A Flight

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twenty of the Mystery of Edwin Drood. This is
a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Recording by Allan Chant. The Mystery of Edwin Drood, the

(00:23):
Unfinished novel by Charles Dickens, Chapter twenty A flight rosa
no sooner came to herself than the whole of the
late interviewers before her. It even seemed as if it
had pursued her into her insensibility, and she had not
a moment's unconsciousness of it. What to do? She was

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at a frightened loss to know. The only one clear
thought in her mind was that she must fly from
this terrible man. But where could she take refuge, and
how could she go? She had never breathed her dread
of him to any one but Helena. If she went
to Helena and told her what had passed, that very

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act might bring down the irreparable mischief, that he threatened
he had the power, and that she knew he had
the will to do. The more fearful he appeared to
her excited memory and imagination, the more alarming her responsibility appeared,
seeing that a slight mistake on her part might let

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his malevolence loose on Helena's brother, Rosa's mind, throughout the
last six months had been stormily confused, a half formed,
wholly unexpressed suspicion tossed in it, now heaving itself up,
and now sinking into the deep, now gaining palpability and

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now losing it. Jasper's self absorption in his neview when
he was alive, and his unceasing pursuit of the inquiry
how he came by his death if he were dead?
Were themes so rife in the place that no one
appeared able to suspect the possibility of foul play at

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his hands? She had asked herself the question, am I
so wicked in my thoughts as to conceive a wickedness
that others cannot imagine? Then she had considered, did the
suspicion come of her previous recoiling from him before the fact?

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And if so, was not that a proof of its baselessness?
Then she had reflected, what motive could he have according
to my accusation? She was ashamed to answer in her mind,
the motive of gaining me and covered her face, as

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if the lightest shadow of the idea of founding murder
on such an idle vanity were a crime almost as great.
She ran over in her mind again all that he
had said by the sun dial in the garden. He
had persisted in treating the disappearance as murder, consistently with

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his whole public course since the finding of the watch
and shirtpin. If he were afraid of the crime being
traced out, would he not rather encourage the idea of
a voluntary disappearance. He had even declared that if the
ties between him and his neverhew had been less strong,

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he might have swept even him away from her side?
Was that like his having really done so? He had
spoken of laying his six months labors in the cause
of a just vengeance at her feet. Would he have
done that with that violence of passion? If they were

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a pretense, would he have ranged them with his desoline
heart and soul, his wasted life, his peace and his despair.
The very first sacrifice that he represented himself as making
for her was his fidelity to his dear boy after death.

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Surely these facts were strong against a fancy that scarcely
dared to hint itself, and yet he was so terrible
a man. In short, the poor girl, for what could
she know of the criminal intellect which its own professed
students perpetually misread because they persist in trying to reconcile

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it with the average intelligence of average men, instead of
identifying it as a horrible wonder a part could get
by no road to any other conclusion than that he
was a terrible man and must be fled from. She
had been Helena's stay and comfort during the whole time.

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She had constantly assured her of her full belief in
her brother's innocence and of her sympathy with him in
his misery. But she had never seen him since the disappearance,
nor had Helena ever spoken one word of his avowal
to mister Chris Sparkle in regard of Rosa, though as
a part of the interest of the case it was

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well known far and wide he was Helena's unfortunate brother
to her, and nothing more. The assurance she had given
her odious suitor was strictly true, though it would have
been better, she considered now, if she could have restrained
herself from so giving it. Afraid of him as the

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bright and delicate little creature was. Her spirit swelled at
the thought of his knowing it from her own lips.
But where was she to go? Anywhere beyond his reach?
Was no reply to the question. Somewhere must be thought of.
She determined to go to her guardian, and to go immediately.

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The feeling she had imparted to Helena on the night
of their first confidence was so strong upon her, the
feeling of not being safe from him, and of the
solid walls of the old convent being powerless to keep
out his ghostly following of her, that no reasoning of
her own could calm her terrors. The fascination of repulsion

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had been upon her so long, and now culminated so darkly,
that she felt as if he had power to bind
her by a spell. Glancing out at window even now
as she rose to dress, the sight of the sun
dial on which he had leaned when he declared himself,
turned her cold and made her shrink from it, as

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though he had invested it with some awful quality from
his own nature. She wrote a hurried note to Miss Twinkleton,
saying that she had sudden reason for wishing to see
her guardian promptly and had gone to him, also entreating
the good lady not to be uneasy, for all was

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well with her. She hurried a few quite useless articles
into a very little bag, left the note in a
conspicuous place, and went out softly, closing the gate after her.
It was the first time she had ever been even
in Cloisterum High Street alone, but knowing all its ways

