CHAPTER X--SMOOTHING THE WAY
It has been often enough remarked that women have a curious power ofdivining the characters of men, which would seem to be innate andinstinctive; seeing that it is arrived at through no patient process ofreasoning, that it can give no satisfactory or sufficient account ofitself, and that it pronounces in the most confident manner even againstaccumulated observation on the part of the other sex. But it has notbeen quite so often remarked that this power (fallible, like every otherhuman attribute) is for the most part absolutely incapable ofself-revision; and that when it has delivered an adverse opinion which byall human lights is subsequently proved to have failed, it isundistinguishable from prejudice, in respect of its determination not tobe corrected. Nay, the very possibility of contradiction or disproof,however remote, communicates to this feminine judgment from the first, innine cases out of ten, the weakness attendant on the testimony of aninterested witness; so personally and strongly does the fair divinerconnect herself with her divination.
'Now, don't you think, Ma dear,' said the Minor Canon to his mother oneday as she sat at her knitting in his little book-room, 'that you arerather hard on Mr. Neville?'
'No, I do _not_, Sept,' returned the old lady.
'Let us discuss it, Ma.'
'I have no objection to discuss it, Sept. I trust, my dear, I am alwaysopen to discussion.' There was a vibration in the old lady's cap, asthough she internally added: 'and I should like to see the discussionthat would change _my_ mind!'
'Very good, Ma,' said her conciliatory son. 'There is nothing like beingopen to discussion.'
'I hope not, my dear,' returned the old lady, evidently shut to it.
'Well! Mr. Neville, on that unfortunate occasion, commits himself underprovocation.'
'And under mulled wine,' added the old lady.
'I must admit the wine. Though I believe the two young men were muchalike in that regard.'
'I don't,' said the old lady.
'Why not, Ma?'
'Because I _don't_,' said the old lady. 'Still, I am quite open todiscussion.'
'But, my dear Ma, I cannot see how we are to discuss, if you take thatline.'
'Blame Mr. Neville for it, Sept, and not me,' said the old lady, withstately severity.
'My dear Ma! why Mr. Neville?'
'Because,' said Mrs. Crisparkle, retiring on first principles, 'he camehome intoxicated, and did great discredit to this house, and showed greatdisrespect to this family.'
'That is not to be denied, Ma. He was then, and he is now, very sorryfor it.'
'But for Mr. Jasper's well-bred consideration in coming up to me, nextday, after service, in the Nave itself, with his gown still on, andexpressing his hope that I had not been greatly alarmed or had my restviolently broken, I believe I might never have heard of that disgracefultransaction,' said the old lady.
'To be candid, Ma, I think I should have kept it from you if I could:though I had not decidedly made up my mind. I was following Jasper out,to confer with him on the subject, and to consider the expediency of hisand my jointly hushing the thing up on all accounts, when I found himspeaking to you. Then it was too late.'
'Too late, indeed, Sept. He was still as pale as gentlemanly ashes atwhat had taken place in his rooms overnight.'
'If I _had_ kept it from you, Ma, you may be sure it would have been foryour peace and quiet, and for the good of the young men, and in my bestdischarge of my duty according to my lights.'
The old lady immediately walked across the room and kissed him: saying,'Of course, my dear Sept, I am sure of that.'
'However, it became the town-talk,' said Mr. Crisparkle, rubbing his ear,as his mother resumed her seat, and her knitting, 'and passed out of mypower.'
'And I said then, Sept,' returned the old lady, 'that I thought ill ofMr. Neville. And I say now, that I think ill of Mr. Neville. And I saidthen, and I say now, that I hope Mr. Neville may come to good, but Idon't believe he will.' Here the cap vibrated again considerably.
'I am sorry to hear you say so, Ma--'
'I am sorry to say so, my dear,' interposed the old lady, knitting onfirmly, 'but I can't help it.'
'--For,' pursued the Minor Canon, 'it is undeniable that Mr. Neville isexceedingly industrious and attentive, and that he improves apace, andthat he has--I hope I may say--an attachment to me.'
'There is no merit in the last article, my dear,' said the old lady,quickly; 'and if he says there is, I think the worse of him for theboast.'
'But, my dear Ma, he never said there was.'
'Perhaps not,' returned the old lady; 'still, I don't see that it greatlysignifies.'
There was no impatience in the pleasant look with which Mr. Crisparklecontemplated the pretty old piece of china as it knitted; but there was,certainly, a humorous sense of its not being a piece of china to arguewith very closely.
