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Charles Dickens
Chapter 26
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       I saw no more of Uriah Heep, until the day when Agnes left town.
2  I was at the coach office to take leave of her and see her go; and
3  there was he, returning to Canterbury by the same conveyance. It
4  was some small satisfaction to me to observe his spare,
5  short-waisted, high-shouldered, mulberry-coloured great-coat
6  perched up, in company with an umbrella like a small tent, on the
7  edge of the back seat on the roof, while Agnes was, of course,
8  inside; but what I underwent in my efforts to be friendly with him,
9  while Agnes looked on, perhaps deserved that little recompense. At
10  the coach window, as at the dinner-party, he hovered about us
11  without a moment's intermission, like a great vulture: gorging
12  himself on every syllable that I said to Agnes, or Agnes said to
13  me.

14       In the state of trouble into which his disclosure by my fire had
15  thrown me, I had thought very much of the words Agnes had used in
16  reference to the partnership. 'I did what I hope was right.
17  Feeling sure that it was necessary for papa's peace that the
18  sacrifice should be made, I entreated him to make it.' A miserable
19  foreboding that she would yield to, and sustain herself by, the
20  same feeling in reference to any sacrifice for his sake, had
21  oppressed me ever since. I knew how she loved him. I knew what
22  the devotion of her nature was. I knew from her own lips that she
23  regarded herself as the innocent cause of his errors, and as owing
24  him a great debt she ardently desired to pay. I had no consolation
25  in seeing how different she was from this detestable Rufus with the
26  mulberry-coloured great-coat, for I felt that in the very
27  difference between them, in the self-denial of her pure soul and
28  the sordid baseness of his, the greatest danger lay. All this,
29  doubtless, he knew thoroughly, and had, in his cunning, considered
30  well.

31       Yet I was so certain that the prospect of such a sacrifice afar
32  off, must destroy the happiness of Agnes; and I was so sure, from
33  her manner, of its being unseen by her then, and having cast no
34  shadow on her yet; that I could as soon have injured her, as given
35  her any warning of what impended. Thus it was that we parted
36  without explanation: she waving her hand and smiling farewell from
37  the coach window; her evil genius writhing on the roof, as if he
38  had her in his clutches and triumphed.

39       I could not get over this farewell glimpse of them for a long time.
40  When Agnes wrote to tell me of her safe arrival, I was as miserable
41  as when I saw her going away. Whenever I fell into a thoughtful
42  state, this subject was sure to present itself, and all my
43  uneasiness was sure to be redoubled. Hardly a night passed without
44  my dreaming of it. It became a part of my life, and as inseparable
45  from my life as my own head.

46       I had ample leisure to refine upon my uneasiness: for Steerforth
47  was at Oxford, as he wrote to me, and when I was not at the
48  Commons, I was very much alone. I believe I had at this time some
49  lurking distrust of Steerforth. I wrote to him most affectionately
50  in reply to his, but I think I was glad, upon the whole, that he
51  could not come to London just then. I suspect the truth to be,
52  that the influence of Agnes was upon me, undisturbed by the sight
53  of him; and that it was the more powerful with me, because she had
54  so large a share in my thoughts and interest.

55       In the meantime, days and weeks slipped away. I was articled to
56  Spenlow and Jorkins. I had ninety pounds a year (exclusive of my
57  house-rent and sundry collateral matters) from my aunt. My rooms
58  were engaged for twelve months certain: and though I still found
59  them dreary of an evening, and the evenings long, I could settle
60  down into a state of equable low spirits, and resign myself to
61  coffee; which I seem, on looking back, to have taken by the gallon
62  at about this period of my existence. At about this time, too, I
63  made three discoveries: first, that Mrs. Crupp was a martyr to a
64  curious disorder called 'the spazzums', which was generally
65  accompanied with inflammation of the nose, and required to be
66  constantly treated with peppermint; secondly, that something
67  peculiar in the temperature of my pantry, made the brandy-bottles
68  burst; thirdly, that I was alone in the world, and much given to
69  record that circumstance in fragments of English versification.