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and windings very well, she hurried straight to the corner
from which the omnibus departed. It was at that very
moment going off, stop and take me, if you please, Joe,
I am obliged to go to London. In less than
another minute she was on her road to the railway
under Joe's protection. Joe waited on her when she got there,

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put her safely into the railway carriage, and handed in
the very little bag after her, as though it were
some enormous trunk hundredweights heavy, which she must on no
account endeavor to lift. Can you go round when you
get back and tell Miss Twinkleton that you saw me
safely off Joe. It shall be done, miss, with my love,

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please Joe. Yes, Miss, And I wouldn't mind having it myself,
But Joe did not articulate the last clause, only thought it.
Now that she was whirling away from London in real
earnest Rosa was at leisure to resume the thoughts which
her personal hurry had checked. The indignant thought that his

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declaration of love soiled her, that she could only be
cleansed from the stain of its impurity by appealing to
the honest and true, supported her for a time against
her fears, and confirmed her in her hasty resolution. But
as the evening grew darker and darker, and the great
city impended nearer and nearer, the doubts usual in such

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cases began to arise. Whether this was not a wild
proceeding after all, How mister Grogius would regard it, Whether
she should find him at the journey's end, How she
would act if he were absent, What might become of
her alone in a place so strange and crowded, How

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if she had but waited and taken counsel first, Whether
if she could now go back, she would not do it, thankfully.
A multitude of such uneasy speculations disturbed her more and
more as they accumulated. At length, the train came into
London over the house tops, and down below lay the

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gritty streets with their yet unneeded lamps aglow on a
hot light summer's night, higher emngroogious esquire Staple Inn, London.
This was all Rosa knew of her destination, but it

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was enough to send her rattling away again in a
cab through deserts of gritty streets, where many people crowded
at the corner of courts and byways to get some air,
and where many other people walked with a miserable, monotonous
noise of shuffling of feet on hot paving stones, and

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where all the people and all their surroundings were so
gritty and so shabby. There was music playing here and there,
but it did not enliven the case. No barrel organ
mended the matter, and no big drum beat dull care away.
Like the chapel bells that were also going here and there,

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they only seemed to evoke echoes from brick surfaces and
dust from everything. As to the flat wind instruments, they
seemed to have cracked their hearts and souls in pining
for the country. Her jingling conveyance stopped at last at
a fast closed gateway which appeared to belong to somebody

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who had gone to bed very early and was much
afraid of housebreakers. Rosa, discharging her conveyance, timidly knocked at
this gateway and was let in very little bag, and
all by a watchman. Does mister Grugius live here? Mister
Grugius lives there, miss, said the watchman, pointing further in.

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So Rosa went further in, and when the clocks were striking,
ten stood on p j T's door steps, wondering what
p j T had done with his street door. Guided
by the painted name of mister Grugius, she went upstairs
and softly tapped and tapped times, but no one answering,

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and mister Grugius's door handle yielding to her touch. She
went in and saw her guardian sitting on a window
seat at an open window, with a shaded lamp placed
far from him on a table in the corner. Rosa
drew nearer to him in the twilight of the room.
He saw her, and he said in an undertone, good Heaven.

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Rosa fell upon his neck with tears, and then he said,
returning her embrace, my child, my child. I thought you
were your mother, But what what what he added soothingly,
has happened, my dear? What has brought you here? Who

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has brought you here? No one? I came alone, Lord,
bless me, ejaculated mister Grugius came al, why didn't you
write to me to come and fetch you? I had
no time. I took a sudden resolution. Poor poor eddy, Ah,

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poor fellow, poor fellow. His uncle has made love to me.
I cannot bear it, said Rosa at once, with a
burst of tears and a stamp of her little foot.

Speaker 2 (13:24):
I shudder with horror of him. And I have come
to you to protect me and all of us from him.
If you will, I will, cried mister Grougius, with a
sudden rush of amazing energy. Damn him, confound his politics,
frustrate his knavish tricks on thee his hopes to fix,

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Damn him again. After this most extraordinary outburst, mister Grougius,
quite beside himself, plunged about the room to all appearance,
undecided whether he was in a fit of loyal enthusiasm
or combative denunciation. He stopped and said, wiping his face,

(14:08):
I beg your pardon, my dear, but you will be
glad to know.

Speaker 1 (14:12):
I feel better. Tell me no more just now, or
I might do it again. You must be refreshed and cheered.
What did you take last? Was it breakfast, lunch, dinner,
tea or supper? And what will you take next? Shall
it be breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea or supper? The respectful

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tenderness with which, on one knee before her he helped
her to remove her hat and disentangle her pretty hair
from it was quite a chivalrous sight. Yet who knowing
him only on the surface, would have expected chivalry, and
of the true sort, too, not the spurious from mister Grugius.