'Besides, Sept, ask yourself what he would be without his sister. Youknow what an influence she has over him; you know what a capacity shehas; you know that whatever he reads with you, he reads with her. Giveher her fair share of your praise, and how much do you leave for him?'
At these words Mr. Crisparkle fell into a little reverie, in which hethought of several things. He thought of the times he had seen thebrother and sister together in deep converse over one of his own oldcollege books; now, in the rimy mornings, when he made those sharpeningpilgrimages to Cloisterham Weir; now, in the sombre evenings, when hefaced the wind at sunset, having climbed his favourite outlook, abeetling fragment of monastery ruin; and the two studious figures passedbelow him along the margin of the river, in which the town fires andlights already shone, making the landscape bleaker. He thought how theconsciousness had stolen upon him that in teaching one, he was teachingtwo; and how he had almost insensibly adapted his explanations to bothminds--that with which his own was daily in contact, and that which heonly approached through it. He thought of the gossip that had reachedhim from the Nuns' House, to the effect that Helena, whom he hadmistrusted as so proud and fierce, submitted herself to the fairy-bride(as he called her), and learnt from her what she knew. He thought of thepicturesque alliance between those two, externally so very different. Hethought--perhaps most of all--could it be that these things were yet butso many weeks old, and had become an integral part of his life?
As, whenever the Reverend Septimus fell a-musing, his good mother took itto be an infallible sign that he 'wanted support,' the blooming old ladymade all haste to the dining-room closet, to produce from it the supportembodied in a glass of Constantia and a home-made biscuit. It was a mostwonderful closet, worthy of Cloisterham and of Minor Canon Corner. Aboveit, a portrait of Handel in a flowing wig beamed down at the spectator,with a knowing air of being up to the contents of the closet, and amusical air of intending to combine all its harmonies in one deliciousfugue. No common closet with a vulgar door on hinges, openable all atonce, and leaving nothing to be disclosed by degrees, this rare closethad a lock in mid-air, where two perpendicular slides met; the onefalling down, and the other pushing up. The upper slide, on being pulleddown (leaving the lower a double mystery), revealed deep shelves ofpickle-jars, jam-pots, tin canisters, spice-boxes, and agreeablyoutlandish vessels of blue and white, the luscious lodgings of preservedtamarinds and ginger. Every benevolent inhabitant of this retreat hadhis name inscribed upon his stomach. The pickles, in a uniform of richbrown double-breasted buttoned coat, and yellow or sombre drabcontinuations, announced their portly forms, in printed capitals, asWalnut, Gherkin, Onion, Cabbage, Cauliflower, Mixed, and other members ofthat noble family. The jams, as being of a less masculine temperament,and as wearing curlpapers, announced themselves in feminine caligraphy,like a soft whisper, to be Raspberry, Gooseberry, Apricot, Plum, Damson,Apple, and Peach. The scene closing on these charmers, and the lowerslide ascending, oranges were revealed, attended by a mighty japannedsugar-box, to temper their acerbity if unripe. Home-made biscuits waitedat the Court of these Powers, accompan
ied by a goodly fragment ofplum-cake, and various slender ladies' fingers, to be dipped into sweetwine and kissed. Lowest of all, a compact leaden-vault enshrined thesweet wine and a stock of cordials: whence issued whispers of SevilleOrange, Lemon, Almond, and Caraway-seed. There was a crowning air uponthis closet of closets, of having been for ages hummed through by theCathedral bell and organ, until those venerable bees had made sublimatedhoney of everything in store; and it was always observed that everydipper among the shelves (deep, as has been noticed, and swallowing uphead, shoulders, and elbows) came forth again mellow-faced, and seemingto have undergone a saccharine transfiguration.
The Reverend Septimus yielded himself up quite as willing a victim to anauseous medicinal herb-closet, also presided over by the chinashepherdess, as to this glorious cupboard. To what amazing infusions ofgentian, peppermint, gilliflower, sage, parsley, thyme, rue, rosemary,and dandelion, did his courageous stomach submit itself! In whatwonderful wrappers, enclosing layers of dried leaves, would he swathe hisrosy and contented face, if his mother suspected him of a toothache!What botanical blotches would he cheerfully stick upon his cheek, orforehead, if the dear old lady convicted him of an imperceptible pimplethere! Into this herbaceous penitentiary, situated on an upperstaircase-landing: a low and narrow whitewashed cell, where bunches ofdried leaves hung from rusty hooks in the ceiling, and were spread outupon shelves, in company with portentous bottles: would the ReverendSeptimus submissively be led, like the highly popular lamb who has solong and unresistingly been led to the slaughter, and there would he,unlike that lamb, bore nobody but himself. Not even doing that much, sothat the old lady were busy and pleased, he would quietly swallow whatwas given him, merely taking a corrective dip of hands and face into thegreat bowl of dried rose-leaves, and into the other great bowl of driedlavender, and then would go out, as confident in the sweetening powers ofCloisterham Weir and a wholesome mind, as Lady Macbeth was hopeless ofthose of all the seas that roll.
