A House to Let, et al by Charles Dickens (spicy books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
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âMrs. Frank, is there any reason why we two should not put up our horses together?â
Alice stood still in perplexed wonder. What did he mean? He had resumed the reading of his newspaper, as if he did not expect any answer; so she found silence her safest course, and went on quietly arranging his breakfast without another word passing between them. Just as he was leaving the house, to go to the warehouse as usual, he turned back and put his head into the bright, neat, tidy kitchen, where all the women breakfasted in the morning:
âYouâll think of what I said, Mrs. Frankâ (this was her name with the lodgers), âand let me have your opinion upon it to-night.â
Alice was thankful that her mother and Norah were too busy talking together to attend much to this speech. She determined not to think about it at all through the day; and, of course, the effort not to think made her think all the more. At night she sent up Norah with his tea. But Mr. Openshaw almost knocked Norah down as she was going out at the door, by pushing past her and calling out âMrs. Frank!â in an impatient voice, at the top of the stairs.
Alice went up, rather than seem to have affixed too much meaning to his words.
âWell, Mrs. Frank,â he said, âwhat answer? Donât make it too long; for I have lots of office-work to get through to-night.â
âI hardly know what you meant, sir,â said truthful Alice.
âWell! I should have thought you might have guessed. Youâre not new at this sort of work, and I am. However, Iâll make it plain this time. Will you have me to be thy wedded husband, and serve me, and love me, and honour me, and all that sort of thing? Because if you will, I will do as much by you, and be a father to your childâ and thatâs more than is put in the prayer-book. Now, Iâm a man of my word; and what I say, I feel; and what I promise, Iâll do. Now, for your answer!â
Alice was silent. He began to make the tea, as if her reply was a matter of perfect indifference to him; but, as soon as that was done, he became impatient.
âWell?â said he.
âHow long, sir, may I have to think over it?â
âThree minutes!â (looking at his watch). âYouâve had two alreadyâ that makes five. Be a sensible woman, say Yes, and sit down to tea with me, and weâll talk it over together; for, after tea, I shall be busy; say Noâ (he hesitated a moment to try and keep his voice in the same tone), âand I shanât say another word about it, but pay up a yearâs rent for my rooms to-morrow, and be off. Timeâs up! Yes or no?â
âIf you please, sir,âyou have been so good to little Ailsieââ
âThere, sit down comfortably by me on the sofa, and let us have our tea together. I am glad to find you are as good and sensible as I took for.â
And this was Alice Wilsonâs second wooing.
Mr. Openshawâs will was too strong, and his circumstances too good, for him not to carry all before him. He settled Mrs. Wilson in a comfortable house of her own, and made her quite independent of lodgers. The little that Alice said with regard to future plans was in Norahâs behalf.
âNo,â said Mr. Openshaw. âNorah shall take care of the old lady as long as she lives; and, after that, she shall either come and live with us, or, if she likes it better, she shall have a provision for lifeâfor your sake, missus. No one who has been good to you or the child shall go unrewarded. But even the little one will be better for some fresh stuff about her. Get her a bright, sensible girl as a nurse: one who wonât go rubbing her with calfâs-foot jelly as Norah does; wasting good stuff outside that ought to go in, but will follow doctorsâ directions; which, as you must see pretty clearly by this time, Norah wonât; because they give the poor little wench pain. Now, Iâm not above being nesh for other folks myself. I can stand a good blow, and never change colour; but, set me in the operating-room in the infirmary, and I turn as sick as a girl. Yet, if need were, I would hold the little wench on my knees while she screeched with pain, if it were to do her poor back good. Nay, nay, wench! keep your white looks for the time when it comesâI donât say it ever will. But this I know, Norah will spare the child and cheat the doctor if she can. Now, I say, give the bairn a year or twoâs chance, and then, when the pack of doctors have done their bestâ and, maybe, the old lady has goneâweâll have Norah back, or do better for her.â
The pack of doctors could do no good to little Ailsie. She was beyond their power. But her father (for so he insisted on being called, and also on Aliceâs no longer retaining the appellation of Mama, but becoming henceforward Mother), by his healthy cheerfulness of manner, his clear decision of purpose, his odd turns and quirks of humour, added to his real strong love for the helpless little girl, infused a new element of brightness and confidence into her life; and, though her back remained the same, her general health was strengthened, and Aliceânever going beyond a smile herselfâhad the pleasure of seeing her child taught to laugh.
