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'I don't know all I have done, in my fatuity,' said Mr. Wickfield, putting out his hands, as if to deprecate my condemnation. 'He knows best,' meaning Uriah Heep, 'for he has always been at my elbow, whispering me. You see the millstone that he is about my neck. You find him in my house, you find him in my business. You heard him, but a little time ago. What need have I to say more!' ¡¡¡¡'You haven't need to say so much, nor half so much, nor anything at all,' observed Uriah, half defiant, and half fawning. 'You wouldn't have took it up so, if it hadn't been for the wine. You'll think better of it tomorrow, sir. If I have said too much, or more than I meant, what of it? I haven't stood by it!' ¡¡¡¡The door opened, and Agnes, gliding in, without a vestige of colour in her face, put her arm
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round his neck, and steadily said, 'Papa, you are not well. Come with me!' ¡¡¡¡He laid his head upon her shoulder, as if he were oppressed with heavy shame, and went out with her. Her eyes met mine for but an instant, yet I saw how much she knew of what had passed. ¡¡¡¡'I didn't expect he'd cut up so rough, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah. 'But it's nothing. I'll be friends with him tomorrow. It's for his good. I'm umbly anxious for his good.' ¡¡¡¡I gave him no answer, and went upstairs into the quiet room where Agnes had so often sat beside me at my books. Nobody came near me until late at night. I took up a book, and tried to read. I heard the clocks strike twelve, and was still reading, without knowing what I read, when Agnes touched me.

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¡¡¡¡'Oh, Trotwood, Trotwood!'exclaimed Mr. Wickfield, wringing his hands. 'What I have come down to be, since I first saw you in this house! I was on my downward way then, but the dreary, dreary road I have traversed since! Weak indulgence has ruined me. Indulgence in remembrance, and indulgence in forgetfulness. My natural grief for my child's mother turned to disease; my natural love for my child turned to disease. I have infected everything I touched. I have brought misery on what I dearly love, I know -you know! I thought it possible that I could truly love one creature in the world, and not love the rest; I thought it possible
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that I could truly mourn for one creature gone out of the world, and not have some part in the grief of all who mourned. Thus the lessons of my life have been perverted! I have preyed on my own morbid coward heart, and it has preyed on me. Sordid in my grief, sordid in my love, sordid in my miserable escape from the darker side of both, oh see the ruin I am, and hate me, shun me!' ¡¡¡¡He dropped into a chair, and weakly sobbed. The excitement into which he had been roused was leaving him. Uriah came out of his corner.

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¡¡¡¡He pointed to Uriah, pale and glowering in a corner, evidently very much out in his calculations, and taken by surprise. ¡¡¡¡'Look at my torturer,' he replied. 'Before him I have step by step abandoned name and reputation, peace and quiet, house and home.' ¡¡¡¡'I have kept your name and reputation for you, and your peace and quiet, and your house and home too,' said Uriah, with a sulky, hurried, defeated air of compromise. 'Don't be foolish, Mr. Wickfield. If I have gone a little beyond what you were prepared for, I can go back, I suppose? There's no harm done.' ¡¡¡¡'I looked for single motives in everyone,' said Mr. Wickfield, and I was satisfied I had bound him to me by motives of interest. But see what he is - oh, see what he is!' ¡¡¡¡'You had better stop him, Copperfield,
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if you can,' cried Uriah, with his long forefinger pointing towards me. 'He'll say something presently - mind you! - he'll be sorry to have said afterwards, and you'll be sorry to have heard!' ¡¡¡¡'I'll say anything!' cried Mr. Wickfield, with a desperate air. 'Why should I not be in all the world's power if I am in yours?' ¡¡¡¡'Mind! I tell you!' said Uriah, continuing to warn me. 'If you don't stop his mouth, you're not his friend! Why shouldn't you be in all the world's power, Mr. Wickfield? Because you have got a daughter. You and me know what we know, don't we? Let sleeping dogs lie - who wants to rouse 'em? I don't. Can't you see I am as umble as I can be? I tell you, if I've gone too far, I'm sorry. What would you have, sir?'

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Spare me from ever again hearing such a cry, as that with which her father rose up from the table! 'What's the matter?' said Uriah, turning of a deadly colour. 'You are not gone mad, after all, Mr. Wickfield, I hope? If I say I've an ambition to make your Agnes my Agnes, I have as good a right to it as another man. I have a better right to it than any other man!' ¡¡¡¡I had my arms round Mr. Wickfield, imploring him by everything that I could think of, oftenest of all by his love for Agnes, to calm himself a little. He was mad for the moment; tearing out his hair, beating his head, trying to force me from him, and to force himself from me, not answering a word, not looking at or seeing anyone; blindly striving for he knew not what, his face all staring and distorted - a frightfu
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l spectacle. ¡¡¡¡I conjured him, incoherently, but in the most impassioned manner, not to abandon himself to this wildness, but to hear me. I besought him to think of Agnes, to connect me with Agnes, to recollect how Agnes and I had grown up together, how I honoured her and loved her, how she was his pride and joy. I tried to bring her idea before him in any form; I even reproached him with not having firmness to spare her the knowledge of such a scene as this. I may have effected something, or his wildness may have spent itself; but by degrees he struggled less, and began to look at me - strangely at first, then with recognition in his eyes. At length he said, 'I know, Trotwood! My darling child and you - I know! But look at him!'

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mona lisa smile ¡¡¡¡A silence succeeding, I was undecided whether to go or stay. At length I was moving quietly towards the door, with the intention of saying that perhaps I should consult his feelings best by withdrawing: when he said, with his hands in his coat pockets, into which it was as much as he could do to get them; and with what I should call, upon the whole, a decidedly pious air: ¡¡¡¡'You are probably aware, Mr. Copperfield, that I am not altogether destitute of worldly possessions, and that my daughter is my nearest and dearest relative?' ¡¡¡¡I hurriedly made him a reply to the effect, that I hoped the error into which I had been
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betrayed by the desperate nature of my love, did not induce him to think me mercenary too? ¡¡¡¡'I don't allude to the matter in that light,' said Mr. Spenlow. 'It would be better for yourself, and all of us, if you WERE mercenary, Mr. Copperfield - I mean, if you were more discreet and less influenced by all this youthful nonsense. No. I merely say, with quite another view, you are probably aware I have some property to bequeath to my child?' ¡¡¡¡I certainly supposed so. ¡¡¡¡'And you can hardly think,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'having experience of what we see, in the Commons here, every day, of the various unaccountable and negligent proceedings of men, in respect of their testamentary arrangements - of all subjects, the one on which perhaps the strangest revelations of human inconsistency are to be met with - but that mine are made?'

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letters, and throw them in the fire. Give me Miss Spenlow's letters to throw in the fire; and although our future intercourse must, you are aware, be restricted to the Commons here, we will agree to make no further mention of the past. Come, Mr. Copperfield, you don't want sense; and this is the sensible course.' ¡¡¡¡No. I couldn't think of agreeing to it. I was very sorry, but there was a higher consideration than sense. Love was above all earthly considerations, and I loved Dora to idolatry, and Dora loved me. I didn't exactly say so; I softened it down as much as I could; but I implied it, and I was resolute upon it. I don't think I
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made myself very ridiculous, but I know I was resolute. ¡¡¡¡'Very well, Mr. Copperfield,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'I must try my influence with my daughter.' ¡¡¡¡Miss Murdstone, by an expressive sound, a long drawn respiration, which was neither a sigh nor a moan, but was like both, gave it as her opinion that he should have done this at first. ¡¡¡¡'I must try,' said Mr. Spenlow, confirmed by this support, 'my influence with my daughter. Do you decline to take those letters, Mr. Copperfield?' For I had laid them on the table. ¡¡¡¡Yes. I told him I hoped he would not think it wrong, but I couldn't possibly take them from Miss Murdstone. ¡¡¡¡'Nor from me?' said Mr. Spenlow. ¡¡¡¡No, I replied with the profoundest respect; nor from him. ¡¡¡¡'Very well!' said Mr. Spenlow.

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¡¡¡¡'Very little, sir, I am afraid;' I answered, speaking to him as respectfully and sorrowfully as I felt; 'but pray believe me, I have considered my own worldly position. When I explained it to you, we were already engaged -' ¡¡¡¡'I BEG,' said Mr. Spenlow, more like Punch than I had ever seen him, as he energetically struck one hand upon the other - I could not help noticing that even in my despair; 'that YOU Will NOT talk to me of engagements, Mr. Copperfield!' ¡¡¡¡The otherwise immovable Miss Murdstone
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laughed contemptuously in one short syllable. ¡¡¡¡'When I explained my altered position to you, sir,' I began again, substituting a new form of expression for what was so unpalatable to him, 'this concealment, into which I am so unhappy as to have led Miss Spenlow, had begun. Since I have been in that altered position, I have strained every nerve, I have exerted every energy, to improve it. I am sure I shall improve it in time. Will you grant me time - any length of time? We are both so young, sir, -' ¡¡¡¡'You are right,' interrupted Mr. Spenlow, nodding his head a great many times, and frowning very much, 'you are both very young. It's all nonsense. Let there be an end of the nonsense. Take away those

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'You are very much to blame, sir,' said Mr. Spenlow, walking to and fro upon the hearth-rug, and emphasizing what he said with his whole body instead of his head, on account of the stiffness of his cravat and spine. 'You have done a stealthy and unbecoming action, Mr. Copperfield. When I take a gentleman to my house, no matter whether he is nineteen, twenty-nine, or ninety, I take him there in a spirit of confidence. If he abuses my confidence, he commits a dishonourable action, Mr. Copperfield.' ¡¡¡¡'I feel it, sir, I assure you,' I returned. 'But I never thought so, before. Sincerely, honestly, indeed, Mr. Spenlow, I never thought so, before. I love Miss Spenlow to that extent -' ¡¡¡¡'Pooh! nonsense!' said Mr. Spenlow, reddening. 'Pray don't tell me to my face tha
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t you love my daughter, Mr. Copperfield!' ¡¡¡¡'Could I defend my conduct if I did not, sir?' I returned, with all humility. ¡¡¡¡'Can you defend your conduct if you do, sir?' said Mr. Spenlow, stopping short upon the hearth-rug. 'Have you considered your years, and my daughter's years, Mr. Copperfield? Have you considered what it is to undermine the confidence that should subsist between my daughter and myself? Have you considered my daughter's station in life, the projects I may contemplate for her advancement, the testamentary intentions I may have with reference to her? Have you considered anything, Mr. Copperfield?'

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I may claim the merit of having originated the suggestion that the will should be looked for in the box. After some search, it was found in the box, at the bottom of a horse's nose-bag; wherein (besides hay) there was discovered an old gold watch, with chain and seals, which Mr. Barkis had worn on his wedding-day, and which had never been seen before or since; a silver tobacco-stopper, in the form of a leg; an imitation lemon, full of minute cups and saucers, which I have some idea Mr. Barkis must have purchased to present to me when I was a child, and afterwards found himself unable to part with; eighty-seven guineas and a half, in guineas and half-guineas; two hundred and ten pounds, in perfectly clean Bank notes; certain receipts for Bank of England stock; an old horseshoe, a bad shilling, a piece of camphor, and an oyster-shell. From the circumstance of the latter article having been much polis
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hed, and displaying prismatic colours on the inside, I conclude that Mr. Barkis had some general ideas about pearls, which never resolved themselves into anything definite. ¡¡¡¡For years and years, Mr. Barkis had carried this box, on all his journeys, every day. That it might the better escape notice, he had invented a fiction that it belonged to 'Mr. Blackboy', and was 'to be left with Barkis till called for'; a fable he had elaborately written on the lid, in characters now scarcely legible.

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¡¡¡¡Mr. Peggotty touched me, and whispered with much awe and reverence. 'They are both a-going out fast.' ¡¡¡¡'Barkis, my dear!' said Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'C. P. Barkis,' he cried faintly. 'No better woman anywhere!' ¡¡¡¡'Look! Here's Master Davy!' said Peggotty. For he now opened his eyes. ¡¡¡¡I was on the point of asking him if he knew me, when he tried to stretch out his arm, and said to me, distinctly, with a pleasant smile: ¡¡¡¡'Barkis is willin'!' ¡¡¡¡And, it being low water, he went out with the tide. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡CHAPTER 31 A GREATER LOSS ¡¡¡¡ It was not difficult for me, on Peggotty's solicitation, to resolve to stay where
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I was, until after the remains of the poor carrier should have made their last journey to Blunderstone. She had long ago bought, out of her own savings, a little piece of ground in our old churchyard near the grave of 'her sweet girl', as she always called my mother; and there they were to rest. ¡¡¡¡In keeping Peggotty company, and doing all I could for her (little enough at the utmost), I was as grateful, I rejoice to think, as even now I could wish myself to have been. But I am afraid I had a supreme satisfaction, of a personal and professional nature, in taking charge of Mr. Barkis's will, and expounding its contents.

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of its safety by means of the divining rod I had seen him use, he had required to have it placed on the chair at the bed-side, where he had ever since embraced it, night and day. His arm lay on it now. Time and the world were slipping from beneath him, but the box was there; and the last words he had uttered were (in an explanatory tone) 'Old clothes!' ¡¡¡¡'Barkis, my dear!' said Peggotty, almost cheerfully: bending over him, while her brother and I stood at the bed's foot. 'Here's my dear boy - my dear boy, Master Davy, who brought us together, Barkis! That you sent messages by, you know! Won't you speak to Master Davy?' ¡¡¡¡He
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was as mute and senseless as the box, from which his form derived the only expression it had. ¡¡¡¡'He's a going out with the tide,' said Mr. Peggotty to me, behind his hand. ¡¡¡¡My eyes were dim and so were Mr. Peggotty's; but I repeated in a whisper, 'With the tide?' ¡¡¡¡'People can't die, along the coast,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'except when the tide's pretty nigh out. They can't be born, unless it's pretty nigh in - not properly born, till flood. He's a going out with the tide. It's ebb at half-arter three, slack water half an hour. If he lives till it turns, he'll hold his own till past the flood, and go out with the next tide.'

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Afterwards, when I went upstairs, as I passed the door of my little chamber, which was dark, I had an indistinct impression of her being within it, cast down upon the floor. But, whether it was really she, or whether it was a confusion of the shadows in the room, I don't know now. ¡¡¡¡I had leisure to think, before the kitchen fire, of pretty little Emily's dread of death - which, added to what Mr. Omer had told me, I took to be the cause of her being so unlike herself - and I had leisure, before Peggotty came down, even to think more leniently of the weakness of it: as I sat counting the ticking of the clock, and deepening my sense of the solemn hush around me. Peggotty took me in her arms, and blessed and thanked me over and over again for being such a comfort
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to her (that was what she said) in her distress. She then entreated me to come upstairs, sobbing that Mr. Barkis had always liked me and admired me; that he had often talked of me, before he fell into a stupor; and that she believed, in case of his coming to himself again, he would brighten up at sight of me, if he could brighten up at any earthly thing. ¡¡¡¡The probability of his ever doing so, appeared to me, when I saw him, to be very small. He was lying with his head and shoulders out of bed, in an uncomfortable attitude, half resting on the box which had cost him so much pain and trouble. I learned, that, when he was past creeping out of bed to open it, and past assuring himself

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¡¡¡¡There was a lovely garden to Mr. Spenlow's house; and though that was not the best time of the year for seeing a garden, it was so beautifully kept, that I was quite enchanted. There was a charming lawn, there were clusters of trees, and there were perspective walks that I could just distinguish in the dark, arched over with trellis-work, on which shrubs and flowers grew in the growing season. 'Here Miss Spenlow walks by herself,' I thought. 'Dear me!' ¡¡¡¡We went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up, and into a hall where there were all sorts of hats, caps, great-coats, plaids, gloves, whips, and walking-sticks.
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'Where is Miss Dora?' said Mr. Spenlow to the servant. 'Dora!' I thought. 'What a beautiful name!' ¡¡¡¡We turned into a room near at hand (I think it was the identical breakfast-room, made memorable by the brown East Indian sherry), and I heard a voice say, 'Mr. Copperfield, my daughter Dora, and my daughter Dora's confidential friend!' It was, no doubt, Mr. Spenlow's voice, but I didn't know it, and I didn't care whose it was. All was over in a moment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was a captive and a slave. I loved Dora Spenlow to distraction! She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don't know what she was - anything that no one ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a word to her. ¡¡¡¡'I,' observed a well-remembered voice, when I had bowed and murmured something, 'have seen Mr. Copperfield before.'

