Bleak House by Charles Dickens (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📖

it’s in total confidence.”

 

“I am at a loss, sir,” said I, “to imagine what you can have to

communicate in total confidence to me, whom you have never seen but

once; but I should be very sorry to do you any injury.”

 

“Thank you, miss. I’m sure of it—that’s quite sufficient.” All

this time Mr. Guppy was either planing his forehead with his

handkerchief or tightly rubbing the palm of his left hand with the

palm of his right. “If you would excuse my taking another glass of

wine, miss, I think it might assist me in getting on without a

continual choke that cannot fail to be mutually unpleasant.”

 

He did so, and came back again. I took the opportunity of moving

well behind my table.

 

“You wouldn’t allow me to offer you one, would you miss?” said Mr.

Guppy, apparently refreshed.

 

“Not any,” said I.

 

“Not half a glass?” said Mr. Guppy. “Quarter? No! Then, to

proceed. My present salary, Miss Summerson, at Kenge and Carboy’s,

is two pound a week. When I first had the happiness of looking upon

you, it was one fifteen, and had stood at that figure for a

lengthened period. A rise of five has since taken place, and a

further rise of five is guaranteed at the expiration of a term not

exceeding twelve months from the present date. My mother has a

little property, which takes the form of a small life annuity, upon

which she lives in an independent though unassuming manner in the

Old Street Road. She is eminently calculated for a mother-in-law.

She never interferes, is all for peace, and her disposition easy.

She has her failings—as who has not?—but I never knew her do it

when company was present, at which time you may freely trust her

with wines, spirits, or malt liquors. My own abode is lodgings at

Penton Place, Pentonville. It is lowly, but airy, open at the back,

and considered one of the ‘ealthiest outlets. Miss Summerson! In

the mildest language, I adore you. Would you be so kind as to allow

me (as I may say) to file a declaration—to make an offer!”

 

Mr. Guppy went down on his knees. I was well behind my table and

not much frightened. I said, “Get up from that ridiculous position

immediately, sir, or you will oblige me to break my implied promise

and ring the bell!”

 

“Hear me out, miss!” said Mr. Guppy, folding his hands.

 

“I cannot consent to hear another word, sir,” I returned, “Unless

you get up from the carpet directly and go and sit down at the table

as you ought to do if you have any sense at all.”

 

He looked piteously, but slowly rose and did so.

 

“Yet what a mockery it is, miss,” he said with his hand upon his

heart and shaking his head at me in a melancholy manner over the

tray, “to be stationed behind food at such a moment. The soul

recoils from food at such a moment, miss.”

 

“I beg you to conclude,” said I; “you have asked me to hear you out,

and I beg you to conclude.”

 

“I will, miss,” said Mr. Guppy. “As I love and honour, so likewise

I obey. Would that I could make thee the subject of that vow before

the shrine!”

 

“That is quite impossible,” said I, “and entirely out of the

question.”

 

“I am aware,” said Mr. Guppy, leaning forward over the tray and

regarding me, as I again strangely felt, though my eyes were not

directed to him, with his late intent look, “I am aware that in a

worldly point of view, according to all appearances, my offer is a

poor one. But, Miss Summerson! Angel! No, don’t ring—I have been

brought up in a sharp school and am accustomed to a variety of

general practice. Though a young man, I have ferreted out evidence,

got up cases, and seen lots of life. Blest with your hand, what

means might I not find of advancing your interests and pushing your

fortunes! What might I not get to know, nearly concerning you? I

know nothing now, certainly; but what MIGHT I not if I had your

confidence, and you set me on?”

 

I told him that he addressed my interest or what he supposed to be

my interest quite as unsuccessfully as he addressed my inclination,

and he would now understand that I requested him, if he pleased, to

go away immediately.

 

“Cruel miss,” said Mr. Guppy, “hear but another word! I think you

must have seen that I was struck with those charms on the day when I

waited at the Whytorseller. I think you must have remarked that I

could not forbear a tribute to those charms when I put up the steps

of the ‘ackney-coach. It was a feeble tribute to thee, but it was

well meant. Thy image has ever since been fixed in my breast. I

have walked up and down of an evening opposite Jellyby’s house only

to look upon the bricks that once contained thee. This out of to-day, quite an unnecessary out so far as the attendance, which was

its pretended object, went, was planned by me alone for thee alone.

If I speak of interest, it is only to recommend myself and my

respectful wretchedness. Love was before it, and is before it.”

 

“I should be pained, Mr. Guppy,” said I, rising and putting my hand

upon the bell-rope, “to do you or any one who was sincere the

injustice of slighting any honest feeling, however disagreeably

expressed. If you have really meant to give me a proof of your good

opinion, though ill-timed and misplaced, I feel that I ought to

thank you. I have very little reason to be proud, and I am not

proud. I hope,” I think I added, without very well knowing what I

said, “that you will now go away as if you had never been so

exceedingly foolish and attend to Messrs. Kenge and Carboy’s

business.”

 

“Half a minute, miss!” cried Mr. Guppy, checking me as I was about

to ring. “This has been without prejudice?”

 

“I will never mention it,” said I, “unless you should give me future

occasion to do so.”

 

“A quarter of a minute, miss! In case you should think better at

any time, however distant—THAT’S no consequence, for my feelings

can never alter—of anything I have said, particularly what might I

not do, Mr. William Guppy, eighty-seven, Penton Place, or if

removed, or dead (of blighted hopes or anything of that sort), care

of Mrs. Guppy, three hundred and two, Old Street Road, will be

sufficient.”

 

I rang the bell, the servant came, and Mr. Guppy, laying his written

card upon the table and making a dejected bow, departed. Raising my

eyes as he went out, I once more saw him looking at me after he had

passed the door.

 

I sat there for another hour or more, finishing my books and

payments and getting through plenty of business. Then I arranged my

desk, and put everything away, and was so composed and cheerful that

I thought I had quite dismissed this unexpected incident. But, when

I went upstairs to my own room, I surprised myself by beginning to

laugh about it and then surprised myself still more by beginning to

cry about it. In short, I was in a flutter for a little while and

felt as if an old chord had been more coarsely touched than it ever

had been since the days of the dear old doll, long buried in the

garden.