As for Aliceâs own life, it was happier than it had ever been. Mr. Openshaw required no demonstration, no expressions of affection from her. Indeed, these would rather have disgusted him. Alice could love deeply, but could not talk about it. The perpetual requirement of loving words, looks, and caresses, and misconstruing their absence into absence of love, had been the great trial of her former married life. Now, all went on clear and straight, under the guidance of her husbandâs strong sense, warm heart, and powerful will. Year by year their worldly prosperity increased. At Mrs. Wilsonâs death, Norah came back to them, as nurse to the newly-born little Edwin; into which post she was not installed without a pretty strong oration on the part of the proud and happy father; who declared that if he found out that Norah ever tried to screen the boy by a falsehood, or to make him nesh either in body or mind, she should go that very day. Norah and Mr. Openshaw were not on the most thoroughly cordial terms; neither of them fully recognising or appreciating the otherâs best qualities.
This was the previous history of the Lancashire family who had now removed to London, and had come to occupy the House.
They had been there about a year, when Mr. Openshaw suddenly informed his wife that he had determined to heal long-standing feuds, and had asked his uncle and aunt Chadwick to come and pay them a visit and see London. Mrs. Openshaw had never seen this uncle and aunt of her husbandâs. Years before she had married him, there had been a quarrel. All she knew was, that Mr. Chadwick was a small manufacturer in a country town in South Lancashire. She was extremely pleased that the breach was to be healed, and began making preparations to render their visit pleasant.
They arrived at last. Going to see London was such an event to them, that Mrs. Chadwick had made all new linen fresh for the occasion-from nightcaps downwards; and, as for gowns, ribbons, and collars, she might have been going into the wilds of Canada where never a shop is, so large was her stock. A fortnight before the day of her departure for London, she had formally called to take leave of all her acquaintance; saying she should need all the intermediate time for packing up. It was like a second wedding in her imagination; and, to complete the resemblance which an entirely new wardrobe made between the two events, her husband brought her back from Manchester, on the last market-day before they set off, a gorgeous pearl and amethyst brooch, saying, âLunnon should see that Lancashire folks knew a handsome thing when they saw it.â
For some time after Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick arrived at the Openshawsâ, there was no opportunity for wearing this brooch; but at length they obtained an order to see Buckingham Palace, and the spirit of loyalty demanded that Mrs. Chadwick should wear her best clothes in visiting the abode of her sovereign. On her return, she hastily changed her dress; for Mr. Openshaw had planned that they should go to Richmond, drink tea and return by moonlight. Accordingly, about five oâclock, Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw and Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick set off.
The housemaid and cook sate below, Norah hardly knew where. She was always engrossed in the nursery, in tending her two children, and in sitting by the restless, excitable Ailsie till she fell asleep. Bye-and-bye, the housemaid Bessy tapped gently at the door. Norah went to her, and they spoke in whispers.
âNurse! thereâs some one downstairs wants you.â
âWants me! Who is it?â
âA gentlemanââ
âA gentleman? Nonsense!â
âWell! a man, then, and he asks for you, and he rung at the front door bell, and has walked into the dining-room.â
âYou should never have let him,â exclaimed Norah, âmaster and missus outââ
âI did not want him to come in; but when he heard you lived here, he walked past me, and sat down on the first chair, and said, âTell her to come and speak to me.â There is no gas lighted in the room, and supper is all set out.â
âHeâll be off with the spoons!â exclaimed Norah, putting the housemaidâs fear
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