In the present instance the good Minor Canon took his glass of Constantiawith an excellent grace, and, so supported to his mother's satisfaction,applied himself to the remaining duties of the day. In their orderly andpunctual progress they brought round Vesper Service and twilight. TheCathedral being very cold, he set off for a brisk trot after service; thetrot to end in a charge at his favourite fragment of ruin, which was tobe carried by storm, without a pause for breath.
He carried it in a masterly manner, and, not breathed even then, stoodlooking down upon the river. The river at Cloisterham is sufficientlynear the sea to throw up oftentimes a quantity of seaweed. An unusualquantity had come in with the last tide, and this, and the confusion ofthe water, and the restless dipping and flapping of the noisy gulls, andan angry light out seaward beyond the brown-sailed barges that wereturning black, foreshadowed a stormy night. In his mind he wascontrasting the wild and noisy sea with the quiet harbour of Minor CanonCorner, when Helena and Neville Landless passed below him. He had hadthe two together in his thoughts all day, and at once climbed down tospeak to them together. The footing was rough in an uncertain light forany tread save that of a good climber; but the Minor Canon was as good aclimber as most men, and stood beside them before many good climberswould have been half-way down.
'A wild evening, Miss Landless! Do you not find your usual walk withyour brother too exposed and cold for the time of year? Or at allevents, when the sun is down, and the weather is driving in from thesea?'
Helena thought not. It was their favourite walk. It was very retired.
'It is very retired,' assented Mr. Crisparkle, laying hold of hisopportunity straightway, and walking on with them. 'It is a place of allothers where one can speak without interruption, as I wish to do. Mr.Neville, I believe you tell your sister everything that passes betweenus?'
'Everything, sir.'
'Consequently,' said Mr. Crisparkle, 'your sister is aware that I haverepeatedly urged you to make some kind of apology for that unfortunateoccurrence which befell on the night of your arrival here.' In saying ithe looked to her, and not to him; therefore it was she, and not he, whoreplied:
'Yes.'
'I call it unfortunate, Miss Helena,' resumed Mr. Crisparkle, 'forasmuchas it certainly has engendered a prejudice against Neville. There is anotion about, that he is a dangerously passionate fellow, of anuncontrollable and furious temper: he is really avoided as such.'
'I have no doubt he is, poor fellow,' said Helena, with a look of proudcompassion at her brother, expressing a deep sense of his beingungenerously treated. 'I should be quite sure of it, from your sayingso; but what you tell me is confirmed by suppressed hints and referencesthat I meet with every day.'
'Now,' Mr. Crisparkle again resumed, in a tone of mild though firmpersuasion, 'is not this to be regretted, and ought it not to be amended?These are early days of Neville's in Cloisterham, and I have no fear ofhis outliving such a prejudice, and proving himself to have beenmisunderstood. But how much wiser to take action at once, than to trustto uncertain time! Besides, apart from its being politic, it is right.For there can be no question that Neville was wrong.'
'He was provoked,' Helena submitted.
'He was the assailant,' Mr. Crisparkle submitted.
They walked on in silence, until Helena raised her eyes to the MinorCanon's face, and said, almost reproachfully: 'O Mr. Crisparkle, wouldyou have Neville throw himself at young Drood's feet, or at Mr. Jasper's,who maligns him every day? In your heart you cannot mean it. From yourheart you could not do it, if his case were yours.'
'I have represented to Mr. Crisparkle, Helena,' said Neville, with aglance of deference towards his tutor, 'that if I could do it from myheart, I would. But I cannot, and I revolt from the pretence. Youforget however, that to put the case to Mr. Crisparkle as his own, is tosuppose to have done what I did.'
'I ask his pardon,' said Helena.
'You see,' remarked Mr. Crisparkle, again laying hold of his opportunity,though with a moderate and delicate touch, 'you both instinctivelyacknowledge that Neville did wrong. Then why stop short, and nototherwise acknowledge it?'