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cut, and played, and had talked to all the players about it, and now came fresh, as judges, to settle the matter to the satisfaction of everybody! Discontented people might talk of corruption in the Commons, closeness in the Commons, and the necessity of reforming the Commons, said Mr. Spenlow solemnly, in conclusion; but when the price of wheat per bushel had been highest, the Commons had been busiest; and a man might lay his hand upon his heart, and say this to the whole world, - 'Touch the Commons, and down comes the country!' ¡¡¡¡I listened to all this with attention; and though, I must say, I had my doubts whether the country was quite as much obliged to the Commons as Mr. Spenlow made out, I respectfully deferred to his opinion. That about the price of wheat per bushel, I modestly felt was too much for my strength, and quite settled the question. I have never, to this hour,
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got the better of that bushel of wheat. It has reappeared to annihilate me, all through my life, in connexion with all kinds of subjects. I don't know now, exactly, what it has to do with me, or what right it has to crush me, on an infinite variety of occasions; but whenever I see my old friend the bushel brought in by the head and shoulders (as he always is, I observe), I give up a subject for lost. ¡¡¡¡This is a digression. I was not the man to touch the Commons, and bring down the country. I submissively expressed, by my silence, my acquiescence in all I had heard from my superior in years and knowledge; and we talked about The Stranger and the Drama, and the pairs of horses, until we came to Mr. Spenlow's gate.

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it in a lively and spirited manner, and expense was no consideration. Then, he launched into a general eulogium on the Commons. What was to be particularly admired (he said) in the Commons, was its compactness. It was the most conveniently organized place in the world. It was the complete idea of snugness. It lay in a nutshell. For example: You brought a divorce case, or a restitution case, into the Consistory. Very good. You tried it in the Consistory. You made a quiet little round game of it, among a family group, and you played it out at leisure. Suppose you were not satisfied with the Consistory, what did you do then? Why,
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you went into the Arches. What was the Arches? The same court, in the same room, with the same bar, and the same practitioners, but another judge, for there the Consistory judge could plead any court-day as an advocate. Well, you played your round game out again. Still you were not satisfied. Very good. What did you do then? Why, you went to the Delegates. Who were the Delegates? Why, the Ecclesiastical Delegates were the advocates without any business, who had looked on at the round game when it was playing in both courts, and had seen the cards shuffled, and

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¡¡¡¡We were very pleasant, going down, and Mr. Spenlow gave me some hints in reference to my profession. He said it was the genteelest profession in the world, and must on no account be confounded with the profession of a solicitor: being quite another sort of thing, infinitely more exclusive, less mechanical, and more profitable. We took things much more easily in the Commons than they could be taken anywhere else, he observed, and that set us, as a privileged class, apart. He said it was impossible to conceal the disagreeable fact, that we were chiefly employed by solicitors; but he gave me to understand that they were an inferior race of men,
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universally looked down upon by all proctors of any pretensions. ¡¡¡¡I asked Mr. Spenlow what he considered the best sort of professional business? He replied, that a good case of a disputed will, where there was a neat little estate of thirty or forty thousand pounds, was, perhaps, the best of all. In such a case, he said, not only were there very pretty pickings, in the way of arguments at every stage of the proceedings, and mountains upon mountains of evidence on interrogatory and counter-interrogatory (to say nothing of an appeal lying, first to the Delegates, and then to the Lords), but, the costs being pretty sure to come out of the estate at last, both sides went at

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¡¡¡¡'My dear friend Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'accidents will occur in the best-regulated families; and in families not regulated by that pervading influence which sanctifies while it enhances the - a - I would say, in short, by the influence of Woman, in the lofty character of Wife, they may be expected with confidence, and must be borne with philosophy. If you will allow me to take the liberty of remarking that there are few comestibles better, in their way, than a Devil, and that I believe, with a little division of labour, we could accomplish a good one if the young person in attendance could produce a gridiron, I would put it t
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o you, that this little misfortune may be easily repaired.' ¡¡¡¡There was a gridiron in the pantry, on which my morning rasher of bacon was cooked. We had it in, in a twinkling, and immediately applied ourselves to carrying Mr. Micawber's idea into effect. The division of labour to which he had referred was this: - Traddles cut the mutton into slices; Mr. Micawber (who could do anything of this sort to perfection) covered them with pepper, mustard, salt, and cayenne; I put them on the gridiron, turned them with a fork, and took them off, under Mr. Micawber's direction; and Mrs. Micawber heated, and continually stirred, some mushroom ketchup in a little saucepan. When we had slices enough done to begin upon, we fell-to, with our sleeves still tucked up at the wrist, more slices sputtering and blazing on the fire, and our attention divided between the mutton on our plates, and the mutton then preparing.

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him to the lemons. His recent despondency, not to say despair, was gone in a moment. I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself amid the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning rum, and the steam of boiling water, as Mr. Micawber did that afternoon. It was wonderful to see his face shining at us out of a thin cloud of these delicate fumes, as he stirred, and mixed, and tasted, and looked as if he were making, instead of punch, a fortune for his family down to the latest posterity. As to Mrs. Micawber, I don't know whether it was the effect of the cap, or the lavender-water, or the pins, or the fire, or the wax-candles, but she came out of my room, comparatively speaking, lovely. And the lark was never gayer than that excellent woman. ¡¡¡¡
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I suppose - I never ventured to inquire, but I suppose - that Mrs. Crupp, after frying the soles, was taken ill. Because we broke down at that point. The leg of mutton came up very red within, and very pale without: besides having a foreign substance of a gritty nature sprinkled over it, as if if had had a fall into the ashes of that remarkable kitchen fireplace. But we were not in condition to judge of this fact from the appearance of the gravy, forasmuch as the 'young gal' had dropped it all upon the stairs - where it remained, by the by, in a long train, until it was worn out. The pigeon-pie was not bad, but it was a delusive pie: the crust being like a disappointing head, phrenologically speaking: full of lumps and bumps, with nothing particular underneath. In short, the banquet was such a failure that I should have been quite unhappy - about the failure, I mean, for I was always unhappy about Dora - if I had not been relieved by the great good humour of my company, and by a bright suggestion from Mr. Micawber

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¡¡¡¡'My dear,' returned Mr. Micawber with sudden seriousness, 'I have no desire to answer for others. I am too well aware that when, in the inscrutable decrees of Fate, you were reserved for me, it is possible you may have been reserved for one, destined, after a protracted struggle, at length to fall a victim to pecuniary involvements of a complicated nature. I understand your allusion, my love. I regret it, but I can bear it.' ¡¡¡¡'Micawber!' exclaimed Mrs. Micawber, in tears. 'Have I deserved this! I, who never have deserted you; who never WILL desert you, Micawber!' 'My love,' said Mr. Micawber, much affected, 'you will forgive, and our old and tried friend Copperfield will, I am sure, forgive, the momentary laceration of a wounded spirit, made sensitive by a recent collision
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with the Minion of Power - in other words, with a ribald Turncock attached to the water-works - and will pity, not condemn, its excesses.' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Micawber then embraced Mrs. Micawber, and pressed my hand; leaving me to infer from this broken allusion that his domestic supply of water had been cut off that afternoon, in consequence of default in the payment of the company's rates. ¡¡¡¡To divert his thoughts from this melancholy subject, I informed Mr. Micawber that I relied upon him for a bowl of punch, and led him to the lemons. His recent despondency, not to say despair, was gone in a moment. I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself amid the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning rum

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Mr. Micawber was very anxious that I should stay to dinner. I should not have been averse to do so, but that I imagined I detected trouble, and calculation relative to the extent of the cold meat, in Mrs. Micawber's eye. I therefore pleaded another engagement; and observing that Mrs. Micawber's spirits were immediately lightened, I resisted all persuasion to forego it. ¡¡¡¡But I told Traddles, and Mr. and Mrs. Micawber, that before I could think of leaving, they must appoint a day when they would come and dine with me. The occupations to which Traddles stood pledged, rendered it necessary to fix a somewhat distant one; but an appointment was made for the purpose, that suited us all, and then I took my leave. ¡¡¡¡Mr. Micawber, under pretence of showing m
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　e a nearer way than that by which I had come, accompanied me to the corner of the street; being anxious (he explained to me) to say a few words to an old friend, in confidence. ¡¡¡¡'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'I need hardly tell you that to have beneath our roof, under existing circumstances, a mind like that which gleams - if I may be allowed the expression - which gleams - in your friend Traddles, is an unspeakable comfort. With a washerwoman, who exposes hard-bake for sale in her parlour-window, dwelling next door, and a Bow-street officer residing over the way, you may imagine that his society is a source of consolation to myself and to Mrs. Micawber. I am at present, my dear Copperfield, engaged in the sale of corn upon commission. It is not an avocation

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expected events should turn up; when it has been necessary that I should fall back, before making what I trust I shall not be accused of presumption in terming - a spring. The present is one of those momentous stages in the life of man. You find me, fallen back, FOR a spring; and I have every reason to believe that a vigorous leap will shortly be the result.' ¡¡¡¡I was expressing my satisfaction, when Mrs. Micawber came in; a little more slatternly than she used to be, or so she seemed now, to my unaccustomed eyes, but still with some preparation of herself for company, and with a pair of brown gloves on. ¡¡¡¡'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber,
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leading her towards me, 'here is a gentleman of the name of Copperfield, who wishes to renew his acquaintance with you.' ¡¡¡¡It would have been better, as it turned out, to have led gently up to this announcement, for Mrs. Micawber, being in a delicate state of health, was overcome by it, and was taken so unwell, that Mr. Micawber was obliged, in great trepidation, to run down to the water-butt in the backyard, and draw a basinful to lave her brow with. She presently revived, however, and was really pleased to see me. We had half-an-hour's talk, all together; and I asked her about the twins, who, she said, were 'grown great creatures'; and after Master and Miss Micawber, whom she described as 'absolute giants', but they were not produced on that occasion.

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¡¡¡¡'And how is our good friend the Doctor, Copperfield?' said Mr. Micawber, 'and all the circle at Canterbury?' ¡¡¡¡'I have none but good accounts of them,' said I. ¡¡¡¡'I am most delighted to hear it,' said Mr. Micawber. 'It was at Canterbury where we last met. Within the shadow, I may figuratively say, of that religious edifice immortalized by Chaucer, which was anciently the resort of Pilgrims from the remotest corners of - in short,' said Mr. Micawber, 'in the immediate neighbourhood of the Cathedral.' ¡¡¡¡I replied that it was. Mr. Micawber continued talking as volubly as he could; but not, I thought, without s
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howing, by some marks of concern in his countenance, that he was sensible of sounds in the next room, as of Mrs. Micawber washing her hands, and hurriedly opening and shutting drawers that were uneasy in their action. ¡¡¡¡'You find us, Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, with one eye on Traddles, 'at present established, on what may be designated as a small and unassuming scale; but, you are aware that I have, in the course of my career, surmounted difficulties, and conquered obstacles. You are no stranger to the fact, that there have been periods of my life, when it has been requisite that I should pause, until certain

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'I beg your pardon, Mr. Traddles,' said Mr. Micawber, with the old roll in his voice, as he checked himself in humming a soft tune. 'I was not aware that there was any individual, alien to this tenement, in your sanctum.' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Micawber slightly bowed to me, and pulled up his shirt-collar. ¡¡¡¡'How do you do, Mr. Micawber?' said I. ¡¡¡¡'Sir,' said Mr. Micawber, 'you are exceedingly obliging. I am in statu quo.' ¡¡¡¡'And Mrs. Micawber?' I pursued. ¡¡¡¡'Sir,' said Mr. Micawber, 'she is also, thank God, in statu quo.' ¡¡¡¡'And the children, Mr. Micawber?' ¡¡¡¡'Sir,' said Mr. Micawber, 'I rejoice to reply that they are, likewise, in the enjoyment of salubrity.' ¡¡¡¡All this time, Mr. Micawber had not known me in the least, though he had stood face to face with me.
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But now, seeing me smile, he examined my features with more attention, fell back, cried, 'Is it possible! Have I the pleasure of again beholding Copperfield!' and shook me by both hands with the utmost fervour. ¡¡¡¡'Good Heaven, Mr. Traddles!' said Mr. Micawber, 'to think that I should find you acquainted with the friend of my youth, the companion of earlier days! My dear!' calling over the banisters to Mrs. Micawber, while Traddles looked (with reason) not a little amazed at this description of me. 'Here is a gentleman in Mr. Traddles's apartment, whom he wishes to have the pleasure of presenting to you, my love!' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Micawber immediately reappeared, and shook hands with me again.

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¡¡¡¡The tune across the yard that seemed as if it never had left off - alas! it was the tune that never DOES leave off - was beating, softly, all the while. ¡¡¡¡'Wouldn't you like to step in,' said Mr. Omer, 'and speak to her? Walk in and speak to her, sir! Make yourself at home!' ¡¡¡¡I was too bashful to do so then - I was afraid of confusing her, and I was no less afraid of confusing myself.- but I informed myself of the hour at which she left of an evening, in order that our visit might be timed accordingly; and taking leave of Mr. Omer, and his pretty daughter, and her little children, went away to my dear old Peggotty's. ¡¡¡¡Here she was, in the tiled kitchen, cooking dinner! The moment I knocked at the door she opened it, and asked me what I pleased to want. I looked at her
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with a smile, but she gave me no smile in return. I had never ceased to write to her, but it must have been seven years since we had met. ¡¡¡¡'Is Mr. Barkis at home, ma'am?' I said, feigning to speak roughly to her. ¡¡¡¡'He's at home, sir,' returned Peggotty, 'but he's bad abed with the rheumatics.' ¡¡¡¡'Don't he go over to Blunderstone now?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'When he's well he do,' she answered. ¡¡¡¡'Do YOU ever go there, Mrs. Barkis?' ¡¡¡¡She looked at me more attentively, and I noticed a quick movement of her hands towards each other. ¡¡¡¡'Because I want to ask a question about a house there, that they call the - what is it? - the Rookery,' said I.

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'So when she got a situation,' said Mr. Omer, 'to keep a fractious old lady company, they didn't very well agree, and she didn't stop. At last she came here, apprenticed for three years. Nearly two of 'em are over, and she has been as good a girl as ever was. Worth any six! Minnie, is she worth any six, now?' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, father,' replied Minnie. 'Never say I detracted from her!' ¡¡¡¡'Very good,' said Mr. Omer. 'That's right. And so, young gentleman,' he added, after a few moments' further rubbing of his chin, 'that you may not consider me long-winded as well as short-breathed, I believe that's all about it.' ¡¡¡¡As they had spoken in
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a subdued tone, while speaking of Em'ly, I had no doubt that she was near. On my asking now, if that were not so, Mr. Omer nodded yes, and nodded towards the door of the parlour. My hurried inquiry if I might peep in, was answered with a free permission; and, looking through the glass, I saw her sitting at her work. I saw her, a most beautiful little creature, with the cloudless blue eyes, that had looked into my childish heart, turned laughingly upon another child of Minnie's who was playing near her; with enough of wilfulness in her bright face to justify what I had heard; with much of the old capricious coyness lurking in it; but with nothing in her pretty looks, I am sure, but what was meant for goodness and for happiness, and what was on a good and ¡¡¡¡happy course.

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¡¡¡¡'You see,' he said, wiping his head, and breathing with difficulty, 'she hasn't taken much to any companions here; she hasn't taken kindly to any particular acquaintances and friends, not to mention sweethearts. In consequence, an ill-natured story got about, that Em'ly wanted to be a lady. Now my opinion is, that it came into circulation principally on account of her sometimes saying, at the school, that if she was a lady she would like to do so-and-so for her uncle - don't you see? - and buy hi
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m such-and-such fine things.' ¡¡¡¡'I assure you, Mr. Omer, she has said so to me,' I returned eagerly, 'when we were both children.' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Omer nodded his head and rubbed his chin. 'Just so. Then out of a very little, she could dress herself, you see, better than most others could out of a deal, and that made things unpleasant. Moreover, she was rather what might be called wayward - I'll go so far as to say what I should call wayward myself,' said Mr. Omer; '- didn't know her own mind quite - a little spoiled - and couldn't, at first, exactly bind herself down. No more than that was ever said against her, Minnie?' ¡¡¡¡'No, father,' said Mrs. Joram. 'That's the worst, I believe.'

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'Nonsense, father!' cried Minnie. ¡¡¡¡'My dear,' said Mr. Omer, 'I don't say it's the case with you,' winking at me, 'but I say that half the women in Yarmouth - ah! and in five mile round - are mad against that girl.' ¡¡¡¡'Then she should have kept to her own station in life, father,' said Minnie, 'and not have given them any hold to talk about her, and then they couldn't have done it.' ¡¡¡¡'Couldn't have done it, my dear!' retorted Mr. Omer. 'Couldn't have done it! Is that YOUR knowledge of life? What is there that any woman couldn't do, that she shouldn't do - especially on the subject of another woman's good looks?' ¡¡¡¡I really thought i
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t was all over with Mr. Omer, after he had uttered this libellous pleasantry. He coughed to that extent, and his breath eluded all his attempts to recover it with that obstinacy, that I fully expected to see his head go down behind the counter, and his little black breeches, with the rusty little bunches of ribbons at the knees, come quivering up in a last ineffectual struggle. At length, however, he got better, though he still panted hard, and was so exhausted that he was obliged to sit on the stool of the shop-desk.

