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She had by this time drawn the chair to her side, and was busily
engaged in producing from the bag (plunging in her short arm to
the shoulder, at every dive) a number of small bottles, sponges,
combs, brushes, bits of flannel, little pairs of curling-irons,
and other instruments, which she tumbled in a heap upon the chair.
From this employment she suddenly desisted, and said to Steerforth,
much to my confusion:
'Who's your friend?'
'Mr. Copperfield,' said Steerforth; 'he wants to know you.'
'Well, then, he shall! I thought he looked as if he did!' returned
Miss Mowcher, waddling up to me, bag in hand, and laughing on me
as she came. 'Face like a peach!' standing on tiptoe to pinch my
cheek as I sat. 'Quite tempting! I'm very fond of peaches. Happy
to make your acquaintance, Mr. Copperfield, I'm sure.'
I said that I congratulated myself on having the honour to make
hers, and that the happiness was mutual.
'Oh, my goodness, how polite we are!' exclaimed Miss Mowcher,
making a preposterous attempt to cover her large face with her morsel
of a hand. 'What a world of gammon and spinnage it is, though, ain't
it!'
This was addressed confidentially to both of us, as the morsel
of a hand came away from the face, and buried itself, arm and all,
in the bag again.
'What do you mean, Miss Mowcher?' said Steerforth.
'Ha! ha! ha! What a refreshing set of humbugs we are, to be sure,
ain't we, my sweet child?' replied that morsel of a woman, feeling
in the bag with her head on one side and her eye in the air. 'Look
here!' taking something out. 'Scraps of the Russian Prince's nails.
Prince Alphabet turned topsy-turvy, I call him, for his name's got
all the letters in it, higgledy-piggledy.'
'The Russian Prince is a client of yours, is he?' said Steerforth.
'I believe you, my pet,' replied Miss Mowcher. 'I keep his nails
in order for him. Twice a week! Fingers and toes.'
'He pays well, I hope?' said Steerforth. 'Pays, as he speaks,
my dear child - through the nose,' replied Miss Mowcher. 'None of
your close shavers the Prince ain't. You'd say so, if you saw his
moustachios. Red by nature, black by art.'
'By your art, of course,' said Steerforth. Miss Mowcher winked
assent. 'Forced to send for me. Couldn't help it. The climate affected
his dye; it did very well in Russia, but it was no go here. You
never saw such a rusty Prince in all your born days as he was. Like
old iron!' 'Is that why you called him a humbug, just now?' inquired
Steerforth.
'Oh, you're a broth of a boy, ain't you?' returned Miss Mowcher,
shaking her head violently. 'I said, what a set of humbugs we were
in general, and I showed you the scraps of the Prince's nails to
prove it. The Prince's nails do more for me in private families
of the genteel sort, than all my talents put together. I always
carry 'em about. They're the best introduction. If Miss Mowcher
cuts the Prince's nails, she must be all right. I give 'em away
to the young ladies. They put 'em in albums, I believe. Ha! ha!
ha! Upon my life, "the whole social system" (as the men
call it when they make speeches in Parliament) is a system of Prince's
nails!' said this least of women, trying to fold her short arms,
and nodding her large head.
Steerforth laughed heartily, and I laughed too. Miss Mowcher
continuing all the time to shake her head (which was very much on
one side), and to look into the air with one eye, and to wink with
the other.
'Well, well!' she said, smiting her small knees, and rising,
'this is not business. Come, Steerforth, let's explore the polar
regions, and have it over.'
She then selected two or three of the little instruments, and
a little bottle, and asked (to my surprise) if the table would bear.
On Steerforth's replying in the affirmative, she pushed a chair
against it, and begging the assistance of my hand, mounted up, pretty
nimbly, to the top, as if it were a stage.
'If either of you saw my ankles,' she said, when she was safely
elevated, 'say so, and I'll go home and destroy myself!'
'I did not,' said Steerforth.
'I did not,' said I.
'Well then,' cried Miss Mowcher,' I'll consent to live. Now,
ducky, ducky, ducky, come to Mrs. Bond and be killed.'
