Civil service -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
Though she was not abashed, Charley was, and very much so. However,
he contrived to get her out of the room, so that he might speak to her
somewhat more privately in the passage. The gentlemen at the Internal
Navigation were well accustomed to this mode of colloquy, as their
tradesmen not unfrequently called, with the view of having a little
conversation, which could not conveniently be held in the public room.
'And, Mr. Tudor, what are you a-going to do about that poor girl there?'
said Mrs. Davis, as soon as she found herself in the passage, and saw
that Charley was comfortably settled with his back against the wall.
'She may go to Hong-Kong for me.' That is what Charley should have said.
But he did not say it. He had neither the sternness of heart nor the
moral courage to enable him to do so. He was very anxious, it is true,
to get altogether quit of Norah Geraghty; but his present immediate care
was confined to a desire of getting Mrs. Davis out of the office.
'Do!' said Charley. 'Oh, I don't know; I'll come and settle something
some of these days; let me see when--say next Tuesday.'
'Settle something,' said Mrs. Davis. 'If you are an honest man, as I
take you, there is only one thing to settle; when do you mean to marry
her?'
'Hush!' said Charley; for, as she was speaking, Mr. Snape came down
the passage leading from Mr. Oldeschole's room. 'Hush!' Mr. Snape as he
passed walked very slowly, and looked curiously round into the widow's
face. 'I'll be even with you, old fellow, for that,' said Charley to
himself; and it may be taken for granted that he kept his word before
long.
'Oh! it is no good hushing any more,' said Mrs. Davis, hardly waiting
till Mr. Snape's erect ears were out of hearing. 'Hushing won't do no
good; there's that girl a-dying, and her grave'll be a-top of your head,
Mr. Tudor; mind I tell you that fairly; so now I want to know what it to
you're a-going to do.' And then Mrs. Davis lifted up the lid of a market
basket which hung on her left arm, took out her pocket-handkerchief, and
began to wipe her eyes.
Unfortunate Charley! An idea occurred to him that he might bolt and
leave her. But then the chances were that she would make her way into
his very room, and tell her story there, out before them all. He well
knew that this woman was capable of many things if her temper were
fairly roused. And yet what could he say to her to induce her to go out
from that building, and leave him alone to his lesser misfortunes?
'She's a-dying, I tell you, Mr. Tudor,' continued the landlady, 'and if
she do die, be sure of this, I won't be slow to tell the truth about it.
I'm the only friend she's got, and I'm not going to see her put upon.
So just tell me this in two words--what is it you're a-going to do?' And
then Mrs. Davis replaced her kerchief in the basket, stood boldly erect
in the middle of the passage, waiting for Charley's answer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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