'Rumty's. You see, being rather high and up two steps they call it a Perch. And they call ME Rumty.'
'How dare they!' exclaimed Bella.
'They're playful, Bella my dear; they're playful. They're more or less younger than I am, and they're playful. What does it matter?
It might be Surly, or Sulky, or fifty disagreeable things that I really shouldn't like to be considered. But Rumty! Lor, why not Rumty?'
To inflict a heavy disappointment on this sweet nature, which had been, through all her caprices, the object of her recognition, love, and admiration from infancy, Bella felt to be the hardest task of her hard day. 'I should have done better,' she thought, 'to tell him at first; I should have done better to tell him just now, when he had some slight misgiving; he is quite happy again, and I shall make him wretched.'
He was falling back on his loaf and milk, with the pleasantest composure, and Bella stealing her arm a little closer about him, and at the same time sticking up his hair with an irresistible propensity to play with him founded on the habit of her whole life, had prepared herself to say: 'Pa dear, don't be cast down, but Imust tell you something disagreeable!' when he interrupted her in an unlooked-for manner.
'My gracious me!' he exclaimed, invoking the Mincing Lane echoes as before. 'This is very extraordinary!'
'What is, Pa?'
'Why here's Mr Rokesmith now!'
'No, no, Pa, no,' cried Bella, greatly flurried. 'Surely not.'
'Yes there is! Look here!'
Sooth to say, Mr Rokesmith not only passed the window, but came into the counting-house. And not only came into the counting-house, but, finding himself alone there with Bella and her father, rushed at Bella and caught her in his arms, with the rapturous words 'My dear, dear girl; my gallant, generous, disinterested, courageous, noble girl!' And not only that even, (which one might have thought astonishment enough for one dose), but Bella, after hanging her head for a moment, lifted it up and laid it on his breast, as if that were her head's chosen and lasting resting-place!
'I knew you would come to him, and I followed you,' said Rokesmith. 'My love, my life! You ARE mine?'
To which Bella responded, 'Yes, I AM yours if you think me worth taking!' And after that, seemed to shrink to next to nothing in the clasp of his arms, partly because it was such a strong one on his part, and partly because there was such a yielding to it on hers.
The cherub, whose hair would have done for itself under the influence of this amazing spectacle, what Bella had just now done for it, staggered back into the window-seat from which he had risen, and surveyed the pair with his eyes dilated to their utmost.
'But we must think of dear Pa,' said Bella; 'I haven't told dear Pa;let us speak to Pa.' Upon which they turned to do so.
'I wish first, my dear,' remarked the cherub faintly, 'that you'd have the kindness to sprinkle me with a little milk, for I feel as if I was--Going.'
In fact, the good little fellow had become alarmingly limp, and his senses seemed to be rapidly escaping, from the knees upward.
Bella sprinkled him with kisses instead of milk, but gave him a little of that article to drink; and he gradually revived under her caressing care.
'We'll break it to you gently, dearest Pa,' said Bella.
'My dear,' returned the cherub, looking at them both, 'you broke so much in the first--Gush, if I may so express myself--that I think Iam equal to a good large breakage now.'
'Mr Wilfer,' said John Rokesmith, excitedly and joyfully, 'Bella takes me, though I have no fortune, even no present occupation;nothing but what I can get in the life before us. Bella takes me!'
'Yes, I should rather have inferred, my dear sir,' returned the cherub feebly, 'that Bella took you, from what I have within these few minutes remarked.'
'You don't know, Pa,' said Bella, 'how ill I have used him!'
'You don't know, sir,' said Rokesmith, 'what a heart she has!'
'You don't know, Pa,' said Bella, 'what a shocking creature I was growing, when he saved me from myself!'
'You don't know, sir,' said Rokesmith, 'what a sacrifice she has made for me!'
'My dear Bella,' replied the cherub, still pathetically scared, 'and my dear John Rokesmith, if you will allow me so to call you--'
'Yes do, Pa, do!' urged Bella. 'I allow you, and my will is his law.
Isn't it--dear John Rokesmith?'
There was an engaging shyness in Bella, coupled with an engaging tenderness of love and confidence and pride, in thus first calling him by name, which made it quite excusable in John Rokesmith to do what he did. What he did was, once more to give her the appearance of vanishing as aforesaid.
'I think, my dears,' observed the cherub, 'that if you could make it convenient to sit one on one side of me, and the other on the other, we should get on rather more consecutively, and make things rather plainer. John Rokesmith mentioned, a while ago, that he had no present occupation.'
'None,' said Rokesmith.
'No, Pa, none,' said Bella.
'From which I argue,' proceeded the cherub, 'that he has left Mr Boffin?'
'Yes, Pa. And so--'
'Stop a bit, my dear. I wish to lead up to it by degrees. And that Mr Boffin has not treated him well?'
'Has treated him most shamefully, dear Pa!' cried Bella with a flashing face.
'Of which,' pursued the cherub, enjoining patience with his hand, 'a certain mercenary young person distantly related to myself, could not approve? Am I leading up to it right?'
'Could not approve, sweet Pa,' said Bella, with a tearful laugh and a joyful kiss.
'Upon which,' pursued the cherub, 'the certain mercenary young person distantly related to myself, having previously observed and mentioned to myself that prosperity was spoiling Mr Boffin, felt that she must not sell her sense of what was right and what was wrong, and what was true and what was false, and what was just and what was unjust, for any price that could be paid to her by any one alive? Am I leading up to it right?'
With another tearful laugh Bella joyfully kissed him again.