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¡¡¡¡Mr. Dick had regularly assisted at our councils, with a meditative and sage demeanour. He never made a suggestion but once; and on that occasion (I don't know what put it in his head), he suddenly proposed that I should be 'a Brazier'. My aunt received this proposal so very ungraciously, that he never ventured on a second; but ever afterwards confined himself to looking watchfully at her for her suggestions, and rattling his money. ¡¡¡¡'Trot, I tell you what, my dear,' said my aunt, one morning in the Christmas season when I left school: 'as this knotty point is still unsettled, and as we must not make a mistake in our decision if w
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e can help it, I think we had better take a little breathing-time. In the meanwhile, you must try to look at it from a new point of view, and not as a schoolboy.' ¡¡¡¡'I will, aunt.' ¡¡¡¡'It has occurred to me,' pursued my aunt, 'that a little change, and a glimpse of life out of doors, may be useful in helping you to know your own mind, and form a cooler judgement. Suppose you were to go down into the old part of the country again, for instance, and see that - that out-of-the-way woman with the savagest of names,' said my aunt, rubbing her nose, for she could never thoroughly forgive Peggotty for being so called. ¡¡¡¡'Of all things in the world, aunt, I should like it best!'

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and the wonderful effects he could not fail to make upon society, lured me away. So powerful were these visionary considerations in my boyish mind, that I seem, according to my present way of thinking, to have left school without natural regret. The separation has not made the impression on me, that other separations have. I try in vain to recall how I felt about it, and what its circumstances were; but it is not momentous in my recollection. I suppose the opening prospect confused me. I know that my juvenile experiences went for little or nothing then; and that life was more like a great fairy story, which I was just about to begin to read, than anything else. ¡¡¡¡MY aunt and I had held many grave deliberations on the calling to which I should be devoted. For
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a year or more I had endeavoured to find a satisfactory answer to her often-repeated question, 'What I would like to be?' But I had no particular liking, that I could discover, for anything. If I could have been inspired with a knowledge of the science of navigation, taken the command of a fast-sailing expedition, and gone round the world on a triumphant voyage of discovery, I think I might have considered myself completely suited. But, in the absence of any such miraculous provision, my desire was to apply myself to some pursuit that would not lie too heavily upon her purse; and to do my duty in it, whatever it might be.

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'Not you, I suppose, Agnes?' ¡¡¡¡'Not me!' raising her cheerful face from the music she is copying. 'Do you hear him, Papa? - The eldest Miss Larkins.' ¡¡¡¡'To - to Captain Bailey?' I have just enough power to ask. ¡¡¡¡'No; to no Captain. To Mr. Chestle, a hop-grower.' ¡¡¡¡I am terribly dejected for about a week or two. I take off my ring, I wear my worst clothes, I use no bear's grease, and I frequently lament over the late Miss Larkins's faded flower. Being, by that time, rather tired of this kind of life, and having received new provocation from the butcher, I throw the flower away, go out with the butcher, and gloriously defeat him.
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¡¡¡¡This, and the resumption of my ring, as well as of the bear's grease in moderation, are the last marks I can discern, now, in my progress to seventeen. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡CHAPTER 19 I LOOK ABOUT ME, AND MAKE A DISCOVERY ¡¡¡¡ I am doubtful whether I was at heart glad or sorry, when my school-days drew to an end, and the time came for my leaving Doctor Strong's. I had been very happy there, I had a great attachment for the Doctor, and I was eminent and distinguished in that little world. For these reasons I was sorry to go; but for other reasons, unsubstantial enough, I was glad. Misty ideas of being a young man at my own disposal, of the importance attaching to a young man at his own disposal, of the wonderful things to be seen and done by that magnificent animal

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She gives it me, not displeased; and I put it to my lips, and then into my breast. Miss Larkins, laughing, draws her hand through my arm, and says, 'Now take me back to Captain Bailey.' ¡¡¡¡I am lost in the recollection of this delicious interview, and the waltz, when she comes to me again, with a plain elderly gentleman who has been playing whist all night, upon her arm, and says: ¡¡¡¡'Oh! here is my bold friend! Mr. Chestle wants to know you, Mr. Copperfield.' ¡¡¡¡I feel at once that he is a friend of the family, and am much gratified. ¡¡¡¡'I admire your taste, sir,' says Mr. Chestle. 'It does you credit. I suppose you don't take much interest in hops; but I am a pretty large grower myself; and if you ever like to come over to our neighbourhood - neighbourhood of Ashford -
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and take a run about our place, -we shall be glad for you to stop as long as you like.' ¡¡¡¡I thank Mr. Chestle warmly, and shake hands. I think I am in a happy dream. I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins once again. She says I waltz so well! I go home in a state of unspeakable bliss, and waltz in imagination, all night long, with my arm round the blue waist of my dear divinity. For some days afterwards, I am lost in rapturous reflections; but I neither see her in the street, nor when I call. I am imperfectly consoled for this disappointment by the sacred pledge, the perished flower. ¡¡¡¡'Trotwood,' says Agnes, one day after dinner. 'Who do you think is going to be married tomorrow? Someone you admire.'

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also, I bestow upon Miss Shepherd; and oranges innumerable. Once, I kiss Miss Shepherd in the cloak-room. Ecstasy! What are my agony and indignation next day, when I hear a flying rumour that the Misses Nettingall have stood Miss Shepherd in the stocks for turning in her toes! ¡¡¡¡Miss Shepherd being the one pervading theme and vision of my life, how do I ever come to break with her? I can't conceive. And yet a coolness grows between Miss Shepherd and myself. Whispers reach me of Miss Shepherd having said she wished I wouldn't stare so, and having avowed a preference for Master Jones - for Jones! a boy of no merit whatever! The gulf between me and Miss Shepherd widens. At last, one day, I meet the Misses Nettingalls' establishment out walking.
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Miss Shepherd makes a face as she goes by, and laughs to her companion. All is over. The devotion of a life - it seems a life, it is all the same - is at an end; Miss Shepherd comes out of the morning service, and the Royal Family know her no more. ¡¡¡¡I am higher in the school, and no one breaks my peace. I am not at all polite, now, to the Misses Nettingalls' young ladies, and shouldn't dote on any of them, if they were twice as many and twenty times as beautiful. I think the dancing-school a tiresome affair, and wonder why the girls can't dance by themselves and leave us alone

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¡¡¡¡But who is this that breaks upon me? This is Miss Shepherd, whom I love. ¡¡¡¡Miss Shepherd is a boarder at the Misses Nettingalls' establishment. I adore Miss Shepherd. She is a little girl, in a spencer, with a round face and curly flaxen hair. The Misses Nettingalls' young ladies come to the Cathedral too. I cannot look upon my book, for I must look upon Miss Shepherd. When the choristers chaunt, I hear Miss Shepherd. In the service I mentally insert Miss Shepherd's name - I put her in among the Royal Family. At home, in my own room, I am sometimes moved to cry out, 'Oh, Miss Shepherd!' in a transport of love. ¡¡¡¡Fo
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r some time, I am doubtful of Miss Shepherd's feelings, but, at length, Fate being propitious, we meet at the dancing-school. I have Miss Shepherd for my partner. I touch Miss Shepherd's glove, and feel a thrill go up the right arm of my jacket, and come out at my hair. I say nothing to Miss Shepherd, but we understand each other. Miss Shepherd and myself live but to be united. ¡¡¡¡Why do I secretly give Miss Shepherd twelve Brazil nuts for a present, I wonder? They are not expressive of affection, they are difficult to pack into a parcel of any regular shape, they are hard to crack, even in room doors, and they are oily when cracked; yet I feel that they are appropriate to Miss Shepherd. Soft, seedy biscuits

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¡¡¡¡ My school-days! The silent gliding on of my existence - the unseen, unfelt progress of my life - from childhood up to youth! Let me think, as I look back upon that flowing water, now a dry channel overgrown with leaves, whether there are any marks along its course, by which I can remember how it ran. ¡¡¡¡A moment, and I occupy my place in the Cathedral, where we all went together, every Sunday morning, assembling first at school for that purpose. The earthy smell, the sunless air, the sensation of the world being shut out, the resounding of the organ through the black and white arched galleries and aisles,
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are wings that take me back, and hold me hovering above those days, in a half-sleeping and half-waking dream. ¡¡¡¡I am not the last boy in the school. I have risen in a few months, over several heads. But the first boy seems to me a mighty creature, dwelling afar off, whose giddy height is unattainable. Agnes says 'No,' but I say 'Yes,' and tell her that she little thinks what stores of knowledge have been mastered by the wonderful Being, at whose place she thinks I, even I, weak aspirant, may arrive in time. He is not my private friend and public patron, as Steerforth was, but I hold him in a reverential respect. I chiefly wonder what he'll be, when he leaves Doctor Strong's, and what mankind will do to maintain any place against him.

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'Let the wretched man who now addresses you, my dear Copperfield, be a beacon to you through life. He writes with that intention, and in that hope. If he could think himself of so much use, one gleam of day might, by possibility, penetrate into the cheerless dungeon of his remaining existence - though his longevity is, at present (to say the least of it), extremely problematical. ¡¡¡¡'This is the last communication, my dear Copperfield, you will ever receive ¡¡¡¡ 'From ¡¡¡¡ 'The ¡¡¡¡ 'Beggared Outcast, ¡¡¡¡ 'WILKINS MICAWBER.' ¡¡¡¡ I was so shocked by the contents of this heart-rending letter, that I ran off directly towards the little hotel with the intention of taking it on my way to Doctor Strong's, and trying to soothe Mr. Micawber with a word of comfort. But
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, half-way there, I met the London coach with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber up behind; Mr. Micawber, the very picture of tranquil enjoyment, smiling at Mrs. Micawber's conversation, eating walnuts out of a paper bag, with a bottle sticking out of his breast pocket. As they did not see me, I thought it best, all things considered, not to see them. So, with a great weight taken off my mind, I turned into a by-street that was the nearest way to school, and felt, upon the whole, relieved that they were gone; though I still liked them very much, nevertheless. ¡¡¡¡

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¡¡¡¡My eyes, however, not being so much under control as my tongue, were attracted towards my aunt very often during breakfast. I never could look at her for a few moments together but I found her looking at me - in an odd thoughtful manner, as if I were an immense way off, instead of being on the other side of the small round table. When she had finished her breakfast, my aunt very deliberately leaned back in her chair, knitted her brows, folded her arms, and contemplated me at her leisure
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, with such a fixedness of attention that I was quite overpowered by embarrassment. Not having as yet finished my own breakfast, I attempted to hide my confusion by proceeding with it; but my knife tumbled over my fork, my fork tripped up my knife, I chipped bits of bacon a surprising height into the air instead of cutting them for my own eating, and choked myself with my tea, which persisted in going the wrong way instead of the right one, until I gave in altogether, and sat blushing under my aunt's close scrutiny. ¡¡¡¡'Hallo!' said my aunt, after a long time. ¡¡¡¡I looked up, and met her sharp bright glance respectfully. ¡¡¡¡'I have written to him,' said my aunt.

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The room was a pleasant one, at the top of the house, overlooking the sea, on which the moon was shining brilliantly. After I had said my prayers, and the candle had burnt out, I remember how I still sat looking at the moonlight on the water, as if I could hope to read my fortune in it, as in a bright book; or to see my mother with her child, coming from Heaven, along that shining path, to look upon me as she had looked when I last saw her sweet face. I remember how the solemn feeling with which at length I turned my eyes away, yielded to the sensation of gratitude and rest which the sight of the white-curtained bed - a
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nd how much more the lying softly down upon it, nestling in the snow-white sheets! - inspired. I remember how I thought of all the solitary places under the night sky where I had slept, and how I prayed that I never might be houseless any more, and never might forget the houseless. I remember how I seemed to float, then, down the melancholy glory of that track upon the sea, away into the world of dreams. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡CHAPTER 14 MY AUNT MAKES UP HER MIND ABOUT ME ¡¡¡¡ On going down in the morning, I found my aunt musing so profoundly over the breakfast table, with her elbow on the tray, that the contents of the urn had overflowed the teapot and were laying the whole table-cloth under water, when my entrance put her meditations to flight. I felt sure that I had been the subject of her reflections, and was more than ever anxious to know her intentions towards me. Yet I dared not express my anxiety, lest it should give her offence.

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'Oh!' said Mr. Dick. 'Yes. Do with - I should put him to bed.' ¡¡¡¡'Janet!' cried my aunt, with the same complacent triumph that I had remarked before. 'Mr. Dick sets us all right. If the bed is ready, we'll take him up to it.' ¡¡¡¡Janet reporting it to be quite ready, I was taken up to it; kindly, but in some sort like a prisoner; my aunt going in front and Janet bringing up the rear. The only circumstance which gave me any new hope, was my aunt's stopping on the stairs to inquire about a
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smell of fire that was prevalent there; and janet's replying that she had been making tinder down in the kitchen, of my old shirt. But there were no other clothes in my room than the odd heap of things I wore; and when I was left there, with a little taper which my aunt forewarned me would burn exactly five minutes, I heard them lock my door on the outside. Turning these things over in my mind I deemed it possible that my aunt, who could know nothing of me, might suspect I had a habit of running away, and took precautions, on that account, to have me in safe keeping.

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¡¡¡¡'Well, well!' said my aunt, 'the child is right to stand by those who have stood by him - Janet! Donkeys!' ¡¡¡¡I thoroughly believe that but for those unfortunate donkeys, we should have come to a good understanding; for my aunt had laid her hand on my shoulder, and the impulse was upon me, thus emboldened, to embrace her and beseech her protection. But the interruption, and the disorder she was thrown into by the struggle outside, put an end to all softer ideas for the present, and kept my aunt indignantly declaiming to Mr. Dick about her determination to appeal for redress to the laws of her country, and to bring
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actions for trespass against the whole donkey proprietorship of Dover, until tea-time. ¡¡¡¡After tea, we sat at the window - on the look-out, as I imagined, from my aunt's sharp expression of face, for more invaders - until dusk, when Janet set candles, and a backgammon-board, on the table, and pulled down the blinds. ¡¡¡¡'Now, Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, with her grave look, and her forefinger up as before, 'I am going to ask you another question. Look at this child.' ¡¡¡¡'David's son?' said Mr. Dick, with an attentive, puzzled face. ¡¡¡¡'Exactly so,' returned my aunt. 'What would you do with him, now?' ¡¡¡¡'Do with David's son?' said Mr. Dick. ¡¡¡¡'Ay,' replied my aunt, 'with David's son.'

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'Yes,' pursued my aunt, 'and he has done a pretty piece of business. He has run away. Ah! His sister, Betsey Trotwood, never would have run away.' My aunt shook her head firmly, confident in the character and behaviour of the girl who never was born. ¡¡¡¡'Oh! you think she wouldn't have run away?' said Mr. Dick. ¡¡¡¡'Bless and save the man,' exclaimed my aunt, sharply, 'how he talks! Don't I know she wouldn't? She would have lived with her god-mother, and we should have been devoted to one another. Where, in the name of wonder, should his sister, Betsey Trotwood, have run from, or to?' ¡¡¡¡'Nowhere,' said Mr. Dick
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. ¡¡¡¡'Well then,' returned my aunt, softened by the reply, 'how can you pretend to be wool-gathering, Dick, when you are as sharp as a surgeon's lancet? Now, here you see young David Copperfield, and the question I put to you is, what shall I do with him?' ¡¡¡¡'What shall you do with him?' said Mr. Dick, feebly, scratching his head. 'Oh! do with him?' ¡¡¡¡'Yes,' said my aunt, with a grave look, and her forefinger held up. 'Come! I want some very sound advice.' ¡¡¡¡'Why, if I was you,' said Mr. Dick, considering, and looking vacantly at me, 'I should -' The contemplation of me seemed to inspire him with a sudden idea, and he added, briskly, 'I should wash him!'

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¡¡¡¡Janet looked a little surprised to see me lying stiffly on the sofa (I was afraid to move lest it should be displeasing to my aunt), but went on her errand. My aunt, with her hands behind her, walked up and down the room, until the gentleman who had squinted at me from the upper window came in laughing. ¡¡¡¡'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'don't be a fool, because nobody can be more discreet than you can, when you choose. We all know that. So don't be a fool, whatever you are.' ¡¡¡¡The gentleman was serious immediately, and looked at me, I thought, as if he would entreat me to say nothing about the window. ¡¡¡¡'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'you have heard me mention David Copperfield? Now don't pretend not to have a memory, because you and I know better.' ¡¡¡¡'David C
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opperfield?' said Mr. Dick, who did not appear to me to remember much about it. 'David Copperfield? Oh yes, to be sure. David, certainly.' ¡¡¡¡'Well,' said my aunt, 'this is his boy - his son. He would be as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too.' ¡¡¡¡'His son?' said Mr. Dick. 'David's son? Indeed!'

