My business habits had one other bright feature,which I called “leaving a Margin.” For example;supposing Herbert’s debts to be one hundred and sixty-four pounds four-and-twopence, I would say, “Leave a margin, and put them down at two hundred.” Or, supposing my own to be four times as much, I would leave a margin, and put them down at seven hundred. I had the highest opinion of the wisdom of this same Margin, but I am bound to acknowledge that on looking back, I deem it to have been an expensive device. For, we always ran into new debt immediately, to the full extent of the margin, and sometimes, in the sense of freedom and solvency it imparted, got pretty far on into another margin.
But there was a calm, a rest, a virtuous hush,consequent on these examinations of our affairs that gave me,for the time, an admirable opinion of myself.Soothed by my exertions, my method,and Herbert’s compliments,I would sit with his symmetrical bundle and my own on the table before me among the stationery, and feel like a Bank of some sort, rather than a private individual.
We shut our outer door on these solemn occasions,in order that we might not be interrupted.I had fallen into my serene state one evening,when we heard a letter dropped through the slit in the said door,and fall on the ground. “It’s for you, Handel,” said Herbert, going out and coming back with it,“and I hope there is nothing the matter.” This was in allusion to its heavy black seal and border.
The letter was signed Trabb & Co.,and its contents were simply,that I was an honoured sir,and that they begged to inform me that Mrs. J.Gargery had departed this life on Monday last at twenty minutes past six in the evening, and that my attendance was requested at the interment on Monday next at three o’clock in the afternoon.
Chapter XXXV.
It was the first time that a grave had opened in my road of life,and the gap it made in the smooth ground was wonderful.The figure of my sister in her chair by the kitchen fire,haunted me night and day.That the place could possibly be, without her,was something my mind seemed unable to compass;and whereas she had seldom or never been in my thoughts of late,I had now the strangest ideas that she was coming towards me in the street,or that she would presently knock at the door.In my rooms too, with which she had never been at all associated,there was at once the blankness of death and a perpetual suggestion of the sound of her voice or the turn of her face or figure, as if she were still alive and had been often there.
Whatever my fortunes might have been,I could scarcely have recalled my sister with much tenderness.But I suppose there is a shock of regret which may exist without much tenderness. Under its influence (and perhaps to make up for the want of the softer feeling) I was seized with a violent indignation against the assailant from whom she had suffered so much; and I felt that on sufficient proof I could have revengefully pursued Orlick, or any one else, to the last extremity.
Having written to Joe, to offer him consolation,and to assure him that I would come to the funeral,I passed the intermediate days in the curious state of mind I have glanced at.I went down early in the morning,and alighted at the Blue Boar in good time to walk over to the forge.
It was fine summer weather again, and,as I walked along, the times when I was a little helpless creature,and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned.But they returned with a gentle tone upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now, the very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would be well for my memory that others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me.
At last I came within sight of the house,and saw that Trabb and Co.had put in a funereal execution and taken possession.Two dismally absurd persons,each ostentatiously exhibiting a crutch done up in a black bandage,—as if that instrument could possibly communicate any comfort to anybody,—were posted at the front door;and in one of them I recognised a postboy discharged from the Boar for turning a young couple into a sawpit on their bridal morning, in consequence of intoxication rendering it necessary for him to ride his horse clasped round the neck with both arms. All the children of the village, and most of the women, were admiring these sable warders and the closed windows of the house and forge; and as I came up, one of the two warders (the postboy) knocked at the door,—implying that I was far too much exhausted by grief to have strength remaining to knock for myself.
Another sable warder (a carpenter,who had once eaten two geese for a wager) opened the door,and showed me into the best parlour. Here, Mr.Trabb had taken unto himself the best table,and had got all the leaves up,and was holding a kind of black Bazaar,with the aid of a quantity of black pins.At the moment of my arrival,he had just finished putting somebody’s hat into black long-clothes,like an African baby; so he held out his hand for mine.But I, misled by the action,and confused by the occasion,shook hands with him with every testimony of warm affection.
Poor dear Joe, entangled in a little black cloak tied in a large bow under his chin, was seated apart at the upper end of the room; where, as chief mourner, he had evidently been stationed by Trabb. When I bent down and said to him, “Dear Joe, how are you?” he said, “Pip, old chap,you knowed her when she were a fine figure of a—” and clasped my hand and said no more.
Biddy, looking very neat and modest in her black dress,went quietly here and there, and was very helpful.When I had spoken to Biddy,as I thought it not a time for talking I went and sat down near Joe,and there began to wonder in what part of the house it—she—my sister—was.The air of the parlour being faint with the smell of sweet-cake,I looked about for the table of refreshments;it was scarcely visible until one had got accustomed to the gloom,but there was a cut-up plum cake upon it,and there were cut-up oranges, and sandwiches,and biscuits, and two decanters that I knew very well as ornaments,but had never seen used in all my life;one full of port, and one of sherry.Standing at this table,I became conscious of the servile Pumblechook in a black cloak and several yards of hatband, who was alternately stuffing himself, and making obsequious movements to catch my attention. The moment he succeeded, he came over to me (breathing sherry and crumbs), and said in a subdued voice, “May I, dear sir?” and did. I then descried Mr. and Mrs. Hubble;the last-named in a decent speechless paroxysm in a corner.We were all going to “follow,” and were all in course of being tied up separately (by Trabb) into ridiculous bundles.
“Which I meantersay, Pip,” Joe whispered me,as we were being what Mr.Trabb called “formed” in the parlour, two and two,—and it was dreadfully like a preparation for some grim kind of dance;“which I meantersay, sir,as I would in preference have carried her to the church myself,along with three or four friendly ones wot come to it with willing harts and arms, but it were considered wot the neighbours would look down on such and would be of opinions as it were wanting in respect.”
“Pocket-handkerchiefs out, all!” cried Mr. Trabb at this point,in a depressed business-like voice.“Pocket-handkerchiefs out!We are ready!”