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Your rest to must be provided for, he went on,
and you shall have the prettiest chamber in fernivals. Your
toilet must be provided for, and you shall have everything
that an unlimited head chamber made by which expression I
mean a head chambermaid not limited as to outlay, can procure.

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Is that a bag? He looked hard at it, sooth
to say it required hard looking at to be seen
at all in a dimly lighted room. And is it
your property, my dear Yes, sir, I brought it with me.
It is not an extensive bag, said mister Grugius, candidly,
though admirably calculated to contain a day's provision for a

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canary bird. Perhaps you brought a canary bird, Rosa smiled
and shook her head. If you had, he should have
been made welcome, said mister Grugius. And I think he
would have been pleased to be hung upon a nail
outside and pit himself against our staple sparrows, whose execution

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must be admitted to be not quite equal to their intention,
which is the case with so many of us. You
didn't say, what meal, my dear, have a nice jumble
of all meals? Rosa thanked him, but said she could
only take a cup of tea. Mister Grugius, after several

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times running out and in again to mention such supplementary
items as marmalade, eggs, watercresses, salted fish, and frizzled ham,
ran across to fernivals without his hat to give his
various directions. And soon afterward they were realized in practice,
and the board was spread, Lord, bless my soul, cried

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mister Grugius, putting a lamp upon it, and taking his
seat opposite Rosa. What a new sensation for a poor
old angular bachelor. To be sure, Rosa's expressive little eyebrows
asked him what he meant the sensation of having a
sweet young presence in the place that whitewashes it, paints it,

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papers it, decorates it with gilding, and makes it glorious,
said mister Grugius. Ah me, h me, as there was
something mournful in his sigh. Rosa, in touching him with
her tea cup, ventured to touch him with her small
hand too. Thank you, my dear, said mister Grougius. Ahem,

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let's talk. Do you always live here, sir, asked Rosa, Yes,
my dear, and always alone, always alone, except that I
have daily come and a gentleman by the name of Bazard,
my clerk. He doesn't live here, No, he goes his

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way after office hours. In fact, he is off duty
here altogether, just at present. And a firm downstairs with
which I have business relations lent me a substitute, but
it would be extremely difficult to replace mister Bazard. He
must be very fond of you, said Rosa. He bears

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up against it with commendable fortitude if he is returned.
Mister Grugius, after considering the matter. But I doubt if
he is not particularly so. You see, he is discontented,
poor fellow. Why isn't he contented? Was the natural inquiry misplaced?

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Said mister Grugius, with great mystery. Rosa's eyebrows resumed their
inquisitive and perplexed expression. So misplaced, Mister Grugius went on
that I feel constantly apologetic towards him, and he feels,
though he doesn't mention it, that I have reason to be.

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Mister Grugius had by this time grown so very mysterious
that Rosa did not know how to go on. While
she was thinking about it, mister Grugius suddenly jerked out
of himself for the second time. Let's talk. We were
speaking of mister Bazard. It's a secret, and moreover, it
is mister Bazard's secret. But the sweet presence at my

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table makes me so unusually expansive that I feel I
must impart it in inviable confidence. What do you think
mister Bazard has done? Oh dear, cried Rosa, drawing her
chair a little nearer and her mind reverting to jasper
nothing dreadful. I hope he has written a play, said

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mister Grugius in a solemn whisper a tragedy. Rosa seemed
much relieved, and nobody pursued mister Grugius in the same tone,
will hear on any account whatever of bringing it out?
Rosa looked reflective and nodded her head slowly, as who

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should say such things are? And why are they? Now?
You know, said mister Grugius. I couldn't write a play,
not a bad one, sir, said Rosa innocently, with her
eyebrows again in action. No, if I was under sentence

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of decapitation and was about to be instantly decapitated and
an express arrived with a pardon for the condemned convict Grugious,
if he wrote a play, I should be under the
necessity of resuming the block and begging the executioner to
proceed to extremities, meaning, said mister Grugius, passing his hand

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under his chin the singular number and this extremity. Rosa
appeared to consider what she would do if the awkward,
suppositious case were hers. Consequently, said mister Grugius, mister Bazard
would have a sense of my inferiority to himself under

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any circumstances. But when I am his master, you know
the case is greatly aggravated. Mister Grugius shook his head seriously,
as if he felt the offense to be a little
too much, though of his own committing. How came you
to be his master, sir, asked Rosa, a question that

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naturally follows, said mister Grugius. Let's talk. Mister Bazard's father,
being a Norfolk farmer, would have furiously laid about him
with a flail, a pitchfork, and every agricultural implement available
for assaulting purposes on the slightest hint of his son's
having written a play. So the son, bringing to me

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the father's rent which I receive, imparted his secret and
pointed out that he was determined to pursue his genius,
and that it would put him in peril of starvation,
and that he was not formed for it. For pursuing

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his genius, Sir, no, my dear, said mister Grugius, for starvation.
It was impossible to deny the position that mister Bazard
was not formed to be starved. And mister Bazard then
pointed out that it was desirable that I should stand
between him and a fate. So perfectly unsuited to his formation.

