41 From the workshop of the Golden Key, there is sued forth a tinkling sound, so merry and good-humoured, that it suggested the idea of someone working blively, and made quite pleasant music. No man, who hammered on at a dull monotonous duty, could have brought such cheerful notes from steel and iron. None but a chirping, healthy, honest-hearted fellow, who made the best of everything, and felt kindly towards everybody, could have done it for an instant. He might have been a coppersmith, and still been musical. If he had sat in a jolting wagon, full of rods of iron, it seemed as if he would have brought some harmony out of it. Tink, tink, tink, clears a silver bell, and audible at every pause of the streets harsher noises. As though it said, I don't care, nothing puts me out, I'm resolved to be happy. Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went rumbling by, horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of hawkers. Still it struck in again. No higher, no lower, no louder, no softer. Not thrusting itself on people's notice a bit more, for having been outdone by louder sounds. Tink, tink, tink, tink, tink. It was a perfect embodiment of the still small voice, free from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness of any kind. Foot passengers slackened their pace, and were disposed to linger near it. Neighbours who had got up spenetic that morning, felt good humour stealing on them as they heard it, and by degrees became quite sprightly. Mothers danced their babies to its ringing. Still the same magical tink, tink, tink came gaily from the workshop of the Golden Key. Who but the locksmith could have made such music? A gleam of sun shining through the unsashed window, and checkering the dark workshop with a broad patch of light fell full upon him, as though attracted by his sunny heart. There he stood, working at his anvil, his face all radiant with exercise and gladness, his sleeves turned up, his wig pushed off his shining forehead, the easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world. Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking in the light, and falling every now and then into an idle dose, as from excess of comfort. Toby looked on from a tall bench hard by, one beaming smile, from his broad and nut-brown face, down to the slack-baked buckles in his shoes. The very locks that hung around had something jovial in their rust, and seemed like gouty gentlemen of hearty natures disposed to joke on their infirmities. There was nothing surly or severe in the whole scene. It seemed impossible that any one of the innumerable keys could fit a churlish strongbox or a prison door. Sellers of beer and wine, rooms where there were fires, books, gossip, and cheering laughter, these were their proper sphere of action. Places of distrust and cruelty and restraint they would have left quadruple locked forever. Tink, tink, tink. The locksmith paused at last and wiped his brow. The silence roused the cat, who, jumping softly down, crept to the door and watched with tiger eyes a birdcage in an opposite window.   Glancing at the wall beyond, there might have been a spide hanging on their several pegs, a cap and feather, broadsword, sash, and coat of scarlet, which any man, learned in such matters, would have known from their make and pattern to be the uniform of a sergeant in the royal East London volunteers. As the locksmith put his mug down, empty, on the bench whence it had smiled on him before, he glanced at these articles with a laughing eye, and looking at them with his head a little on one side, as though he would get them all into a focus, said, leaning on his hammer, Time was now, I remember, when I was like to run mad with the desire to wear a coat of that colour. If any one, except my father, had called me a fool for my pains, how I should have fired and fumed.  Ah! sighed Mrs. Varton, who had entered unobserved. A fool indeed. A man at your time of life, Varton, should know better now.  Certainly! replied Mrs. V, with great demureness. Of course I am. I know that, Varton, thank you. I mean, began the locksmith. Yes, said his wife, I know what you mean.  It is very kind of you to adapt yourself to my capacity, I am sure. Oh! Martha! rejoined the locksmith. Don't take offence at nothing. I mean, how strange it is of you to run down volunteering, when it's done to defend you, and all the other women, and our own fireside, and everybody else's, in case of need. It's un-Christian. cried Mrs. Varton, shaking her head. Un-Christian! said the locksmith. Why, what the devil! Mrs. Varton looked at the ceiling, as in expectation, that the consequence of his profanity would be the immediate descent of the four-post bed-stead on the second floor, together with the best sitting-room on the first. But no visible judgment occurring, she heaved a deep sigh, and begged her husband in a tone of resignation to go on, and by all means to blaspheme as much as possible, because he knew she liked it. The locksmith did for a moment seem disposed to gratify her, but he gave a great gulp, and mildly rejoined. I was going to say, what on earth do you call it un-Christian for? Which would be most un-Christian, Martha, to sit quietly down and let our houses be sacked by a foreign army, or to turn out like men and drive them off? Shouldn't I be a nice sort of a Christian, if I crept into a corner of my own chimney, and looked on while a parcel of whiskered savages bore off Dolly, or you? When he said, or you, Mrs. Varton, despite herself, relaxed into a smile, there was something complementary in the idea, in such a state of things as that indeed, she simpered. As that, repeated the locksmith, well, that would be the state of things directly. Even migs would go. Some black tambourine player with a great turban on would be bearing her off, and unless the tambourine player was proof against kicking and scratching, it's my belief he'd have the worst of it. I'd forgive the tambourine player. I wouldn't have him interfered with on any account, poor fellow. And here the locksmith laughed again so heartily that tears came into his eyes, much to Mrs. Varton's indignation, who thought the capture of so sound a protestant, an estimable, a private character as migs by a pagan negro, a circumstance too shocking and awful for contemplation. The picture Gabriel had drawn indeed threatened serious consequences, and would indubitably have led to them, but luckily at that moment a light footstep crossed the threshold, and Dolly running in through her arms round her old father's neck and hugged him tight. Here she is at last! cried Gabriel. And how well you look, doll, and how late you are, my darling! How well she looked! Well! Why, if he had exhausted every laudatory adjective in the dictionary, it wouldn't have been praise enough.  What was the Dolly of five years ago to the Dolly of that day? How many coach-makers, saddlers, cabinet-makers, and professors of other useful arts had deserted their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and most of all their cousins for the love of her? How many unknown gentlemen, supposed to be of mighty fortunes, if not titles, had waited round the corner after dark, and tempted migs, the incorruptible, with golden guineas, to deliver offers of marriage folded up in love letters? How many disconsolate fathers and substantial tradesmen had waited on the locksmith for the same purpose, with dismal tales of how their sons had lost their appetites, and taken to shut themselves up in dark bedrooms, and wandering in desolate suburbs with pale faces, and all because of Dolly Varden's loveliness and cruelty? How many young men in all previous times of unprecedented steadiness had turned suddenly wild and wicked for the same reason, and in an ecstasy of unrequited love taken to wrench off door-knockers and invert the boxes of dramatic watchmen? How had she recruited the king's service, both by sea and land, through rendering desperate his loving subjects between the ages of 18 and 25?  How many old ladies taking counsel together had thanked heaven their daughters were not like her, and had hoped she might come to no harm, and had thought she would come to no good, and had wondered what people saw in her, and had arrived at the conclusion that she was going off in her looks, or had never come on in them, and that she was a thorough imposition and a popular mistake? And yet here was this same Dolly Varden, so whimsical and hard to please, that she was Dolly Varden still, all smiles and dimples and pleasant looks, and caring no more for the fifty or sixty young fellows who at the very moment were breaking their hearts to marry her than if so many oysters had been crossed in love and opened afterwards. Dolly hugged her father, as has been already stated, and having hugged her mother also, accompanied both into the little parlor, where the cloth was already laid for dinner, and where Miss Miggs, a trifle more rigid and bony than of yore, received her with a sort of hysterical gasp, intended for a smile, into the hands of that young virgin she delivered her bonnet and walking dress, all of a dreadful artful and designing kind, and then said with a laugh which rivaled the locksmith's music, How glad I always am to be at home again! And how glad we always are, doll! said her father, putting back the dark hair from her sparkling eyes, To have you at home, give me a kiss! If there had been anybody of the male kind there to see her do it, but there was not, it was a mercy. I don't like your being at the Warren, said the locksmith. I can't bear to have you out of my sight. And what is the news over yonder, doll? What news there is, I think you know already, replied his daughter. I am sure you do, though. I cried the locksmith. What's that? Oh, come, come! said Dolly. You know very well. I want you to tell me why, Mr. Hairdale. Oh, how gruff he is again to be sure, has been away from home for some days past, and why he is travelling about. We know he is travelling because of his letters, without telling his own niece why or wherefore. Miss Emma doesn't want to know how swear, returned the locksmith. I don't know that, said Dolly, but I do at any rate. Do tell me, why is he so secret, and what is this ghost story which nobody is to tell Miss Emma? And what seems to be mixed up with this going away? Now I see you know, by your colouring, so.  