Chapter XXIX. The Young Man

by Charles Dickens

　　Chesney Wold is shut up, carpets are rolled into great scrolls incorners of comfortless rooms, bright damask does penance in brownholland, carving and gilding puts on mortification, and the Dedlockancestors retire from the light of day again. Around and aroundthe house the leaves fall thick, but never fast, for they comecircling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow. Letthe gardener sweep and sweep the turf as he will, and press theleaves into full barrows, and wheel them off, still they lie ankle-deep. Howls the shrill wind round Chesney Wold; the sharp rainbeats, the windows rattle, and the chimneys growl. Mists hide inthe avenues, veil the points of view, and move in funeral-wiseacross the rising grounds. On all the house there is a cold, blanksmell like the smell of a little church, though something dryer,suggesting that the dead and buried Dedlocks walk there in the longnights and leave the flavour of their graves behind them.But the house in town, which is rarely in the same mind as ChesneyWold at the same time, seldom rejoicing when it rejoices ormourning when it mourns, expecting when a Dedlock dies--the housein town shines out awakened. As warm and bright as so much statemay be, as delicately redolent of pleasant scents that bear notrace of winter as hothouse flowers can make it, soft and hushed sothat the ticking of the clocks and the crisp burning of the firesalone disturb the stillness in the rooms, it seems to wrap thosechilled bones of Sir Leicester's in rainbow-coloured wool. And SirLeicester is glad to repose in dignified contentment before thegreat fire in the library, condescendingly perusing the backs ofhis books or honouring the fine arts with a glance of approbation.For he has his pictures, ancient and modern. Some of the FancyBall School in which art occasionally condescends to become amaster, which would be best catalogued like the miscellaneousarticles in a sale. As '"Three high-backed chairs, a table andcover, long-necked bottle (containing wine), one flask, one Spanishfemale's costume, three-quarter face portrait of Miss Jogg themodel, and a suit of armour containing Don Quixote." Or "One stoneterrace (cracked), one gondola in distance, one Venetian senator'sdress complete, richly embroidered white satin costume with profileportrait of Miss Jogg the model, one Scimitar superbly mounted ingold with jewelled handle, elaborate Moorish dress (very rare), andOthello."Mr. Tulkinghorn comes and goes pretty often, there being estatebusiness to do, leases to be renewed, and so on. He sees my Ladypretty often, too; and he and she are as composed, and asindifferent, and take as little heed of one another, as ever. Yetit may be that my Lady fears this Mr. Tulkinghorn and that he knowsit. It may be that he pursues her doggedly and steadily, with notouch of compunction, remorse, or pity. It may be that her beautyand all the state and brilliancy surrounding her only gives him thegreater zest for what he is set upon and makes him the moreinflexible in it. Whether he be cold and cruel, whether immovablein what he has made his duty, whether absorbed in love of power,whether determined to have nothing hidden from him in ground wherehe has burrowed among secrets all his life, whether he in his heartdespises the splendour of which he is a distant beam, whether he isalways treasuring up slights and offences in the affability of hisgorgeous clients--whether he be any of this, or all of this, it maybe that my Lady had better have five thousand pairs of fashionahleeyes upon her, in distrustful vigilance, than the two eyes of thisrusty lawyer with his wisp of neckcloth and his dull black breechestied with ribbons at the knees.Sir Leicester sits in my Lady's room--that room in which Mr.Tulkinghorn read the affidavit in Jarndyce and Jarndyce--particularly complacent. My Lady, as on that day, sits before thefire with her screen in her hand. Sir Leicester is particularlycomplacent because he has found in his newspaper some congenialremarks bearing directly on the floodgates and the framework ofsociety. They apply so happily to the late case that Sir Leicesterhas come from the library to my Lady's room expressly to read themaloud. "The man who wrote this article," he observes by way ofpreface, nodding at the fire as if he were nodding down at the manfrom a mount, "has a well-balanced mind."The man's mind is not so well balanced but that he bores my Lady,who, after a languid effort to listen, or rather a languidresignation of herself to a show of listening, becomes distraughtand falls into a contemplation of the fire as if it were her fireat Chesney Wold, and she had never left it. Sir Leicester, quiteunconscious, reads on through his double eye-glass, occasionallystopping to remove his glass and express approval, as "Very trueindeed," "Very properly put," "I have frequently made the sameremark myself," invariably losing his place after each observation,and going up and down the column to find it again.Sir Leicester is reading with infinite gravity and state when thedoor opens, and the Mercury in powder makes this strangeannouncement, "The young