This was an invocation to Steerforth to place himself under her
hands; who, accordingly, sat himself down, with his back to the
table, and his laughing face towards me, and submitted his head
to her inspection, evidently for no other purpose than our entertainment.
To see Miss Mowcher standing over him, looking at his rich profusion
of brown hair through a large round magnifying glass, which she
took out of her pocket, was a most amazing spectacle.
'You're a pretty fellow!' said Miss Mowcher, after a brief inspection.
'You'd be as bald as a friar on the top of your head in twelve months,
but for me. just half a minute, my young friend, and we'll give
you a polishing that shall keep your curls on for the next ten years!'
With this, she tilted some of the contents of the little bottle
on to one of the little bits of flannel, and, again imparting some
of the virtues of that preparation to one of the little brushes,
began rubbing and scraping away with both on the crown of Steerforth's
head in the busiest manner I ever witnessed, talking all the time.
'There's Charley Pyegrave, the duke's son,' she said. 'You know
Charley?' peeping round into his face.
'A little,' said Steerforth.
'What a man HE is! THERE'S a whisker! As to Charley's legs, if
they were only a pair (which they ain't), they'd defy competition.
Would you believe he tried to do without me - in the Life-Guards,
too?'
'Mad!' said Steerforth.
'It looks like it. However, mad or sane, he tried,' returned
Miss Mowcher. 'What does he do, but, lo and behold you, he goes
into a perfumer's shop, and wants to buy a bottle of the Madagascar
Liquid.'
'Charley does?' said Steerforth.
'Charley does. But they haven't got any of the Madagascar Liquid.'
'What is it? Something to drink?' asked Steerforth.
'To drink?' returned Miss Mowcher, stopping to slap his cheek.
'To doctor his own moustachios with, you know. There was a woman
in the shop - elderly female - quite a Griffin - who had never even
heard of it by name. "Begging pardon, sir," said the Griffin
to Charley, "it's not - not - not ROUGE, is it?" "Rouge,"
said Charley to the Griffin. "What the unmentionable to ears
polite, do you think I want with rouge?" "No offence,
sir," said the Griffin; "we have it asked for by so many
names, I thought it might be." Now that, my child,' continued
Miss Mowcher, rubbing all the time as busily as ever, 'is another
instance of the refreshing humbug I was speaking of. I do something
in that way myself - perhaps a good deal - perhaps a little - sharp's
the word, my dear boy - never mind!'
'In what way do you mean? In the rouge way?' said Steerforth.
'Put this and that together, my tender pupil,' returned the wary
Mowcher, touching her nose, 'work it by the rule of Secrets in all
trades, and the product will give you the desired result. I say
I do a little in that way myself. One Dowager, SHE calls it lip-salve.
Another, SHE calls it gloves. Another, SHE calls it tucker-edging.
Another, SHE calls it a fan. I call it whatever THEY call it. I
supply it for 'em, but we keep up the trick so, to one another,
and make believe with such a face, that they'd as soon think of
laying it on, before a whole drawing-room, as before me. And when
I wait upon 'em, they'll say to me sometimes - WITH IT ON - thick,
and no mistake - "How am I looking, Mowcher? Am I pale?"
Ha! ha! ha! ha! Isn't THAT refreshing, my young friend!'
I never did in my days behold anything like Mowcher as she stood
upon the dining table, intensely enjoying this refreshment, rubbing
busily at Steerforth's head, and winking at me over it.
'Ah!' she said. 'Such things are not much in demand hereabouts.
That sets me off again! I haven't seen a pretty woman since I've
been here, jemmy.'
'No?' said Steerforth.
'Not the ghost of one,' replied Miss Mowcher.
'We could show her the substance of one, I think?' said Steerforth,
addressing his eyes to mine. 'Eh, Daisy?'
'Yes, indeed,' said I.
'Aha?' cried the little creature, glancing sharply at my face,
and then peeping round at Steerforth's. 'Umph?'
The first exclamation sounded like a question put to both of
us, and the second like a question put to Steerforth only. She seemed
to have found no answer to either, but continued to rub, with her
head on one side and her eye turned up, as if she were looking for
an answer in the air and were confident of its appearing presently.
