which she was driving a bargain; ‘and give every satigefaction. Betsey Prig has nussed a many lunacies, and well she knows their ways, which puttin’ ‘em right close afore the fire, when fractious, is the certainest and most compoging.’

While Mrs Gamp discoursed to this effect, Jonas was walking up and down the room again, glancing covertly at the old clerk, as he did so. He now made a stop, and said:

‘I must look after him, I suppose, or I may have him doing some mischief. What say you?’

‘Nothin’ more likely!’ Mrs Gamp replied. ‘As well I have experienged, I do assure you, sir.’

‘Well! Look after him for the present, and—let me see—three days from this time let the other woman come here, and we’ll see if we can make a bargain of it. About nine or ten o’clock at night, say. Keep your eye upon him in the meanwhile, and don’t talk about it. He’s as mad as a March hare!’

‘Madder!’ cried Mrs Gamp. ‘A deal madder!’

‘See to him, then; take care that he does no harm; and recollect what I have told you.’

Leaving Mrs Gamp in the act of repeating all she had been told, and of producing in support of her memory and trustworthiness, many commendations selected from among the most remarkable opinions of the celebrated Mrs Harris, he descended to the little room prepared for him, and pulling off