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than had no return. Ii I sit here thinking of him," snarls the old man, holding up his impotent ten fingers, " 1 want to strangle him now." And in a sudden access of fury, he throws the cusldoii at the unofi'ending Mrs. Smallweed, but it passes harmlessly on one side of her chair. " I don't need to be tokl," returns the trooper, taking his pipe from his lips for a moment, and carrying his eyes back from following the progress of the cushion, to the pipe-bowl which is burning low, " that he carried on heavily and went to ruin. I have been at his right hand many a day, when he wis charging upon ruin full-gallop. I was with him, Avhen he was sick and well, rich and poor. I laid this hand upon him, after he liad run through everything and broken down everything beneath him — wlien he held a pistol to his head." " I wish he had let it off ! " says the benevolent old man, " and blown his head into as many pieces as he owed pounds ! " "That would have been a smash indeed," returns the trooper coolly; •' any way, he had been young, hopeful, and handsome in the days gone by ; and I am glad I never found him, when he was neither, to lead to a result so much to his advantage. That's reason number one." " I hope number two's as good? " snarls the old man. " Why, no. It's more of a selfish reason. If I had found him, I must have gone to the other world to look, lie was there. " How do you know he w^as there?" • , " He wasn't here." " How do you know he wasn't here ? " " Don't lose your temper as well as your money," says ]Ir. George, calmly knocking the ashes out of his pipe. " He was drowned long before. I am convinced of it. He went over a ship's side. Whether intentionally or accidentally, I don't know. Perhaps your fnend in the city does. — Do you know what that tune is, Mr. Smallweed ? " he adds, after breaking off to whistle one, accompanied on the table with the empty pipe. "Tune!" replies the old man. "Xo. We never have tunes here." " That's the Dead March in Saul. They bury soldiers to it ; so it's the natural end of the subject. Now, if your pretty grand-daughter — excuse me, miss — will condescend to take care of this pipe for two months, we shall save the cost of one, next time. Good evening, Mr. Smallweed ! " " My dear friend ! " The old man gives him both his hands. " So you think your friend in the city will be hard upon me, if I fail in a payment ? " says the trooper, looking down upon him like a giant. " My dear friend, I am afraid he will," returns the old man looking up at him like a pigmy. Mr. George laughs ; and with a glance at Mr. Smallweed, and a parting salutation to the scornful Judy, strides out of the parlor, clashing imaginary sabres and other metallic appurtenances as he goes. " You're a damned rogue," says the old gentleman, making a hideous grimace at the door as he shuts it. " But I'll lime you, you dog, I'U lime you ! " After this amiable remark, his spirit soars into those enchanting regions of reflection which its education and pursuits have opened to it ; and again he and Mrs. Smallweed wile away the rosy hours, two um'eheved sentinels forgotten as aforesaid by the Black Seijeant.