Return the locksmith, except that it's some foolish fear of little solomons, which has indeed no meaning in it, I suppose. As to Mr. Hairdale's journey, he goes as I believe. Yes, said Dolly, as I believe, presumed the locksmith pinching her cheek, on business dull. What it may be is quite another matter. Read Bluebeard, and don't be too curious, Pet. It's no business of yours or mine, depend upon that. And here's dinner, which is much more to the purpose. Dolly might have remonstrated against this summary dismissal of the subject, notwithstanding the appearance of dinner, but at the mention of Bluebeard, Mrs. Varden interposed, protesting she could not find it in her conscience to sit tamely by, and hear her child recommended to peruse the adventures of a Turk and muscle man, far less of a fabulous Turk, which you consider that potentate to be. She held that, in such stirring and tremendous times as those in which they lived, it would be much more to the purpose if Dolly became a regular subscriber to the Thunderer, where she would have an opportunity of reading Lord George Gordon's speeches word for word, would be of greater comfort and solace to her, than a hundred and fifty Bluebeards ever could impart. She appealed in support of this proposition to Miss Miggs, then in waiting, who said that indeed the peace of mind she had derived from the perusal of that paper generally, but especially one article of the very last week, as ever was, entitled Great Britain Drenched in Gore, exceeded all belief. The same composition she added had also wrought such a comforting effect on the mind of a married sister of hers, then resident at Golden Lion Court, number 27, Second Bell Handle on the right-hand doorpost, that, being in a delicate state of health, and in fact expecting in addition to her family, she had been seized with fits directly after its perusal, and had raved of the inquisition ever since, to the great improvement of her husband and friends. Miss Miggs went on to say that she would recommend all those whose hearts were hardened to hear Lord George themselves, whom she commended first in respect of his steady Protestantism, then of his oratory, then of his eyes, then of his nose, then of his legs, and lastly of his figure generally, which she looked upon as fit for any statue, prince, or angel, to which sentiment Mrs. Varden fully subscribed. Mrs. Varden, having cut in, looked at a box upon the mantel shelf, painted an imitation of a very red brick dwelling-house, with a yellow roof, having at top a real chimney, down which voluntary subscribers dropped their silver, gold, or pence into the parlour, and on the door the counterfeit presentment of a brass plate, whereon was legibly inscribed Protestant association, and looking at it said that it was to her a source of poignant misery, to think that Varden never had, of all his substance, dropped anything into that temple, save once in secret, as she afterwards discovered, two fragments of tobacco-pipe, which she hoped would not be put down to his last account. That dolly, she was grieved to say, was no less backward in her contributions, better loving as it seemed to purchase ribbons and such gourds, than to encourage the great cause, than in such heavy tribulation, and that she didn't treat her, her father, she much feared, could not be moved, not to despise, but imitate, the bright example of Miss Miggs, who flung her wages, as it were, into the very countenance of the Pope, and bruised his features with her quarters' money. "'Oh, Mim!' said Miggs. "'Don't be lewd to that. I know intentions, Mim, that nobody should know. Such sacrifices I can make are quite a widow's might. It's all I have!' cried Miggs with a great burst of tears, but with her they never came on by degrees. "'But it's made up to be in other ways. It's well made up!' "'This was quite true, though not perhaps in the sense that Miggs intended, as she never failed to keep herself denial full in Mrs. Varden's view. It drew forth so many gifts of caps and gowns and other articles of dress, that upon the whole, the red brick house was perhaps the best investment for her small capital she could possibly have hit upon, returning her interest at the rate of seven or eight percent in money, and fifty at least in personal repute and credit. "'You needn't cry, Miggs,' said Mrs. Varden herself in tears. "'You needn't be ashamed of it, though your poor mistress is on the same side.' Miggs howled at this remark in a peculiarly dismal way, and said she knowed that Master hated her, that it was a dreadful thing to live in families and have dislikes and not give satisfactions, that to make divisions was a thing she could not a bear to think of, neither could her feelings let her do it. That if it was Master's wishes, as she and him should part, it was best they should part, and she hoped he might be the happier for it, and always wished him well, and that he might find somebody as would meet his dispositions. It would be a hard trial, she said, to part from such a missus, but she could meet any suffering when her conscience told her she was in the rites, and therefore she was willing even to go that lengths. She did not think, she added, that she could long survive the separations, but, as she was hated and looked upon unpleasant, perhaps her dying as soon as possible would be the best endings for all parties. With this affecting conclusion Mrs. Miggs shed more tears and sobbed abundantly. "'Can you bear this, Varden?' said his wife in a solemn voice, laying down her knife and fork. "'Why, not very well, my dear,' rejoined the locksmith, but I try to keep my temper. "'Don't let there be words on my account, Mim,' sobmed Miggs. "'He smashed the best that we should part. "'I wouldn't stay, oh gracious me, and make the sentience not for annual gold mine, and found him tea and sugar.' Lest the reader should be at any loss to discover the cause of Mrs. Miggs's deep emotion, it may be whispered apart that, happening to be listening, as her custom sometimes was, when Gabriel and his wife conversed together, she had heard the locksmith's joke, relative to the foreign black, who played the tambourine, and bursting with the spiteful feelings which the taunt awoke in her fair breast, exploded in the manner we have witnessed. Matters having now arrived at a crisis the locksmith, as usual, and for the sake of peace and quietness, gave in. "'What are you crying for, girl?' he said. "'What's the matter with you? What are you talking about hatred for?  Dry your eyes and make yourself agreeable in heaven's name, and let us all be happy while we can.' The allied powers, deeming at good generalship to consider this a sufficient apology on the part of the enemy, and confession of having been in the wrong, did dry their eyes and take it in good part. Mrs. Miggs observed that she bore no malice, no, not to her greatest foe, whom she rather loved the more indeed, the greater persecution she sustained. Mrs. Varden approved of this meek and forgiving spirit in high terms, and incidentally declared, as a closing article of agreement, that Dolly should accompany her to the Clarkinwell branch of the association that very night. This was an extraordinary instance of her great prudence and policy, having had this end in view from the first, and entertaining a secret misgiving at the locksmith, who was bold when Dolly was in question, would object. She had backed Mrs. Miggs up to this point in order that she might have him at a disadvantage. The manoeuvre succeeded so well that Gabriel only made a rye face, and with the warning he had just had, fresh in his mind, did not dare to say one word. The difference ended, therefore, in Miggs being presented with a gown by Mrs. Varden, and a half a crown by Dolly, as if she had eminently distinguished herself in the paths of morality and goodness. Mrs. V, according to Custom, expressed her hope that Varden would take a lesson from what had passed, and learn more generous conduct for the time to come. And the dinner being now cold, and nobody's appetite very much improved by what had passed, they went on with it, as Mrs. Varden said, like Christians. As there was to be a grand parade of the royal East London volunteers that afternoon, the locksmith did no more work, but sat down comfortably with his pipe in his mouth, and his arm round his pretty daughter's waist, looking lovingly on Mrs. V from time to time, and exhibiting from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot one smiling surface of good humour. And to be sure, when it was time to dress him in his regimentals, and Dolly hanging about him in all kinds of graceful winning ways, helped to button and buckle and brush him up, and get him into one of the tightest coats that ever was made by mortal tailor, he was the proudest father in all England. What a handy jade it is! said the locksmith to Mrs. Varden, who stood by with folded hands, rather proud of her husband too, while Miggs held his cap and sword at arm's length, as if mistrusting that the latter might run someone through the body of its own accord. But never marry a soldier, doll, my dear! Dolly didn't ask why not, or say a word, indeed, but stooped her head down very low to tie his sash. I never wear this dress, said honest Gabriel, but I think of poor Joe Willet. I loved Joe. He was always a favourite of mine. Poor Joe! Dear heart, my girl, don't tie me in so tight! Dolly laughed, not like herself at all, the strangest little laugh that could be, and held her head down lower still. Poor Joe! resumed the locksmith, muttering to himself. I always wish he had come to me. I might have made it up between them if he had. Oh, John made a great mistake in his way of acting by that lad. A great mistake. Have you nearly tied that sash, my dear? What an ill-made sash it was. There it was, loose again and trailing on the ground. Dolly was obliged to kneel down and recommence at the beginning. Never mind young Willet, Varden, said his wife, frowning. You might find someone more deserving to talk about, I think. Miss Miggs gave a great sniff to the same effect. Nay, Martha! cried the locksmith. Don't let us bear too hard upon him. If the lad is dead, indeed, we'll deal kindly by his memory. A runaway and a vagabond, said Mrs. Varden. Miss Miggs expressed her concurrence as before. A runaway, my dear, but not a vagabond, returned the locksmith in a gentle tone. He behaved himself well, did Joe, always, and was a handsome manly fellow. Don't call him a vagabond, Martha. Mrs. Varden coughed, and so did Miggs. He tried hard to gain your good opinion, Martha. I can tell you, said the locksmith smiling and stroking his chin. Ah, that he did. It seems but yesterday that he followed me out to the maypole door one night, and begged me not to say how like a boy they used him. Say here at home, he meant, though at the time I recollect I didn't understand. And how's Miss Dolly, sir? says Joe. Pursued the locksmith, musing sorrowfully. Ah, poor Joe. Well, I declare, cried Miggs. Oh, goodness gracious me! What's the matter now? said Gabriel, turning sharply to her. Why, if here aren't Miss Dolly? said the handmaid, stooping down to look into her face. I give in white the flats of tears.  