Chapter 48

Chapter 15

THE GOLDEN DUSTMAN AT HIS WORST

The breakfast table at Mr Boffin's was usually a very pleasant one,
and was always presided over by Bella. As though he began each
new day in his healthy natural character, and some waking hours
were necessary to his relapse into the corrupting influences of his
wealth, the face and the demeanour of the Golden Dustman were
generally unclouded at that meal. It would have been easy to
believe then, that there was no change in him. It was as the day
went on that the clouds gathered, and the brightness of the
mornmg became obscured. One might have said that the shadows
of avarice and distrust lengthened as his own shadow lengthened,
and that the night closed around him gradually.

But, one morning long afterwards to be remembered, it was black
midnight with the Golden Dustman when he first appeared. His
altered character had never been so grossly marked. His bearing
towards his Secretary was so charged with insolent distrust and
arrogance, that the latter rose and left the table before breakfast
was half done. The look he directed at the Secretary's retiring
figure was so cunningly malignant, that Bella would have sat
astounded and indignant, even though he had not gone the length
of secretly threatening Rokesmith with his clenched fist as he
closed the door. This unlucky morning, of all mornings in the year,
was the morning next after Mr Boffin's interview with Mrs
Lammle in her little carriage.

Bella looked to Mrs Boffin's face for comment on, or explanation
of, this stormy humour in her husband, but none was there. An
anxious and a distressed observation of her own face was all she
could read in it. When they were left alone together--which was
not until noon, for Mr Boffin sat long in his easy-chair, by turns
jogging up and down the breakfast-room, clenching his fist and
muttering--Bella, in consternation, asked her what had happened,
what was wrong? 'I am forbidden to speak to you about it, Bella
dear; I mustn't tell you,' was all the answer she could get. And
still, whenever, in her wonder and dismay, she raised her eyes to
Mrs Boffin's face, she saw in it the same anxious and distressed
observation of her own.

Oppressed by her sense that trouble was impending, and lost in
speculations why Mrs Boffin should look at her as if she had any
part in it, Bella found the day long and dreary. It was far on in the
afternoon when, she being in her own room, a servant brought her
a message from Mr Boffin begging her to come to his.

Mrs Boffin was there, seated on a sofa, and Mr Boffin was jogging
up and down. On seeing Bella he stopped, beckoned her to him,
and drew her arm through his. 'Don't be alarmed, my dear,' he