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¡¡¡¡'I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk - where you came, on the night when I was born, and saw my dear mama. I have been very unhappy since she died. I have been slighted, and taught nothing, and thrown upon myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. I was robbed at first setting out, and have walked all the way, and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey.' Here my self-support gave way all at once; and with a movement of my hands, intended to show her my ragged state, and call it to witness that I had suffered something, I broke into a passion of crying, which I suppose had been pent up within me all the week. ¡¡¡¡My aunt, with every sort of expression but wonder discharged from her countenance, sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry; when she got up in a great hurry, collared me, and took me into the parlour. Her first proceedin
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g there was to unlock a tall press, bring out several bottles, and pour some of the contents of each into my mouth. I think they must have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted aniseed water, anchovy sauce, and salad dressing. When she had administered these restoratives, as I was still quite hysterical, and unable to control my sobs, she put me on the sofa, with a shawl under my head, and the handkerchief from her own head under my feet, lest I should sully the cover; and then, sitting herself down behind the green fan or screen I have already mentioned, so that I

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of the house a lady with her handkerchief tied over her cap, and a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, wearing a gardening pocket like a toll-man's apron, and carrying a great knife. I knew her immediately to be Miss Betsey, for she came stalking out of the house exactly as my poor mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at Blunderstone Rookery. ¡¡¡¡'Go away!' said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and making a distant chop in the air with her knife. 'Go along! No boys here!'
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¡¡¡¡I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she marched to a corner of her garden, and stooped to dig up some little root there. Then, without a scrap of courage, but with a great deal of desperation, I went softly in and stood beside her, touching her with my finger. ¡¡¡¡'If you please, ma'am,' I began. ¡¡¡¡She started and looked up. ¡¡¡¡'If you please, aunt.' ¡¡¡¡'EH?' exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement I have never heard approached. 'If you please, aunt, I am your nephew.' ¡¡¡¡'Oh, Lord!' said my aunt. And sat flat down in the garden-path.

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¡¡¡¡My shoes were by this time in a woeful condition. The soles had shed themselves bit by bit, and the upper leathers had broken and burst until the very shape and form of shoes had departed from them. My hat (which had served me for a night-cap, too) was so crushed and bent, that no old battered handleless saucepan on a dunghill need have been ashamed to vie with it. My shirt and trousers, stained with heat, dew, grass, and the Kentish soil on which I had slept - and torn besides - might have frightened the birds from my aunt's garden, as I stood at the gate. My hair had known no comb or brush since I left London. My face, neck,
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and hands, from unaccustomed exposure to the air and sun, were burnt to a berry-brown. From head to foot I was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust, as if I had come out of a lime-kiln. In this plight, and with a strong consciousness of it, I waited to introduce myself to, and make my first impression on, my formidable aunt. ¡¡¡¡The unbroken stillness of the parlour window leading me to infer, after a while, that she was not there, I lifted up my eyes to the window above it, where I saw a florid, pleasant-looking gentleman, with a grey head, who shut up one eye in a grotesque manner, nodded his head at me several times, shook it at me as often, laughed, and went away.

The Jewel Casket

The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
The Lady of Shalott
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¡¡¡¡Yet I held some station at Murdstone and Grinby's too. Besides that Mr. Quinion did what a careless man so occupied, and dealing with a thing so anomalous, could, to treat me as one upon a different footing from the rest, I never said, to man or boy, how it was that I came to be there, or gave the least indication of being sorry that I was there. That I suffered in secret, and that I suffered exquisitely, no one ever knew but I. How much I suffered, it is, as I have said already, utterly beyond my power to tell. But I kept my own counsel, and I did my work. I knew from the first, that, if I could not do my work as well as any of the rest, I could not hold myself above slight and contempt. I soon became at least as expeditious and as skilful as either of the other boys.
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Though perfectly familiar with them, my conduct and manner were different enough from theirs to place a space between us. They and the men generally spoke of me as 'the little gent', or 'the young Suffolker.' A certain man named Gregory, who was foreman of the packers, and another named Tipp, who was the carman, and wore a red jacket, used to address me sometimes as 'David': but I think it was mostly when we were very confidential, and when I had made some efforts to entertain them, over our work, with some results of the old readings; which were fast perishing out of my remembrance. Mealy Potatoes uprose once, and rebelled against my being so distinguished; but Mick Walker settled him in no time.

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seated nude
Spring Breeze
Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
¡¡¡¡The landlord looked at me in return over the bar, from head to foot, with a strange smile on his face; and instead of drawing the beer, looked round the screen and said something to his wife. She came out from behind it, with her work in her hand, and joined him in surveying me. Here we stand, all three, before me now. The landlord in his shirt-sleeves, leaning against the bar window-frame; his wife looking over the little half-door; and I, in some confusion, looking up at them from outside the partition. They asked me a good many questions; as, what my name was, how old I was, where I lived, how I was employed, and how I came there. To all of which, that I might commit nobody, I invented, I am afraid, appropriate answers. They served me with the ale, thou
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gh I suspect it was not the Genuine Stunning; and the landlord's wife, opening the little half-door of the bar, and bending down, gave me my money back, and gave me a kiss that was half admiring and half compassionate, but all womanly and good, I am sure. ¡¡¡¡I know I do not exaggerate, unconsciously and unintentionally, the scantiness of my resources or the difficulties of my life. I know that if a shilling were given me by Mr. Quinion at any time, I spent it in a dinner or a tea. I know that I worked, from morning until night, with common men and boys, a shabby child. I know that I lounged about the streets, insufficiently and unsatisfactorily fed. I know that, but for the mercy of God, I might easily have been, for any care that was taken of me, a little robber or a little vagabond.

Rembrandt Biblical Scene

Rembrandt Biblical Scene
Rembrandt The Jewish Bride
Return of the Prodigal Son
Samson And Delilah
We had half-an-hour, I think, for tea. When I had money enough, I used to get half-a-pint of ready-made coffee and a slice of bread and butter. When I had none, I used to look at a venison shop in Fleet Street; or I have strolled, at such a time, as far as Covent Garden Market, and stared at the pineapples. I was fond of wandering about the Adelphi, because it was a mysterious place, with those dark arches. I see myself emerging one evening from some of these arches, on a little public-house close to the river, with an open space before it, where some coal-heavers were dancing; to look at whom I sat down upon a bench. I
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wonder what they thought of me! ¡¡¡¡I was such a child, and so little, that frequently when I went into the bar of a strange public-house for a glass of ale or porter, to moisten what I had had for dinner, they were afraid to give it me. I remember one hot evening I went into the bar of a public-house, and said to the landlord: 'What is your best - your very best - ale a glass?' For it was a special occasion. I don't know what. It may have been my birthday. ¡¡¡¡'Twopence-halfpenny,' says the landlord, 'is the price of the Genuine Stunning ale.' ¡¡¡¡'Then,' says I, producing the money, 'just draw me a glass of the Genuine Stunning, if you please, with a good head to it.'

Nighthawks Hopper

Nighthawks Hopper
Nude on the Beach
One Moment in Time
precious time
latter was in the Strand - somewhere in that part which has been rebuilt since. It was a stout pale pudding, heavy and flabby, and with great flat raisins in it, stuck in whole at wide distances apart. It came up hot at about my time every day, and many a day did I dine off it. When I dined regularly and handsomely, I had a saveloy and a penny loaf, or a fourpenny plate of red beef from a cook's shop; or a plate of bread and cheese and a glass of beer, from a miserable old public-house opposite o
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ur place of business, called the Lion, or the Lion and something else that I have forgotten. Once, I remember carrying my own bread (which I had brought from home in the morning) under my arm, wrapped in a piece of paper, like a book, and going to a famous alamode beef-house near Drury Lane, and ordering a 'small plate' of that delicacy to eat with it. What the waiter thought of such a strange little apparition coming in all alone, I don't know; but I can see him now, staring at me as I ate my dinner, and bringing up the other waiter to look. I gave him a halfpenny for himself, and I wish he hadn't taken it.

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'Good night, sir,' I replied. ¡¡¡¡I thought of him very much after I went to bed, and raised myself, I recollect, to look at him where he lay in the moonlight, with his handsome face turned up, and his head reclining easily on his arm. He was a person of great power in my eyes; that was, of course, the reason of my mind running on him. No veiled future dimly glanced upon him in the moonbeams. There was no shadowy picture of his footsteps, in the garden that I dreamed of walking in all night. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡CHAPTER 7 MY 'FIRST HALF' AT SALEM HOUSE ¡¡¡¡ School began in earnest next day. A profound impression was made upon me, I remember, by the roar of voices in the schoolroom suddenly becoming hushed as death when Mr. Creakle entered afte
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r breakfast, and stood in the doorway looking round upon us like a giant in a story-book surveying his captives. ¡¡¡¡Tungay stood at Mr. Creakle's elbow. He had no occasion, I thought, to cry out 'Silence!' so ferociously, for the boys were all struck speechless and motionless. ¡¡¡¡Mr. Creakle was seen to speak, and Tungay was heard, to this effect. ¡¡¡¡'Now, boys, this is a new half. Take care what you're about, in this new half. Come fresh up to the lessons, I advise you, for I come fresh up to the punishment. I won't flinch. It will be of no use your rubbing yourselves; you won't rub the marks out that I shall give you. Now get to work, every boy!'

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I heard that one boy, who was a coal-merchant's son, came as a set-off against the coal-bill, and was called, on that account, 'Exchange or Barter' - a name selected from the arithmetic book as expressing this arrangement. I heard that the table beer was a robbery of parents, and the pudding an imposition. I heard that Miss Creakle was regarded by the school in general as being in love with Steerforth; and I am sure, as I sat in the dark, thinking of his nice voice, and his fine face, and his easy manner, and his curling hair, I thought it very likely. I heard that Mr. Mell was not a bad sort of fellow, but hadn't a sixpence
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to bless himself with; and that there was no doubt that old Mrs. Mell, his mother, was as poor as job. I thought of my breakfast then, and what had sounded like 'My Charley!' but I was, I am glad to remember, as mute as a mouse about it. ¡¡¡¡The hearing of all this, and a good deal more, outlasted the banquet some time. The greater part of the guests had gone to bed as soon as the eating and drinking were over; and we, who had remained whispering and listening half-undressed, at last betook ourselves to bed, too. 'Good night, young Copperfield,' said Steerforth. 'I'll take care of you.' 'You're very kind,' I gratefully returned. 'I am very much obliged to you.' ¡¡¡¡'You haven't got a sister, have you?' said Steerforth, yawning. ¡¡¡¡'No,' I answered. 'That's a pity,' said Steerforth. 'If you had had one, I should think she would have been a pretty, timid, little, bright-eyed sort of girl. I should have liked to know her. Good night, young Copperfield.'

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supposed, besides, to have protested against his father's usage of his mother. I heard that Mr. Creakle had turned him out of doors, in consequence; and that Mrs. and Miss Creakle had been in a sad way, ever since. ¡¡¡¡But the greatest wonder that I heard of Mr. Creakle was, there being one boy in the school on whom he never ventured to lay a hand, and that boy being J. Steerforth. Steerforth himself confirmed this when it was stated, and said that he should like to begin to see him do it. On being asked by a mild boy (not me) how he would proceed if he did begin to see him do it, he dipped a match into his phosphorus-box on purpose to shed a glare over his reply, and said he would commence by knocking him down with a blow on the forehead f
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rom the seven-and-sixpenny ink-bottle that was always on the mantelpiece. We sat in the dark for some time, breathless. ¡¡¡¡I heard that Mr. Sharp and Mr. Mell were both supposed to be wretchedly paid; and that when there was hot and cold meat for dinner at Mr. Creakle's table, Mr. Sharp was always expected to say he preferred cold; which was again corroborated by J. Steerforth, the only parlour-boarder. I heard that Mr. Sharp's wig didn't fit him; and that he needn't be so 'bounceable' - somebody else said 'bumptious' - about it, because his own red hair was very plainly to be seen behind.

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¡¡¡¡I heard all kinds of things about the school and all belonging to it. I heard that Mr. Creakle had not preferred his claim to being a Tartar without reason; that he was the sternest and most severe of masters; that he laid about him, right and left, every day of his life, charging in among the boys like a trooper, and slashing away, unmercifully. That he knew nothing himself, but the art of slashing, being more ignorant (J. Steerforth said) than the lowest boy in the school; that he had been, a good many years ago, a small hop-dealer in the Borough, and had taken to the schooling business after being bankrupt in hops, and making away with Mrs. Creakle's money. With a good deal more of that sort, which I wondered how they knew. ¡¡¡¡I heard that the man with the wood
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en leg, whose name was Tungay, was an obstinate barbarian who had formerly assisted in the hop business, but had come into the scholastic line with Mr. Creakle, in consequence, as was supposed among the boys, of his having broken his leg in Mr. Creakle's service, and having done a deal of dishonest work for him, and knowing his secrets. I heard that with the single exception of Mr. Creakle, Tungay considered the whole establishment, masters and boys, as his natural enemies, and that the only delight of his life was to be sour and malicious. I heard that Mr. Creakle had a son, who had not been Tungay's friend, and who, assisting in the school, had once held some remonstrance with his father on an occasion when its discipline was very cruelly exercised, and was

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¡¡¡¡Peggotty cried out No! with an astonishing volume of voice; and then sat down, and began to pant, and said I had given her a turn. ¡¡¡¡I gave her a hug to take away the turn, or to give her another turn in the right direction, and then stood before her, looking at her in anxious inquiry. ¡¡¡¡'You see, dear, I should have told you before now,' said Peggotty, 'but I hadn't an opportunity. I ought to have made it, perhaps, but I couldn't azackly' - that was always the substitute for exactly, in Peggotty's militia of words - 'bring my mind to it.' ¡¡¡¡'Go on, Peggotty,' said I, more frightened than before. ¡¡¡¡'Master Davy,' said Peggotty, untying her bonnet with a shaking hand, and speaking in a breathless sort of way. 'What do you think? You have got a Pa!' ¡¡
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¡¡I trembled, and turned white. Something - I don't know what, or how - connected with the grave in the churchyard, and the raising of the dead, seemed to strike me like an unwholesome wind. ¡¡¡¡'A new one,' said Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'A new one?' I repeated. ¡¡¡¡Peggotty gave a gasp, as if she were swallowing something that was very hard, and, putting out her hand, said: ¡¡¡¡'Come and see him.' ¡¡¡¡'I don't want to see him.' ¡¡¡¡- 'And your mama,' said Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡I ceased to draw back, and we went straight to the best parlour, where she left me. On one side of the fire, sat my mother; on the other, Mr. Murdstone. My mother dropped her work, and arose hurriedly, but timidly I thought.

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The door opened, and I looked, half laughing and half crying in my pleasant agitation, for my mother. It was not she, but a strange servant. ¡¡¡¡'Why, Peggotty!' I said, ruefully, 'isn't she come home?' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, yes, Master Davy,' said Peggotty. 'She's come home. Wait a bit, Master Davy, and I'll - I'll tell you something.' ¡¡¡¡Between her agitation, and her natural awkwardness in getting out of the cart, Peggotty was making a most extraordinary festoon of herself, but I felt too blank and strange to tell her so. When she had got down, she took me by the hand; led me, wondering, into the kitchen; and shut the door. ¡¡¡¡'Peggotty!
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' said I, quite frightened. 'What's the matter?' ¡¡¡¡'Nothing's the matter, bless you, Master Davy dear!' she answered, assuming an air of sprightliness. ¡¡¡¡'Something's the matter, I'm sure. Where's mama?' ¡¡¡¡'Where's mama, Master Davy?' repeated Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'Yes. Why hasn't she come out to the gate, and what have we come in here for? Oh, Peggotty!' My eyes were full, and I felt as if I were going to tumble down. ¡¡¡¡'Bless the precious boy!' cried Peggotty, taking hold of me. 'What is it? Speak, my pet!' ¡¡¡¡'Not dead, too! Oh, she's not dead, Peggotty?'

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At last the day came for going home. I bore up against the separation from Mr. Peggotty and Mrs. Gummidge, but my agony of mind at leaving little Em'ly was piercing. We went arm-in-arm to the public-house where the carrier put up, and I promised, on the road, to write to her. (I redeemed that promise afterwards, in characters larger than those in which apartments are usually announced in manuscript, as being to let.) We were greatly overcome at parting; and if ever, in my life, I have had a void made in my heart, I had one made that day. ¡¡¡¡Now, all the time I had been on my visit, I had been ungrateful to my home again,
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and had thought little or nothing about it. But I was no sooner turned towards it, than my reproachful young conscience seemed to point that way with a ready finger; and I felt, all the more for the sinking of my spirits, that it was my nest, and that my mother was my comforter and friend. ¡¡¡¡This gained upon me as we went along; so that the nearer we drew, the more familiar the objects became that we passed, the more excited I was to get there, and to run into her arms. But Peggotty, instead of sharing in those transports, tried to check them (though very kindly), and looked confused and out of sorts. ¡¡¡¡Blunderstone Rookery would come, however, in spite of her, when the carrier's horse pleased - and did. How well I recollect it, on a cold grey afternoon, with a dull sky, threatening rain!