Raleigh, it's given me such a tune! cried the susceptible damsel, pressing her hand upon her side to quell the palpitation of her heart. There you might knock me down with a feather! The locksmith, after glancing at Miss Miggs, as if he could have wished to have a feather brought straight away, looked on with a broad stare, while Dolly hurried away, followed by that sympathising young woman, and, turning to his wife, stammered out, Is Dolly ill? Have I done anything? Is it my fault? Your fault! cried Mrs. V. reproachfully. There! you make haste out! What have I done? said poor Gabriel. It was agreed that Mr. Edward's name was never to be mentioned, and I have not spoken of him, have I? Mrs. Varden merely replied that she had no patience with him, and bounced off after the other two. The unfortunate locksmith wound his sash about him, girded on his sword, put on his cap, and walked out. I am not much of a dab at my exercise, he said under his breath, but I shall get into fewer scrapes at that work than at this. Every man came into the world for something. My department seems to be to make every woman cry without meaning it. It's rather hard. But he forgot it before he reached the end of the street, and went on with a shining face, nodding to the neighbours, and showering about his friendly greetings, like mild spring rain. End of Chapter 41 Chapter 42 of Barnaby Rudge, A Tale of the Riots of Eighty This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson Barnaby Rudge, A Tale of the Riots of Eighty by Chet. Chapter 42 The Royal East London Volunteers made a brilliant site that day, formed into lines, squares, circles, triangles, and whatnot, to the beating of drums, and the streaming of flags, and performed a vast number of complex evolutions, in all of which Sergeant Varden bore a conspicuous share. Having displayed their military prowess to the utmost in these warlike shows, they marched in glittering order to the Chelsea Bunn House, and regaled in the adjacent taverns until dark. Then at sound of drum they fell in again, and returned amidst the shouting of His Majesty's Lieges to the place from whence they came. The Homeward March, being somewhat tardy, owing to the unsoldier-like behaviour of certain corporals, who, being gentlemen of sedentary pursuits in private life and excitable out-of-doors, broke several windows with their baynets, and rendered it imperative on the commanding officer to deliver them over to a strong guard, with whom they fought at intervals as they came along. It was nine o'clock when the locksmith reached home. A hackney-coach was waiting near his door, and as he passed it, Mr Hairdale looked from the window, and called him by his name. "'The sight of you is good for sore eyes,' said the locksmith, stepping up to him. "'I wish you had walked in, though, rather than waited here.' "'There is nobody at all, my find,' Mr Hairdale answered. "'Besides, I desire to be as private as I could.' "'Hm!' muttered the locksmith, looking round at his house. "'Gone with Simon tappert it to that precious branch, no doubt?' Mr Hairdale invited him to come into the coach, and, if he were not tired or anxious to go home, to ride with him a little way that they might have some talk together. Gabriel cheerfully complied, and the coachman mounting his box drove off. "'Varden,' said Mr Hairdale, after minutes' pause, "'you will be amazed to hear what errand I am on. "'It will seem a very strange one.' "'I have no doubt it's a reasonable one, sir, and has a meaning in it,' replied the locksmith, "'or it would not be yours at all. "'Have you just come back to town, sir?' "'But half an hour ago.' "'Bringing no news of Barnaby or his mother?' "'Bringing no news of Barnaby or his mother?' said the locksmith dubiously. "'Ah, you needn't shake your head, sir. It was a wild goose-chase. I feared that from the first. You exhausted all reasonable means of discovery when they went away. To begin again after so long a time has passed is hopeless, sir, quite hopeless.' "'Why, where are they?' he returned impatiently. "'Where can they be, above ground?' "'God knows,' rejoined the locksmith, "'many that I knew, above it five years ago, "'have their beds under the grass now. "'And the world is a wide place. "'It's a hopeless attempt, sir, believe me. "'We must leave the discovery of this mystery "'like all others, to time and accident and heaven's pleasure.' "'Varden, my good fellow,' said Mr. Haerdale, "'I have a deeper meaning in my present anxiety to find them out, "'than you can fathom. "'It is not a mere whim. "'It is not the casual revival of my old wishes and desires, "'but an earnest solemn purpose. "'My thoughts and dreams all tend to it, and fix it in my mind. "'I have no rest by day or night. "'I have no peace or quiet. "'I am haunted.' "'His voice was so altered from its usual tones, "'and his manner bespoke so much emotion "'that Gabriel in his wonder could only sit and look towards him in the darkness "'and fancy the expression of his face. "'Do not ask me,' continued Mr. Haerdale, to explain myself, "'if I were to do so, you would think me the victim of some hideous fancy. "'It is enough that this is so, and that I cannot—' "'No, I cannot lie quietly in my bed "'without doing what will seem to you incomprehensible.' "'Since when, sir?' said the locksmith, after a pause, "'has this uneasy feeling been upon you?' "'Mr. Haerdale hesitated for some moments, and then replied, "'since the night of the storm, in short, since the last 19th of March. "'As though he feared that Varden might express surprise or reason with him, "'he hastily went on, "'You will think, I know, I labor under some delusion. "'Perhaps I do, but it is not a morbid one. "'It is a wholesome action of the mind, reasoning on actual occurrences.  "'I am on my way there now.' "'For what purpose?' asked the locksmith. "'To pass the night there,' he replied. "'And not to-night alone, but many nights. "'This is a secret which I trust to you in case of any unexpected emergency. "'You will not come, unless in case of strong necessity to me. "'From dusk to broad day I shall be there. "'Emma, your daughter, and the rest, suppose me out of London, "'as I have been until within this hour. "'Do not undeceive them. "'This is the errand I am bound upon. "'I know I may confide it to you, "'and I rely upon your questioning me no more at this time. "'With that, as if to change the theme, "'he led the astounded locksmith back to the night of the Maple Highwayman, "'to the robbery of Edward Chester, "'to the reappearance of the man at Mrs. Rudge's house, "'and to all the strange circumstances which afterwards occurred. "'He even asked him carelessly about the man's height, "'his face, his figure, whether he was like anyone he had ever seen, "'like Hugh, for instance, or any man he had known at any time, "'and put many questions of that sort, which the locksmith, "'considering them as mere devices to engage his attention "'and prevent his expressing the astonishment, he felt, "'answered pretty much at random. "'At length they arrived at the corner of the street "'in which the house stood, "'where Mr. Hairdale, a lighting, dismissed the coach. "'If you desire to see me safely lodged,' he said, "'turning to the locksmith with a gloomy smile, "'you can.' Gabriel, to whom all former marvels had been nothing in comparison with this, followed him along the narrow pavement in silence. When they reached the door, Mr. Hairdale softly opened it with a key he had about him, and closing it when Varden entered, they were left in thorough darkness. They groped their way into the ground-floor room. Here Mr. Hairdale struck a light, and kindled a pocket-taper he had brought with him for the purpose. It was then, when the flame was full upon him, that the locksmith saw for the first time how haggard, pale, and changed he looked, how worn and thin he was, how perfectly his whole appearance coincided with all that he had said so strangely as they rode along. It was not an unnatural impulse in Gabriel, after what he had heard, to note curiously the expression of his eyes. It was perfectly collected and rational. So much so indeed, that he felt ashamed of his momentary suspicion, and drooped his own when Mr. Hairdale looked towards him, as if he feared they would betray his thoughts. Will you walk through the house, said Mr. Hairdale, with a glance towards the window, the crazy shutters of which were closed and fastened? Speak low. There was a kind of awe about the place, which would have rendered it difficult to speak in any other manner. Gabriel whispered, Yes! and followed him upstairs. Everything was just as they had seen it last. There was a sense of closeness from the exclusion of fresh air, and a gloom and heaviness around, as though long imprisonment had made the very silence sad. The homely hangings of the beds and windows had begun to droop, the dust lay thick upon their dwindling folds, and damps had made their way through ceiling, wall, and floor. The boards creaked beneath their tread, as if resenting the unaccustomed intrusion. Nimble spiders, paralyzed by the tapers' glare, checked the motion of their hundred legs upon the wall, or dropped, like lifeless things upon the ground. The death-watch ticked, and the scampering feet of rats and mice rattled behind the wainscot. As they looked about them, on the decaying furniture, it was strange to find how vividly it presented those to whom it had belonged, and with whom it was once familiar. Grip seemed to perch again upon his high-backed chair, Barnaby to crouch in his old favorite corner by the fire. The mother to resume her usual seat and watch him as of old. Even when they could separate these objects from the phantoms of the mind which they invoked, the latter only glided out of sight, but lingered near them still. For then they seemed to lurk in closets and behind the doors, ready to start out and suddenly accost them in well-remembered tones. They went downstairs, and again into the room they had just now left. Mr. Heardale unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table with a pair of pocket pistols. Then told the locksmith he would light him to the door. But this is a dull place, sir, said Gabriel, lingering, May no one share your watch? He shook his head, and so plainly evinced his wish to be alone that Gabriel could say no more. In another moment the locksmith was standing in the street, whence he could see that the light once more travelled upstairs, and soon returning to the room below, shone brightly through the chinks of the shutters. If ever man were sorely puzzled and perplexed, the locksmith was that night. Even when snugly seated by his own fireside, with Mrs. Varden opposite in a night-cap and night-jacket, and Dolly beside him in a most distracting disobeyal, curling her hair, and smiling as if she had never cried in all her life and never could, even then, with Tobietta's elbow and his pipe in his mouth, and migs, but that perhaps was not