You have waited upon me so often, and now that the place which has known me so well will soon know me no more, I cannot take my last meal alone. You have a few minutes to spare, have you not?”
“As for that,” said Mrs. Tope, “nothing should have induced me to go, sir, until I had seen you take a few mouthfuls; for it frightened me terrible when I first came in, to see you lying there so still and white; and I couldn’t answer it to my conscience to go away and you not fully restored; so if you wishes it, and orders me to sit myself beside you, then I will take the liberty, sir, and many thanks for your goodness; and I hope, after all, that you will change your mind and come back to us; for it’s a lone place is London, sir, for a lone man, and we shall miss you here sorely, particularly in the Cathedral.”
Thus the verger’s wife, casting anxious glances from time to time at the choir-master, who, reviving a little under the influence of the warm and savoury morsels, smiled back at her.
Meanwhile, Mr. Datchery, packed and ready, awaited impatiently the return of Mrs. Tope, in order to inform her that a letter he had received that morning summoned him peremptorily to London; a distant relation, lying dangerously ill, having demanded, in terms impossible to refuse, his presence there; and to pour into her sympathising ears his bitter complaint of what a fatality it was for a single buffer, who denied and utterly abjured all family ties, and who had so completely found his nook in life, where he could hang up his hat for the remainder of his days and live in peace and quietude, to be compelled, positively compelled, again to face the world he hated, and to bore himself with matters which could be of no possible interest to him.
Meanwhile, Deputy, munching a crust, his frugal breakfast, in a corner, and occasionally, with half an eye, making a mark of some early passer by, watched with keen intelligence the door of the Gate House, ready on the faintest sign of movement on the part of its inmate, to report to his friend and ally.
Breakfast over in the Gate House — the two having eaten little, Mr. Jasper being still too feeble and too engrossed with anxious thought, while Mrs. Tope’s modesty prevented her doing justice to her usually healthy appetite — the verger’s wife packed the portmanteau, which the choir-master had decided on taking with him, and received his instructions concerning the rest of his worldly goods in Cloisterham. Then the two sallied forth, Mr. Jasper propping himself on Mrs. Tope’s strong arm, and proceeded in the direction of the coach which was to convey him to the station. Mr. Crisparkle, having said good-bye to his mother, and heartily saluted her on both rosy cheeks, soon overtook them, and releasing Mrs. Tope, good-naturedly offered his arm to Jasper; but he avoided all unnecessary conversation with him, and fell into so meditative a mood, that the choir-master, furtively watching him, became every moment stiller and sterner. Finally, Mr. Datchery, with his hat in his hand, his snowy locks waving in the gentle breeze, and accompanied by Winks, brought up the rear; but at a convenient distance, where they could neither be seen nor heard by the two before them. Thus the three arrived at the omnibus and took their places. Jasper first, kindly assisted by Mr. Crisparkle, who, however, did not take the seat beside him but at the other end of the vehicle; then, Mr. Datchery, cunningly assisted by Deputy, who, with a volley of oaths and a volley of stones, thrown indiscriminately in every direction, let him slip unobserved into the seat by the driver, Joe; who nodded his honest head in comprehension of the situation. Then a mild expostulation from Mr. Crisparkle, a half muttered curse between Jasper’s clenched teeth, a crack of Joe’s whip, a strong pull from the horses, a cloud of dust — Deputy becoming gradually a mere speck in the distance — and rattle, rattle towards the great city, whither they were all bound.