'Is there no difference,' asked Helena, with a little faltering in hermanner; 'between submission to a generous spirit, and submission to abase or trivial one?'
Before the worthy Minor Canon was quite ready with his argument inreference to this nice distinction, Neville struck in:
'Help me to clear myself with Mr. Crisparkle, Helena. Help me toconvince him that I cannot be the first to make concessions withoutmockery and falsehood. My nature must be changed before I can do so, andit is not changed. I am sensible of inexpressible affront, anddeliberate aggravation of inexpressible affront, and I am angry. Theplain truth is, I am still as angry when I recall that night as I wasthat night.'
'Neville,' hinted the Minor Canon, with a steady countenance, 'you haverepeated that former action of your hands, which I so much dislike.'
'I am sorry for it, sir, but it was involuntary. I confessed that I wasstill as angry.'
'And I confess,' said Mr. Crisparkle, 'that I hoped for better things.'
'I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but it would be far worse to deceiveyou, and I should deceive you grossly if I pretended that you hadsoftened me in this respect. The time may come when your powerfulinfluence will do even that with the difficult pupil whose antecedentsyou know; but it has not come yet. Is this so, and in spite of mystruggles against myself, Helena?'
She, whose dark eyes were watching the effect of what he said on Mr.Crisparkle's face, replied--to Mr. Crisparkle, not to him: 'It is so.'After a short pause, she answered the slightest look of inquiryconceivable, in her brother's eyes, with as slight an affirmative bend ofher own head; and he went on:
'I have never yet had the courage to say to you, sir, what in fullopenness I ought to have said when you first talked with me on thissubject. It is not easy to say, and I have been withheld by a fear ofits seeming ridiculous, which is very strong upon me down to thi
s lastmoment, and might, but for my sister, prevent my being quite open withyou even now.--I admire Miss Bud, sir, so very much, that I cannot bearher being treated with conceit or indifference; and even if I did notfeel that I had an injury against young Drood on my own account, I shouldfeel that I had an injury against him on hers.'
Mr. Crisparkle, in utter amazement, looked at Helena for corroboration,and met in her expressive face full corroboration, and a plea for advice.
'The young lady of whom you speak is, as you know, Mr. Neville, shortlyto be married,' said Mr. Crisparkle, gravely; 'therefore your admiration,if it be of that special nature which you seem to indicate, isoutrageously misplaced. Moreover, it is monstrous that you should takeupon yourself to be the young lady's champion against her chosen husband.Besides, you have seen them only once. The young lady has become yoursister's friend; and I wonder that your sister, even on her behalf, hasnot checked you in this irrational and culpable fancy.'
'She has tried, sir, but uselessly. Husband or no husband, that fellowis incapable of the feeling with which I am inspired towards thebeautiful young creature whom he treats like a doll. I say he is asincapable of it, as he is unworthy of her. I say she is sacrificed inbeing bestowed upon him. I say that I love her, and despise and hatehim!' This with a face so flushed, and a gesture so violent, that hissister crossed to his side, and caught his arm, remonstrating, 'Neville,Neville!'
Thus recalled to himself, he quickly became sensible of having lost theguard he had set upon his passionate tendency, and covered his face withhis hand, as one repentant and wretched.
Mr. Crisparkle, watching him attentively, and at the same time meditatinghow to proceed, walked on for some paces in silence. Then he spoke:
'Mr. Neville, Mr. Neville, I am sorely grieved to see in you more tracesof a character as sullen, angry, and wild, as the night now closing in.They are of too serious an aspect to leave me the resource of treatingthe infatuation you have disclosed, as undeserving serious consideration.I give it very serious consideration, and I speak to you accordingly.This feud between you and young Drood must not go on. I cannot permit itto go on any longer, knowing what I now know from you, and you livingunder my roof. Whatever prejudiced and unauthorised constructions yourblind and envious wrath may put upon his character, it is a frank,good-natured character. I know I can trust to it for that. Now, prayobserve what I am about to say. On reflection, and on your sister'srepresentation, I am willing to admit that, in making peace with youngDrood, you have a right to be met half-way. I will engage that you shallbe, and even that young Drood shall make the first advance. Thiscondition fulfilled, you will pledge me the honour of a Christiangentleman that the quarrel is for ever at an end on your side. What maybe in your heart when you give him your hand, can only be known to theSearcher of all hearts; but it will never go well with you, if there beany treachery there. So far, as to that; next as to what I must againspeak of as your infatuation. I understand it to have been confided tome, and to be known to no other person save your sister and yourself. DoI understand aright?'