much. Falling asleep in the background, he could not quite discard his wonder and uneasiness. So in his dreams, still there was Mr. Haerdale, haggard and care-worn, listening in the solitary house to every sound that stirred, with the taper shining through the chinks until the day should turn it pale, and end his lonely watching. End of Chapter 42 Chapter 43 of Barnaby Rudge A Tale of the Riots of Eighty This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson Barnaby Rudge A Tale of the Riots of Eighty by Charles Dickens Chapter 43 Next morning brought no satisfaction to the locksmith's thoughts, nor next day, nor the next, nor many others. Often after nightfall he entered the street and turned his eyes towards the well-known house, and as surely as he did so there was the solitary light still gleaming through the crevices of the window-shutter, while all within was motionless, noiseless, cheerless as a grave. Unwilling to hazard Mr. Haerdale's favour by disobeying his strict injunction he never ventured to knock at the door or to make his presence known in any way. But whenever strong interest and curiosity attracted him to the spot, which was not seldom, the light was always there. If he could have known what passed within, the knowledge would have yielded him no clue to this mysterious vigil. At twilight Mr. Haerdale shut himself up and at daybreak he came forth. He never missed a night, always came and went alone and never varied his proceedings in the least degree. The manner of his watch was this. At dusk he entered the house in the same way as when the locksmith bore him company. Kindled a light, went through the rooms and narrowly examined him. That done he returned to the chamber on the ground floor and laying his sword and pistols on the table, sat by it until morning. He usually had a book with him and often tried to read, but never fixed his eyes or his eyes, or his eyes. The slightest noise without doors caught his ear. A step upon the pavement seemed to make his heart leap. He was not without some refreshment during the long lonely hours, generally carrying in his pocket a sandwich of bread and meat and a small flask of wine. The latter deluded with large quantities of water he drank in a heated, feverish way as though his throat was full and his throat was dry. But he scarcely ever broke his fast by so much as a crumb of bread. If this voluntary sacrifice of sleep and comfort had its origin, as the locksmith on consideration was disposed to think, in any superstitious expectation of the fulfilment of a dream or vision connected with the event on which he had brooded for so many years, and if he waited for some ghostly visitor who walked abroad when men lay sleeping in their beds, he showed no trace of fear or wavering. His stern features expressed inflexible resolution. His brows were puckered and his lips compressed with deep and settled purpose, and when he started at a noise and listened, it was not with the start of fear but hope, and catching up his sword as though the hour had come at last, he would clutch it in his tight clenched hand and listen with sparkling eyes and eager looks until it died away. These disappointments were numerous, for they ensued on almost every sound, but his constancy was not shaken. Still, every night he was at his post, the same stern sleepless sentinel, and still night passed and morning dawned and he must watch again. This went on for weeks. He had taken a lodging at Voxhall in which to pass the day and rest himself, and from this place when the tide served he usually came to London Bridge from Westminster by water in order that he might avoid the busy streets. One evening, shortly before twilight, he came his accustomed road upon the river's bank, intending to pass through Westminster Hall into Palace Yard and there take boat to London Bridge as usual. There was a pretty large concourse of people assembled round the houses of Parliament, looking at the members as they entered and giving vent to rather noisy demonstrations of approval or dislike according to their known opinions. As he made his way among the throng, he heard once or twice the no-popery cry which was then becoming pretty familiar to the ears of most men, but holding it in very slight regard and observing that the idlers were of the lowest grade, he neither thought nor cared about it, but made his way along with perfect indifference. There were many little knots and groups of persons in Westminster Hall, some few looking upward at his noble ceiling and at the rays of evening light tinted by the setting sun which streamed in a slant through its small windows and growing dimmer by degrees were quenched in the gathering gloom below. Some noisy passengers, mechanics going home from work and otherwise, who hurried quickly through, waking the echoes with their voices and soon darkening the small door in the distance as they passed into the streets beyond, some in busy conference together on political or private matters pacing slowly up and down with eyes that sought the ground and seeming by their attitudes to listen earnestly from head to foot. Here a dozen squabbling urchins made a very babel in the air. There a solitary man, half-clark, half-mendicant, paced up and down with hungry dejection in his look and gait. He never passed an errand-lad swinging his basket round and round and with his shrill whistle riving the very timbers of the roof. While a more observant school-boy, half-way through, pocketed his bore and eyed the distant beetle as he came looming on. It was that time of evening when, if you shut your eyes and open them again, the darkness of an hour appears to have gathered in a second. The smooth-worn pavement, dusty with footsteps, poured upon the lofty walls to reiterate the shuffle and the tread of feet unceasingly, save when the closing of some heavy door resounded through the building like a clap of thunder and drowned all other noises in its rolling sound. Mr. Haerdale, glancing only at such of these groups as he passed near as two, and then in a manner betokening that his thoughts were elsewhere, had nearly traversed the hall when two persons before him caught his attention. One of these, a gentleman in elegant attire, carried in his hand a cane which he twirled in a jaunty manner as he loitered on. The other, an obsequious, crouching, fawning figure listened to what he said, at times throwing in a humble word himself. And, with his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, rubbed his hands submissively, or answered at intervals by an inclination of the head, halfway between a nod of acquiescence and a bow of most profound respect. In the abstract there was nothing very remarkable in this pair, for civility waiting on a handsome suit of clothes and a cane, not to speak of gold and silver sticks or wands of office, is common enough. But there was that about the well-dressed man, yes, and about the other likewise, which struck Mr. Haerdale with no pleasant feeling. He hesitated, stopped, and would have stepped aside and turned out of his path. But at the moment the other two faced about quickly and stumbled upon him before he could avoid them. The gentleman with the cane lifted his hat and had begun to tender an apology, which Mr. Haerdale had begun as hastily to acknowledge and walk away, when he stopped short and cried, Haerdale, God bless me! This is strange indeed. It is, he returned impatiently. Yes, my dear friend, cried the other, detaining him. Why such great speed? One minute, Haerdale, for the sake of old acquaintance. I am in haste, he said. Neither of us has sought this meeting. Let it be a brief one. Good night. Five, five! replied Sir John, for it was he. How very childish! We were speaking of you. Your name was on my lips. Perhaps you heard me mention it. No? I am sorry for that. I am really sorry. You know our friend here, Haerdale. This is really a most remarkable meeting. The friend, plainly very ill at ease, had made bold to press Sir John's arm and to give him other significant hints that he was desirous of avoiding this introduction. As it did not suit Sir John's purpose, however, that it should be evaded, he appeared quite unconscious of these silent remonstrances and inclined his hand towards him as he spoke to call attention to him more particularly. The friend, therefore, had nothing for it, but to muster up the pleasantest smile he could and to make a conciliatory bow as Mr. Haerdale turned his eyes upon him. Seeing that he was recognized, he put out his hand in an awkward and embarrassed manner which was not mended by its contemptuous rejection. Mr. Gashford, said Haerdale coldly, it is, as I have heard then, you have left the darkness for the light, Sir, and hate those whose opinions you formerly held with all the bitterness of a renegade.  I wish the one you espouse at present much joy of the acquisition it has made. The secretary rubbed his hands and bowed as though he would disarm his adversary by humbling himself before him. Sir John Chester again exclaimed with an air of great gaiety, Naha, really! This is a most remarkable meeting! and took a pinch of snuff with his usual self-possession. Mr. Haerdale, said Gashford, stealthily raising his eyes and letting them drop again when they met the other steady gaze, is too conscientious, too honourable, too manly, I am sure, to attach unworthy motives to an honest change of opinions, even though it implies a doubt of those he holds himself. Mr. Haerdale is too just, too generous, too clear-sighted in his moral vision, too. Yes, sir. He rejoined with a sarcastic smile, finding the secretary stopped. You were saying? Gashford meekly shrugged his shoulders and looking on the ground again, was silent. No, but let us rarely, interpose Sir John at this juncture, let us rarely for a moment contemplate the very remarkable character of this meeting. Haerdale, my dear friend, pardon me if I think you are not sufficiently impressed with its singularity. Here we stand by no previous appointment or arrangement, three old school fellows in Westminster Hall, three old boarders in remarkably dull and shady seminary at St. Omars, where you, being Catholics and of necessity educated out of England, were brought up, and where I, being a promising young protestant at that time, was sent to learn the French tongue from a native of Paris. Add to the singularity, Sir John, said Mr. Haerdale, that some of you protestants of promise are at this moment leagued in yonder building to prevent our having the surpassing and unheard-of privilege of teaching our children to read and write. Here, in this land, where thousands of us enter your service every year, and to preserve the freedom of which we die in bloody battles abroad in heaps, and that others of you, to the numbers of some thousands, as I learn, are led on to look on all men of my creed as wolves and beasts of prey by this man, Gashford. Add to it, besides the bare fact that this man lives in society, walks the streets in broad day. I was about to say hoards up his head, but that he does not, and it will be strange and very strange, I grant you. Oh, you are hard upon our friend! replied Sir John with an engaging smile. You are really very hard upon our friend.  