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¡¡¡¡I did not quite understand what old one Mrs. Gummidge was supposed to have fixed her mind upon, until Peggotty, on seeing me to bed, explained that it was the late Mr. Gummidge; and that her brother always took that for a received truth on such occasions, and that it always had a moving effect upon him. Some time after he was in his hammock that night, I heard him myself repeat to Ham, 'Poor thing! She's been thinking of the old 'un!' And whenever Mrs. Gummidge was overcome in a similar manner during the remainder of our stay (which happened some few times), he always said the same thing in extenuation of the
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circumstance, and always with the tenderest commiseration. ¡¡¡¡So the fortnight slipped away, varied by nothing but the variation of the tide, which altered Mr. Peggotty's times of going out and coming in, and altered Ham's engagements also. When the latter was unemployed, he sometimes walked with us to show us the boats and ships, and once or twice he took us for a row. I don't know why one slight set of impressions should be more particularly associated with a place than another, though I believe this obtains with most people, in reference especially to the associations of their childhood. I never hear the name, or read the name, of Yarmouth, but I am reminded of a certain Sunday morning on the beach, the bells ringing for church, little Em'ly leaning on my shoulder, Ham lazily dropping stones into the water, and the sun, away at sea, just breaking through the heavy mist, and showing us the ships, like their own shadows.

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'The more's the reason,' returned Peggotty, 'for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!' - I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. ¡¡¡¡'How can you be so aggravating,' said my mother, shedding more tears than before, 'as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What
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am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it.' ¡¡¡¡Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. ¡¡¡¡'And my dear boy,' cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, 'my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!' ¡¡¡¡'Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing,' said Peggotty.

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'Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am,' said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. ¡¡¡¡'Much obliged to you, Peggotty,' returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, 'I have had a VERY pleasant evening.' ¡¡¡¡'A stranger or so makes an agreeable change,' suggested Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'A very agreeable change, indeed,' returned my mother. ¡¡¡¡Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. ¡¡¡¡'Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't
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have liked,' said Peggotty. 'That I say, and that I swear!' ¡¡¡¡'Good Heavens!' cried my mother, 'you'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?' ¡¡¡¡'God knows you have, ma'am,' returned Peggotty. 'Then, how can you dare,' said my mother - 'you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart - to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to?'

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being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. ¡¡¡¡'Let us say "good night", my fine boy,' said the gentleman, when he had bent his head - I saw him! - over my mother's little glove. ¡¡¡¡'Good night!' said I. ¡¡¡¡'Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!' said the gentleman, laughing. 'Shake hands!' My right hand
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　was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. ¡¡¡¡'Why, that's the Wrong hand, Davy!' laughed the gentleman. ¡¡¡¡MY mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. ¡¡¡¡At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. ¡¡¡¡Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlour. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself.

picture of the last supper

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into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. I did, at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. ¡¡¡¡We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. ¡¡¡¡As my mother stooped down on the threshold to
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　take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch - or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. ¡¡¡¡'What does that mean?' I asked him, over her shoulder. ¡¡¡¡He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me - which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, Davy!' remonstrated my mother. ¡¡¡¡'Dear boy!' said the gentleman. 'I cannot wonder at his devotion!' ¡¡¡¡I never saw such a beautiful colour on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for

The Abduction of Psyche

The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
Miss Marple's twinkle became more pronounced than ever.
"There are always clergymen – and doctors."
Her eyes, gentle and mischievous, went from one to another.
It was clear that she suggested to them something that they had never thought of and which they did not find overpleasing.
Miss Marple rose to her feet, dropping as she did so, several little woolly scarves and her bag.
The three brothers were most attentive picking things up.
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"So kind of you," fluted Miss Marple. "Oh, yes, and my little blue muffler. Yes – as I say - so kind to ask me here. I've been picturing, you know, just what your home was like – so that I can visualise dear Lucy working here."
"Perfect home conditions – with murder thrown in," said Cedric.
"Cedric!" Harold's voice was angry.
Miss Marple smiled up at Cedric.

Sweet Nothings

Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
She rose and the doctor followed her. Miss Marple watched them leave the room.
Miss Crackenthorpe is a very devoted daughter, I see, she said.
"Can't imagine how she sticks the old man, myself," said the outspoken Cedric.
"She has a very comfortable home here, and father is very much attached to her," said Harold quickly.
"Em's all right," said Cedric. "Born to be an old maid."
There was a faint twinkle in Miss Marple's eye as she said:
"Oh, do you think so?"
Harold said quickly:
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"My brother didn't use the term old maid in any derogatory sense, Miss Marple."
"Oh, I wasn't offended," said Miss Marple. "I just wondered if he was right. I shouldn't say myself that Miss Crackenthorpe would be an old maid. She's the type, I think, that's quite likely to marry late in life – and make a success of it."
"Not very likely living here," said Cedric. "Never sees anybody she could marry."

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Sweet Nothings
Psychology's all right if it's left to the psychologists. Trouble is, everyone is an amateur psychologist nowadays. My patients tell me exactly what complexes and neuroses they're suffering from, without giving me a chance to tell them. Thanks, Emma. I will have another cup. No time for lunch today."
"A doctor's life, I always think, is so noble and self-sacrificing," said Miss Marple.
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"You can't know many doctors," said Dr. Quimper. "Leeches they used to be called, and leeches they often are! At any rate, we do get paid nowadays, the State sees to that. No sending in of bills that you know won't ever be met. Trouble is that all one's patients are determined to get everything they can ‘out of the Government,' and as a result, if little Jenny coughs twice in the night, or little Tommy eats a couple of green apples, out the poor doctor has to come in the middle of the night. Oh, well! Glorious cake, Emma. What a cook you are!"
"Not mine. Miss Eyelesbarrow’s."
"You make 'em just as good," said Quimper loyally.
"Will you come and see father?"

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Regatta At Argenteuil
Rembrandt Biblical Scene
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Return of the Prodigal Son
The stream of reminiscence was interrupted by the entry of Bryan and the boys rather wet and dirty as a result of an enthusiastic search for clues. Tea was brought in and with it came Dr. Quimper who raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked round after acknowledging his introduction to the old lady.
"Hope your father's not under the weather, Emma?"
"Oh, no - that is, he was just a little tired this afternoon –"
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"Avoiding visitors, I expected," said Miss Marple with a roguish smile. "How well I remember my own dear father. ‘Got a lot of old pussies coming?' he would say to my mother. ‘Send my tea into the study.' Very naughty about it, he was."
"Please don't think –” began Emma, but Cedric cut in.
"It's always tea in the study when his dear sons come down. Psychologically to be expected, eh, Doctor?"
Dr. Quimper, who was devouring sandwiches and coffeecake with the frank appreciation of a man who has usually too little time to spend on his meals, said:

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It's so very kind of you to have asked me to take tea with you," said Miss Marple to Emma Crackenthorpe.
Miss Marple was looking particularly woolly and fluffy - a picture of a sweet old lady. She beamed as she looked round her - at Harold Crackenthorpe in his well-cut dark suit, at Alfred handing her sandwiches with a charming smile, at Cedric standing by the mantelpiece in a ragged tweed jacket scowling at the rest of his family.
"We are very pleased that you could come," said Emma politely.
There was no hint of scene which had taken place after lunch that day when Emma had exclaimed: "Dear me, I quite forgot. I told Miss Eyelesbarrow that she could bring her old aunt to tea today."
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"Put her off," said Harold brusquely. "We've still got a lot to talk about. We don't want strangers here."
"Let her have tea in the kitchen or somewhere with the girl," said Alfred.
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," said Emma firmly. "That would be very rude."

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But I suppose they're both pretty hard up," Craddock murmured.
He sustained Mr. Wimborne's sharp glance with perfect impassively.
"Oh! So the police have been making inquiries? Yes, Alfred is almost incessantly in low water. Occasionally he is very flush of money for a short time - but it soon goes. Harold, as you seem to have discovered, is at present somewhat precariously situated."
"In spite of his appearance of financial prosperity?"
"Fa?ade. All fa?ade! Half these city concerns don't even know if they're solvent or not. Balance sheets can be made to look all right to the inexpert eye. But when the assets that are listed aren't really assets - when those assets are trembling on the brink of a crash - where are you?"
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"Where, presumably, Harold Crackenthorpe is, in bad need of money."
"Well, he wouldn't have got it by strangling his late brother's widow," said Mr. Wimborne. "And nobody's murdered Luther Crackenthorpe which is the only murder that would do the family any good. So, really, Inspector, I don't quite see where your ideas are leading you?"
The worst of it was, Inspector Craddock thought, that he wasn't very sure himself.

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Cedric Crackenthorpe, I have been given to understand, is not interested in money?"
Mr. Wimborne gave Craddock a cold stare.
"Indeed? I am inclined, myself, to take statements of such a nature with what I might term a grain of salt. There are doubtless certain unworldly people who are indifferent to money. I myself have never met one."
Mr. Wimborne obviously derived a certain satisfaction from this remark.
Inspector Craddock hastened to take advantage of this ray of sunshine.
"Harold and Alfred Crackenthorpe, he ventured, seem to have been a good deal upset by the arrival of this letter?"
"Well they might be," said Mr. Wimborne. "Well they might be."
"It would reduce their eventual inheritance?"
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"Certainly. Edmund Crackenthorpe's son - always presuming there is a son – would be entitled to a fifth share of the trust money."
"That doesn't really seem a very serious loss?"
Mr. Wimborne gave him a shrewd glance.
"It is a totally inadequate motive for murder, if that is what you mean

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Just so," said Craddock. "What would her position, or her son's position be?"
"The idea was, I suppose, that she would get the Crackenthorpes to provide for her and for the boy."
"Yes, but I meant, what would she and the son be entitled to, legally speaking - if she could prove her claim?"
"Oh, I see." Mr. Wimborne picked up his spectacles which he had laid aside in his irritation, and put them on, staring through them at Inspector Craddock with shrewd attention. "Well, at the moment, nothing. But if she could prove that the boy was the son of Edmund Crackenthorpe, born in lawful wedlock, then the boy would be entitled to his share of Josiah Crackenthorpe's trust on the death of Luther Crackenthorpe. More than that, he'd inherit Rutherford Hall, since he's the son of the eldest son."
"Would anyone want to inherit the house?"
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"To live in? I should say, certainly not. But that estate, my dear Inspector, is worth a considerable amount of money. Very considerable. Land for industrial and building purposes. Land which is now in the heart of Brackhampton. Oh, yes, a very considerable inheritance."
"If Luther Crackenthorpe dies, I believe you told me that Cedric gets it?"
"He inherits the real estate – yes, as the eldest surviving son."

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Oh, let her come," said Cedric. "We can draw her out a little about the wonderful Lucy. I should like to know more about that girl, I must say. I'm not sure that I trust her. Too smart by half."
"She's very well connected and quite genuine," said Harold. "I've made it my business to find out. One wanted to be sure. Poking about and finding the body the way she did.""If we only knew who this damned woman was," said Alfred.
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Harold added angrily:"I must say, Emma, that I think you were out of your senses, going and suggesting to the police that the dead woman might be Edmund's French girl friend. It will make them convinced that she came here, and that probably one or other of us killed her."
"Oh, no, Harold. Don't exaggerate."
"Harold's quite right," said Alfred. "Whatever possessed you, I don't know. I've a feeling I'm being followed everywhere I go by plain-clothed men."
"I told her not to do it," said Cedric. "Then Quimper backed her up."
"It's no business of his," said Harold angrily. "Let him stich to pills and powders and National Health."

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It's so very kind of you to have asked me to take tea with you," said Miss Marple to Emma Crackenthorpe.
Miss Marple was looking particularly woolly and fluffy - a picture of a sweet old lady. She beamed as she looked round her - at Harold Crackenthorpe in his well-cut dark suit, at Alfred handing her sandwiches with a charming smile, at Cedric standing by the mantelpiece in a ragged tweed jacket scowling at the rest of his family.
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"We are very pleased that you could come," said Emma politely.
There was no hint of scene which had taken place after lunch that day when Emma had exclaimed: "Dear me, I quite forgot. I told Miss Eyelesbarrow that she could bring her old aunt to tea today."
"Put her off," said Harold brusquely. "We've still got a lot to talk about. We don't want strangers here."
"Let her have tea in the kitchen or somewhere with the girl," said Alfred.
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," said Emma firmly. "That would be very rude."

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Emma nodded.
"Moreover, from what I have been told, he would in due course inherit Rutherford Hall and the land round it - very valuable building land, probably, by now."
Emma looked slightly startled.
"Yes, I hadn't thought of that."
"Well, I shouldn't worry," said Inspector Craddock. "You did quite right to come and tell me. I shall make inquiries, but it seems to me highly probable that there is no connection between the woman who wrote the letter (and who was probably trying to cash in on a swindle) and the woman whose body was found in the sarcophagus."
Emma rose with a sigh of relief.
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"I'm so glad I've told you. You've been very kind."
Craddock accompanied her to the door.
Then he rang for Detective-Sergeant Wetherall.
"Bob, I've got a job for you. Go to 126 Elvers Crescent, N.10. Take photographs of the Rutherford Hall woman with you. See what you can find out about a woman calling herself Mrs. Crackenthorpe – Mrs. Martine Crackenthorpe, who was either living there, or calling for letters there, between the dates of, say, 15th to the end of December."

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Craddock nodded.
"As you say, the letter, on the face of it, sounds genuine enough. What is surprising is the sequel; Martine Crackenthorpe's abrupt departure for Paris and the fact that you have never heard from her since. You had replied kindly to her, were prepared to welcome her. Why, even if she had to return to France, did she not write again? That is, presuming her to be the genuine article. If she were an impostor, of course, it's easier to explain. I though perhaps that you might have consulted Mr. Wimborne, and that he might have instituted inquiries which alarmed the woman. That, you tell me, is not so. But it's still possible that one or
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other of your brothers may have done something of the kind. It's possible that this Martine may have had a background that would not stand investigation. She may have assumed that she would be dealing only with Edmund's affectionate sister, not with hardheaded suspicious business men. She may have hoped to get sums of money out of you for the child (hardly a child now - a boy presumably of fifteen or sixteen) without many questions being asked. But instead she found she was going to run up against something quite different. After all, I should imagine that serious legal aspects would arise. If Edmund Crackenthorpe left a son, born in wedlock, he would be one of the heirs to your grandfather's estate?"

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You don't think, perhaps, that I ought to tell Inspector Bacon - or the other one?"
"Tell him what?"
"Well - about Martine. About her letter."
"Now don't you go complicating things, sis, by bringing up a lot of irrelevant stuff that has nothing to do with all this. I was never very convinced about that letter from Martine, anyway."
"I was."
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"You've always been good at believing impossible things before breakfast, old girl. My advice to you is, sit tight, and keep your mouth shut. It's up to the police to identify their precious corpse. And I bet Harold would say the same."
"Oh, I know Harold would. And Alfred, also. But I'm worried, Cedric, I really am worried. I don't know what I ought to do."
"Nothing," said Cedric promptly. "You keep your mouth shut, Emma. Never go half-way to meet trouble, that's my motto."
Emma Crackenthorpe sighed. She went slowly back to the house uneasy in her mind.
As she came into the drive, Doctor Quimper emerged from the house and opened the door of his battered Austin car. He paused when he saw her, then leaving the car he came towards her.

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Don't go," said Cedric. "Murder had made you practically one of the family."
"I've got a lot to do," said Lucy. "I only came out to get some parsley."
She beat a rapid retreat to the kitchen garden. Cedric's eyes followed her.
"Good-looking girl," he said. "Who is she really?"
"Oh, she's quite well known," said Emma. "She's made a speciality of this kind of thing. But never mind Lucy Eyelesbarrow, Cedric, I'm terribly worried. Apparently the police think that the dead woman was a foreigner, perhaps French. Cedric, you don't think that she could possibly be - Martine?"
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II
For a moment or two Cedric stared at her as though uncomprehending.
"Martine? But who on earth – oh, you mean Martine?"
"Yes. Do you think –"
"Why on earth should it be Martine?"
"Well, her sending that telegram was odd when you come to think of it. It must have been roughly about the same time…. Do you think that she may, after all, have come down here and –"
"Nonsense. Why should Martine come down here and find her way into the Long Barn? What for? It seems wildly unlikely to me."