70       On the day when I was articled, no festivity took place, beyond my
71  having sandwiches and sherry into the office for the clerks, and
72  going alone to the theatre at night. I went to see The Stranger,
73  as a Doctors' Commons sort of play, and was so dreadfully cut up,
74  that I hardly knew myself in my own glass when I got home. Mr.
75  Spenlow remarked, on this occasion, when we concluded our business,
76  that he should have been happy to have seen me at his house at
77  Norwood to celebrate our becoming connected, but for his domestic
78  arrangements being in some disorder, on account of the expected
79  return of his daughter from finishing her education at Paris. But,
80  he intimated that when she came home he should hope to have the
81  pleasure of entertaining me. I knew that he was a widower with one
82  daughter, and expressed my acknowledgements.

83       Mr. Spenlow was as good as his word. In a week or two, he referred
84  to this engagement, and said, that if I would do him the favour to
85  come down next Saturday, and stay till Monday, he would be
86  extremely happy. Of course I said I would do him the favour; and
87  he was to drive me down in his phaeton, and to bring me back.

88       When the day arrived, my very carpet-bag was an object of
89  veneration to the stipendiary clerks, to whom the house at Norwood
90  was a sacred mystery. One of them informed me that he had heard
91  that Mr. Spenlow ate entirely off plate and china; and another
92  hinted at champagne being constantly on draught, after the usual
93  custom of table-beer. The old clerk with the wig, whose name was
94  Mr. Tiffey, had been down on business several times in the course
95  of his career, and had on each occasion penetrated to the
96  breakfast-parlour. He described it as an apartment of the most
97  sumptuous nature, and said that he had drunk brown East India
98  sherry there, of a quality so precious as to make a man wink. We
99  had an adjourned cause in the Consistory that day - about
100  excommunicating a baker who had been objecting in a vestry to a
101  paving-rate - and as the evidence was just twice the length of
102  Robinson Crusoe, according to a calculation I made, it was rather
103  late in the day before we finished. However, we got him
104  excommunicated for six weeks, and sentenced in no end of costs; and
105  then the baker's proctor, and the judge, and the advocates on both
106  sides (who were all nearly related), went out of town together, and
107  Mr. Spenlow and I drove away in the phaeton.

108       The phaeton was a very handsome affair; the horses arched their
109  necks and lifted up their legs as if they knew they belonged to
110  Doctors' Commons. There was a good deal of competition in the
111  Commons on all points of display, and it turned out some very
112  choice equipages then; though I always have considered, and always
113  shall consider, that in my time the great article of competition
114  there was starch: which I think was worn among the proctors to as
115  great an extent as it is in the nature of man to bear.

116       We were very pleasant, going down, and Mr. Spenlow gave me some
117  hints in reference to my profession. He said it was the genteelest
118  profession in the world, and must on no account be confounded with
119  the profession of a solicitor: being quite another sort of thing,
120  infinitely more exclusive, less mechanical, and more profitable.
121  We took things much more easily in the Commons than they could be
122  taken anywhere else, he observed, and that set us, as a privileged
123  class, apart. He said it was impossible to conceal the
124  disagreeable fact, that we were chiefly employed by solicitors; but
125  he gave me to understand that they were an inferior race of men,
126  universally looked down upon by all proctors of any pretensions.

127       I asked Mr. Spenlow what he considered the best sort of
128  professional business? He replied, that a good case of a disputed
129  will, where there was a neat little estate of thirty or forty
130  thousand pounds, was, perhaps, the best of all. In such a case, he
131  said, not only were there very pretty pickings, in the way of
132  arguments at every stage of the proceedings, and mountains upon
133  mountains of evidence on interrogatory and counter-interrogatory
134  (to say nothing of an appeal lying, first to the Delegates, and
135  then to the Lords), but, the costs being pretty sure to come out of
136  the estate at last, both sides went at it in a lively and spirited
137  manner, and expense was no consideration. Then, he launched into
138  a general eulogium on the Commons. What was to be particularly
139  admired (he said) in the Commons, was its compactness. It was the
140  most conveniently organized place in the world. It was the
141  complete idea of snugness. It lay in a nutshell. For example: You
142  brought a divorce case, or a restitution case, into the Consistory.
143  Very good. You tried it in the Consistory. You made a quiet
144  little round game of it, among a family group, and you played it
145  out at leisure. Suppose you were not satisfied with the
146  Consistory, what did you do then? Why, you went into the Arches.
147  What was the Arches? The same court, in the same room, with the
148  same bar, and the same practitioners, but another judge, for there
149  the Consistory judge could plead any court-day as an advocate.
150  Well, you played your round game out again. Still you were not
151  satisfied. Very good. What did you do then? Why, you went to the
152  Delegates. Who were the Delegates? Why, the Ecclesiastical
153  Delegates were the advocates without any business, who had looked
154  on at the round game when it was playing in both courts, and had
155  seen the cards shuffled, and cut, and played, and had talked to all
156  the players about it, and now came fresh, as judges, to settle the
157  matter to the satisfaction of everybody! Discontented people might
158  talk of corruption in the Commons, closeness in the Commons, and
159  the necessity of reforming the Commons, said Mr. Spenlow solemnly,
160  in conclusion; but when the price of wheat per bushel had been
161  highest, the Commons had been busiest; and a man might lay his hand
162  upon his heart, and say this to the whole world, - 'Touch the
163  Commons, and down comes the country!'