Let him go on. I can make allowances. Sir John, I am honoured with your good opinion, and I can dispense with Mr. Heardale's. Mr. Heardale is a sufferer from the penal laws, and I can't expect his favour. You have so much of my favour, Sir. retorted Mr. Heardale with a bitter glance at the third party in their conversation, that I am glad to see you in such good company.  Now there you must take, said Sir John, in his most benignant way. There, which is a most remarkable circumstance for a man of your punctuality and exactness, Heardale, you fall into error. I don't belong to the body. I have an immense respect for its members, but I don't belong to it. Although I am, it is certainly true, the conscientious opponent of your being relieved. I feel it my duty to be so. It is a most unfortunate necessity, and cost me a bitter struggle. Will you try this box? If you don't object to a trifling infusion of a very chaste scent, you'll find its flavour exquisite. I ask your pardon, Sir John, said Mr. Heardale, declining the proffer with the motion of his hand, for having ranked you among the humble instruments who are obvious and in all men's sight. I should have done more justice to your genius. Men of your capacity plot in secrecy and safety, and leave exposed post to the duller wits. Don't apologize for the world, replied Sir John sweetly, old friends like you and I may be allowed some freedoms or the juices in it. Gashford, who had been very restless all this time, but had not once looked up, now turned to Sir John and ventured to mutter something to the effect that he must go or my lord would perhaps be waiting. Don't distress yourself, good sir, said Mr. Heardale, I'll take my leave and put you at your ease, which he was about to do without ceremony when he was stayed by a buzz and murmur at the upper end of the hall, and, looking in that direction, saw Lord George Gordon coming in with a crowd of people round him. There was a lurking look of triumph, although very differently expressed, in the faces of his two companions, which made it a natural impulse on Mr. Heardale's part not to give way before this leader, but to stand there while he passed. He drew himself up, and, clasping his hands behind him, looked on with a proud and scornful aspect, while Lord George slowly advanced, for the press was great about him, towards the spot where they were standing. He had left the House of Commons by that moment, and had come straight down into the hall, bringing with him, as his custom was, intelligence of what had been said that night, and reference to the papists, and what petitions had been presented in their favour, and who had supported them, and when the bill was to be brought in, and when it would be advisable to present their own great protestant petition. All this he told the persons about him in a loud voice, and with great abundance of ungainly gesture. Those who were nearest him made comments to each other, with threats and murmurings. Those who were outside the crowd cried, Silence, and Stand Back, or closed in upon the rest, endeavouring to make a forcible exchange of places, and so they came driving on, in a very disorderly and irregular way, as it is the manner of a crowd to do. When they were very near to where the Secretary, Sir John and Mr Hairdale stood, Lord George turned round, and, making a few remarks and kindly violent and incoherent kind, concluded with the usual sentiment and called for three cheers to back it. While these were in the act of being given with great energy, he extricated himself from the press and stepped up to Gashford's side. Both he and Sir John being well known to the populace, they fell back a little and left the four standing together. Mr Hairdale, Lord George, said Sir John Chester, seeing that the nobleman regarded him with an inquisitive look. A Catholic gentleman, unfortunately, most unhappily a Catholic, but an esteemed acquaintance of mine and once of Mr Gashford's. My dear Hairdale, this is Lord George Gordon.  I hope there is but one gentleman in England who, addressing an ignorant and excited throng, would speak of a large body of his fellow subjects in such injurious language as I heard this moment. For shame, my lord, for shame. I cannot talk to you, sir, replied Lord George in a loud voice and waving his hand in a disturbed and agitated manner. We have nothing in common. We have much in common. Many things, all that the Almighty gave us. Said Mr Hairdale, and common charity, not to say common sense and common decency, should teach you to refrain from these proceedings. If every one of those men had arms and their hands at this moment, as they have them in their heads, I would not leave this place without telling you that you disgrace your station. I don't hear you, sir," he replied in the same manner as before, I can't hear you. To me what you say? Don't retort Gashford. For the Secretary had made a show wishing to do so. I can hold no communion with the worshipers of idols. As he said this, he glanced at Sir John, who lifted his hands and eyebrows as if deploring the intemperate conduct of Mr Hairdale and smiled in admiration of the crowd and of their leader. E! Retort! cried Hairdale, Thank you here, my lord. Do you know this man? Lord George replied by laying his hand upon the shoulder of his cringing secretary and viewing him with a smile of confidence. This man, said Mr Hairdale, eyeing him from top to toe, who, in his boyhood, was a thief, and has been from that time to this a servile, false and trickling knave, this man who has crawled and crept through life, wounding the ants he licked and biting those he formed upon, this psychophant, who never knew what honour, truth or courage meant, who robbed his benefactor's daughter of her virtue and married her to breaker art and did it with stripes and cruelty, this creature who was whined at kitchen windows for the broken food and begged for apents at our chapel doors, this apostle of the faith whose tender conscience cannot bear the altars where his vicious life was publicly denounced. Do you know this man? Oh, really! You are very, very hard upon our friend, exclaimed Sir John. Let Mr Hairdale go on, said Gashford, upon whose unwholesome face the perspiration had broken out during the speech of Wette. I don't mind him, Sir John. It's quite as indifferent to me what he says as it is to my lord. If he reviles my lord as you have heard, Sir John, how can I hope to escape? Is it not enough, my lord, Mr Hairdale continued, that I, as good a gentleman as you, must hold my property such as it is by a trick at which the state connives because of these hard laws and that we may not teach our youth in schools the common principles of right and wrong, but must we be denounced and ridden by such men as this? Here is a man to head your no-pupry cry. For shame! For shame! The infatuated nobleman had glanced more than once at Sir John Chester as if to inquire whether there was any truth in these statements concerning Gashford, and to John had as often plainly answered by a shrug or look, oh, dear me, no. He now said in the same loud key and in the same strange manner as before, I have nothing to say, Sir, and reply, and no desire to hear anything more. I beg you won't obtrude your conversation of these personal attacks upon me. I shall not be deterred from doing my duty to my country and my countrymen any such attempts, whether they proceed from the emissaries of the poor but not, I assure you, come, Gashford. They had walked on a few paces while speaking and were now at the whole door through which they passed together. Mr. Herdale, without any leave-taking, turned away to the river's stairs which were close at hand and hailed the only boatman who remained there. But the throng of people, the foremost of whom had heard every word that Lord George Gordon said, and among all of whom the rumour had been rapidly dispersed that the stranger was a papist who was beading him for his advocacy of the popular cause, came pouring out pel-melle and, forcing the nobleman, his secretary and Sir John Chester on before them, so that they appeared to be at their head, crowded to the top of the stairs where Mr. Herdale waited until the boat was ready, and there stood still, leaving him on a little clear space by himself. They were not silent, however, though inactive. At first some indistinct muttrings arose among them which were followed by a hiss or two and these swelled by degrees into a perfect storm. Then one boy said, down with the papists, and there was a pretty general cheer, but nothing more. After a lull of a few moments, one man cried out, stone him! another duck him! another in a stentorian voice, this favourite cry, the rest re-echoed and the mob, which might have been two hundred strong, joined in a general shout. Mr. Herdale had stood calmly on the brink of the steps until they made this demonstration when he looked round contemptuously and walked at a slow pace down the stairs. He was pretty near the boat when Gashford, as if without intention, turned about and directly afterwards a great stone was thrown by some hand in the crowd which struck him on the head and made him stagger like a drunken man. The blood sprung freely from the wound and trickled down his coat. He turned directly and rushing up the steps of the boldness and passion which made them all fall back demanded, Who did that? Show me the man who hit me! Not a soul moved, except some in the rear who slung off and escaping to the other side of the way looked on like indifferent spectators. Who did that? He repeated, Show me the man who did it! Dog, was it you? It was your deed if not your and I know you! He threw himself on Gashford as he said the words and hurled him to the ground.  My lord, Sir John! He cried, Draw one of you!   