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William Bouguereau The Nut Gatherers Painting
The Nut Gatherers
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Why?"
"What a lot of things you want to know! The answer is that Alf is the black sheep of the family. He's not actually been to prison yet, but he's been very near it. He was in the Ministry of Supply during the war, but left it rather abruptly under questionable circumstances. And after that there were some dubious deals in tinned fruits – and trouble over eggs. Nothing in a big way – just a few doubtful deals on the side."
"Isn't it rather unwise to tell strangers all these things?"
"Why? Are you a police spy?"
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"I might be."
"I don't think so. You were here slaving away before the police began to take an interest in us. I should say –"
He broke off as his sister Emma came through the door of the kitchen garden.
"Hallo, Em? You're looking very perturbed about something?"
"I am. I want to talk to you, Cedric."
"I must get back to the house," said Lucy, tactfully

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I'm sure all it needs is a little common sense," said Miss Marple encouragingly.
Lucy looked at her, then laughed. Miss Marple smiled back at her.
Lucy set to work systematically the next morning.
She poked round outhouse, prodded the briars which wreathed the old pigsties, and was peering into the boiler room under the greenhouse when she heard a dry cough and turned to find old Hillman, the gardener, looking at her disapprovingly.
"You be careful you don't get a nasty fall, miss," he warned her. "Them steps isn't safe, and you was up in the loft just now and then floor there ain't safe neither."
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Lucy was careful to display no embarrassment.
"I expect you think I'm very nosy," she said cheerfully. "I was just wondering if something couldn't be made out of this place - growing mushrooms for the market, that sort of thing. Everything seems to have been let go terribly."
"That's the master, that is. Won't spend a penny. Ought to have two men and a boy here, I ought to keep the place proper, but won't hear of it, he won't. Had all I could do to made him get a motor mower. Wanted me to mow all that front grass by hands, he did."

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There was a knock on the door and the grim Florence came in with a tray.
"Nice for you to have a visitor," she said to Miss Marple, "I've made you my special scones you used to like."
"Florence always made the most delicious tea cakes," said Miss Marple.
Florence, gratified, creased her features into a totally unexpected smile and left the room.
"I think, my dear," said Miss Marple, "we won't talk any more about murder during tea. Such an unpleasant subject!"
II
After tea, Lucy rose.
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"I'll be getting back," she said. "As I've already told you, there's no one actually living in the Rutherford Hall who could be the man we're looking for. there's only an old man and a middle-aged woman, and an old deaf gardener."
"I didn't say he was actually living there," said Miss Marple. "All I mean is, that he's someone who knows Rutherford Hall very well. But we can go into that after you've found the body."
"You seem to assume quite confidently that I shall find it," said Lucy. "I don't feel nearly so optimistic."
"I'm sure you will succeed, my dear Lucy. You are such an efficient person."
"In some ways, but I haven't had any experience in looking for bodies."

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And then," continued Miss Marple. "He took it to some place he had already chosen beforehand. This was all thought out, you know. And I don't think, as I say, that he would take it away from Rutherford Hall, or if so, not very far. The obvious thing, I suppose, would be to bury it somewhere?" She looked inquiringly at Lucy.
"I suppose so," said Lucy considering. "But it wouldn't be quite as easy as it sounds."
Miss Marple agreed.
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"He couldn't bury it in the park. Too hard work and very noticeable. Somewhere where the earth was turned already?"
"The kitchen garden, perhaps, but that's very close to the gardener's cottage. He's old and deaf - but still it might be risky."
"Is there a dog?"
"No."
"Then in a shed, perhaps, or an outhouse?"
"That would be simpler and quicker…. There are a lot of unused old buildings; broken down pigsties, harness rooms, workshops that nobody ever goes near. Or he might perhaps thrust it into a clump of rhododendrons or shrubs somewhere."
Miss Marple nodded.

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carriage, along with her, it was quite easy - especially if you realise that he knew exactly what he was going to do next. He knew – he must have known - all about Rutherford Hall – its geographical position, I mean, its queer isolation – an island bounded by railway lines."
"It is exactly like that," said Lucy. "It's an anachronism out of the past. Bustling urban life goes on all around it, but doesn't touch it. The tradespeople deliver in the mornings and that's all."
"So we assume, as you said, that the murderer comes to Rutherford Hall that night. It is already dark when the body falls and no one is likely to discover it before the next day."
"No, indeed."
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"The murderer would come – how? In a car? Which way?"
Lucy considered.
"There's a rough lane, alongside a factory wall. He'd probably come that way, turn in under the railway arch and along the back drive. Then he could climb the fence, go along at the foot of the embankment, find the body, and carry it back to the car."

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That you, Emma? Got the new girl there? Bring her in. I want to look at her."
Emma flushed, glanced at Lucy apologetically.
The two women entered the room. It was richly upholstered in dark velvet, the narrow windows let in very little light, and it was full of heavy mahogany Victorian furniture.
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Old Mr. Crackenthorpe was stretched out in an invalid chair, a silver-headed stick by his side.
He was a big gaunt man, his flesh hanging in loose folds. He had a face rather like a bulldog, with a pugnacious chin. He had thick dark hair flecked with grey, and small suspicious eyes.
"Let's have a look at you, young lady."
Lucy advanced, composed and smiling.
"There's just one thing you'd better understand straight away. Just because we live in a big house doesn't mean we're rich. We're not rich. We live simply – do you hear? - simply! No good coming here with a lot of high-falutin ideas. Cod's as good as a fish as turbot any day, and don't you forget it. I don't stand for waste. I live here because my father built the house and I like it. After I'm dead they can sell it up if they want to

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That's quite all right," said Lucy. "I want particularly, you see, to be near Brackhampton. I have an elderly aunt in a critical state of health and I want to be within easy distance of her. That's why the salary is a secondary consideration. I can't afford to do nothing. If I could be sure of having some time off most days?"
"Oh, of course. Every afternoon, till six, if you like?"
"That seems perfect."
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Miss Crackenthorpe hesitated a moment before saying: "My father is elderly and a little – difficult sometimes. He is very keen on economy, and he says things sometimes that upset people. I wouldn't like –"
Lucy broke in quickly:
"I'm quite used to elderly people, of all kinds, she said. I always manage to get on well with them."
Emma Crackenthorpe looked relieved.
"Trouble with father!" diagnosed Lucy. "I bet he's an old tartar."
She was apportioned a large gloomy bedroom which a small electric heater did its inadequate best to warm, and was shown round the house, a vast uncomfortable mansion. As they passed a door in the hall a voice roared out:

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It's a big house, I'm afraid, and inconvenient. Of course we only live in a portion of it – my father and myself, that is. He is rather an invalid. We live quite quietly, and there is an Aga stove. I have several brothers, but they are not here very often. Two women come in, a Mrs. Kidder in the morning, and Mrs. Hart three days a week to do brasses and things like that. You have your own car?"
"Yes. It can stand out in the open if there's nowhere to put it. It's used to it."
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"Oh, there are any amount of old stables. there's no trouble about that. She frowned a moment, then said, Eyelesbarrow – rather an unusual name. Some friends of mine were telling me about a Lucy Eyelesbarrow - the Kennedys?"
"Yes. I was with them in North Devon when Mrs. Kennedy was having a baby."
Emma Crackenthorpe smiled.
"I know they said they'd never had such a wonderful time as when you were there seeing to everything. But I had the idea that you were terribly expensive. The sum I mentioned – "

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After a few minutes the door opened again. From the first moment Lucy decided that she liked Emma Crackenthorpe.
She was a middle-aged woman with no very outstanding characteristics, neither good-looking nor plain, sensibly dressed in tweeds and pullover, with dark hair swept back from her forehead, steady hazel eyes and a very pleasant voice.
She said: "Miss Eyelesbarrow?" and held out her hand.
Then she looked doubtful.
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"I wonder," she said, “if this post is really what you're looking for? I don't want a housekeeper, you know, to supervise things. I want someone to do the work."
Lucy said that that was what most people needed.
Emma Crackenthorpe said apologetically:
"So many people, you know, seem to think that just a little light dusting will answer the case - but I can do all the light dusting myself."
"I quite understand," said Lucy. "You want cooking and washing-up, and housework and stoking the boiler. That's all right. That's what I do. I'm not at all afraid of work."

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Woman with a Parasol
of sight. Edward have got some business at Oxford, he says; so he must go there for a time; and after that, as soon as he can light upon a bishop, he will be ordained, I wonder what curacy he will get? Good gracious! (giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my life I know what my cousins will say, when they hear of it. They will tell me I should write to the Doctor, to get Edward the curacy of his new living. I know they will; but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world. 'La!' I shall directly,
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'I wonder how you could think of such a thing? I write to the Doctor, indeed!'" 　　 "Well," said Elinor, "it is a comfort to be prepared against the worst. You have got your answer ready." 　　 Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject, but the approach of her own party made another more necessary. 　　 "Oh, la! here come the Richardsons. I had a vast deal more to say to you, but I must not stay away from them not any longer. I assure you they are very genteel people. He makes a monstrous deal of money, and they keep their own coach. I

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The Virgin and Child with St Anne
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Venus and Cupid
"How!" cried Elinor; "have you been repeating to me what you only learnt yourself by listening at the door! I am sorry I did not know it before; for I certainly would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself. How could you behave so unfairly by your sister?" 　　 "Oh, la! there is nothing in that. I only stood at the door, and heard what I could. And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same by me; for a year or two back, when Martha Sharpe and I had so many secrets together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet, or behind a chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we said." 　　
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Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss Steele could not be kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what was uppermost in her mind. 　　 "Edward talks of going to Oxford, soon," said she; "but now he is, an't she? And your brother and sister were not very kind! However, I shan't say anything against them to you; and to be sure they did send us home in their own chariot, which was more than I looked for. And for my part, I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask us for the huswifes she had given us a day or two before; but, however, nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep mine out

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The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
she had not the least mind in the world to be off, for she could live with him upon a trifle, and how little soever he might have, she should be very glad to have it all, you know, or something of the kind. So then he was monstrous happy, and talked on some time about what they should do, and they agreed he should take orders directly, and they must wait to be married till he got a living. And just then I could not hear any more, for my cousin called from below to tell me Mrs. Richardson was come in her coach, and would take one of us to Kensington Gardens; so I was forced to go into the room and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if she would like to go, but she did not care to leave Edward; so I just ran up stairs and put on a pair of silk stockings and came off with the Richardsons." 　　
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"I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them," said Elinor; "you were all in the same room together, were you not?" 　　 "No, indeed, not us. La! Miss Dashwood, do you think people make love when any body else is by? Oh, for shame! To be sure you must know better than that. (Laughing affectedly.) No, no; they were shut up in the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only by listening at the door."

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unkind to keep her on to the engagement, because it must be for her loss, for he had nothing but two thousand pounds, and no hope of any thing else; and if he was to go into orders, as he had some thoughts, he could get nothing but a curacy; and how was they to live upon that? He could not bear to think of her doing no better, and so he begged, if she had the least mind for it, to put an end to the matter directly, and leave him shift for himself. I heard him say all this as plain as could possibly be
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. And it was entirely for her sake, and upon her account, that he said a word about being off, and not upon his own. I will take my oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired of her, or of wishing to marry Miss Morton, or any thing like it. But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking; so she told him directly (with a great deal about sweet and love, you know, and all that- Oh, la! one can't repeat such kind of things you know)- she told him directly

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　　 He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow, which assured her, as plainly as words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy. Happy had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations! For then his brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun. But while she wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that the emptiness of conceit of the one put her out of all charity with the modesty and worth of the other. Why they were different, Robert explained to her himself, in the course of a quarter of an hour's conversation;
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for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme gaucherie which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education; while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school, was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man.

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With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed, on the present occasion, to her brother's carriage; which they were ready to enter five minutes after it stopped at the door, a punctuality not very agreeable to their sister- in-law, who had preceded them to the house of her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay on their part, that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman. 　　 The events of this evening were not very remarkable. The party, like other musical parties,
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comprehended a great many people who had real taste for the performance, and a great many more who had none at all; and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation, and that of their immediate friends, the first private performers in England. 　　 As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so, she made no scruple of turning her eyes from the grand piano-forte whenever it suited her, and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and violincello, would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the room. In one of these excursive glances she perceived, among a group of young men, the very he

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To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent as not to bestow half the consideration on it, during the whole of her toilet, which it received from Miss Steele in the first five minutes of their being together when it was finished. Nothing escaped her minute observation and general curiosity; she saw everything, and asked everything; was never easy till she knew the price of every part of Marianne's dress; could have guessed the number of her gowns altogether with better judgment than Marianne herself; and was not without hopes of finding out, before they parted, how much her washing cost per week,
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and how much she had every year to spend upon herself. The impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally concluded with a compliment, which, though meant as its douceur, was considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of all; for after undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown, the colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost sure of being told, that "upon her word she looked vastly smart, and she dared to say she would make a great many conquests."

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within a day or two afterwards, cards of invitation for them, as well as for their brother and sister, to a small musical party at her house; the consequence of which was, that Mrs. John Dashwood was obliged to submit, not only to the exceedingly great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Misses Dashwood, but, what was still worse, must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing to treat them with attention, and who could tell that they might not expect to go out with her a second time? The power of disappointing them, it was true, must always be hers. But that was not enough: for when people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of anything better from them. 　　
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Marianne had now been brought, by degrees, so much into the habit of going out every day, that it was become a matter of indifference to her whether she went or not; and she prepared quietly and mechanically for every evening's engagement, though without expecting the smallest amusement from any, and very often without knowing, till the last moment, where it was to take her.

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But she raises none in those most concerned. Indeed, brother, your anxiety for our welfare and prosperity, carries you too far." 　　 "Why, to be sure," said he, seeming to recollect himself, "people have little, have very little in their power. But, my dear Elinor, what is the matter with Marianne?- She looks very unwell, has lost her colour, and is grown quite thin. Is she ill?" 　　 "
oil paintingShe is not well, she has had a nervous complaint on her, for several weeks." 　　 "I am sorry for that. At her time of life, anything of an illness destroys the bloom for ever! Hers has been a very short one! She was as handsome a girl last September, as I ever saw,- and as likely to attract the men. There was something in her style of beauty to please them particularly. I remember Fanny used to say, that she would marry sooner and better than you did; not but what she is exceedingly fond of you, but so it happened to strike her. She will be mistaken, however. I question whether Marianne, will marry a man worth more than five or six hundred a year, at the utmost, and I am very much deceived if you do not do better. Dorsetshire! I know very little of Dorsetshire; but, my dear Elinor, I shall be exceedingly glad to know more of it; and I think I can answer for your having Fanny and myself among

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Her inviting you to town is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and indeed it speaks altogether so great a regard for you, that in all probability when she dies you will not be forgotten. She must have a great deal to leave." 　　 "Nothing at all I should rather suppose; for she has only her jointure, which will descend to her children." 　　 "But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her income. Few people of common prudence will do that; and whatever she saves she will be able to dispose of." 　　
oil painting"And do you not think it more likely that she should leave it to her daughters, than to us?" 　　 "Her daughters are both exceedingly well married, and therefore I cannot perceive the necessity of her remembering them farther. Whereas, in my opinion, by her taking so much notice of you, and treating you in this kind of way, she has given you a sort of claim on her future consideration, which a conscientious woman would not disregard. Nothing can be kinder than her behaviour; and she can hardly do all this, without being aware of the expectation it raises."

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"Where is the green-house to be?" 　　 "Upon the knoll behind the house. The old walnut trees are all come down to make room for it. It will be a very fine object from many parts of the park; and the flower-garden will slope down just before it, and be exceedingly pretty. We have cleared away all the old thorns that grew in patches over the brow." 　　 Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself; and was very thankful that Marianne was not present to share the provocation. 　　
oil painting Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters, in his next visit at Gray's his thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he began to congratulate Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs. Jennings. 　　 "She seems a most valuable woman indeed. Her house, her style of living, all bespeak an exceeding good income; and it is an acquaintance that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may prove materially advantageous.

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purchase money, I might have been very fortunate indeed; for the stocks were, at that time, so low, that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker's hands, I must have sold out to very great loss." 　　 Elinor could only smile. 　　 "Other great and inevitable expenses, too, we have had on first coming to Norland. Our respected father, as you well know, bequeathed all the Stanhill effects that remained at Norland (and very valuable they were) to your mother. Far be it from me to repine at his doing so; he had an undoubted right to dispose of his own property as he chose. But, in consequence of it,
oil paintingwe have been obliged to make large purchases of linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken away. You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be from being rich, and how acceptable Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is." 　　 "Certainly," said Elinor; "and, assisted by her liberality, I hope you may yet live to be in easy circumstances." 　　 "Another year or two may do much towards it," he gravely replied; "but, however, there is still a great deal to be done. There is not a stone laid of Fanny's green-house, and nothing but the plan of the flower-garden marked out."

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likely change your mind when it came to the point. It would have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and sister came. And now, to be sure, you will be in no hurry to be gone. I am amazingly glad you did not keep to your word." 　　 Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her self-command to make it appear that she did not. 　　 "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did you travel?" 　　 "Not in the stage, I assure you," replied Miss Steele, with quick exultation; "we came post all the way, and had a very smart beau to attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought we'd join him in a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did." 　　
oil painting "Oh, oh!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "very pretty, indeed! and the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you." 　　 "There now," said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, "every body laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour's end to another. 'Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,' my cousin said t'other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. By beau, indeed! said I- I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine."