164       I listened to all this with attention; and though, I must say, I
165  had my doubts whether the country was quite as much obliged to the
166  Commons as Mr. Spenlow made out, I respectfully deferred to his
167  opinion. That about the price of wheat per bushel, I modestly felt
168  was too much for my strength, and quite settled the question. I
169  have never, to this hour, got the better of that bushel of wheat.
170  It has reappeared to annihilate me, all through my life, in
171  connexion with all kinds of subjects. I don't know now, exactly,
172  what it has to do with me, or what right it has to crush me, on an
173  infinite variety of occasions; but whenever I see my old friend the
174  bushel brought in by the head and shoulders (as he always is, I
175  observe), I give up a subject for lost.

176       This is a digression. I was not the man to touch the Commons, and
177  bring down the country. I submissively expressed, by my silence,
178  my acquiescence in all I had heard from my superior in years and
179  knowledge; and we talked about The Stranger and the Drama, and the
180  pairs of horses, until we came to Mr. Spenlow's gate.

181       There was a lovely garden to Mr. Spenlow's house; and though that
182  was not the best time of the year for seeing a garden, it was so
183  beautifully kept, that I was quite enchanted. There was a charming
184  lawn, there were clusters of trees, and there were perspective
185  walks that I could just distinguish in the dark, arched over with
186  trellis-work, on which shrubs and flowers grew in the growing
187  season. 'Here Miss Spenlow walks by herself,' I thought. 'Dear
188  me!'

189       We went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up, and into
190  a hall where there were all sorts of hats, caps, great-coats,
191  plaids, gloves, whips, and walking-sticks. 'Where is Miss Dora?'
192  said Mr. Spenlow to the servant. 'Dora!' I thought. 'What a
193  beautiful name!'

194       We turned into a room near at hand (I think it was the identical
195  breakfast-room, made memorable by the brown East Indian sherry),
196  and I heard a voice say, 'Mr. Copperfield, my daughter Dora, and my
197  daughter Dora's confidential friend!' It was, no doubt, Mr.
198  Spenlow's voice, but I didn't know it, and I didn't care whose it
199  was. All was over in a moment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was
200  a captive and a slave. I loved Dora Spenlow to distraction!

201       She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don't
202  know what she was - anything that no one ever saw, and everything
203  that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love
204  in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down,
205  or looking back; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a
206  word to her.

207       'I,' observed a well-remembered voice, when I had bowed and
208  murmured something, 'have seen Mr. Copperfield before.'

209       The speaker was not Dora. No; the confidential friend, Miss
210  Murdstone!

211       I don't think I was much astonished. To the best of my judgement,
212  no capacity of astonishment was left in me. There was nothing
213  worth mentioning in the material world, but Dora Spenlow, to be
214  astonished about. I said, 'How do you do, Miss Murdstone? I hope
215  you are well.' She answered, 'Very well.' I said, 'How is Mr.
216  Murdstone?' She replied, 'My brother is robust, I am obliged to
217  you.'

218       Mr. Spenlow, who, I suppose, had been surprised to see us recognize
219  each other, then put in his word.

220       'I am glad to find,' he said, 'Copperfield, that you and Miss
221  Murdstone are already acquainted.'

