The Mystery of Edwin Drood Read Online Free PDF

night.”
     
  “A feast and a ball, eh? These occasions
seem to go off tolerably well without me, Pussy.”
     
  “De-lightfully!” cries Rosa, in a quite
spontaneous manner, and without the least pretence of reserve.
     
  “Hah! And what was the feast?”
     
  “Tarts, oranges, jellies, and shrimps.”
     
  “Any partners at the ball?”
     
  “We danced with one another, of course,
sir. But some of the girls made game to be their brothers. It WAS so droll!”
     
  “Did anybody make game to be—”
     
  “To be you? O dear yes!” cries Rosa,
laughing with great enjoyment. “That was the first thing done.”
     
  “I hope she did it pretty well,” says
Edwin rather doubtfully.
     
  “O, it was excellent!—I wouldn't dance
with you, you know.”
     
  Edwin scarcely seems to see the force of
this; begs to know if he may take the liberty to ask why?
     
  “Because I was so tired of you,” returns
Rosa. But she quickly adds, and pleadingly too, seeing displeasure in his face:
“Dear Eddy, you were just as tired of me, you know.”
     
  “Did I say so, Rosa?”
     
  “Say so! Do you ever say so? No, you
only showed it. O, she did it so well!” cries Rosa, in a sudden ecstasy with
her counterfeit betrothed.
     
  “It strikes me that she must be a
devilish impudent girl,” says Edwin Drood. “And so, Pussy, you have passed your
last birthday in this old house.”
     
  “Ah, yes!” Rosa clasps her hands, looks
down with a sigh, and shakes her head.
     
  “You seem to be sorry, Rosa.”
     
  “I am sorry for the poor old place.
Somehow, I feel as if it would miss me, when I am gone so far away, so young.”
     
  “Perhaps we had better stop short,
Rosa?”
     
  She looks up at him with a swift bright
look; next moment shakes her head, sighs, and looks down again.
     
  “That is to say, is it, Pussy, that we
are both resigned?”
     
  She nods her head again, and after a
short silence, quaintly bursts out with: “You know we must be married, and
married from here, Eddy, or the poor girls will be so dreadfully disappointed!”
     
  For the moment there is more of
compassion, both for her and for himself, in her affianced husband's face, than
there is of love. He checks the look, and asks: “Shall I take you out for a
walk, Rosa dear?”
     
  Rosa dear does not seem at all clear on
this point, until her face, which has been comically reflective, brightens. “O,
yes, Eddy; let us go for a walk! And I tell you what we'll do. You shall
pretend that you are engaged to somebody else, and I'll pretend that I am not
engaged to anybody, and then we shan't quarrel.”
     
  “Do you think that will prevent our
falling out, Rosa?”
     
  “I know it will. Hush! Pretend to look
out of window—Mrs. Tisher!”
     
  Through a fortuitous concourse of
accidents, the matronly Tisher heaves in sight, says, in rustling through the
room like the 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 his complexion. I trust I
disturb no one; but there WAS a paper-knife—O, thank you, I am sure!” and disappears
with her prize.
     
  “One other thing you must do, Eddy, to
oblige me,” says Rosebud. “The moment we get into the street, you must put me
outside, and keep close to the house yourself—squeeze and graze yourself
against it.”
     
  “By all means, Rosa, if you wish it.
Might I ask why?”
     
  “O! because I don't want the girls to
see you.”
     
  “It's a fine day; but would you like me
to carry an umbrella up?”
     
  “Don't be foolish, sir. You haven't got
polished leather boots on,” pouting, with one shoulder raised.
     
  “Perhaps that might escape the notice of
the girls, even if they did see me,” remarks Edwin, looking down at his boots
with a sudden distaste for them.
     
  “Nothing escapes their notice, sir. And
then I