The Mystery of Edwin Drood

stand in these pages as Cloisterham. It was once possibly known to the Druids by another name, and certainly to the Romans by another, and to the Sax

ounding in vestiges of monastic graves, that the Cloisterham children grow small salad in the dust of abbots and abbesses, and make dirt-pies of nuns and friars; while every ploughman in its outlying fields r

provocation), that of a summer-day the sunblinds of its shops scarce dare to flap in the south wind; while the sun-browned tramps, who pass along and stare, quicken their limp a little, that they may the sooner get beyond the confines of its oppressive respectability. This is a feat not difficult of achievement, seeing that the streets of

umbled notions have become incorporated into many of its citizens' minds. All things in it are of the past. Even its single pawnbroker takes in no pledges, nor has he for a long time, but offers vainly an unredeemed stock for sale, of which the costlier articles are dim and pale old watches apparently in a slow perspiration, tarnished sugar-tongs with ineffectual legs, and odd volumes

gate enclosing its old courtyard is a resplendent brass plate flashing forth the legend: 'Seminary for Young Ladies. Miss Twinkleton.' The house-front is so old and worn, and t

ing necklaces of them for their adornment; whether they were ever walled up alive in odd angles and jutting gables of the building for having some ineradicable leaven of busy mother Nature in them which has kept the fermenting world alive ever since; these may be matters of interest to its haunting ghosts (if any), but

Miss Twinkleton than the young ladies have ever seen. Every night, at the same hour, does Miss Twinkleton resume the topics of the previous night, comprehending the tenderer scandal of Cloisterham, of which she has no knowledge whatever by day, and references to a certain season at Tunbridge Wells (airily called by Miss Twinkleton in this state of her existence 'The Wells'), notably the season wherein a certain finished gentleman (compassionately called by Miss Twinkleton, in this stage of her existence, 'Foolish Mr. Porters') revealed a homage

been chosen for her by will and bequest, and that her guardian is bound down to bestow her on that husband when he comes of age. Miss Twinkleton, in her seminarial state of existence, has combated the romantic aspect of this destiny by affecting to shake her head over it behind Miss Bud's dimpled sho

t if Miss Twinkleton disputed it, she would be instantly taken up and transported.) When his ring at the gate-bell is expected, or takes place, every young lady who can, under any pretence, look out of window, looks

dinner of two at the gatehouse, the bell

Drood to se

ith an exemplary air of melancholy on her, turns to the sacrifice, and sa

estial globe. These expressive machines imply (to parents and guardians) that even when Miss Twinkleton retires into the bosom of privacy, duty may

between the hinges of the open door, left open for the purpose, stumbles guiltily down the kitchen stairs, as a char

ys the apparition, stopping

what,

nearer, please.

s absur

s so absurd to have the girls and the servants scuttling about after

a thumb in the corner of its mo

ectionate reception

ddy, but I can't just yet. H

h the better for seeing you, Pussy,

corner of the apron; but it swiftly becomes invisible again, as the app

says Edwin, rumpling the hair in question, with a fierce glance

Eddy. The girls would all be a

cover that ridiculous little hea

u're very welcome, Eddy. There! I'm sure that's nice. Shake hands. No

ll glad to se

ly glad.-Go and sit d

, and lay an offering on the shrine of Propriety by affecting to look for some desiderated article. On the present occasion Miss Twinkleton, grace

ng, Eddy, and I like them ve

f grumbling. 'The smallest encouragement thankfully

me a present. And we had a fea

occasions seem to go off tole

quite spontaneous manner, and with

what was t

es, jellies,

ners at t

, sir. But some of the girls made game

dy make ga

sa, laughing with great enjoyment

retty well,' says Ed

t!-I wouldn't dance

force of this; begs to know if h

ickly adds, and pleadingly too, seeing displeasure in his

say so,

ed it. O, she did it so well!' cries Rosa, in

nt girl,' says Edwin Drood. 'And so, Pussy, you h

hands, looks down with a

to be so

mehow, I feel as if it would miss me,

ad better sto

right look; next moment shakes her

it, Pussy, that we

rsts out with: 'You know we must be married, and married from h

self, in her affianced husband's face, than there is of love. He che

rightens. 'O, yes, Eddy; let us go for a walk! And I tell you what we'll do. You shall pretend that you ar

will prevent our

Pretend to look out o

he legendary ghost of a dowager in silken skirts: 'I hope I see Mr. Drood well; though I needn't ask, if I may judge from h

he moment we get into the street, you must put me outside, and keep

a, if you wish it.

on't want the g

would you like me to

t got polished leather boots on,'

, even if they did see me,' remarks Edwin, looking

n reflecting on me by saying (for they are free) that they never will on any account engage th

l button-holder on the work-table in my room?' is at once solicited for walking leave, and graciously accords it. And soon the young couple go out of the Nuns' House, taking

shall we

nt to go to the Lum

th

e, don't you understand anything? Call y

hould I kno

forgot what we are to pretend. No, you nee

dignantly declines), begins to partake of it with great zest: previously taking off and rolling up a pair of little pink gloves, like rose-l

ed Eddy, and pretend.

I am e

she

arm

al

tall!' Rosa

ould think,' is Rosa

not at all,' contrad

a fine woman; a

bt,' is the quiet

ly,' is the quick reply, (

I know the sort of nose,' says Rosa, with a sa

e, Rosa,' with some warmth; 'be

ale nose

rmined not

red noses. However; to be s

powder it,' says Edw

d thing she must be! Is

in no

msically wicked face has not be

res likes the idea of being carri

engineering skill: especially when they are to ch

ing her shoulders, with

urn of his eyes downward upon the fairy figure: 'd

ut really, doesn't she h

e returns with angry emphasis; 'though I cannot answer for her vi

rabs, and Turks, and

y not.' V

st hate the Pyra

ttle-tall, I mean-goose, as

me old burying-grounds! Isises, and Ibises, and Cheopses, and Pharaohses; who cares about them? And then there was Belzoni, or somebody, dragge

wander discontentedly about the old Close; and each sometimes

ngthy silence. 'According to c

ad, and says she d

y sentiment, Ro

dering

t, you'll go

you mean, Eddy. Do

ous! I l

at, and so I tell you

ou. Who disparaged my pro

arching her delicate eyebrows. 'You never said you were. If you are, why

now very well wha

ses? And she would, she would, she would, she would, she would powde

right in these discussions,' says

're always wrong? And as to Belzoni, I suppose he's dead;-I'm s

return, Rosa. We have not ha

go up-stairs the moment I get in and cry till I can'

be frien

g, Eddy, to have an old heartache; but I really, really have, sometimes. Don't be angry. I know you have one yourself too often. We should both of us have done better, if What is t

of himself upon her, Edwin Drood stands watching her as she childishly cries and sobs, with both hands to the handkerchief at her eyes, and then-she becomin

, I don't know that I am particularly clever in it-but I want to do right. There is not-there may be-I rea

nerous of you to ask

sound out sublimely. As they sit listening to the solemn swell, the confidence of last night

ice,' is his remark in a low tone in

and upon his wrist. 'They will all be coming out directly; let us get away. O,

w, gravely and deliberately enough, along the old High-street, to the Nuns' House. At

ghing, and is a child

kissed. But give me your hand,

ht breath into it and asks, re

what do

, Ro

look into a hand and see all sorts of

y Present, as the gate opens and closes,