222       'Mr. Copperfield and myself,' said Miss Murdstone, with severe
223  composure, 'are connexions. We were once slightly acquainted. It
224  was in his childish days. Circumstances have separated us since.
225  I should not have known him.'

226       I replied that I should have known her, anywhere. Which was true
227  enough.

228       'Miss Murdstone has had the goodness,' said Mr. Spenlow to me, 'to
229  accept the office - if I may so describe it - of my daughter Dora's
230  confidential friend. My daughter Dora having, unhappily, no
231  mother, Miss Murdstone is obliging enough to become her companion
232  and protector.'

233       A passing thought occurred to me that Miss Murdstone, like the
234  pocket instrument called a life-preserver, was not so much designed
235  for purposes of protection as of assault. But as I had none but
236  passing thoughts for any subject save Dora, I glanced at her,
237  directly afterwards, and was thinking that I saw, in her prettily
238  pettish manner, that she was not very much inclined to be
239  particularly confidential to her companion and protector, when a
240  bell rang, which Mr. Spenlow said was the first dinner-bell, and so
241  carried me off to dress.

242       The idea of dressing one's self, or doing anything in the way of
243  action, in that state of love, was a little too ridiculous. I
244  could only sit down before my fire, biting the key of my
245  carpet-bag, and think of the captivating, girlish, bright-eyed
246  lovely Dora. What a form she had, what a face she had, what a
247  graceful, variable, enchanting manner!

248       The bell rang again so soon that I made a mere scramble of my
249  dressing, instead of the careful operation I could have wished
250  under the circumstances, and went downstairs. There was some
251  company. Dora was talking to an old gentleman with a grey head.
252  Grey as he was - and a great-grandfather into the bargain, for he
253  said so - I was madly jealous of him.

254       What a state of mind I was in! I was jealous of everybody. I
255  couldn't bear the idea of anybody knowing Mr. Spenlow better than
256  I did. It was torturing to me to hear them talk of occurrences in
257  which I had had no share. When a most amiable person, with a
258  highly polished bald head, asked me across the dinner table, if
259  that were the first occasion of my seeing the grounds, I could have
260  done anything to him that was savage and revengeful.

261       I don't remember who was there, except Dora. I have not the least
262  idea what we had for dinner, besides Dora. My impression is, that
263  I dined off Dora, entirely, and sent away half-a-dozen plates
264  untouched. I sat next to her. I talked to her. She had the most
265  delightful little voice, the gayest little laugh, the pleasantest
266  and most fascinating little ways, that ever led a lost youth into
267  hopeless slavery. She was rather diminutive altogether. So much
268  the more precious, I thought.

269       When she went out of the room with Miss Murdstone (no other ladies
270  were of the party), I fell into a reverie, only disturbed by the
271  cruel apprehension that Miss Murdstone would disparage me to her.
272  The amiable creature with the polished head told me a long story,
273  which I think was about gardening. I think I heard him say, 'my
274  gardener', several times. I seemed to pay the deepest attention to
275  him, but I was wandering in a garden of Eden all the while, with
276  Dora.

277       My apprehensions of being disparaged to the object of my engrossing
278  affection were revived when we went into the drawing-room, by the
279  grim and distant aspect of Miss Murdstone. But I was relieved of
280  them in an unexpected manner.

281       'David Copperfield,' said Miss Murdstone, beckoning me aside into
282  a window. 'A word.'

283       I confronted Miss Murdstone alone.

284       'David Copperfield,' said Miss Murdstone, 'I need not enlarge upon
285  family circumstances. They are not a tempting subject.'
286  'Far from it, ma'am,' I returned.

287       'Far from it,' assented Miss Murdstone. 'I do not wish to revive
288  the memory of past differences, or of past outrages. I have
289  received outrages from a person - a female I am sorry to say, for
290  the credit of my sex - who is not to be mentioned without scorn and
291  disgust; and therefore I would rather not mention her.'

292       I felt very fiery on my aunt's account; but I said it would
293  certainly be better, if Miss Murdstone pleased, not to mention her.
294  I could not hear her disrespectfully mentioned, I added, without
295  expressing my opinion in a decided tone.

