The Mystery of Edwin Drood eBook

and fell into the exasperating habit, common among such orators, of impersonating him as a wicked and weak opponent.  Thus, he would ask:  ’And will you, sir, now stultify yourself by telling me’—­and so forth, when the innocent man had not opened his lips, nor meant to open them.  Or he would say:  ’Now see, sir, to what a position you are reduced.  I will leave you no escape.  After exhausting all the resources of fraud and falsehood, during years upon years; after exhibiting a combination of dastardly meanness with ensanguined daring, such as the world has not often witnessed; you have now the hypocrisy to bend the knee before the most degraded of mankind, and to sue and whine and howl for mercy!’ Whereat the unfortunate Minor Canon would look, in part indignant and in part perplexed; while his worthy mother sat bridling, with tears in her eyes, and the remainder of the party lapsed into a sort of gelatinous state, in which there was no flavour or solidity, and very little resistance.

But the gush of philanthropy that burst forth when the departure of Mr. Honeythunder began to impend, must have been highly gratifying to the feelings of that distinguished man.  His coffee was produced, by the special activity of Mr. Tope, a full hour before he wanted it.  Mr. Crisparkle sat with his watch in his hand for about the same period, lest he should overstay his time.  The four young people were unanimous in believing that the Cathedral clock struck three-quarters, when it actually struck but one.  Miss Twinkleton estimated the distance to the omnibus at five-and-twenty minutes’ walk, when it was really five.  The affectionate kindness of the whole circle hustled him into his greatcoat, and shoved him out into the moonlight, as if he were a fugitive traitor with whom they sympathised, and a troop of horse were at the back door.  Mr. Crisparkle and his new charge, who took him to the omnibus, were so fervent in their apprehensions of his catching cold, that they shut him up in it instantly and left him, with still half-an-hour to spare.

CHAPTER VII—­MORE CONFIDENCES THAN ONE

‘I know very little of that gentleman, sir,’ said Neville to the Minor Canon as they turned back.

‘You know very little of your guardian?’ the Minor Canon repeated.

‘Almost nothing!’

‘How came he—­’

’To be my guardian?  I’ll tell you, sir.  I suppose you know that we come (my sister and I) from Ceylon?’

‘Indeed, no.’

’I wonder at that.  We lived with a stepfather there.  Our mother died there, when we were little children.  We have had a wretched existence.  She made him our guardian, and he was a miserly wretch who grudged us food to eat, and clothes to wear.  At his death, he passed us over to this man; for no better reason that I know of, than his being a friend or connexion of his, whose name was always in print and catching his attention.’