'A sister of yours, Mr. Copperfield?' she cried, after a pause,
and still keeping the same look-out. 'Aye, aye?'
'No,' said Steerforth, before I could reply. 'Nothing of the
sort. On the contrary, Mr. Copperfield used - or I am much mistaken
- to have a great admiration for her.'
'Why, hasn't he now?' returned Miss Mowcher. 'Is he fickle? Oh,
for shame! Did he sip every flower, and change every hour, until
Polly his passion requited? - Is her name Polly?'
The Elfin suddenness with which she pounced upon me with this
question, and a searching look, quite disconcerted me for a moment.
'No, Miss Mowcher,' I replied. 'Her name is Emily.'
'Aha?' she cried exactly as before. 'Umph? What a rattle I am!
Mr. Copperfield, ain't I volatile?'
Her tone and look implied something that was not agreeable to
me in connexion with the subject. So I said, in a graver manner
than any of us had yet assumed: 'She is as virtuous as she is pretty.
She is engaged to be married to a most worthy and deserving man
in her own station of life. I esteem her for her good sense, as
much as I admire her for her good looks.'
'Well said!' cried Steerforth. 'Hear, hear, hear! Now I'll quench
the curiosity of this little Fatima, my dear Daisy, by leaving her
nothing to guess at. She is at present apprenticed, Miss Mowcher,
or articled, or whatever it may be, to Omer and Joram, Haberdashers,
Milliners, and so forth, in this town. Do you observe? Omer and
Joram. The promise of which my friend has spoken, is made and entered
into with her cousin; Christian name, Ham; surname, Peggotty; occupation,
boat-builder; also of this town. She lives with a relative; Christian
name, unknown; surname, Peggotty; occupation, seafaring; also of
this town. She is the prettiest and most engaging little fairy in
the world. I admire her - as my friend does - exceedingly. If it
were not that I might appear to disparage her Intended, which I
know my friend would not like, I would add, that to me she seems
to be throwing herself away; that I am sure she might do better;
and that I swear she was born to be a lady.'
Miss Mowcher listened to these words, which were very slowly
and distinctly spoken, with her head on one side, and her eye in
the air as if she were still looking for that answer. When he ceased
she became brisk again in an instant, and rattled away with surprising
volubility.
'Oh! And that's all about it, is it?' she exclaimed, trimming
his whiskers with a little restless pair of scissors, that went
glancing round his head in all directions. 'Very well: very well!
Quite a long story. Ought to end "and they lived happy ever
afterwards"; oughtn't it? Ah! What's that game at forfeits?
I love my love with an E, because she's enticing; I hate her with
an E, because she's engaged. I took her to the sign of the exquisite,
and treated her with an elopement, her name's Emily, and she lives
in the east? Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Copperfield, ain't I volatile?'
Merely looking at me with extravagant slyness, and not waiting
for any reply, she continued, without drawing breath:
'There! If ever any scapegrace was trimmed and touched up to
perfection, you are, Steerforth. If I understand any noddle in the
world, I understand yours. Do you hear me when I tell you that,
my darling? I understand yours,' peeping down into his face. 'Now
you may mizzle, jemmy (as we say at Court), and if Mr. Copperfield
will take the chair I'll operate on him.'
'What do you say, Daisy?' inquired Steerforth, laughing, and
resigning his seat. 'Will you be improved?'
'Thank you, Miss Mowcher, not this evening.'
'Don't say no,' returned the little woman, looking at me with
the aspect of a connoisseur; 'a little bit more eyebrow?'
'Thank you,' I returned, 'some other time.'
'Have it carried half a quarter of an inch towards the temple,'
said Miss Mowcher. 'We can do it in a fortnight.'
'No, I thank you. Not at present.'
'Go in for a tip,' she urged. 'No? Let's get the scaffolding
up, then, for a pair of whiskers. Come!'
I could not help blushing as I declined, for I felt we were on
my weak point, now. But Miss Mowcher, finding that I was not at
present disposed for any decoration within the range of her art,
and that I was, for the time being, proof against the blandishments
of the small bottle which she held up before one eye to enforce
her persuasions, said we would make a beginning on an early day,
and requested the aid of my hand to descend from her elevated station.