296       Miss Murdstone shut her eyes, and disdainfully inclined her head;
297  then, slowly opening her eyes, resumed:

298       'David Copperfield, I shall not attempt to disguise the fact, that
299  I formed an unfavourable opinion of you in your childhood. It may
300  have been a mistaken one, or you may have ceased to justify it.
301  That is not in question between us now. I belong to a family
302  remarkable, I believe, for some firmness; and I am not the creature
303  of circumstance or change. I may have my opinion of you. You may
304  have your opinion of me.'

305       I inclined my head, in my turn.

306       'But it is not necessary,' said Miss Murdstone, 'that these
307  opinions should come into collision here. Under existing
308  circumstances, it is as well on all accounts that they should not.
309  As the chances of life have brought us together again, and may
310  bring us together on other occasions, I would say, let us meet here
311  as distant acquaintances. Family circumstances are a sufficient
312  reason for our only meeting on that footing, and it is quite
313  unnecessary that either of us should make the other the subject of
314  remark. Do you approve of this?'

315       'Miss Murdstone,' I returned, 'I think you and Mr. Murdstone used
316  me very cruelly, and treated my mother with great unkindness. I
317  shall always think so, as long as I live. But I quite agree in
318  what you propose.'

319       Miss Murdstone shut her eyes again, and bent her head. Then, just
320  touching the back of my hand with the tips of her cold, stiff
321  fingers, she walked away, arranging the little fetters on her
322  wrists and round her neck; which seemed to be the same set, in
323  exactly the same state, as when I had seen her last. These
324  reminded me, in reference to Miss Murdstone's nature, of the
325  fetters over a jail door; suggesting on the outside, to all
326  beholders, what was to be expected within.

327       All I know of the rest of the evening is, that I heard the empress
328  of my heart sing enchanted ballads in the French language,
329  generally to the effect that, whatever was the matter, we ought
330  always to dance, Ta ra la, Ta ra la! accompanying herself on a
331  glorified instrument, resembling a guitar. That I was lost in
332  blissful delirium. That I refused refreshment. That my soul
333  recoiled from punch particularly. That when Miss Murdstone took
334  her into custody and led her away, she smiled and gave me her
335  delicious hand. That I caught a view of myself in a mirror,
336  looking perfectly imbecile and idiotic. That I retired to bed in
337  a most maudlin state of mind, and got up in a crisis of feeble
338  infatuation.

339       It was a fine morning, and early, and I thought I would go and take
340  a stroll down one of those wire-arched walks, and indulge my
341  passion by dwelling on her image. On my way through the hall, I
342  encountered her little dog, who was called Jip - short for Gipsy.
343  I approached him tenderly, for I loved even him; but he showed his
344  whole set of teeth, got under a chair expressly to snarl, and
345  wouldn't hear of the least familiarity.

346       The garden was cool and solitary. I walked about, wondering what
347  my feelings of happiness would be, if I could ever become engaged
348  to this dear wonder. As to marriage, and fortune, and all that, I
349  believe I was almost as innocently undesigning then, as when I
350  loved little Em'ly. To be allowed to call her 'Dora', to write to
351  her, to dote upon and worship her, to have reason to think that
352  when she was with other people she was yet mindful of me, seemed to
353  me the summit of human ambition - I am sure it was the summit of
354  mine. There is no doubt whatever that I was a lackadaisical young
355  spooney; but there was a purity of heart in all this, that prevents
356  my having quite a contemptuous recollection of it, let me laugh as
357  I may.

358       I had not been walking long, when I turned a corner, and met her.
359  I tingle again from head to foot as my recollection turns that
360  corner, and my pen shakes in my hand.

361       'You - are - out early, Miss Spenlow,' said I.

362       'It's so stupid at home,' she replied, 'and Miss Murdstone is so
363  absurd! She talks such nonsense about its being necessary for the
364  day to be aired, before I come out. Aired!' (She laughed, here, in
365  the most melodious manner.) 'On a Sunday morning, when I don't
366  practise, I must do something. So I told papa last night I must
367  come out. Besides, it's the brightest time of the whole day.
368  Don't you think so?'

369       I hazarded a bold flight, and said (not without stammering) that it
370  was very bright to me then, though it had been very dark to me a
371  minute before.

372       'Do you mean a compliment?' said Dora, 'or that the weather has
373  really changed?'