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She received the news with resolute composure; made no observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time they would burst out, and for the rest of the day she was in a state hardly less pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event. 　　 The Willoughby's left town as soon as they were married; and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either of them, to prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow first fell, to go out again, by degrees, as she had done before. 　　 About this time the two Misses Steele, lately arrived at their cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings, Holburn,oil painting
　 presented themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets; and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality. 　　 Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her still in town. 　　 "I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here still," said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the word. "But I always thought I should. I was almost sure you would not leave London yet a while; though you told me, you know, at Barton, that you should not stay above a month. But I thought, at the time, that you would most

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being farther augmented hereafter; but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she could never prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make it for him, began, at the end of two days, to think that, instead of Midsummer, they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by the end of a week that it would not be a match at all. The good understanding between the Colonel and Miss Dashwood seemed ratheroil painting
　 to declare that the honours of the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all be made over to her; and Mrs. Jennings had, for some time, ceased to think at all of Mr. Ferrars. 　　 Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby's letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he was married. She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she was desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice of it from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly examining every morning.

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word of the matter; and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies, and therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married. 　　 Colonel Brandon's delicate, unobtrusive enquiries were never unwelcome to Miss oil painting
　Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her sister's disappointment, by the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed with confidence. His chief reward for the painful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice, whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him. These assured him that his exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself, and these gave Elinor hopes of its

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for the health of Marianne, to procure those enquiries which had been so long delayed; and she was still more eagerly bent on this measure by perceiving, after breakfast on the morrow, that Marianne was again writing to Willoughby, for she could not suppose it to be to any other person. 　　 About the middle of the day, Mrs. Jennings went out by herself on business, and Elinor began her letter directly, while Marianne, too restless for employment, too anxious for conversation, walked from one window to the other, or sat down by the fire in melancholy meditation. Elinor was very earnest in her application to her mother,
oil paintingrelating all that had passed, her suspicions of Willoughby's inconstancy, urging her, by every plea of duty and affection, to demand from Marianne an account of her real situation with respect to him. 　　 Her letter was scarcely finished, when a rap foretold a visitor, and Colonel Brandon was announced. Marianne, who had seen him from the window, and who hated company of any kind, left the room before he entered it. He looked more than usually grave; and, though expressing satisfaction at finding Miss Dashwood alone, as if he had somewhat in particular to tell her, sat for some time without saying a word. Elinor, persuaded that he had some communication to make

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thought you were both in Devonshire," said he. 　　 "Did you?" replied Elinor. 　　 "When do you go back again?" 　　 "I do not know." And thus ended their discourse. 　　 Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in her life as she was that evening, and never so much fatigued by the exercise. She complained of it, as they returned to Berkeley street. 　　 "Ay, ay," said Mrs. Jennings, "we know the reason of all that very well: if a certain person, who shall be nameless had been there, you oil painting
　!" cried Marianne. 　　 "So my daughter Middleton told me; for it seems Sir John met him somewhere in the street this morning." 　　 Marianne said no more, but looked exceedingly hurt. Impatient, in this situation, to be doing something that might lead to her sister's relief, Elinor resolved to write the next morning to her mother, and hoped, by awakening her fears

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that it was hard to say whether she received most pleasure from meeting her mother or the Misses Dashwood again. So surprised at their coming to town, though it was what she had rather expected all along; so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after having declined her own, though at the same time she would never have forgiven them if they had not come! 　　
oil painting "Mr. Palmer will be so happy to see you," said she:- "What do you think he said when he heard of your coming with mamma? I forget what it was now, but it was something so droll!" 　　 After an hour or two spent in what her mother called comfortable chat, or in other words, in every variety of enquiry concerning all their acquaintance on Mrs. Jennings's side, and in laughter without cause on Mrs. Palmer's, it was proposed by the latter that they should all accompany her to some shops where she had business that morning, to which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor readily consented, as having likewise some purchases to make themselves; and Marianne, though declining it at first, was induced to go likewise.

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Well, I was young once, but I never was very handsome- worse luck for me. However, I got a very good husband, and I don't know what the greatest beauty can do more. Ah, poor man! he has been dead these eight years and better. But, Colonel, where have you been to since we parted. And how does your business go on? Come, come, let's have no secrets among friends." 　　
oil painting He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her enquiries, but without satisfying her in any. Elinor now began to make the tea, and Marianne was obliged to appear again. 　　 After her entrance, Colonel Brandon became more thoughtful and silent than he had been before, and Mrs. Jennings could not prevail on him to stay long. No other visitor appeared that evening, and the ladies were unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed. 　　 Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits and happy looks. The disappointment of the evening before seemed forgotten in the expectation of what was to happen that day. They had not long finished their breakfast before Mrs. Palmer's barouche stopped at the door, and in a few minutes she came laughing into the room: so delighted to see them all

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I do assure you," he replied, "that I have long thought on this point as you think now. It has been, and is, and probably will always be, a heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me any thing like independence. But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of my frie
oil paintingnds, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being. We never could agree in our choice of a profession. I always preferred the church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the army. That was a great deal too smart for me. The law was allowed to be genteel enough: many young men, who had chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first circles, and drove about town in very knowing gigs. But I had no inclination for the law, even in this less abstruse study of it, which my family approved. As for the

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with his mother. The old well-established grievance of duty against will, parent against child, was the cause of all. She would have been glad to know when these difficulties were to cease, this opposition was to yield,- when Mrs. Ferrars would be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be happy. But from such vain wishes she was forced to turn for comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the remembrance of every mark of regard in look or word which fell from him while a
oil paintingt Barton, and above all, to that flattering proof of it which he constantly wore round his finger. 　　 "I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the last morning, "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions. Some inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it- you would not be able to give them so much of your time. But (with a smile) you would be materially benefited in one particular at least- you would know where to go when you left them."

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Norland or London he must go. He valued their kindness beyond any thing, and his greatest happiness was in being with them. Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of their wishes and his own, and without any restraint on his time. 　　 Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse for every thing strange on the part of her son. Disappointed, however, and vexed as she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain behaviour to herself, she was very well di
oil paintingsposed on the whole to regard his actions with all the candid allowances and generous qualifications, which had been rather more painfully extorted from her, for Willoughby's service, by her mother. His want of spirits, of openness, and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want of independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's dispositions and designs. The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose in leaving them, originated in the same fettered inclination, the same inevitable necessity of temporising

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Oh, Edward! How can you?- But the time will come, I hope- I am sure you will like him." 　　 "I do not doubt it," replied he, rather astonished at her earnestness and warmth; for had he not imagined it to be a joke for the good of her acquaintance in general, founded only on a something or a nothing between Mr. Willoughby and herself, he would not have ventured to mention it. 　　 　　CHAPTER XIX　　 　　 EDWARD remained a week at the cottage; he was earnestly pressed by Mrs. Dashwood to stay longer; but, as if he were bent only on self-mortification, he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment among his
oil painting friends was at the height. His spirits, during the last two or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly improved- he grew more and more partial to the house and environs- never spoke of going away without a sigh- declared his time to be wholly disengaged- even doubted to what place he should go when he left them- but still, go he must. Never had any week passed so quickly- he could hardly believe it to be gone. He said so repeatedly; other things he said, too, which marked the turn of his feelings, and gave the lie to his actions. He had no pleasure at Norland; lie detested being in town; but either to

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Marianne is as steadfast as ever, you see," said Elinor, "she is not at all altered." 　　 "She is only grown a little more grave than she was." 　　 "Nay, Edward," said Marianne, "you need not reproach me. You are not very gay yourself." 　　 "Why should you think so?" replied he, with a sigh. "But gaiety never was a part of my character." 　　 "Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's," said Elinor; "I should hardly call her a lively girl- she is very earnest, very eager in all she does- sometimes talks a great deal, and always with animation- but she is not often really merry." 　　 "I believe you are right," he replied, "and yet I have always
oil paintingset her down as a lively girl." 　　 "I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes," said Elinor, "in a total misapprehension of character in some point or other: fancying people so much more gay or grave, or ingenious or stupid, than they really are, and I can hardly tell why, or in what the deception originated. Sometimes one is guided by what they say of themselves, and very frequently by what other people say of them, without giving one's self time to deliberate and judge."

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"But I thought it was right, Elinor," said Marianne, "to be guided wholly by the opinion of other people. I thought our judgments were given us merely to be subservient to those of neighbours. This has always been your doctrine, I am sure." 　　 "No, Marianne, never. My doctrine has never aimed at the subjection of the understanding. All I have ever attempted to. influence has been the behaviour. You must not confound my meaning. I am guilty, I confess, of having often wished you to treat our acquaintance in general with greater attention; but when have I advised you to adopt their sentiments or to conform to their judgment in
oil painting serious matters?" 　　 "You have not been able, then, to bring your sister over to your plan of general civility," said Edward to Elinor, "Do you gain no ground?" 　　 "Quite the contrary," replied Elinor, looking expressively at Marianne. 　　 "My judgment," he returned, "is all on your side of the question; but I am afraid my practice is much more on your sister's. I never wish to offend, but I am so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I am only kept back by my natural awkwardness. I have frequently thought that I must have been intended by nature

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believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands; and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree. Should not you, Marianne? Forgive me, if I am very saucy. But I was willing to show you that I had not forgot our old disputes." 　　 "I love to be reminded of the past, Edward- whether it be melancholy or gay, I love to recall it- and you will never offend me by talking of former times. You are very right in supposing how my money would be spent-
oil painting some of it, at least- my loose cash would certainly be employed in improving my collection of music and books." 　　 "And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in annuities on the authors or their heirs." 　　 "No, Edward, I should have something else to do with it." 　　 "Perhaps, then, you would bestow it as a reward on that person who wrote the ablest defence of your favourite maxim, that no one can ever be in love more than once in their life- your opinion on that point is unchanged, I presume?" 　　 "Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them."

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Spring Breeze
Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
Hunters!" repeated Edward- "but why must you have hunters? Every body does not hunt." 　　 Marianne coloured as she replied, "But most people do." 　　 "I wish," said Margaret, striking out a novel thought, "that somebody would give us all a large fortune apiece!" 　　 "Oh that they would!" cried Marianne, her eyes sparkling with animation, and her cheeks glowing with the delight of such imaginary happiness. 　　 "We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose," said Elinor, "in spite of the insufficiency of wealth." 　　 "Oh dear!" cried Margaret, "how happy I should be! I wonder what I should do with it!" 　
oil painting　 Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point. 　　 "I should be puzzled to spend so large a fortune myself," said Mrs. Dashwood, "if my children were all to be rich my help." 　　 "You must begin your improvements on this house," observed Elinor, "and your difficulties will soon vanish." 　　 "What magnificent orders would travel from this family to London," said Edward, "In such an event! What a happy day for booksellers, music-sellers, and print-shops! You, Miss Dashwood, would give a general commission for every new print of merit to be sent you- and as for Marianne, I know her greatness of soul, there would not be music enough in London to content her. And books!- Thomson, Cowper, Scott- she would buy them all over and over again: she would buy up every copy,

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Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address. He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing. He was too diffident to do justice to himself; but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished- as- they hardly knew what. They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some manner or other. His mother wished to interest him in political concerns, to get him into parliament, or to see him
oil painting connected with some of the great men of the day. Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise; but in the mean while, till one of these superior blessings could be attained, it would have quieted her ambition to see him driving a barouche. But Edward had no turn for great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising. 　　 Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much

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her family afforded; and, perhaps, in spite of every consideration of politeness or maternal affection on the side of the former, the two ladies might have found it impossible to have lived together so long, had not a particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, according to the opinions of Mrs. Dashwood, to her daughters' continuance at Norland. 　　 This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl and the brother of Mrs. John Dashwood, a gentlemanlike and pleasing young man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister's establishment at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest part of his time there. 　　 Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, for Edward
oil painting Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich; and some might have repressed it from motives of prudence, for, except a trifling sum, the whole of his fortune depended on the will of his mother. But Mrs. Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either consideration. It was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality. It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should deep any couple asunder who were attracted by resemblance of disposition; and that Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged by every one who knew her was to her comprehension impossible.

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Mrs. Dashwood had been informed by her husband of the solemn promise on the part of his son in their favor, which gave comfort to his last earthly reflections. She doubted the sincerity of this assurance no more than he had doubted it himself, and she thought of it for her daughters' sake with satisfaction, though as for herself she was persuaded that a much smaller provision than 7000l. would support her in affluence. For their brother's sake, too, for the sake of his own heart, she rejoiced;
oil painting and she reproached herself for being unjust to his merit before, in believing him incapable of generosity. His attentive behaviour to herself and his sisters convinced her that their welfare was dear to him, and, for a long time, she firmly relied on the liberality of his intentions. 　　 The contempt which she had, very early in their acquaintance, felt for her daughter-in-law, was very much increased by the farther knowledge of her character, which half a year's residence in

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if he could, he would have left almost everything in the world to them." 　　 This argument was irresistible. It gave to his intentions whatever of decision was wanting before; and he finally resolved, that it would be absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do more for the widow and children of his father than such kind of neighborly acts as his own wife pointed out. 　　 　　CHAPTER III　　 　　 MRS. DASHWOOD remained at Norland several months; not from any disinclination to move when the sight of every well known spot ceased to raise the violent emotion which it produced for a while; for when
oil painting her spirits began to revive, and her mind became capable of some other exertion than that of heightening its affliction by melancholy remembrances, she was impatient to be gone, and indefatigable in her enquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighborhood of Norland; for to remove far from that beloved spot was impossible. But she could hear of no situation that at once answered her notions of comfort and ease, and suited the prudence of her eldest daughter, whose steadier judgment rejected several houses as too large for their income, which her mother would have improved.

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When he gave his promise to his father, he meditated within himself to increase the fortunes of his sisters by the present of a thousand pounds apiece. He then really thought himself equal to it. The prospect of four thousand a year, in addition to his present income, besides the remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed his heart, and made him feel capable of generosity. "Yes, he would give them three thousand pounds: it would be liberal and handsome! It would be enough to make them completely easy. Three thousand pounds! be could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience." He thought of it
oil painting all day long, and for many days successively, and he did not repent. 　　 No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. John Dashwood, without sending any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law, arrived with her child and their attendants. No one could dispute her right to come; the house was her husband's from the moment of his father's decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was so much the greater, and to a woman in Mrs. Dashwood's situation, with only common feelings, must have been highly unpleasing

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Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl; but as she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne's romance, without having much of her sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of life. 　　　　CHAPTER II　　 　　 MRS. JOHN DASHWOOD now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her mother and sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors. As such, however, they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by her husband with as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody beyond himself, his wife, and their child. He really
oil painting pressed them, with some earnestness, to consider Norland as their home; and, as no plan appeared so eligible to Mrs. Dashwood as remaining there till she could accommodate herself with a house in the neighborhood, his invitation was accepted. 　　 A continuance in a place where everything reminded her of former delight was exactly what suited her mind. In seasons of cheerfulness, no temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess, in a greater degree, that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness itself. But in sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy, and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy.

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were strong; but she knew how to govern them: it was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn; and which one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught. 　　 Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's. She was sensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but prudent. The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great. 　　 Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's sensibility; but by Mrs. Dashwood it was valued and cherished. They encouraged each other
oil paintingnow in the violence of their affliction. The agony of grief which overpowered them at first was voluntarily renewed, was sought for, was created again and again. They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation in future. Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but still she could struggle, she could exert herself. She could consult with her brother, could receive her sister-in-law on her arrival, and treat her with proper attention; and could strive to rouse her mother to similar exertion, and encourage her to similar forbearance.

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but in her mind there was a sense of honor so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any offence of the kind, by whomsoever given or received, was to her a source of immovable disgust. Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a favorite with any of her husband's family; but she had had no opportunity, till the present, of showing them with how little attention to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion required it. 　　 So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungracious
oil painting ever, had not the entreaty of her eldest girl induced her first to reflect on the propriety of going, and her own tender love for all her three children determined her afterwards to stay, and for their sakes avoid a breach with their brother. 　　 Elinor, this eldest daughter, whose advice was so effectual. possessed a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen, to be the counsellor of her mother, and enabled her frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them all, that eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led to imprudence. She had an excellent heart;- her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings

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"O Sue!" said he with a sudden sense of his own danger. "Do not do an immoral thing for moral reasons! You have been my social salvation. Stay with me for humanity's sake! You know what a weak fellow I am. My two arch-enemies you know--my weakness for womankind and my impulse to strong liquor. Don't abandon me to them, Sue, to save your own soul only! They have been kept entirely at a distance since you became my guardian-angel! Since I have had you I have been able to go into any temptations of the sort, without risk. Isn't my safety worth a little sacrifice of dogmatic principle? I am in terror lest, if you leave me, it will be with me another case of the pig that was washed turning back to his wallowing in the mire!" ¡¡¡¡ Sue burst out weeping. "Oh, but you must not, Jude! You won't! I'll pray for you night and day!" ¡¡¡¡ "Well--never mind; don't grieve," said Jude generously. "I did suffer, oil painting
　God knows, about you at that time; and now I suffer again. But perhaps not so much as you. The woman mostly gets the worst of it in the long run!" ¡¡¡¡ "She does." ¡¡¡¡ "Unless she is absolutely worthless and contemptible. And this one is not that, anyhow!" ¡¡¡¡ Sue drew a nervous breath or two. "She is--I fear! ... Now Jude--good-night,--please!" ¡¡¡¡ "I mustn't stay?--Not just once more? As it has been so many times-- O Sue, my wife, why not!" ¡¡¡¡ "No--no--not wife! ... I am in your hands, Jude--don't tempt me back now I have advanced so far!"