man, my Lady, of the name of Guppy."Sir Leicester pauses, stares, repeats in a killing voice, "Theyoung man of the name of Guppy?"Looking round, he beholds the young man of the name of Guppy, muchdiscomfited and not presenting a very impressive letter ofintroduction in his manner and appearance."Pray," says Sir Leicester to Mercury, "what do you mean byannouncing with this abruptness a young man of the name of Guppy?""I beg your pardon, Sir Leicester, but my Lady said she would seethe young man whenever he called. I was not aware that you werehere, Sir Leicester."With this apology, Mercury directs a scornful and indignant look atthe young man of the name of Guppy which plainly says, "What do youcome calling here for and getting me into a row?""It's quite right. I gave him those directions," says my Lady."Let the young man wait.""By no means, my Lady. Since he has your orders to come, I willnot interrupt you." Sir Leicester in his gallantry retires, ratherdeclining to accept a bow from the young man as he goes out andmajestically supposing him to be some shoemaker of intrusiveappearance.Lady Dedlock looks imperiously at her visitor when the servant hasleft the room, casting her eyes over him from head to foot. Shesuffers him to stand by the door and asks him what he wants."That your ladyship would have the kindness to oblige me with alittle conversation," returns Mr. Guppy, embarrassed."You are, of course, the person who has written me so manyletters?""Several, your ladyship. Several before your ladyship condescendedto favour me with an answer.""And could you not take the same means of rendering a Conversationunnecessary? Can you not still?"Mr. Guppy screws his mouth into a silent "No!" and shakes his head."You have been strangely importunate. If it should appear, afterall, that what you have to say does not concern me--and I don'tknow how it can, and don't expect that it will--you will allow meto cut you short with but little ceremony. Say what you have tosay, if you please."My Lady, with a careless toss of her screen, turns herself towardsthe fire again, sitting almost with her back to the young man ofthe name of Guppy."With your ladyship's permission, then," says the young man, "Iwill now enter on my business. Hem! I am, as I told your ladyshipin my first letter, in the law. Being in the law, I have learntthe habit of not committing myself in writing, and therefore I didnot mention to your ladyship the name of the firm with which I amconnected and in which my standing--and I may add income--istolerably good. I may now state to your ladyship, in confidence,that the name of that firm is Kenge and Carboy, of Lincoln's Inn,which may not be altogether unknown to your ladyship in connexionwith the case in Chancery of Jarndyce and Jarndyce."My Lady's figure begins to be expressive of some attention. Shehas ceased to toss the screen and holds it as if she werelistening."Now, I may say to your ladyship at once," says Mr. Guppy, a littleemboldened, "it is no matter arising out of Jarndyce and Jarndycethat made me so desirous to speak to your ladyship, which conduct Ihave no doubt did appear, and does appear, obtrusive--in fact,almost blackguardly."After waiting for a moment to receive some assurance to thecontrary, and not receiving any, Mr. Guppy proceeds, "If it hadbeen Jarndyce and Jarndyce, I should have gone at once to yourladyship's solicitor, Mr. Tulkinghorn, of the Fields. I have thepleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Tulkinghorn--at least we movewhen we meet one another--and if it had been any business of thatsort, I should have gone to him."My Lady turns a little round and says, "You had better sit down.""Thank your ladyship." Mr. Guppy does so. "Now, your ladyship"--Mr. Guppy refers to a little slip of paper on which he has madesmall notes of his line of argument and which seems to involve himin the densest obscurity whenever he looks at it--"I--Oh, yes!--Iplace myself entirely in your ladyship's hands. If your ladyshipwas to make any complaint to Kenge and Carboy or to Mr. Tulkinghornof the present visit, I should be placed in a very disagreeablesituation. That, I openly admit. Consequently, I rely upon yourladyship's honour."My Lady, with a disdainful gesture of the hand that holds thescreen, assures him of his being worth no complaint from her."Thank your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy; "quite satisfactory. Now--I--dash it!