Thus assisted, she skipped down with much agility, and began to
tie her double chin into her bonnet.
'The fee,' said Steerforth, 'is -'
'Five bob,' replied Miss Mowcher, 'and dirt cheap, my chicken.
Ain't I volatile, Mr. Copperfield?'
I replied politely: 'Not at all.' But I thought she was rather
so, when she tossed up his two half-crowns like a goblin pieman,
caught them, dropped them in her pocket, and gave it a loud slap.
'That's the Till!' observed Miss Mowcher, standing at the chair
again, and replacing in the bag a miscellaneous collection of little
objects she had emptied out of it. 'Have I got all my traps? It
seems so. It won't do to be like long Ned Beadwood, when they took
him to church "to marry him to somebody", as he says,
and left the bride behind. Ha! ha! ha! A wicked rascal, Ned, but
droll! Now, I know I'm going to break your hearts, but I am forced
to leave you. You must call up all your fortitude, and try to bear
it. Good-bye, Mr. Copperfield! Take care of yourself, jockey of
Norfolk! How I have been rattling on! It's all the fault of you
two wretches. I forgive you! "Bob swore!" - as the Englishman
said for "Good night", when he first learnt French, and
thought it so like English. "Bob swore," my ducks!'
With the bag slung over her arm, and rattling as she waddled
away, she waddled to the door, where she stopped to inquire if she
should leave us a lock of her hair. 'Ain't I volatile?' she added,
as a commentary on this offer, and, with her finger on her nose,
departed.
Steerforth laughed to that degree, that it was impossible for
me to help laughing too; though I am not sure I should have done
so, but for this inducement. When we had had our laugh quite out,
which was after some time, he told me that Miss Mowcher had quite
an extensive connexion, and made herself useful to a variety of
people in a variety of ways. Some people trifled with her as a mere
oddity, he said; but she was as shrewdly and sharply observant as
anyone he knew, and as long-headed as she was short-armed. He told
me that what she had said of being here, and there, and everywhere,
was true enough; for she made little darts into the provinces, and
seemed to pick up customers everywhere, and to know everybody. I
asked him what her disposition was: whether it was at all mischievous,
and if her sympathies were generally on the right side of things:
but, not succeeding in attracting his attention to these questions
after two or three attempts, I forbore or forgot to repeat them.
He told me instead, with much rapidity, a good deal about her skill,
and her profits; and about her being a scientific cupper, if I should
ever have occasion for her service in that capacity.
She was the principal theme of our conversation during the evening:
and when we parted for the night Steerforth called after me over
the banisters, 'Bob swore!' as I went downstairs.
I was surprised, when I came to Mr. Barkis's house, to find Ham
walking up and down in front of it, and still more surprised to
learn from him that little Em'ly was inside. I naturally inquired
why he was not there too, instead of pacing the streets by himself?
'Why, you see, Mas'r Davy,' he rejoined, in a hesitating manner,
'Em'ly, she's talking to some 'un in here.'
'I should have thought,' said I, smiling, 'that that was a reason
for your being in here too, Ham.'
'Well, Mas'r Davy, in a general way, so 't would be,' he returned;
'but look'ee here, Mas'r Davy,' lowering his voice, and speaking
very gravely. 'It's a young woman, sir - a young woman, that Em'ly
knowed once, and doen't ought to know no more.'
When I heard these words, a light began to fall upon the figure
I had seen following them, some hours ago.
'It's a poor wurem, Mas'r Davy,' said Ham, 'as is trod under
foot by all the town. Up street and down street. The mowld o' the
churchyard don't hold any that the folk shrink away from, more.'
'Did I see her tonight, Ham, on the sand, after we met you?'
'Keeping us in sight?' said Ham. 'It's like you did, Mas'r Davy.
Not that I know'd then, she was theer, sir, but along of her creeping
soon arterwards under Em'ly's little winder, when she see the light
come, and whispering "Em'ly, Em'ly, for Christ's sake, have
a woman's heart towards me. I was once like you!" Those was
solemn words, Mas'r Davy, fur to hear!'