For an instant, for the briefest space of time the mind can readily conceive, there was a change in Sir John's smooth face such as no man ever saw there. The next moment he stepped forward and laid one hand on Mr. Heardale's arm while with the other he endeavored to appease the crowd. My dear friend, my good Heardale, you are blinded with passion. It's very natural, extremely natural but you don't know friends from foes. I know them all, Sir. I can distinguish well. He retorted almost mad with rage. Sir John, Lord George, do you hear me? Are you cowards? Never mind, Sir. He said a man forcing his way between and pushing him towards the stairs with friendly violence. Never mind asking that. But God say, get away. What can you do against this number? And there are as many more in the next street who'll be round directly. Indeed, they began to pour in, as he said the words. You'll be giddy from that cut in the first eat of a scuffle. Now, do retire, Sir, or type my word for it, you'll be worse used than you would be if every man in the crowd was a woman and that woman bloody Mary. Come, Sir, make haste as quick as you can. Mr. Heardale, who began to turn faint and sick, felt how sensible this advice was and descended the steps of unknown friend's assistance. John Groobie, for John it was, helped him into the boat, and giving her a shove-off, which sent her thirty feet into the tide, bade the waterman pull away like a Britain, and walked up again as compositely as if he had just landed. There was at first a slight disposition on the part of the mob to resent this interference, but John, looking particularly strong and cool and wearing besides Lord George's livery, they thought better of it, and contented themselves with sending a shower of small missiles after the boat, which plashed harmlessly in the water, for she had by this time cleared the bridge and was darting swiftly down the centre of the stream. From this amusement they proceeded to giving protestant knocks at the doors of private houses, breaking a few lamps, and assaulting some stray constables. But it being whispered that a detachment of life-guards therefore, they took to their heels with great expedition, and left the street quite clear. End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 of Barnaby Rudge A Tale of the Riots of Eighty This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson Barnaby Rudge A Tale of the Riots of Eighty by Charles Dickens Chapter 44 When the concourse separated and dividing into chance clusters drew off in various directions there still remained upon the scene of the late disturbance one man. This man was Gashford who, bruised by his late fall and hurt in a much greater degree by the indignity he had undergone and the exposure of which he had been the victim limped up and down breathing curses and threats of vengeance. It was not the secretary's nature to waste his wrath in words. While he vented the froth of his malevolence in those effusions he kept a steady eye on two men who, having disappeared with the rest when the alarm was spread, had since returned and were now visible in the moonlight at no great distance as they walked to and fro and talked together. He made no move towards them but waited patiently on the dark side of the street until they were tired of strolling backwards and forwards and walked away in company. Then he followed but at some distance keeping them in view without appearing to have that object or being seen by them. They went up Parliament Street past St. Martin's Church and away by St. Giles's to Tottenham Court Road at the back of which upon the western side there was a place called the Green Lanes. This was a retired spot not of the choicest kind leading into the fields great heaps of ashes stagnant pools overgrown with rank, grass and duckweed broken tend styles and the upright posts of palings long since carried off for firewood which menaced all heedless walkers with their jagged and rusty nails were the leading features of the landscape while here and there a donkey or a ragged horse tethered to a stake and cropping off a wretched meal from the coarse stunted turf were quite in keeping with the scene and would have suggested if the houses had not done so sufficiently of themselves how very poor the people were who lived in the crazy huts adjacent and how foolhardy it might prove for one who carried money or wore decent clothes to walk that way alone poverty has its whims and shows of taste as wealth has some of these cabins were turreted some had false windows painted on their rotten walls one had a mimic clock upon a crazy tower of four feet high which screened the chimney each in its little patch of ground had a rude seat or arbor the population dealt in bones in rags in broken glass in old wheels in birds and dogs these in their several ways of stowage filled the gardens and shedding a perfume not of the most delicious nature in the air filled it besides with yelps and screams and howling into this retreat the secretary followed the two men whom he had held in sight and here he saw them safely lodged in one of the meanest houses which was but a room of small dimensions he waited without until the sound of their voices joined in a discordant song assured him they were making merry and then approaching the door by means of a tottering plank which crossed the ditch in front knocked at it with his hand Mr. Gashford said the man who opened it taking his pipe from his mouth in evident surprise why this here honour walk in, Mr. Gashford walk in, sir Gashford required no second invitation and entered with a gracious air there was a fire in the rusty grate for though the spring was pretty far advanced the nights were cold and on a stool beside it Hugh sat smoking Dennis placed a chair his only one for the secretary in front of the hearth upon the stool he had left when he rose to give the visitor admission what's in the wind now Mr. Gashford he said as he resumed his pipe and looked at him askew any orders from headquarters are we going to begin what is it Mr. Gashford oh nothing nothing rejoined the secretary with a friendly nod to Hugh have broken the ice though we had a little spurt today hey Dennis a very little one growled a hangman not half enough for me nor me nor the cried Hugh give us something to do with life in it with life in it master why you wouldn't said the secretary with his worst expression of face and in his mildest tones have anything to do with with death in it I don't know that replied Hugh I'm open to orders I don't care none I nor I vociferated Dennis brave fellows said the secretary in us pastor like a voice as if you were commending them in generosity by the by and here he stopped and warmed his hands then suddenly looked up who threw that stone today Mr. Dennis coughed and shook his head as who should say a mystery indeed Hugh sat and smoked in silence it was well done said the secretary warming his hands again I should like to know that man would you said Dennis after looking to his face to assure himself that he was serious would you like to know that man I should indeed replied the secretary why then Lord love you said the hangman in his horses chuckle as he pointed with his pipe to Hugh there he sits that's the man my stars and halters Mr. Gashford he added in a whisper as he do his stool close to him and jogged him with his elbow what an interesting blade he is he wants as much holding in as a thoroughbred bulldog if it hadn't been for me today he'd have had that ear Roman down and made a riot of it in another minute and why not cried Hugh in a surly voice as he overheard this last remark where is it good of putting things off strike while the iron's hot that's what I say ah retorted Dennis shaking his head with a kind of pity for his friends in genuine youth but I suppose the iron ant oh brother you must get people's blood up to strike and have them in the humour there wasn't quite enough to provoke him today I tell you if you had your way you'd have spoiled the fun to come and ruined us Dennis is quite right said Gashford smoothly he is perfectly correct Dennis has great knowledge of the world I ought to have muster Gashford seeing what many people have helped out with it, eh? grinned the hangman whispering the words behind his hand the secretary laughed at this jest as much as Dennis could desire and when he had done said turning to Hugh Dennis's policy was mine as you may have observed you saw for instance how I fell when I was set upon I made no resistance I did nothing to provoke an outbreak oh dear no no by the Lord Harry cried Dennis with a noisy laugh you went down very quiet muster Gashford and very flat besides ah thanks to myself at the time it's all up with muster Gashford I never see a man lay flatter nor more still with the life in him than you did today he's a roughen to play with he's that earpapist and that's the fact the secretary's face as Dennis roared with laughter and turned his wrinkled eyes on Hugh who did the like might have furnished a study for the devil's picture he sat quite silent until they were serious again and then said looking round we are very pleasant here so very pleasant Dennis that but for my Lord's particular desire that I should sup with him and the time being very near at hand I should be inclined to stay until it would be hardly safe to go homeward I come upon a little business yes I do as you supposed it's very flattering to you being this if we ever should be obliged and we can't tell you now this is a very uncertain world I believe you muster Gashford interpose the hangman with a grave nod the answer it needs is I've seen in reference to this year's state of existence the unexpected to contingencies as I've come about oh my eye feeling the subject much too asked for expression he puffed at his pipe again and looked the rest I say presumed the secretary in a slow impressive way we can't tell what may come to pass and if we should be obliged against our wills to have recourse to violence my Lord who has suffered terribly today as far as words can go bearing in mind my recommendation of you both as good staunch men beyond all doubt and suspicion the pleasant task of punishing this hairdale you may do as you please with him or his provided that you show no mercy and no quarter and leave no two beams of his house standing where the builder placed them you may sack it burn it do with it as you like but it must come down it must be raised to the ground and he and all belonging to him left as shelterless as newborn infants whom their mothers have exposed do you understand me said gashford pausing and pressing his hands together gently understand you master cried to you you speak plain now why this is hearty I knew you would like it said gashford shaking him by the hand I thought you would good night don't arise denis I would rather find my way alone I may have to make other visits here and it's pleasant to come and go without disturbing you I can find my way perfectly well good night he was gone and had shut the door behind him they looked at each other and nodded approvingly denis stirred up the fire this looks a little more like business he said I indeed cried to you this suits me I've heard it said master gashford said the hangman that he'd a surprise in memory and wonderful firmness that he never forgot and never forgave let's drink his elf Hugh readily complied pouring no liquor on the floor when he drank this toast and they pledged the secretary as a man after their own hearts in a bumper end of chapter 44 chapter 45 of Barnaby Rudge a tale of