--The fact is that I put down a head or two here of theorder of the points I thought of touching upon, and they're writtenshort, and I can't quite make out what they mean. If your ladyshipwill excuse me taking it to the window half a moment, I--"Mr. Guppy, going to the window, tumbles into a pair of love-birds,to whom he says in his confusion, "I beg your pardon, I am sure."This does not tend to the greater legibility of his notes. Hemurmurs, growing warm and red and holding the slip of paper nowclose to his eyes, now a long way off, "C.S. What's C.S. for? Oh!C.S.! Oh, I know! Yes, to be sure!" And comes back enlightened."I am not aware," says Mr. Guppy, standing midway between my Ladyand his chair, "whether your ladyship ever happened to hear of, orto see, a young lady of the name of Miss Esther Summerson."My Lady's eyes look at him full. "I saw a young lady of that namenot long ago. This past autumn.""Now, did it strike your ladyship that she was like anybody?" asksMr. Guppy, crossing his arms, holding his head on one side, andscratching the corner of his mouth with his memoranda.My Lady removes her eyes from him no more."No.""Not like your ladyship's family?""No.""I think your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy, "can hardly remember MissSummerson's face?""I remember the young lady very well. What has this to do withme?""Your ladyship, I do assure you that having Miss Summerson's imageimprinted on my 'eart--which I mention in confidence--I found, whenI had the honour of going over your ladyship's mansion of ChesneyWold while on a short out in the county of Lincolnshire with afriend, such a resemblance between Miss Esther Summerson and yourladyship's own portrait that it completely knocked me over, so muchso that I didn't at the moment even know what it was that knockedme over. And now I have the honour of beholding your ladyship near(I have often, since that, taken the liberty of looking at yourladyship in your carriage in the park, when I dare say you was notaware of me, but I never saw your ladyship so near), it's reallymore surprising than I thought it."Young man of the name of Guppy! There have been times, when ladieslived in strongholds and had unscrupulous attendants within call,when that poor life of yours would not have been worth a minute'spurchase, with those beautiful eyes looking at you as they look atthis moment.My Lady, slowly using her little hand-screen as a fan, asks himagain what he supposes that his taste for likenesses has to do withher."Your ladyship," replies Mr. Guppy, again referring to his paper,"I am coming to that. Dash these notes! Oh! 'Mrs. Chadband.'Yes." Mr. Guppy draws his chair a little forward and seats himselfagain. My Lady reclines in her chair composedly, though with atrifle less of graceful ease than usual perhaps, and never faltersin her steady gaze. "A--stop a minute, though!" Mr. Guppy refersagain. "E.S. twice? Oh, yes! Yes, I see my way now, right on."Rolling up the slip of paper as an instrument to point his speechwith, Mr. Guppy proceeds."Your ladyship, there is a mystery about Miss Esther Summerson'sbirth and bringing up. I am informed of that fact because--which Imention in confidence--I know it in the way of my profession atKenge and Carboy's. Now, as I have already mentioned to yourladyship, Miss Summerson's image is imprinted on my 'eart. If Icould clear this mystery for her, or prove her to be well related,or find that having the honour to be a remote branch of yourladyship's family she had a right to be made a party in Jarndyceand Jarndyce, why, I might make a sort of a claim upon MissSummerson to look with an eye of more dedicated favour on myproposals than she has exactly done as yet. In fact, as yet shehasn't favoured them at all."A kind of angry smile just dawns upon my Lady's face."Now, it's a very singular circumstance, your ladyship," says Mr.Guppy, "though one of those circumstances that do fall in the wayof us professional men--which I may call myself, for though notadmitted, yet I have had a present of my articles made to me byKenge and Carboy, on my mother's advancing from the principal ofher little income the money for the stamp, which comes heavy--thatI have encountered the person who lived as servant with the ladywho brought Miss Summerson up before Mr. Jarndyce took charge ofher. That lady was a Miss Barbary, your ladyship."Is the dead colour on my Lady's face reflected from the screenwhich has a green silk ground and which she holds in her raisedhand as if she had forgotten it, or is it a dreadful paleness thathas fallen on her?"Did your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy, "ever happen to hear of MissBarbary?""I don't know. I think so. Yes.""Was Miss Barbary at all connected with your ladyship's family?"My Lady's lips move, but they utter nothing. She shakes her head."Not connected?" says Mr. Guppy. "Oh! Not to your ladyship'sknowledge, perhaps? Ah! But might be? Yes." After each of theseinterrogatories, she has inclined her head. "Very good! Now, thisMiss Barbary was extremely close--seems to have beenextraordinarily close for a female, females being generally (incommon life at least) rather given to conversation--and my witnessnever had an idea whether she possessed a single relative. On oneoccasion, and only one, she seems to have been confidential to mywitness on a single point, and she then told her that the littlegirl's real name was not Esther Summerson, but Esther Hawdon.""My God!"Mr. Guppy stares. Lady Dedlock sits before him looking himthrough, with the same dark shade upon her face, in the sameattitude even to the holding of the screen, with her lips a littleapart, her brow a little contracted, but for the moment dead. Hesees her consciousness return, sees a tremor pass across her framelike a ripple over water, sees her lips shake, sees her composethem by a great effort, sees her force herself back to theknowledge of his