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In that way, mister Bazard became my clerk, and he
feels it very much. I am glad he is grateful,
said Rosa. I didn't quite mean that, my dear, I
mean that he feels the degradation. There are some other
geniuses that mister Bazard has become acquainted with, who have

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also written tragedies which likewise nobody will on any account
whatever hear of bringing out. And these choice spirits dedicate
their plays to one another in a highly panegyrical manner.
Mister Bazard has been the subject of one of these dedications.

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Now you know, I never had a play dedicated to me.
Rosa looked at him as if she would have liked
him to be the recipient of a thousand dedications, which
again naturally rubs against the grain of mister Bazard. Said
mister Grugius, he is very short with me sometimes, and

(24:22):
then I feel that he is meditating. This blockhead is
my master, a fellow who couldn't write a tragedy on
pain of death, and who will never have one dedicated
to him. With the most complimentary congratulations on the high
position he has taken in the eyes of posterity, very trying,

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very trying. However, in giving him directions, I reflect beforehand,
perhaps he may not like this, or he might take
it ill if I asked that. And so we get
on very well, indeed better than I could have expected.
Is the tragedy named, sir, asked Rosa strictly between ourselves,

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answered mister Grugius. It has a dreadfully appropriate name. It
is called the Thorn of anxiety. But mister Bazard hopes,
and I hope that it will come out at last.
It was not hard to divine that mister Grugius had
related the Bazard history thus fully, at least quite as

(25:34):
much for the recreation of his ward's mind from the
subject that had driven her there as for the gratification
of his own tendency to be social and communicative. And now,
my dear, he said, at this point, if you are
not too tired to tell me more of what passed
a day, but only if you feel quite able, I

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should be glad to hear it. I may digest it
the better if I sleep on it to night. Rosa
composed now gave him a faithful account of the interview.
Mister Grugius often smoothed his head while it was in progress,
and begged to be told a second time those parts
which bore on Helena and Neville. When Rosa had finished,

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he sat grave, silent and meditative for a while. Clearly
narrated was his only remark at last, And I hope
clearly put away here, smoothing his head again, see my
dear taking her to the open window where they live,
the dark windows over yonder. May I go to Helena

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to morrow, asked Rosa. I should like to sleep on
that question to night, he answered doubtfully, But let me
take you to your own rest, for you must need it.
With that, mister grew Rougius helped her to get her
hat on again, and hung upon his arm the very

(27:04):
little bag that was of no earthly use, and led
her by the hand with a certain stately awkwardness, as
if he were going to walk a minuet across Hoburn
and into Fernival's Inn. At the hotel door, he confided
her to the unlimited head chambermaid, and said that while

(27:25):
she went up to see her room, he would remain
below in case she should wish it exchanged for another,
or should find that there was anything she wanted. Rosa's
room was airy, clean, comfortable, almost gay. The Unlimited had
laid in everything omitted from the very little bag, that
is to say, everything she could possibly need, and Rosa

(27:48):
tripped down the great Many stairs again to thank her
guardian for his thoughtful and affectionate care of her. Not
at all, my dear, said mister Grugius, Infinitely he gratified.
It is I who thank you for your charming confidence
and for your charming company. Your breakfast will be provided

(28:10):
for you in a neat, compact and graceful little sitting
room appropriate to your figure, and I will come to
you at ten o'clock in the morning. I hope you
don't feel very strange indeed in this strange place. Oh no,
I feel so safe. Yes, you may be sure that

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the stairs are fireproof, said mister Grugius, and that any
outbreak of the devouring element would be perceived and suppressed
by the watchman. I did not mean that, Rosa replied.
I mean I feel so safe from him. There is
a stout gait of iron bars to keep him out,

(28:53):
said mister Grugias, smiling. And Fernival's is fireproof and specially watched.
And light, and I live over the way. In the
stoutness of his knight errantry, he seemed to think the
last named protection all sufficient. In the same spirit, he
said to the gate porter as he went out, if

(29:15):
some one staying in the hotel should wish to send
across the road to me in the night, a crown
will be ready for the messenger. In the same spirit,
he walked up and down outside the iron gate for
the best part of an hour, with some solicitude, occasionally
looking in between the bars, as if he had laid

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a dove in a high roost in a cage of lions,
and had it on his mind that she might tumble out.
End of Chapter twenty, read by all Enchant of Tunbridge
in Kent, England, during the summer of two thousand and eight.

(29:59):
Just three sapt's remain of this unfinished novel by Charles
Dickens