the riots of 80 this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recorded by Mill Nicholson Barnaby Rudge a tale of the riots of 80 by Charles Dickens chapter 45 while the worst passions of the worst men were thus working in the dark and the mantle of religion assumed to cover the ugliest deformities threatened to become the shroud of all that was good and peaceful in society a circumstance occurred which once more altered the position of two persons from whom this history has long been separated and to whom it must now return in a small English country town the inhabitants of which supported themselves by the labour of their hands in platting and preparing straw for those who made bonnets and other articles of dress and ornament from that material concealed under an assumed name and living in a quiet poverty which knew no change no pleasures and few cares but that of struggling on from day to day in one great toil for bread dwelt Barnaby and his mother their poor cottage had known no strangers foot since they sought the shelter of its roof five years before nor had they in all that time held any commerce or communication with the old world from which they had fled to labour in peace and devote her labour and her life to her poor son was all the widow sought if happiness can be said at any time to be the lot of one on whom a secret sorrow prays she was happy now tranquillity, resignation and her strong love of him who needed it so much formed the small circle of her quiet joys and while that remained unbroken she was contented for Barnaby himself the time which had flown by had passed him like the wind the daily sons of years had shed no brighter gleam of reason on his mind no dawn had broken on his long dark night he would sit sometimes often for days together on a low seat by the fire or by the cottage door busy at work for he had learnt the art his mother applied to the evening God help him to the tale she would repeat as a lure to keep him in her sight he had no recollection of these little narratives the tale of yesterday was new to him upon the morrow but he liked them at the moment and when the humour held him would remain patiently within doors hearing her stories like a little child and working cheerfully from sunrise until it was too dark to see at other times and then their scanty earnings were barely sufficient to furnish them with food though of the courses sought he would wander abroad from dawn of day until the twilight deepened into night few in that place even of the children could be idle and he had no companions of his own kind indeed there were not many who could have kept up with him in his rambles had there been a legion but there were a score of vagabond dogs belonging to the neighbours who served his purpose quite as well with two or three of these or sometimes of the full half dozen barking at his heels he would sally forth on some long expedition that consumed the day and though on their return at nightfall the dogs would come home limping and sore-footed and almost spent with their fatigue Barnaby was up and off again at sunrise with some new attendance of the same class with whom he would return in like manner on all these travels Grip, in his little basket at his master's back was a constant member of the party and when they set off in fine weather and in high spirits no dog barked louder than the raven their pleasures on these excursions were simple enough a crust of bread and scrap of meat with water from the brook or spring sufficed for their repast Barnaby's enjoyments were hawk and run and leap till he was tired then to lie down in the long grass or by the growing corn or in the shade of some tall tree looking upward at the light clouds as they floated over the blue surface of the sky and listening to the lark as she poured out her brilliant song they were wildflowers to pluck the bright red poppy the gentle hair-bell the cow-slip and the rose they were birds to watch ants, worms hares or rabbits as they darted across the distant pathway in the wood and so were gone millions of living things to have an interest in and lie and wait for and clap hands and shout in memory of when they had disappeared in default of these or when they wereried there was the merry sunlight to hunt out as it crept in a slant through leaves and boughs of trees and hid far down, deep in hollow places like a silver pool where nodding branches seemed to bathe and sport sweet scents of summer air breathing over fields of beans or clover the perfume of wet leaves or moss the life of waving trees and shadows always changing when these or any of them tired or in excess of pleasing tempted him to shut his eyes there was slumber in the midst of all these soft delights with the gentle wind murmuring like music in his ears and everything around melting into one delicious dream there hurt, for it was little more stood on the outskirts of the town at a short distance from the high road but in a secluded place where few chance passengers strayed at any season of the year it had a plot of garden ground attached which Barnaby in fits and starts of working trimmed and kept in order within doors and without his mother laboured for their common good and hail, rain snow or sunshine found no difference in her though so far removed from the scenes of her past life and with so little thought or hope of ever visiting them again she seemed to have a strange desire to know what happened in the busy world any old newspaper or scrap of intelligence from London she caught out with avidity the excitement it produced was not of a pleasurable kind for her manner at such times expressed keenest anxiety and dread but it never faded in the least degree then, and in stormy winter nights when the wind blew loud and strong the old expression came into her face and she would be seized with the fit of trembling like one who had an aegyo but Barnaby noted little of this and she said to Barnaby but Barnaby noted little of this and putting a great constraint upon herself she usually recovered her accustomed manner before the change had caught his observation Grip was by no means an idle or unprofitable member of the humble household partly by dint of Barnaby's tuition and partly by pursuing a species of self-instruction common to his tribe and exerting his powers of observation to the utmost he had acquired a degree of sagacity which rendered him famous for miles round his conversational powers and surprising performances were the universal theme and as many persons came to see the wonderful raven and none left his exertions unrewarded when he condescended to exhibit which was not always but genius is capricious his earnings formed an important item in the common stock indeed the bird himself appeared to know his value well although he was perfectly free and unrestrained in the presence of Barnaby and his mother he maintained in public an amazing gravity and never stooped to any other gratuitous performances and biting the ankles of vagabond boys an exercise in which he much delighted killing a foul or two occasionally and swallowing the dinners of various neighbouring dogs of whom the boldest held him in great awe and dread time had glided on in this way and nothing had happened to disturb or change their mode of life when one summer's night in June they were in their little garden resting from the labours of the day the widow's work was yet upon her knee and strewn upon the ground about her and Barnaby stood leaning on his spade gazing at the brightness in the west and singing softly to himself A brave evening, mother if we had chinking in our pockets but a few specks of that gold which is piled up yonder in the sky we should be rich for life we are better as we are returned the widow with a quiet smile let us be contented and we do not want and need not care to have it though it lay shining at our feet I said Barnaby resting with crossed arms on his spade and looking wistfully at the sunset that's well enough, mother but gold's a good thing to have I wish there are a new way to find it Grip and I could do much with gold be sure of that what would you do she asked what? a world of things we dress finely you and I, I mean, not Grip porces, dogs wear bright colours and feathers do no more work live delicately in at our ease oh, we'd find uses for it, mother and uses that would do us good I would, I knew where gold was buried how hard I'd worked to dig it up you do not know said his mother, rising from her seat and laying her hand upon his shoulder what men have done to win it and how they have found too late that it glitters brightest at a distance and turns quite dim and dull when handled I, I so you say, so you think he answered still looking eagerly in the same direction for all that, mother I should like to try do you not see she said, how red it is nothing bears so many stains of blood as gold avoid it none have such course hate its name as we have do not so much as think of it, dear love it has brought such misery and suffering on your head and mine as few have known and God grant few may have to undergo I would rather we were dead laid down in our graves than you should ever come to love it for a moment Barnaby withdrew his eyes and looked at her with wonder then glancing from the redness in the sky to the mark upon his wrist as if he would compare the two he seemed about to question her with earnestness when a new object caught his wandering attention and made him quite forgetful of his purpose this was a man with dusty feet and garments who stood bare-headed behind the hedge that divided their patch of garden from the pathway and lent meekly forward as if he sought to mingle with their conversation and waited for his time to speak his face was turned towards the brightness too but the light that fell upon it showed that he was blind and saw it not a blessing on those voices said the Wayfarer I feel the beauty of the night more keenly when I hear them they are like eyes to me will they speak again and cheer the art of a poor traveller have you no guide asked the widow after a moment's pause none but that he answered pointing with the staff towards the sun and sometimes a milder one at night but she is idle now have you travelled far a weary way and long rejoined the traveller as he shook his head a weary weary way I struck my stick just now upon the bucket of your well be pleased to let me have a draft of water lady why do you call me lady she returned I am as poor as you your speech is soft and gentle and I judge by that replied the man the coarsest stuffs and finest silks are apart from a sense of touch alike to me I cannot judge you by your dress come round this way said Barnaby who had passed out of the garden gate and now stood close beside him put your hand in mine you're blind and always in the dark eh are you frightened in the dark do you see great crowds