374       I stammered worse than before, in replying that I meant no
375  compliment, but the plain truth; though I was not aware of any
376  change having taken place in the weather. It was in the state of
377  my own feelings, I added bashfully: to clench the explanation.

378       I never saw such curls - how could I, for there never were such
379  curls! - as those she shook out to hide her blushes. As to the
380  straw hat and blue ribbons which was on the top of the curls, if I
381  could only have hung it up in my room in Buckingham Street, what a
382  priceless possession it would have been!

383       'You have just come home from Paris,' said I.

384       'Yes,' said she. 'Have you ever been there?'

385       'No.'

386       'Oh! I hope you'll go soon! You would like it so much!'

387       Traces of deep-seated anguish appeared in my countenance. That she
388  should hope I would go, that she should think it possible I could
389  go, was insupportable. I depreciated Paris; I depreciated France.
390  I said I wouldn't leave England, under existing circumstances, for
391  any earthly consideration. Nothing should induce me. In short,
392  she was shaking the curls again, when the little dog came running
393  along the walk to our relief.

394       He was mortally jealous of me, and persisted in barking at me. She
395  took him up in her arms - oh my goodness! - and caressed him, but
396  he persisted upon barking still. He wouldn't let me touch him,
397  when I tried; and then she beat him. It increased my sufferings
398  greatly to see the pats she gave him for punishment on the bridge
399  of his blunt nose, while he winked his eyes, and licked her hand,
400  and still growled within himself like a little double-bass. At
401  length he was quiet - well he might be with her dimpled chin upon
402  his head! - and we walked away to look at a greenhouse.

403       'You are not very intimate with Miss Murdstone, are you?' said
404  Dora. -'My pet.'

405       (The two last words were to the dog. Oh, if they had only been to
406  me!)

407       'No,' I replied. 'Not at all so.'

408       'She is a tiresome creature,' said Dora, pouting. 'I can't think
409  what papa can have been about, when he chose such a vexatious thing
410  to be my companion. Who wants a protector? I am sure I don't want
411  a protector. Jip can protect me a great deal better than Miss
412  Murdstone, - can't you, Jip, dear?'

413       He only winked lazily, when she kissed his ball of a head.

414       'Papa calls her my confidential friend, but I am sure she is no
415  such thing - is she, Jip? We are not going to confide in any such
416  cross people, Jip and I. We mean to bestow our confidence where we
417  like, and to find out our own friends, instead of having them found
418  out for us - don't we, Jip?'

419       jip made a comfortable noise, in answer, a little like a tea-kettle
420  when it sings. As for me, every word was a new heap of fetters,
421  riveted above the last.

422       'It is very hard, because we have not a kind Mama, that we are to
423  have, instead, a sulky, gloomy old thing like Miss Murdstone,
424  always following us about - isn't it, Jip? Never mind, Jip. We
425  won't be confidential, and we'll make ourselves as happy as we can
426  in spite of her, and we'll tease her, and not please her - won't
427  we, Jip?'

428       If it had lasted any longer, I think I must have gone down on my
429  knees on the gravel, with the probability before me of grazing
430  them, and of being presently ejected from the premises besides.
431  But, by good fortune the greenhouse was not far off, and these
432  words brought us to it.

433       It contained quite a show of beautiful geraniums. We loitered
434  along in front of them, and Dora often stopped to admire this one
435  or that one, and I stopped to admire the same one, and Dora,
436  laughing, held the dog up childishly, to smell the flowers; and if
437  we were not all three in Fairyland, certainly I was. The scent of
438  a geranium leaf, at this day, strikes me with a half comical half
439  serious wonder as to what change has come over me in a moment; and
440  then I see a straw hat and blue ribbons, and a quantity of curls,
441  and a little black dog being held up, in two slender arms, against
442  a bank of blossoms and bright leaves.

443       Miss Murdstone had been looking for us. She found us here; and
444  presented her uncongenial cheek, the little wrinkles in it filled
445  with hair powder, to Dora to be kissed. Then she took Dora's arm
446  in hers, and marched us into breakfast as if it were a soldier's
447  funeral.