presence and of what he has said. All this, soquickly, that her exclamation and her dead condition seem to havepassed away like the features of those long-preserved dead bodiessometimes opened up in tombs, which, struck by the air likelightning, vanish in a breath."Your ladyship is acquainted with the name of Hawdon?""I have heard it before.""Name of any collateral or remote branch of your ladyship'sfamily?""No.""Now, your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy, "I come to the last point ofthe case, so far as I have got it up. It's going on, and I shallgather it up closer and closer as it goes on. Your ladyship mustknow--if your ladyship don't happen, by any chance, to knowalready--that there was found dead at the house of a person namedKrook, near Chancery Lane, some time ago, a law-writer in greatdistress. Upon which law-writer there was an inquest, and whichlaw-writer was an anonymous character, his name being unknown.But, your ladyship, I have discovered very lately that that law-writer's name was Hawdon.""And what is that to me?""Aye, your ladyship, that's the question! Now, your ladyship, aqueer thing happened after that man's death. A lady started up, adisguised lady, your ladyship, who went to look at the scene ofaction and went to look at his grave. She hired a crossing-sweeping boy to show it her. If your ladyship would wish to havethe boy produced in corroboration of this statement, I can lay myhand upon him at any time."The wretched boy is nothing to my Lady, and she does not wish tohave him produced."Oh, I assure your ladyship it's a very queer start indeed," saysMr. Guppy. "If you was to hear him tell about the rings thatsparkled on her fingers when she took her glove off, you'd think itquite romantic."There are diamonds glittering on the hand that holds the screen.My Lady trifles with the screen and makes them glitter more, againwith that expression which in other times might have been sodangerous to the young man of the name of Guppy."It was supposed, your ladyship, that he left no rag or scrapbehind him by which he could be possibly identified. But he did.He left a bundle of old letters."The screen still goes, as before. All this time her eyes neveronce release him."They were taken and secreted. And to-morrow night, your ladyship,they will come into my possession.""Still I ask you, what is this to me?""Your ladyship, I conclude with that." Mr. Guppy rises. "If youthink there's enough in this chain of circumstances put together--in the undoubted strong likeness of this young lady to yourladyship, which is a positive fact for a jury; in her having beenbrought up by Miss Barbary; in Miss Barbary stating MissSummerson's real name to be Hawdon; in your ladyship's knowing boththese names very well; and in Hawdon's dying as he did--to giveyour ladyship a family interest in going further into the case, Iwill bring these papers here. I don't know what they are, exceptthat they are old letters: I have never had them in my posessionyet. I will bring those papers here as soon as I get them and goover them for the first time with your ladyship. I have told yourladyship my object. I have told your ladyship that I should beplaced in a very disagreeable situation if any complaint was made,and all is in strict confidence."Is this the full purpose of the young man of the name of Guppy, orhas he any other? Do his words disclose the length, breadth,depth, of his object and suspicion in coming here; or if not, whatdo they hide? He is a match for my Lady there. She may look athim, but he can look at the table and keep that witness-box face ofhis from telling anything."You may bring the letters," says my Lady, "if you choose.""Your ladyship is not very encouraging, upon my word and honour,"says Mr. Guppy, a little injured."You may bring the letters," she repeats in the same tone, "if you--please.""It shall he done. I wish your ladyship good day."On a table near her is a rich bauble of a casket, barred andclasped like an old strong-chest. She, looking at him still, takesit to her and unlocks it."Oh! I assure your ladyship I am not actuated by any motives ofthat sort," says Mr. Guppy, "and I couldn't accept anything of thekind. I wish your ladyship good day, and am much obliged to youall the same."So the young man makes his bow and goes downstairs, where thesupercilious Mercury does not consider himself called upon to leavehis Olympus by the hall-fire to let the young man out.As Sir Leicester basks in his library and dozes over his newspaper,is there no influence in the house to startle him, not to say tomake the very trees at Chesney Wold fling up their knotted arms,the very portraits frown, the very armour stir?No. Words, sobs, and cries are but air, and air is so shut in andshut out throughout the house in town that sounds need be utteredtrumpet-tongued indeed by my Lady in her chamber to carry any faintvibration to Sir Leicester's ears; and yet this cry is in thehouse, going upward from a wild figure on its knees."O my child, my child! Not dead in the first hours of her life, asmy cruel sister told me, but sternly nurtured by her, after she hadrenounced me and my name! O my child, O my child!"