of faces now do they grin and chatter alas returned the other I see nothing waking or sleeping nothing Barnaby looked curiously at his eyes and touching them with his fingers as an inquisitive child might led him towards the house you have come a long distance said the widow meeting him at the door how have you found your way so far? use and necessity are good teachers as I have heard the best of any said the blind man sitting down upon the chair to which Barnaby had led him and putting his hat and stick upon the red-tiled floor may neither you nor your son ever learn under them they are rough masters you have wandered from the road to said the widow in a tone of pity maybe eh maybe returned the blind man with a sigh and yet with something of a smile upon his face that's likely hand-posts and milestones are damn indeed to me thank you the more for this rest and this refreshing drink as he spoke he raised the mug of water to his mouth it was clear and cold and sparkling but not to his taste nevertheless or his thirst was not very great for he only whetted his lips and put it down again he wore hanging with a long strap round his neck a kind of script or wallet in which to carry food the widow set some bread and cheese before him but he thanked her and said that through the kindness of the charitable he had broken his fast once since morning and was not hungry when he had made her this reply he opened his wallet and took out a few pence which was all it appeared to contain might I make bold to ask he said turning towards where Barnaby stood looking on that one who has the gift of sight would lay this out for me in bread to keep me on my way there's blessing on the young feet that will bestow themselves in aid of one so helpless as a sightless man Barnaby looked at his mother who nodded ascent in another moment he was gone upon his charitable errand the blind man sat listening with an attentive face until long after the sound of his retreating footsteps was inaudible to the widow and then said suddenly and in a very altered tone there are various degrees and kinds of blindness widow there is the cannubial blindness marm which perhaps you may have observed in the course of your own experience and which is a kind of willful and self bandaging blindness there is the blindness of party marm and public men which is the blindness of a mad bull in the midst of a regiment of soldiers clothed in red there is the blind confidence of youth which is the blindness of young kittens whose eyes have not yet opened on the world and there is that physical blindness marm of which I am contrary to my own desire a most illustrious example added to these marms is that blindness of the intellect of which we have a specimen your interesting son in which having sometimes glimmerings and dawnings of the light is scarcely to be trusted as a total darkness therefore marm I have taken the liberty to get him out of the way for a short time while you and I confer together and this precaution arising out of the delicacy of my sentiment toward yourself you will excuse me marm I know having delivered himself of this speech with many flourishes of manner he drew from beneath his coat a flat stone bottle and holding the cork between his teeth qualified his mug of water with a plentiful infusion of the liquor it contained he politely drained the bumper to her health and the ladies and setting it down empty smacked his lips with infinite relish I am a citizen of the world marm said the blind man corking his bottle and if I seem to conduct myself with freedom it is therefore you wonder who I am marm and what has brought me here such experience of human nature as I have leads me to that conclusion without the aid of eyes by which to read the movements of your soul as depicted in your feminine features I will satisfy your curiosity immediately marm with that he slapped his bottle on its broad back and having put it under his garment as before crossed his legs and folded his hems and settled himself in his chair previous to proceeding any further the change in his manner was so unexpected the craft and wickedness of his deportment was so much aggravated by his condition for we are accustomed to see in those who have lost a human sense something in its place almost divine and this alteration bred so many fears in her whom he addressed that you could not pronounce one word after waiting as it seemed for some remark or answer and waiting in vain the visitor resumed Madam, my name is Stagg a friend of mine who has desired the honour of meeting with you any time these five years past has commissioned me to call upon you I should be glad to whisper that gentleman's name in your ear Zounds marm are you deaf? do you hear me say that I should be glad to whisper my friend's name in your ear you need not repeat it said the widow with a stifled groan I see too well from whom you come that as a man of honour marm said the blind man striking himself on the breast whose credentials must not be disputed I take leave to say that I will mention that gentleman's name aye aye he added seeming to catch with his quick ear the very motion of her hand but not allowed with your leave marm I desire the favour of a whisper she moved towards him and stooped down he muttered a word in her ear and ringing her hands she paced up and down the room like one distracted the blind man with perfect composure produced his bottle again mixed another glassful put it up as before and drinking from time to time followed her with his face in silence you are slow in conversation widow he said after time pausing in his draft we shall have to talk before your son what would you have me do she answered what do you want we are poor widow we are poor he retorted stretching out his right hand and rubbing his thumb upon its palm poor she cried and what am I comparisons are odious said the blind man I don't know I don't care I say that we are poor my friend's circumstances are indifferent and so are mine you or we must be bought off but you know that as well as I so where is the use of talking she still walked wildly to and fro at length stopping abruptly before him she said is he near here is close at hand then I am lost not lost widow said the blind man calmly found shall I call him not for the world she answered with a shudder very good he replied crossing his legs again for he had made as though he would rise and walk to the door as you please widow his presence is not necessary that I know of but both he and I must live to live we must eat and drink to eat and drink we must have money we know more do you know how pinched and destitute I am she retorted I do not think you do or can if you had eyes and could look around you on this poor place you would have pity on me oh let your heart be soft and by your own affliction friend and have some sympathy with mine the blind man snapped his fingers as he answered beside the question mom beside the question I have the softest heart in the world but I can't live upon it many a gentleman lives well upon a soft head who would find a heart of the same quality a very great drawback listen to me this is a matter of business with which sympathies and sentiments have nothing to do as a mutual friend I wish to arrange it in a satisfactory manner if possible and thus the case stands if you are very poor now it's your own choice friends who in case of need are always ready to help you my friend is in a more destitute and desolate situation than most men and you and he being linked together in a common cause he naturally looks to you to assist him he has bordered and lodged with me a long time for as I said just now I am very soft-hearted and I quite approve of his entertaining this opinion you have always had a roof over your head he has always been an outcast you have your son to comfort and assist you he has nobody at all advantages must not be on one side you are in the same boat and we must divide the ballast a little more equally she was about to speak but he checked her and went on the only way of doing this is by making up a little purse now and then for my friend and that's what I advise he bears you know ballast that I know of mom so little that although you have treated him harshly more than once and driven him I may say out of doors he has that regard for you that I believe even if you disappointed him now he would consent to take charge of your son and to make a man of him he laid a great stress on these latter words and paused as if to find out what effect they had produced she only answered by her tears he's a likely lad a blind man thoughtfully for many purposes and not ill disposed to try his fortune in a little change and bustle if I may judge from what I heard of his talk with you tonight come in a word my friend as pressing necessity for twenty pounds you who can give up an annuity can get that sum for him it's a pity you should be troubled you seem very comfortable here and it's worth that much to remain so twenty pounds is a moderate demand you know where to apply for it a post will bring it to you twenty pounds she was about to answer him again but again he stopped her don't say anything hastily you might be sorry for it think of it a little while twenty pounds of other people's money how easy turn it over in your mind I'm in no hurry night's coming on if I don't sleep here I shall not go far twenty pounds consider of it mom give each pound a minute that's a fair allowance I'll enjoy the air the while which is very mild and pleasant in these parts with these words he groped his way to the door carrying his chair with him then seating himself under a spreading honeysuckle stretching his legs across the threshold so that no person could pass in or out without his knowledge he took from his pocket a pipe, flint, steel and tinder-box and began to smoke it was a lovely evening of that gentle kind and at the time of year when the twilight is most beautiful pausing now and then to let his smoke curl slowly off and to sniff the grateful fragrance of the flowers he sat there at his ease as though the cottage were his proper dwelling and he had held undisputed the possession of it all his life waiting for the widow's answer and for Barnaby's return End of Chapter 45


Absolutely, because once you have time as music you have to have time as artwork to go with it at the end of the day, because when you remember a song that's going to keep playing 30 years from now, you don't want to have no blank white or black cover art or something like that. Oh, one as whack. You know what I'm saying? There's whack. There's whack in general. Like you want to have something that could be like, yo, I remember when he dropped this hype for this, the art just embodies everything that he's saying in these tracks and in this music. So I feel like they go hand in hand. Absolutely. Like there's no question about it.