The Mystery of Edwin Drood | Page 7

too late to find another now. This
is a confidence between us.'
'It shall be sacredly preserved, Jack.'
'I have reposed it in you, because--'
'I feel it, I assure you. Because we are fast friends, and because you
love and trust me, as I love and trust you. Both hands, Jack.'
As each stands looking into the other's eyes, and as the uncle holds the
nephew's hands, the uncle thus proceeds:
'You know now, don't you, that even a poor monotonous chorister and
grinder of music--in his niche--may be troubled with some stray sort of
ambition, aspiration, restlessness, dissatisfaction, what shall we call it?'

'Yes, dear Jack.'
'And you will remember?'
'My dear Jack, I only ask you, am I likely to forget what you have said
with so much feeling?'
'Take it as a warning, then.'
In the act of having his hands released, and of moving a step back,
Edwin pauses for an instant to consider the application of these last
words. The instant over, he says, sensibly touched:
'I am afraid I am but a shallow, surface kind of fellow, Jack, and that
my headpiece is none of the best. But I needn't say I am young; and
perhaps I shall not grow worse as I grow older. At all events, I hope I
have something impressible within me, which feels- -deeply feels--the
disinterestedness of your painfully laying your inner self bare, as a
warning to me.'
Mr. Jasper's steadiness of face and figure becomes so marvellous that
his breathing seems to have stopped.
'I couldn't fail to notice, Jack, that it cost you a great effort, and that you
were very much moved, and very unlike your usual self. Of course I
knew that you were extremely fond of me, but I really was not prepared
for your, as I may say, sacrificing yourself to me in that way.'
Mr. Jasper, becoming a breathing man again without the smallest stage
of transition between the two extreme states, lifts his shoulders, laughs,
and waves his right arm.
'No; don't put the sentiment away, Jack; please don't; for I am very
much in earnest. I have no doubt that that unhealthy state of mind
which you have so powerfully described is attended with some real
suffering, and is hard to bear. But let me reassure you, Jack, as to the
chances of its overcoming me. I don't think I am in the way of it. In
some few months less than another year, you know, I shall carry Pussy
off from school as Mrs. Edwin Drood. I shall then go engineering into
the East, and Pussy with me. And although we have our little tiffs now,
arising out of a certain unavoidable flatness that attends our
love-making, owing to its end being all settled beforehand, still I have
no doubt of our getting on capitally then, when it's done and can't be
helped. In short, Jack, to go back to the old song I was freely quoting at
dinner (and who knows old songs better than you?), my wife shall
dance, and I will sing, so merrily pass the day. Of Pussy's being

beautiful there cannot be a doubt;--and when you are good besides,
Little Miss Impudence,' once more apostrophising the portrait, 'I'll burn
your comic likeness, and paint your music-master another.'
Mr. Jasper, with his hand to his chin, and with an expression of musing
benevolence on his face, has attentively watched every animated look
and gesture attending the delivery of these words. He remains in that
attitude after they, are spoken, as if in a kind of fascination attendant on
his strong interest in the youthful spirit that he loves so well. Then he
says with a quiet smile:
'You won't be warned, then?'
'No, Jack.'
'You can't be warned, then?'
'No, Jack, not by you. Besides that I don't really consider myself in
danger, I don't like your putting yourself in that position.'
'Shall we go and walk in the churchyard?'
'By all means. You won't mind my slipping out of it for half a moment
to the Nuns' House, and leaving a parcel there? Only gloves for Pussy;
as many pairs of gloves as she is years old to-day. Rather poetical,
Jack?'
Mr. Jasper, still in the same attitude, murmurs: '"Nothing half so sweet
in life," Ned!'
'Here's the parcel in my greatcoat-pocket. They must be presented
to-night, or the poetry is gone. It's against regulations for me to call at
night, but not to leave a packet. I am ready, Jack!'
Mr. Jasper dissolves his attitude, and they go out together.




CHAPTER III
--THE NUNS' HOUSE

For sufficient reasons, which this narrative will itself unfold as it

advances, a fictitious name must be bestowed upon the old Cathedral
town. Let