Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donât realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty by Charles Dickens (best way to read e books TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
Book online «Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty by Charles Dickens (best way to read e books TXT) đ». Author Charles Dickens
âThere is a young man of the name of Joseph Willet, sir,â said Mrs Varden, folding her hands loftily.
âThatâs he,â cried Mr Chester. âSuppose this Joseph Willet now, were to aspire to the affections of your charming daughter, and were to engage them.â
âIt would be like his impudence,â interposed Mrs Varden, bridling, âto dare to think of such a thing!â
âMy dear madam, thatâs the whole case. I know it would be like his impudence. It is like Nedâs impudence to do as he has done; but you would not on that account, or because of a few tears from your beautiful daughter, refrain from checking their inclinations in their birth. I meant to have reasoned thus with your husband when I saw him at Mrs Rudgeâs this eveningââ
âMy husband,â said Mrs Varden, interposing with emotion, âwould be a great deal better at home than going to Mrs Rudgeâs so often. I donât know what he does there. I donât see what occasion he has to busy himself in her affairs at all, sir.â
âIf I donât appear to express my concurrence in those last sentiments of yours,â returned Mr Chester, âquite so strongly as you might desire, it is because his being there, my dear madam, and not proving conversational, led me hither, and procured me the happiness of this interview with one, in whom the whole management, conduct, and prosperity of her family are centred, I perceive.â
With that he took Mrs Vardenâs hand again, and having pressed it to his lips with the highflown gallantry of the dayâa little burlesqued to render it the more striking in the good ladyâs unaccustomed eyesâproceeded in the same strain of mingled sophistry, cajolery, and flattery, to entreat that her utmost influence might be exerted to restrain her husband and daughter from any further promotion of Edwardâs suit to Miss Haredale, and from aiding or abetting either party in any way. Mrs Varden was but a woman, and had her share of vanity, obstinacy, and love of power. She entered into a secret treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with her insinuating visitor; and really did believe, as many others would have done who saw and heard him, that in so doing she furthered the ends of truth, justice, and morality, in a very uncommon degree.
Overjoyed by the success of his negotiation, and mightily amused within himself, Mr Chester conducted her downstairs in the same state as before; and having repeated the previous ceremony of salutation, which also as before comprehended Dolly, took his leave; first completing the conquest of Miss Miggsâs heart, by inquiring if âthis young ladyâ would light him to the door.
âOh, mim,â said Miggs, returning with the candle. âOh gracious me, mim, thereâs a gentleman! Was there ever such an angel to talk as he isâand such a sweet-looking man! So upright and noble, that he seems to despise the very ground he walks on; and yet so mild and condescending, that he seems to say âbut I will take notice on it too.â And to think of his taking you for Miss Dolly, and Miss Dolly for your sisterâOh, my goodness me, if I was master wouldnât I be jealous of him!â
Mrs Varden reproved her handmaid for this vain-speaking; but very gently and mildlyâquite smilingly indeedâremarking that she was a foolish, giddy, light-headed girl, whose spirits carried her beyond all bounds, and who didnât mean half she said, or she would be quite angry with her.
âFor my part,â said Dolly, in a thoughtful manner, âI half believe Mr Chester is something like Miggs in that respect. For all his politeness and pleasant speaking, I am pretty sure he was making game of us, more than once.â
âIf you venture to say such a thing again, and to speak ill of people behind their backs in my presence, miss,â said Mrs Varden, âI shall insist upon your taking a candle and going to bed directly. How dare you, Dolly? Iâm astonished at you. The rudeness of your whole behaviour this evening has been disgraceful. Did anybody ever hear,â cried the enraged matron, bursting into tears, âof a daughter telling her own mother she has been made game of!â
What a very uncertain temper Mrs Vardenâs was!
Chapter 28
Repairing to a noted coffee-house in Covent Garden when he left the locksmithâs, Mr Chester sat long over a late dinner, entertaining himself exceedingly with the whimsical recollection of his recent proceedings, and congratulating himself very much on his great cleverness. Influenced by these thoughts, his face wore an expression so benign and tranquil, that the waiter in immediate attendance upon him felt he could almost have died in his defence, and settled in his own mind (until the receipt of the bill, and a very small fee for very great trouble disabused it of the idea) that such an apostolic customer was worth half-a-dozen of the ordinary run of visitors, at least.
A visit to the gaming-tableânot as a heated, anxious venturer, but one whom it was quite a treat to see staking his two or three pieces in deference to the follies of society, and smiling with equal benevolence on winners and losersâmade it late before he reached home. It was his custom to bid his servant go to bed at his own time unless he had orders to the contrary, and to leave a candle on the common stair. There was a lamp on the landing by which he could always light it when he came home late, and having a key of the door about him he could enter and go to bed at his pleasure.
He opened the glass of the dull lamp, whose wick, burnt up and swollen like a drunkardâs nose, came flying off in little carbuncles at the candleâs touch, and scattering hot sparks about, rendered it matter of some difficulty to kindle the lazy taper; when a noise, as of a man snoring deeply some steps higher up, caused him to pause and listen. It was the heavy breathing of a sleeper, close at hand. Some fellow had lain down on the open staircase, and was slumbering soundly. Having lighted the candle at length and opened his own door, he softly ascended, holding the taper high above his head, and peering cautiously about; curious to see what kind of man had chosen so comfortless a shelter for his lodging.
With his head upon the landing and his great limbs flung over half-a-dozen stairs, as carelessly as though he were a dead man whom drunken bearers had thrown down by chance, there lay Hugh, face uppermost, his long hair drooping like some wild weed upon his wooden pillow, and his huge chest heaving with the sounds which so unwontedly disturbed the place and hour.
He who came upon him so unexpectedly was about to break his rest by thrusting him with his foot, when, glancing at his upturned face, he arrested himself in the very action, and stooping down and shading the candle with his hand, examined his features closely.
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