'They were indeed, Ham. What did Em'ly do?' 'Says Em'ly, "Martha,
is it you? Oh, Martha, can it be you?" - for they had sat at
work together, many a day, at Mr. Omer's.'
'I recollect her now!' cried I, recalling one of the two girls
I had seen when I first went there. 'I recollect her quite well!'
'Martha Endell,' said Ham. 'Two or three year older than Em'ly,
but was at the school with her.'
'I never heard her name,' said I. 'I didn't mean to interrupt
you.'
'For the matter o' that, Mas'r Davy,' replied Ham, 'all's told
a'most in them words, "Em'ly, Em'ly, for Christ's sake, have
a woman's heart towards me. I was once like you!" She wanted
to speak to Em'ly. Em'ly couldn't speak to her theer, for her loving
uncle was come home, and he wouldn't - no, Mas'r Davy,' said Ham,
with great earnestness, 'he couldn't, kind-natur'd, tender-hearted
as he is, see them two together, side by side, for all the treasures
that's wrecked in the sea.'
I felt how true this was. I knew it, on the instant, quite as
well as Ham.
'So Em'ly writes in pencil on a bit of paper,' he pursued, 'and
gives it to her out o' winder to bring here. "Show that,"
she says, "to my aunt, Mrs. Barkis, and she'll set you down
by her fire, for the love of me, till uncle is gone out, and I can
come." By and by she tells me what I tell you, Mas'r Davy,
and asks me to bring her. What can I do? She doen't ought to know
any such, but I can't deny her, when the tears is on her face.'
He put his hand into the breast of his shaggy jacket, and took
out with great care a pretty little purse.
'And if I could deny her when the tears was on her face, Mas'r
Davy,' said Ham, tenderly adjusting it on the rough palm of his
hand, 'how could I deny her when she give me this to carry for her
- knowing what she brought it for? Such a toy as it is!' said Ham,
thoughtfully looking on it. 'With such a little money in it, Em'ly
my dear.'
I shook him warmly by the hand when he had put it away again
- for that was more satisfactory to me than saying anything - and
we walked up and down, for a minute or two, in silence. The door
opened then, and Peggotty appeared, beckoning to Ham to come in.
I would have kept away, but she came after me, entreating me to
come in too. Even then, I would have avoided the room where they
all were, but for its being the neat-tiled kitchen I have mentioned
more than once. The door opening immediately into it, I found myself
among them before I considered whither I was going.
The girl - the same I had seen upon the sands - was near the
fire. She was sitting on the ground, with her head and one arm lying
on a chair. I fancied, from the disposition of her figure, that
Em'ly had but newly risen from the chair, and that the forlorn head
might perhaps have been lying on her lap. I saw but little of the
girl's face, over which her hair fell loose and scattered, as if
she had been disordering it with her own hands; but I saw that she
was young, and of a fair complexion. Peggotty had been crying. So
had little Em'ly. Not a word was spoken when we first went in; and
the Dutch clock by the dresser seemed, in the silence, to tick twice
as loud as usual. Em'ly spoke first.
'Martha wants,' she said to Ham, 'to go to London.'
'Why to London?' returned Ham.
He stood between them, looking on the prostrate girl with a mixture
of compassion for her, and of jealousy of her holding any companionship
with her whom he loved so well, which I have always remembered distinctly.
They both spoke as if she were ill; in a soft, suppressed tone that
was plainly heard, although it hardly rose above a whisper.
'Better there than here,' said a third voice aloud - Martha's,
though she did not move. 'No one knows me there. Everybody knows
me here.'
'What will she do there?' inquired Ham.
She lifted up her head, and looked darkly round at him for a
moment; then laid it down again, and curved her right arm about
her neck, as a woman in a fever, or in an agony of pain from a shot,
might twist herself.
'She will try to do well,' said little Em'ly. 'You don't know
what she has said to us. Does he - do they - aunt?'
Peggotty shook her head compassionately.