Helena answered in a low voice: 'It is only known to us three who arehere together.'
'It is not at all known to the young lady, your friend?'
'On my soul, no!'
'I require you, then, to give me your similar and solemn pledge, Mr.Neville, that it shall remain the secret it is, and that you will take noother action whatsoever upon it than endeavouring (and that mostearnestly) to erase it from your mind. I will not tell you that it willsoon pass; I will not tell you that it is the fancy of the moment; I willnot tell you that such caprices have their rise and fall among the youngand ardent every hour; I will leave you undisturbed in the belief that ithas few parallels or none, that it will abide with you a long time, andthat it will be very difficult to conquer. So much the more weight shallI attach to the pledge I require from you, when it is unreservedlygiven.'
The young man twice or thrice essayed to speak, but failed.
'Let me leave you with your sister, whom it is time you took home,' saidMr. Crisparkle. 'You will find me alone in my room by-and-by.'
'Pray do not leave us yet,' Helena implored him. 'Another minute.'
'I should not,' said Neville, pressing his hand upon his face, 'haveneeded so much as another minute, if you had been less patient with me,Mr. Crisparkle, less considerate of me, and less unpretendingly good andtrue. O, if in my childhood I had known such a guide!'
'Follow your guide now, Neville,' murmured Helena, 'and follow him toHeaven!'
There was that in her tone which broke the good Minor Canon's voice, orit would have repudiated her exaltation of him. As it was, he laid afinger on his lips, and looked towards her brother.
'To say that I give both pledges, Mr. Crisparkle, out of my innermostheart, and to say that there is no treachery in it, is to say nothing!'Thus Neville, greatly moved. 'I beg your forgiveness for my miserablelapse into a burst of passion.'
'Not mine, Neville, not mine. You know with whom forgiveness lies, asthe highest attribute conceivable. Miss Helena, you and your brother aretwin children. You came into this world with the same dispositions, andyou passed your younger days together surrounded by the same adversecircumstances. What you have overcome in yourself, can you not overcomein him? You see the rock that lies in his course. Who but you can keephim clear of it?'
'Who but you, sir?' replied Helena. 'What is my influence, or my weakwisdom, compared with yours!'
'You have the wisdom of Love,' returned the Minor Canon, 'and it was thehighest wisdom ever known upon this earth, remember. As to mine--but theless said of that commonplace commodity the better. Good night!'
She took the hand he offered her, and gratefully and almost reverentlyraised it to her lips.
'Tut!' said the Minor Canon softly, 'I am much overpaid!' and turnedaway.
[Picture: Mr. Crisparkle is overpaid]
Retracing his steps towards the Cathedral Close, he tried, as he wentalong in the dark, to think out the best means of bringing to pass whathe had promised to effect, and what must somehow be done. 'I shallprobably be asked to marry them,' he reflected, 'and I would they weremarried and gone! But this presses first.'
He debated principally whether he should write to young Drood, or whetherhe should speak to Jasper. The consciousness of being popular with thewhole Cathedral establishment inclined him to the latter course, and thewell-timed sight of the lighted gatehouse decided him to take it. 'Iwill strike while the iron is hot,' he said, 'and see him now.'
Jasper was lying asleep on a couch before the fire, when, having ascendedthe postern-stair, and received no answer to his knock at the door, Mr.Crisparkle gently turned the handle and looked in. Long afterwards hehad cause to remember how Jasper sprang from the couch in a deliriousstate between sleeping and waking, and crying out: 'What is the matter?Who did it?'
'It is only I, Jasper. I am sorry to have disturbed you.'
The glare of his eyes settled down into a look of recognition, and hemoved a chair or two, to make a way to the fireside.
'I was dreaming at a great rate, and am glad to be disturbed from anindigestive after-dinner sleep. Not to mention that you are alwayswelcome.'
'Thank you. I am not confident,' returned Mr. Crisparkle, as he sathimself down in the easy-chair placed for him, 'that my subject will atfirst sight be quite as welcome as myself; but I am a minister of peace,and I pursue my subject in the interests of peace. In a word, Jasper, Iwant to establish peace between these two young fellows.'
A very perplexed expression took hold of Mr. Jasper's face; a veryperplexing expression too, for Mr. Crisparkle could make nothing of it.
'How?' was Jasper's inquiry, in a low and slow voice, after a silence.