448       How many cups of tea I drank, because Dora made it, I don't know.
449  But, I perfectly remember that I sat swilling tea until my whole
450  nervous system, if I had had any in those days, must have gone by
451  the board. By and by we went to church. Miss Murdstone was
452  between Dora and me in the pew; but I heard her sing, and the
453  congregation vanished. A sermon was delivered - about Dora, of
454  course - and I am afraid that is all I know of the service.

455       We had a quiet day. No company, a walk, a family dinner of four,
456  and an evening of looking over books and pictures; Miss Murdstone
457  with a homily before her, and her eye upon us, keeping guard
458  vigilantly. Ah! little did Mr. Spenlow imagine, when he sat
459  opposite to me after dinner that day, with his pocket-handkerchief
460  over his head, how fervently I was embracing him, in my fancy, as
461  his son-in-law! Little did he think, when I took leave of him at
462  night, that he had just given his full consent to my being engaged
463  to Dora, and that I was invoking blessings on his head!

464       We departed early in the morning, for we had a Salvage case coming
465  on in the Admiralty Court, requiring a rather accurate knowledge of
466  the whole science of navigation, in which (as we couldn't be
467  expected to know much about those matters in the Commons) the judge
468  had entreated two old Trinity Masters, for charity's sake, to come
469  and help him out. Dora was at the breakfast-table to make the tea
470  again, however; and I had the melancholy pleasure of taking off my
471  hat to her in the phaeton, as she stood on the door-step with Jip
472  in her arms.

473       What the Admiralty was to me that day; what nonsense I made of our
474  case in my mind, as I listened to it; how I saw 'DORA' engraved
475  upon the blade of the silver oar which they lay upon the table, as
476  the emblem of that high jurisdiction; and how I felt when Mr.
477  Spenlow went home without me (I had had an insane hope that he
478  might take me back again), as if I were a mariner myself, and the
479  ship to which I belonged had sailed away and left me on a desert
480  island; I shall make no fruitless effort to describe. If that
481  sleepy old court could rouse itself, and present in any visible
482  form the daydreams I have had in it about Dora, it would reveal my
483  truth.

484       I don't mean the dreams that I dreamed on that day alone, but day
485  after day, from week to week, and term to term. I went there, not
486  to attend to what was going on, but to think about Dora. If ever
487  I bestowed a thought upon the cases, as they dragged their slow
488  length before me, it was only to wonder, in the matrimonial cases
489  (remembering Dora), how it was that married people could ever be
490  otherwise than happy; and, in the Prerogative cases, to consider,
491  if the money in question had been left to me, what were the
492  foremost steps I should immediately have taken in regard to Dora.
493  Within the first week of my passion, I bought four sumptuous
494  waistcoats - not for myself; I had no pride in them; for Dora - and
495  took to wearing straw-coloured kid gloves in the streets, and laid
496  the foundations of all the corns I have ever had. If the boots I
497  wore at that period could only be produced and compared with the
498  natural size of my feet, they would show what the state of my heart
499  was, in a most affecting manner.

500       And yet, wretched cripple as I made myself by this act of homage to
501  Dora, I walked miles upon miles daily in the hope of seeing her.
502  Not only was I soon as well known on the Norwood Road as the
503  postmen on that beat, but I pervaded London likewise. I walked
504  about the streets where the best shops for ladies were, I haunted
505  the Bazaar like an unquiet spirit, I fagged through the Park again
506  and again, long after I was quite knocked up. Sometimes, at long
507  intervals and on rare occasions, I saw her. Perhaps I saw her
508  glove waved in a carriage window; perhaps I met her, walked with
509  her and Miss Murdstone a little way, and spoke to her. In the
510  latter case I was always very miserable afterwards, to think that
511  I had said nothing to the purpose; or that she had no idea of the
512  extent of my devotion, or that she cared nothing about me. I was
513  always looking out, as may be supposed, for another invitation to
514  Mr. Spenlow's house. I was always being disappointed, for I got
515  none.