'I'll try,' said Martha, 'if you'll help me away. I never can
do worse than I have done here. I may do better. Oh!' with a dreadful
shiver, 'take me out of these streets, where the whole town knows
me from a child!'
As Em'ly held out her hand to Ham, I saw him put in it a little
canvas bag. She took it, as if she thought it were her purse, and
made a step or two forward; but finding her mistake, came back to
where he had retired near me, and showed it to him.
'It's all yourn, Em'ly,' I could hear him say. 'I haven't nowt
in all the wureld that ain't yourn, my dear. It ain't of no delight
to me, except for you!'
The tears rose freshly in her eyes, but she turned away and went
to Martha. What she gave her, I don't know. I saw her stooping over
her, and putting money in her bosom. She whispered something, as
she asked was that enough? 'More than enough,' the other said, and
took her hand and kissed it.
Then Martha arose, and gathering her shawl about her, covering
her face with it, and weeping aloud, went slowly to the door. She
stopped a moment before going out, as if she would have uttered
something or turned back; but no word passed her lips. Making the
same low, dreary, wretched moaning in her shawl, she went away.
As the door closed, little Em'ly looked at us three in a hurried
manner and then hid her face in her hands, and fell to sobbing.
'Doen't, Em'ly!' said Ham, tapping her gently on the shoulder.
'Doen't, my dear! You doen't ought to cry so, pretty!'
'Oh, Ham!' she exclaimed, still weeping pitifully, 'I am not
so good a girl as I ought to be! I know I have not the thankful
heart, sometimes, I ought to have!'
'Yes, yes, you have, I'm sure,' said Ham.
'No! no! no!' cried little Em'ly, sobbing, and shaking her head.
'I am not as good a girl as I ought to be. Not near! not near!'
And still she cried, as if her heart would break.
'I try your love too much. I know I do!' she sobbed. 'I'm often
cross to you, and changeable with you, when I ought to be far different.
You are never so to me. Why am I ever so to you, when I should think
of nothing but how to be grateful, and to make you happy!'
'You always make me so,' said Ham, 'my dear! I am happy in the
sight of you. I am happy, all day long, in the thoughts of you.'
'Ah! that's not enough!' she cried. 'That is because you are
good; not because I am! Oh, my dear, it might have been a better
fortune for you, if you had been fond of someone else - of someone
steadier and much worthier than me, who was all bound up in you,
and never vain and changeable like me!'
'Poor little tender-heart,' said Ham, in a low voice. 'Martha
has overset her, altogether.'
'Please, aunt,' sobbed Em'ly, 'come here, and let me lay my head
upon you. Oh, I am very miserable tonight, aunt! Oh, I am not as
good a girl as I ought to be. I am not, I know!'
Peggotty had hastened to the chair before the fire. Em'ly, with
her arms around her neck, kneeled by her, looking up most earnestly
into her face.
'Oh, pray, aunt, try to help me! Ham, dear, try to help me! Mr.
David, for the sake of old times, do, please, try to help me! I
want to be a better girl than I am. I want to feel a hundred times
more thankful than I do. I want to feel more, what a blessed thing
it is to be the wife of a good man, and to lead a peaceful life.
Oh me, oh me! Oh my heart, my heart!'
She dropped her face on my old nurse's breast, and, ceasing this
supplication, which in its agony and grief was half a woman's, half
a child's, as all her manner was (being, in that, more natural,
and better suited to her beauty, as I thought, than any other manner
could have been), wept silently, while my old nurse hushed her like
an infant.
She got calmer by degrees, and then we soothed her; now talking
encouragingly, and now jesting a little with her, until she began
to raise her head and speak to us. So we got on, until she was able
to smile, and then to laugh, and then to sit up, half ashamed; while
Peggotty recalled her stray ringlets, dried her eyes, and made her
neat again, lest her uncle should wonder, when she got home, why
his darling had been crying.
I saw her do, that night, what I had never seen her do before.
I saw her innocently kiss her chosen husband on the cheek, and creep
close to his bluff form as if it were her best support. When they
went away together, in the waning moonlight, and I looked after
them, comparing their departure in my mind with Martha's, I saw
that she held his arm with both her hands, and still kept close
to him.
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