“Only sighed, and dropped his head. How that door creaks!”
“It often does,” returned Mrs. Quilp with an uneasy glance towards it. “But your grandfather was different before?”
“Oh yes!” said the child eagerly, “so different! We were once so happy and he so cheerful and contented! You cannot think what a sad change has fallen on us, since.”
“I am very, very sorry, to hear you speak like this, my dear! “ said Mrs. Quilp. And she spoke the truth.
“Thank you,” returned the child, kissing her cheek, “you are always kind to me, and it is a pleasure to talk to you. I can speak to no one else about him, but poor Kit. You cannot think how it grieves me sometimes to see him alter so.”
“He’ll alter again, Nelly,” said Mrs. Quilp, “and be what he was before.”
“I thought,” said the child; “I saw that door moving!”
“It’s the wind,” said Mrs. Quilp faintly. “Nelly, Nelly! I can’t bear to see you so sorrowful. Pray don’t cry.”
“I do so very seldom,” said Nell, “The tears come into my eyes and I cannot keep them back. I can tell you my grief, for I know you will not tell it to anyone again.”
Mrs. Quilp turned away her head and made no answer.
“We,” said the child, “we often walked in the fields and among the green trees, and when we came home at night, we said what a happy place it was. But now we never have these walks, and though it is the same house, it is darker and much more gloomy than it used to be. Indeed!”
She paused here, but though the door creaked more than once, Mrs. Quilp said nothing.
“Please don’t suppose,” said the child earnestly, “that grandfather is less kind to me than he was. I think he loves me better every day. You do not know how fond he is of me!”
“I am sure he loves you dearly,” said Mrs. Quilp.
“Indeed, indeed he does!” cried Nell, “as dearly as I love him. But I have not told you the greatest change of all, and this you must never tell anyone. He has no sleep or rest, and every night and nearly all night long, he is away from home.”
“Nelly?”
“Hush!” said the child, laying her finger on her lip and looking round. “When he comes home in the morning, I let him in. Last night he was very late, and it was quite light. I saw that his face was deadly pale, and that his legs trembled as he walked. He said that he could not bear his life much longer. What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do?”
In a few moments Mr. Quilp returned.
“She’s tired, you see, Mrs. Quilp,” said the dwarf. “It’s a long way from her home to the wharf. Poor Nell! But wait, and dine with Mrs. Quilp and me.”
“I have been away too long, sir, already,” returned Nell, drying her eyes.
“Well,” said Mr. Quilp, “if you will go, you will, Nelly. Here’s the note. It’s only to say that I shall see him tomorrow, or maybe next day. Good-bye, Nelly. Here, you sir; take care of her, do you hear?”
Kit made no reply, and turned about and followed his young mistress.
7
Nelly feebly described the sadness and sorrow of her thoughts. The pressure of some hidden grief burdened her grandfather.
One night, the third after Nelly’s interview with Mrs. Quilp, the old man said he would not leave home.
“Two days,” he said, “two whole, clear, days have passed, and there is no reply. What did he tell thee, Nell?”
“Exactly what I told you, dear grandfather, indeed.”
“True,” said the old man, faintly. “Yes. But tell me again, Nell. What was it that he told you? Nothing more than that he would see me tomorrow or next day? That was in the note.”
“Nothing more,” said the child. “Shall I go to him again tomorrow, dear grandfather? Very early? I will be there and back, before breakfast.”
The old man shook his head, and sighing mournfully, drew her towards him.
“It would be of no use, my dear.”
The old man covered his face with his hands, and hid it in the pillow of the couch on which he lay.
8
Mr. Daniel Quilp entered unseen when the child first placed herself at the old man’s side, and stood looking on with his accustomed grin. He soon cast his eyes upon a chair, into which he skipped. Here, then, he sat, one leg cocked carelessly over the other, his head turned a little on one side, and his ugly features twisted into a complacent grimace.
At length, the old man pronounced his name, and inquired how he came there.
“Through the door,” said Quilp pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m not quite small enough to get through key-holes. I wish I was. I want to have some talk with you, particularly, and in private. With nobody present, neighbour. Good-bye, little Nelly.”
Nell looked at the old man, who nodded to her to retire, and kissed her cheek.
“Ah!” said the dwarf, smacking his lips, “what a nice kiss! What a capital kiss!”
Nell went away.
“Tell me,” said the old man, “have you brought me any money?”
“No!” returned Quilp.
“Then,” said the old man, clenching his hands desperately, and looking upward, “the child and I are lost!”
“Neighbour,” said Quilp, “let me be plain with you. You have no secret from me now.”
The old man looked up, trembling.
“You are surprised,” said Quilp. “Well, perhaps that’s natural. You have no secret from me now, I say; no, not one. For now, I know, that all those sums of money, that all those loans, advances, and supplies that you have had from me, have gone… shall I say the word?”
“Yes!” replied the old man, “say it, if you will.”
“To the gaming-table,” rejoined Quilp, “This was your precious plan to become rich; this was the secret certain source of wealth in which I spent my money; this was your inexhaustible mine of gold, your El Dorado[26], eh?”
“Yes,” cried the old man, “it was. It is. It will be, till I die.”
“I have been blinded,” said Quilp looking contemptuously at him, “by a mere shallow gambler!”
“I am no gambler,” cried the old man fiercely. “I never played for gain of mine, or love of play. Every piece I staked, I whispered to myself that orphan’s name and called on Heaven to bless the venture; which it never did. Who were those with whom I played? Men who lived by plunder, profligacy, and riot.”
“When did you first begin this mad career?” asked Quilp.
“When did I first begin?” he rejoined, passing his hand across his brow. “When was it, that I first began? When I began to think how little I had saved, how long a time it took to save at all.”
“You lost your money, first, and then came to me. While I thought you were making your fortune (as you said you were) you were making yourself a beggar, eh? Dear me!” said Quilp. “But did you never win?”
“Never!” groaned the old man. “Never won back my loss.”
“I thought,” sneered the dwarf, “that if a man played long enough he was sure to win.”
“And so he is,” cried the old man, “so he is; I have always known it. Quilp, I have dreamed, three nights, of winning the same large sum, I never could