516       Mrs. Crupp must have been a woman of penetration; for when this
517  attachment was but a few weeks old, and I had not had the courage
518  to write more explicitly even to Agnes, than that I had been to Mr.
519  Spenlow's house, 'whose family,' I added, 'consists of one
520  daughter'; - I say Mrs. Crupp must have been a woman of
521  penetration, for, even in that early stage, she found it out. She
522  came up to me one evening, when I was very low, to ask (she being
523  then afflicted with the disorder I have mentioned) if I could
524  oblige her with a little tincture of cardamums mixed with rhubarb,
525  and flavoured with seven drops of the essence of cloves, which was
526  the best remedy for her complaint; - or, if I had not such a thing
527  by me, with a little brandy, which was the next best. It was not,
528  she remarked, so palatable to her, but it was the next best. As I
529  had never even heard of the first remedy, and always had the second
530  in the closet, I gave Mrs. Crupp a glass of the second, which (that
531  I might have no suspicion of its being devoted to any improper use)
532  she began to take in my presence.

533       'Cheer up, sir,' said Mrs. Crupp. 'I can't abear to see you so,
534  sir: I'm a mother myself.'

535       I did not quite perceive the application of this fact to myself,
536  but I smiled on Mrs. Crupp, as benignly as was in my power.

537       'Come, sir,' said Mrs. Crupp. 'Excuse me. I know what it is, sir.
538  There's a lady in the case.'

539       'Mrs. Crupp?' I returned, reddening.

540       'Oh, bless you! Keep a good heart, sir!' said Mrs. Crupp, nodding
541  encouragement. 'Never say die, sir! If She don't smile upon you,
542  there's a many as will. You are a young gentleman to be smiled on,
543  Mr. Copperfull, and you must learn your walue, sir.'

544       Mrs. Crupp always called me Mr. Copperfull: firstly, no doubt,
545  because it was not my name; and secondly, I am inclined to think,
546  in some indistinct association with a washing-day.

547       'What makes you suppose there is any young lady in the case, Mrs.
548  Crupp?' said I.

549       'Mr. Copperfull,' said Mrs. Crupp, with a great deal of feeling,
550  'I'm a mother myself.'

551       For some time Mrs. Crupp could only lay her hand upon her nankeen
552  bosom, and fortify herself against returning pain with sips of her
553  medicine. At length she spoke again.

554       'When the present set were took for you by your dear aunt, Mr.
555  Copperfull,' said Mrs. Crupp, 'my remark were, I had now found
556  summun I could care for. "Thank Ev'in!" were the expression, "I
557  have now found summun I can care for!" - You don't eat enough, sir,
558  nor yet drink.'

559       'Is that what you found your supposition on, Mrs. Crupp?' said I.

560       'Sir,' said Mrs. Crupp, in a tone approaching to severity, 'I've
561  laundressed other young gentlemen besides yourself. A young
562  gentleman may be over-careful of himself, or he may be
563  under-careful of himself. He may brush his hair too regular, or
564  too un-regular. He may wear his boots much too large for him, or
565  much too small. That is according as the young gentleman has his
566  original character formed. But let him go to which extreme he may,
567  sir, there's a young lady in both of 'em.'

568       Mrs. Crupp shook her head in such a determined manner, that I had
569  not an inch of vantage-ground left.

570       'It was but the gentleman which died here before yourself,' said
571  Mrs. Crupp, 'that fell in love - with a barmaid - and had his
572  waistcoats took in directly, though much swelled by drinking.'

573       'Mrs. Crupp,' said I, 'I must beg you not to connect the young lady
574  in my case with a barmaid, or anything of that sort, if you
575  please.'

576       'Mr. Copperfull,' returned Mrs. Crupp, 'I'm a mother myself, and
577  not likely. I ask your pardon, sir, if I intrude. I should never
578  wish to intrude where I were not welcome. But you are a young
579  gentleman, Mr. Copperfull, and my adwice to you is, to cheer up,
580  sir, to keep a good heart, and to know your own walue. If you was
581  to take to something, sir,' said Mrs. Crupp, 'if you was to take to
582  skittles, now, which is healthy, you might find it divert your
583  mind, and do you good.'

584       With these words, Mrs. Crupp, affecting to be very careful of the
585  brandy - which was all gone - thanked me with a majestic curtsey,
586  and retired. As her figure disappeared into the gloom of the
587  entry, this counsel certainly presented itself to my mind in the
588  light of a slight liberty on Mrs. Crupp's part; but, at the same
589  time, I was content to receive it, in another point of view, as a
590  word to the wise, and a warning in future to keep my secret better.

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