'For the "How" I come to you. I want to ask you to do me the greatfavour and service of interposing with your nephew (I have alreadyinterposed with Mr. Neville), and getting him to write you a short note,in his lively way
, saying that he is willing to shake hands. I know whata good-natured fellow he is, and what influence you have with him. Andwithout in the least defending Mr. Neville, we must all admit that he wasbitterly stung.'
Jasper turned that perplexed face towards the fire. Mr. Crisparklecontinuing to observe it, found it even more perplexing than before,inasmuch as it seemed to denote (which could hardly be) some closeinternal calculation.
'I know that you are not prepossessed in Mr. Neville's favour,' the MinorCanon was going on, when Jasper stopped him:
'You have cause to say so. I am not, indeed.'
'Undoubtedly; and I admit his lamentable violence of temper, though Ihope he and I will get the better of it between us. But I have exacted avery solemn promise from him as to his future demeanour towards yournephew, if you do kindly interpose; and I am sure he will keep it.'
'You are always responsible and trustworthy, Mr. Crisparkle. Do youreally feel sure that you can answer for him so confidently?'
'I do.'
The perplexed and perplexing look vanished.
'Then you relieve my mind of a great dread, and a heavy weight,' saidJasper; 'I will do it.'
Mr. Crisparkle, delighted by the swiftness and completeness of hissuccess, acknowledged it in the handsomest terms.
'I will do it,' repeated Jasper, 'for the comfort of having yourguarantee against my vague and unfounded fears. You will laugh--but doyou keep a Diary?'
'A line for a day; not more.'
'A line for a day would be quite as much as my uneventful life wouldneed, Heaven knows,' said Jasper, taking a book from a desk, 'but that myDiary is, in fact, a Diary of Ned's life too. You will laugh at thisentry; you will guess when it was made:
'"Past midnight.--After what I have just now seen, I have a morbid dread upon me of some horrible consequences resulting to my dear boy, that I cannot reason with or in any way contend against. All my efforts are vain. The demoniacal passion of this Neville Landless, his strength in his fury, and his savage rage for the destruction of its object, appal me. So profound is the impression, that twice since I have gone into my dear boy's room, to assure myself of his sleeping safely, and not lying dead in his blood."
'Here is another entry next morning:
'"Ned up and away. Light-hearted and unsuspicious as ever. He laughed when I cautioned him, and said he was as good a man as Neville Landless any day. I told him that might be, but he was not as bad a man. He continued to make light of it, but I travelled with him as far as I could, and left him most unwillingly. I am unable to shake off these dark intangible presentiments of evil--if feelings founded upon staring facts are to be so called."
'Again and again,' said Jasper, in conclusion, twirling the leaves of thebook before putting it by, 'I have relapsed into these moods, as otherentries show. But I have now your assurance at my back, and shall put itin my book, and make it an antidote to my black humours.'
'Such an antidote, I hope,' returned Mr. Crisparkle, 'as will induce youbefore long to consign the black humours to the flames. I ought to bethe last to find any fault with you this evening, when you have met mywishes so freely; but I must say, Jasper, that your devotion to yournephew has made you exaggerative here.'
'You are my witness,' said Jasper, shrugging his shoulders, 'what mystate of mind honestly was, that night, before I sat down to write, andin what words I expressed it. You remember objecting to a word I used,as being too strong? It was a stronger word than any in my Diary.'
'Well, well. Try the antidote,' rejoined Mr. Crisparkle; 'and may itgive you a brighter and better view of the case! We will discuss it nomore now. I have to thank you for myself, thank you sincerely.'
'You shall find,' said Jasper, as they shook hands, 'that I will not dothe thing you wish me to do, by halves. I will take care that Ned,giving way at all, shall give way thoroughly.'
On the third day after this conversation, he called on Mr. Crisparklewith the following letter:
'MY DEAR JACK,
'I am touched by your account of your interview with Mr. Crisparkle, whom I much respect and esteem. At once I openly say that I forgot myself on that occasion quite as much as Mr. Landless did, and that I wish that bygone to be a bygone, and all to be right again.
'Look here, dear old boy. Ask Mr. Landless to dinner on Christmas Eve (the better the day the better the deed), and let there be only we three, and let us shake hands all round there and then, and say no more about it.
'My dear Jack, 'Ever your most affectionate, 'EDWIN DROOD.
'P.S. Love to Miss Pussy at the next music-lesson.'
'You expect Mr. Neville, then?' said Mr. Crisparkle.
'I count upon his coming,' said Mr. Jasper.