Charles Dickens by The Cricket on the Hearth Read Free Book Online Page A

Blind Girl, starting from him.
    'She's such a con-founded Idiot,' muttered Tackleton, 'that I was
afraid she'd never comprehend me. Ah, Bertha! Married! Church,
parson, clerk, beadle, glass-coach, bells, breakfast, bride-cake,
favours, marrow-bones, cleavers, and all the rest of the
tomfoolery. A wedding, you know; a wedding. Don't you know what a
wedding is?'
    'I know,' replied the Blind Girl, in a gentle tone. 'I
understand!'
    'Do you?' muttered Tackleton. 'It's more than I expected. Well!
On that account I want to join the party, and to bring May and her
mother. I'll send in a little something or other, before the
afternoon. A cold leg of mutton, or some comfortable trifle of
that sort. You'll expect me?'
    'Yes,' she answered.
    She had drooped her head, and turned away; and so stood, with her
hands crossed, musing.
    'I don't think you will,' muttered Tackleton, looking at her; 'for
you seem to have forgotten all about it, already. Caleb!'
    'I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose,' thought Caleb. 'Sir!'
    'Take care she don't forget what I've been saying to her.'
    'SHE never forgets,' returned Caleb. 'It's one of the few things
she an't clever in.'
    'Every man thinks his own geese swans,' observed the Toy-merchant,
with a shrug. 'Poor devil!'
    Having delivered himself of which remark, with infinite contempt,
old Gruff and Tackleton withdrew.
    Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in meditation. The
gaiety had vanished from her downcast face, and it was very sad.
Three or four times she shook her head, as if bewailing some
remembrance or some loss; but her sorrowful reflections found no
vent in words.
    It was not until Caleb had been occupied, some time, in yoking a
team of horses to a waggon by the summary process of nailing the
harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she drew near to
his working-stool, and sitting down beside him, said:
    'Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient,
willing eyes.'
    'Here they are,' said Caleb. 'Always ready. They are more yours
than mine, Bertha, any hour in the four-and-twenty. What shall
your eyes do for you, dear?'
    'Look round the room, father.'
    'All right,' said Caleb. 'No sooner said than done, Bertha.'
    'Tell me about it.'
    'It's much the same as usual,' said Caleb. 'Homely, but very snug.
The gay colours on the walls; the bright flowers on the plates and
dishes; the shining wood, where there are beams or panels; the
general cheerfulness and neatness of the building; make it very
pretty.'
    Cheerful and neat it was wherever Bertha's hands could busy
themselves. But nowhere else, were cheerfulness and neatness
possible, in the old crazy shed which Caleb's fancy so transformed.
    'You have your working dress on, and are not so gallant as when you
wear the handsome coat?' said Bertha, touching him.
    'Not quite so gallant,' answered Caleb. 'Pretty brisk though.'
    'Father,' said the Blind Girl, drawing close to his side, and
stealing one arm round his neck, 'tell me something about May. She
is very fair?'
    'She is indeed,' said Caleb. And she was indeed. It was quite a
rare thing to Caleb, not to have to draw on his invention.
    'Her hair is dark,' said Bertha, pensively, 'darker than mine. Her
voice is sweet and musical, I know. I have often loved to hear it.
Her shape—'
    'There's not a Doll's in all the room to equal it,' said Caleb.
'And her eyes!—'
    He stopped; for Bertha had drawn closer round his neck, and from
the arm that clung about him, came a warning pressure which he
understood too well.
    He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment, and then fell back upon
the song about the sparkling bowl; his infallible resource in all
such difficulties.
    'Our friend, father, our benefactor. I am never tired, you know,
of hearing about him.—Now, was I ever?' she said, hastily.
    'Of course not,' answered Caleb, 'and with reason.'
    'Ah! With how much reason!' cried the Blind Girl. With such
fervency, that Caleb, though his motives were so pure, could