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No--it was I. Your wickedness was only the natural man's desire to possess the woman. Mine was not the reciprocal wish till envy stimulated me to oust Arabella. I had thought I ought in charity to let you approach me--that it was damnably selfish to torture you as I did my other friend. But I shouldn't have given way if you hadn't broken me down by making me fear you would go back to her.... But don't let us say any more about it! Jude, will you leave me to myself now?" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes.... But Sue--my wife, as you are!" he burst out; "my old reproach to you was, after all, a true one. You have never loved me as I love you--never--never! Yours is not a passionate heart-- your heart does not burn in a flame! You are, upon the whole, a sort of fay, or sprite--not
oil painting a woman!" ¡¡¡¡ "At first I did not love you, Jude; that I own. When I first knew you I merely wanted you to love me. I did not exactly flirt with you; but that inborn craving which undermines some women's morals almost more than unbridled passion--the craving to attract and captivate, regardless of the injury it may do the man-- was in me; and when I found I had caught you, I was frightened. And then--I don't know how it was--I couldn't bear to let you go-- possibly to Arabella again--and so I got to love you, Jude. But you see, however fondly it ended, it began in the selfish and cruel wish to make your heart ache for me without letting mine ache for you." ¡¡¡¡ "And now you add to your cruelty by leaving me!" "Ah--yes! The further I flounder, the more harm I do!"

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He went and conducted her in. She said she wanted no supper, and went in the dark upstairs and struck a light. Turning she found that Jude had followed her, and was standing at the chamber door. She went to him, put her hand in his, and said "Good-night." ¡¡¡¡ "But Sue! Don't we live here?" ¡¡¡¡ "You said you would do as I wished!" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes. Very well! ... Perhaps it was wrong of me to argue distastefully as I have done! Perhaps as we couldn't conscientiously marry at first in the old-fashioned way, we ought to have parted. Perhaps the world is not illuminated enough for such experiments as ours! Who were we, to think we could act as pioneers!" ¡¡¡¡ "I am so glad you see that much, at any rate. I never deliberately meant to do as I did. I slipped into my false
oil paintingposition through jealousy and agitation!" ¡¡¡¡ "But surely through love--you loved me?" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes. But I wanted to let it stop there, and go on always as mere lovers; until----" ¡¡¡¡ "But people in love couldn't live for ever like that!" ¡¡¡¡ "Women could: men can't, because they--won't. An average woman is in this superior to an average man--that she never instigates, only responds. We ought to have lived in mental communion, and no more." ¡¡¡¡ "I was the unhappy cause of the change, as I have said before! ... Well, as you will! ... But human nature can't help being itself." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh yes--that's just what it has to learn--self-mastery." ¡¡¡¡ "I repeat--if either were to blame it was not you but I."

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marriage was only a clumsy contract-- which it is--how you showed all the objections to it-- all the absurdities! If two and two made four when we were happy together, surely they make four now? I can't understand it, I repeat!" ¡¡¡¡ "Ah, dear Jude; that's because you are like a totally deaf man observing people listening to music. You say 'What are they regarding? Nothing is there.' But something is." ¡¡¡¡ "That is a hard saying from you; and not a true parallel! You threw off old husks of prejudices, and taught me to do it; and now you go back upon yourself. I confess I am utterly stultified in my estimate of you." ¡¡¡¡ "Dear friend, my only friend, don't be hard with me! I can't help being as I am, I am convinced I am right--that I see the light at last. But oh, how to
oil paintingprofit by it!" ¡¡¡¡ They walked along a few more steps till they were outside the building and she had returned the key. "Can this be the girl," said Jude when she came back, feeling a slight renewal of elasticity now that he was in the open street; "can this be the girl who brought the pagan deities into this most Christian city?-- who mimicked Miss Fontover when she crushed them with her heel?-- quoted Gibbon, and Shelley, and Mill? Where are dear Apollo, and dear Venus now!" ¡¡¡¡ "Oh don't, don't be so cruel to me, Jude, and I so unhappy!" she sobbed. "I can't bear it! I was in error--I cannot reason with you. I was wrong--proud in my own conceit! Arabella's coming was the finish. Don't satirize me: it cuts like a knife!" ¡¡¡¡ He flung his arms round her and kissed her passionately there in the silent street, before she could hinder him. They went on till they came to a little coffee-house. "Jude," she said with suppressed tears, "would you mind getting a lodging here?" ¡¡¡¡ "I will--if, if you really wish? But do you? Let me go to our door and understand you."

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¡¡¡¡ But his soul seemed full of the anniversary, and together they went down Chief Street, their smallest child in Jude's arms, Sue leading her little girl, and Arabella's boy walking thoughtfully and silently beside them. Crowds of pretty sisters in airy costumes, and meekly ignorant parents who had known no college in their youth, were under convoy in the same direction by brothers and sons bearing the opinion written large on them that no properly qualified human beings had lived on earth till they came to grace it here and now. ¡¡¡¡ "My failure is reflected on me by every one of those young fellows," said Jude. "A lesson on presumption
oil painting is awaiting me to-day!-- Humiliation Day for me! ... If you, my dear darling, hadn't come to my rescue, I should have gone to the dogs with despair!" ¡¡¡¡ She saw from his face that he was getting into one of his tempestuous, self-harrowing moods. "It would have been better if we had gone at once about our own affairs, dear," she answered. "I am sure this sight will awaken old sorrows in you, and do no good!" ¡¡¡¡ "Well--we are near; we will see it now," said he. ¡¡¡¡ They turned in on the left by the church with the Italian porch, whose helical columns were heavily draped with creepers, and pursued the lane till there arose on Jude's sight the circular theatre with

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And she humbled her body greatly, and all the places of her joy she filled with her torn hair."-- ESTHER (Apoc.). ¡¡¡¡ "There are two who decline, a woman and I, And enjoy our death in the darkness here." --R. BROWNING. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡ ON their arrival the station was lively with straw-hatted young men, welcoming young girls who bore a remarkable family likeness to their welcomers, and who were dressed up in the brightest and lightest of raiment. ¡¡¡¡ "The place seems gay," said Sue. "Why--it is Remembrance Day!-- Jude--how sly of you--you came to-day on purpose!" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes," said Jude quietly, as he took charge of the small child, and told Arabella's boy to keep close to them, Sue attending to their own eldest. "I thought we might as well come to-day as on any other." ¡¡¡¡ "But I am afraid it will depress you!" she said, looking anxiously at him up and down. ¡¡¡¡ "Oh, I mustn't let it interfere wit
oil paintingh our business; and we have a good deal to do before we shall be settled here. The first thing is lodgings." ¡¡¡¡ Having left their luggage and his tools at the station they proceeded on foot up the familiar street, the holiday people all drifting in the same direction. Reaching the Fourways they were about to turn off to where accommodation was likely to be found when, looking at the clock and the hurrying crowd, Jude said: "Let us go and see the procession, and never mind the lodgings just now? We can get them afterwards." ¡¡¡¡ "Oughtn't we to get a house over our heads first?" she asked.

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deal of Christminster lately, and, if she didn't mind, he would like to go back there. Why should they care if they were known? It was oversensitive of them to mind so much. They could go on selling cakes there, for that matter, if he couldn't work. He had no sense of shame at mere poverty; and perhaps he would be as strong as ever soon, and able to set up stone-cutting for himself there. ¡¡¡¡ "Why should you care so much for Christminster?" she said pensively. "Christminster cares nothing for you, poor dear!" ¡¡¡¡ "Well, I do, I can't help it. I love the place--although I know how it hates all men like me--the so-called self-taught,
oil painting--how it scorns our laboured acquisitions, when it should be the first to respect them; how it sneers at our false quantities and mispronunciations, when it should say, I see you want help, my poor friend! ... Nevertheless, it is the centre of the universe to me, because of my early dream: and nothing can alter it. Perhaps it will soon wake up, and be generous. I pray so! ... I should like to go back to live there-- perhaps to die there! In two or three weeks I might, I think. It will then be June, and I should like to be there by a particular day." ¡¡¡¡ His hope that he was recovering proved so far well grounded that in three weeks they had arrived in the city of many memories; were actually treading its pavements, receiving the reflection of the sunshine from its wasting walls.

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¡¡¡¡ "Yes. Arcades, gables, east windows and all." She told him the pecuniary results, and then hesitated. At last, when they were left alone, she informed him of the unexpected meeting with Arabella, and the latter's widowhood. ¡¡¡¡ Jude was discomposed. "What--is she living here?" he said. ¡¡¡¡ "No; at Alfredston," said Sue. ¡¡¡¡ Jude's countenance remained clouded. "I thought I had better tell you?" she continued, kissing him anxiously. ¡¡¡¡ "Yes.... Dear me! Arabella not in the depths of London, but down here! It is only a little over a dozen miles across the country to Alfredston. What is she doing there?" ¡¡¡¡ She told him all she knew.
oil painting"She has taken to chapel-going," Sue added; "and talks accordingly." ¡¡¡¡ "Well," said Jude, "perhaps it is for the best that we have almost decided to move on. I feel much better to-day, and shall be well enough to leave in a week or two. Then Mrs. Edlin can go home again-- dear faithful old soul--the only friend we have in the world!" ¡¡¡¡ "Where do you think to go to?" Sue asked, a troublousness in her tones. ¡¡¡¡ Then Jude confessed what was in his mind. He said it would surprise her, perhaps, after his having resolutely avoided all the old places for so long. But one thing and another had made him think a great

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--it was significant," said Sue. "There's more for us to think about in that one little hungry heart than in all the stars of the sky.... I suppose, dear, we must pluck up courage, and get that ceremony over? It is no use struggling against the current, and I feel myself getting intertwined with my kind. Oh Jude, you'll love me dearly, won't you, afterwards! I do want to be kind to this child, and to be a mother to him; and our adding the legal form to our marriage might make it easier for me." ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡ IV ¡¡¡¡ THEIR next and second attempt thereat was more deliberately made, though it was begun on the morning following the singular chil
oil paintingd's arrival at their home. ¡¡¡¡ Him they found to be in the habit of sitting silent, his quaint and weird face set, and his eyes resting on things they did not see in the substantial world. ¡¡¡¡ "His face is like the tragic mask of Melpomene," said Sue. "What is your name, dear? Did you tell us?" ¡¡¡¡ "Little Father Time is what they always called me. It is a nickname; because I look so aged, they say." ¡¡¡¡ "And you talk so, too," said Sue tenderly. "It is strange, Jude, that these preternaturally old boys almost always come from new countries. But what were you christened?" ¡¡¡¡ "I never was." ¡¡¡¡ "Why was that?" ¡¡¡¡ "Because, if I died in damnation, 'twould save the expense of a Christian funeral." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh--your name is not Jude, then?" said his father with some disappointment.

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¡¡¡¡ "Jealous little Sue! I withdraw all remarks about your sexlessness. Never mind! Time may right things.... And Sue, darling; I have an idea! We'll educate and train him with a view to the university. What I couldn't accomplish in my own person perhaps I can carry out through him? They are making it easier for poor students now, you know." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh you dreamer!" said she, and holding his hand returned to the child with him. The boy looked at her as she had looked at him. "Is it you who's my REAL mother at last?" he inquired. ¡¡¡¡ "Why? Do I look like your father's wife?" ¡¡¡¡ "Well, yes; 'cept he seems fond of you, and you of him. Can I call you Mother?" ¡¡¡¡ Then a yearning look came over the child and he began to cry. Sue thereupon could not refrain from insta
oil paintingntly doing likewise, being a harp which the least wind of emotion from another's heart could make to vibrate as readily as a radical stir in her own. ¡¡¡¡ "You may call me Mother, if you wish to, my poor dear!" she said, bending her cheek against his to hide her tears. ¡¡¡¡ "What's this round your neck?" asked Jude with affected calmness. ¡¡¡¡ "The key of my box that's at the station." ¡¡¡¡ They bustled about and got him some supper, and made him up a temporary bed, where he soon fell asleep. Both went and looked at him as he lay. ¡¡¡¡ "He called you Mother two or three times before he dropped off," murmured Jude. "Wasn't it odd that he should have wanted to!"

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¡¡¡¡ He found the way to the little lane, and knocked at the door of Jude's house. Jude had just retired to bed, and Sue was about to enter her chamber adjoining when she heard the knock and came down. ¡¡¡¡ "Is this where Father lives?" asked the child. ¡¡¡¡ "Who?" ¡¡¡¡ "Mr. Fawley, that's his name." ¡¡¡¡ Sue ran up to Jude's room and told him, and he hurried down as soon as he could, though to her impatience he seemed long. ¡¡¡¡ "What--is it he--so soon?" she asked as Jude came. ¡¡¡¡ She scrutinized the child's features, and suddenly went away into the little sitting-room adjoining. Jude lifted the boy to a level with himself, keenly regarded him
oil paintingwith gloomy tenderness, and telling him he would have been met if they had known of his coming so soon, set him provisionally in a chair whilst he went to look for Sue, whose supersensitiveness was disturbed, as he knew. He found her in the dark, bending over an arm-chair. He enclosed her with his arm, and putting his face by hers, whispered, "What's the matter?" ¡¡¡¡ "What Arabella says is true--true! I see you in him!" ¡¡¡¡ "Well: that's one thing in my life as it should be, at any rate." ¡¡¡¡ "But the other half of him is--SHE! And that's what I can't bear! But I ought to--I'll try to get used to it; yes, I ought!"

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The train reached Aldbrickham, and the boy was deposited on the lonely platform beside his box. The collector took his ticket and, with a meditative sense of the unfitness of things, asked him where he was going by himself at that time of night. ¡¡¡¡ "Going to Spring Street," said the little one impassively. ¡¡¡¡ "Why, that's a long way from here; a'most out in the country; and the folks will be gone to bed." ¡¡¡¡ "I've got to go there." ¡¡¡¡ "You must have a fly for your box." ¡¡¡¡ "No. I must walk." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh well: you'd better leave your box here and send for it. There's a 'bus goes half-way, but you'll have to walk the rest." ¡¡¡¡ "I am not afraid." ¡¡¡¡ "Why didn't your friends come to meet 'ee?" ¡¡¡¡ "I suppose they didn't know I was coming." ¡¡¡¡ "Who is your friends?" ¡¡¡¡ "Mother di
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oil paintingdn't wish me to say." ¡¡¡¡ "All I can do, then, is to take charge of this. Now walk as fast as you can." Saying nothing further the boy came out into the street, looking round to see that nobody followed or observed him. When he had walked some little distance he asked for the street of his destination. He was told to go straight on quite into the outskirts of the place. ¡¡¡¡ The child fell into a steady mechanical creep which had in it an impersonal quality--the movement of the wave, or of the breeze, or of the cloud. He followed his directions literally, without an inquiring gaze at anything. It could have been seen that the boy's ideas of life were different from those of the local boys. Children begin with detail, and learn up to the general; they begin with the contiguous, and gradually comprehend the universal. The boy seemed to have begun with the generals of life, and never to have concerned himself with the particulars. To him the houses, the willows, the obscure fields beyond, were apparently regarded not as brick residences, pollards, meadows; but as human dwellings in the abstract, vegetation, and the wide dark world.

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Some days passed, and the evening of their last meal together had come-- a cloudy evening with wind--which indeed was very seldom absent in this elevated place. How permanently it was imprinted upon his vision; that look of her as she glided into the parlour to tea; a slim flexible figure; a face, strained from its roundness, and marked by the pallors of restless days and nights, suggesting tragic possibilities quite at variance with her times of buoyancy; a trying of this morsel and that, and an inability to eat either. Her nervous manner, begotten of a fear lest he should be injured by her course, might have been interpreted by a stranger as displeasure that Phillotson intruded his presence on her for the few brief minutes that remained. ¡¡¡¡ "You had better have a slice of ham or an egg, or something with your tea? You can't travel on a mouthful of bread and butter." ¡¡¡¡ She took the slice he helped her to;
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