I"d forgive the tambourine-player. I wouldn"t have him interferedwith on any account, poor fellow." And here the locksmith laughedagain so heartily, that tears came into his eyes--much to MrsVarden"s indignation, who thought the capture of so sound aProtestant and estimable a private character as Miggs by a pagannegro, a circumstance too shocking and awful for contemplation.
The picture Gabriel had drawn, indeed, threatened seriousconsequences, and would indubitably have led to them, but luckilyat that moment a light footstep crossed the threshold, and Dolly,running in, threw her arms round her old father"s neck and huggedhim 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 praiseenough. When and where was there ever such a plump, roguish,comely, bright-eyed, enticing, bewitching, captivating, maddeninglittle puss in all this world, as Dolly! What was the Dolly offive years ago, to the Dolly of that day! How many coachmakers,saddlers, cabinet-makers, and professors of other useful arts, haddeserted their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and, most ofall, their cousins, for the love of her! How many unknowngentlemen--supposed to be of mighty fortunes, if not titles--hadwaited round the corner after dark, and tempted Miggs theincorruptible, with golden guineas, to deliver offers of marriagefolded up in love-letters! How many disconsolate fathers andsubstantial tradesmen had waited on the locksmith for the samepurpose, with dismal tales of how their sons had lost theirappetites, and taken to shut themselves up in dark bedrooms, andwandering in desolate suburbs with pale faces, and all because ofDolly Varden"s loveliness and cruelty! How many young men, in allprevious times of unprecedented steadiness, had turned suddenlywild and wicked for the same reason, and, in an ecstasy ofunrequited love, taken to wrench off door-knockers, and invert theboxes of rheumatic watchmen! How had she recruited the king"sservice, both by sea and land, through rendering desperate hisloving subjects between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five! How many young ladies had publicly professed, with tears in their eyes,that for their tastes she was much too short, too tall, too bold,too cold, too stout, too thin, too fair, too dark--too everythingbut handsome! How many old ladies, taking counsel together, hadthanked Heaven their daughters were not like her, and had hoped shemight 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 theconclusion that she was "going off" in her looks, or had never comeon in them, and that she was a thorough imposition and a popularmistake!
And yet here was this same Dolly Varden, so whimsical and hard toplease that she was Dolly Varden still, all smiles and dimples andpleasant looks, and caring no more for the fifty or sixty youngfellows who at that very moment were breaking their hearts to marryher, than if so many oysters had been crossed in love and openedafterwards.
Dolly hugged her father as has been already stated, and havinghugged her mother also, accompanied both into the little parlourwhere the cloth was already laid for dinner, and where Miss Miggs-atrifle more rigid and bony than of yore--received her with a sortof hysterical gasp, intended for a smile. Into the hands of that young virgin, she delivered her bonnet and walking dress (all of adreadful, artful, and designing kind), and then said with a laugh,which rivalled the locksmith"s music, "How glad I always am to beat home again!"
"And how glad we always are, Doll," said her father, putting backthe dark hair from her sparkling eyes, "to have you at home. Giveme a kiss."
If there had been anybody of the male kind there to see her do it-butthere was not--it was a mercy.
"I don"t like your being at the Warren," said the locksmith, "Ican"t bear to have you out of my sight. And what is the news overyonder, Doll?"
"What news there is, I think you know already," replied hisdaughter. "I am sure you do though."
"Ay?" cried the locksmith. "What"s that?"
"Come, come," said Dolly, "you know very well. I want you to tellme why Mr Haredale--oh, how gruff he is again, to be sure!--has been away from home for some days past, and why he is travellingabout (we know he IS travelling, because of his letters) withouttelling his own niece why or wherefore."
"Miss Emma doesn"t want to know, I"ll swear," returned thelocksmith.
"I don"t know that," said Dolly; "but I do, at any rate. Do tellme. Why is he so secret, and what is this ghost story, whichnobody is to tell Miss Emma, and which seems to be mixed up withhis going away? Now I see you know by your colouring so."
"What the story means, or is, or has to do with it, I know no morethan you, my dear," returned the locksmith, "except that it"s somefoolish fear of little Solomon"s--which has, indeed, no meaning init, I suppose. As to Mr Haredale"s journey, he goes, as I believe--"
"Yes," said Dolly.
"As I believe," resumed the locksmith, pinching her cheek, "onbusiness, Doll. What it may be, is quite another matter. ReadBlue Beard, and don"t be too curious, pet; it"s no business ofyours 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 thesubject, notwithstanding the appearance of dinner, but at themention of Blue Beard Mrs Varden interposed, protesting she couldnot find it in her conscience to sit tamely by, and hear her childrecommended to peruse the adventures of a Turk and Mussulman--farless of a fabulous Turk, which she considered that potentate to be.