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Charles Dickens
Chapter 33
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       All this time, I had gone on loving Dora, harder than ever. Her
2  idea was my refuge in disappointment and distress, and made some
3  amends to me, even for the loss of my friend. The more I pitied
4  myself, or pitied others, the more I sought for consolation in the
5  image of Dora. The greater the accumulation of deceit and trouble
6  in the world, the brighter and the purer shone the star of Dora
7  high above the world. I don't think I had any definite idea where
8  Dora came from, or in what degree she was related to a higher order
9  of beings; but I am quite sure I should have scouted the notion of
10  her being simply human, like any other young lady, with indignation
11  and contempt.

12       If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely
13  over head and ears in love with her, but I was saturated through
14  and through. Enough love might have been wrung out of me,
15  metaphorically speaking, to drown anybody in; and yet there would
16  have remained enough within me, and all over me, to pervade my
17  entire existence.

18       The first thing I did, on my own account, when I came back, was to
19  take a night-walk to Norwood, and, like the subject of a venerable
20  riddle of my childhood, to go 'round and round the house, without
21  ever touching the house', thinking about Dora. I believe the theme
22  of this incomprehensible conundrum was the moon. No matter what it
23  was, I, the moon-struck slave of Dora, perambulated round and round
24  the house and garden for two hours, looking through crevices in the
25  palings, getting my chin by dint of violent exertion above the
26  rusty nails on the top, blowing kisses at the lights in the
27  windows, and romantically calling on the night, at intervals, to
28  shield my Dora - I don't exactly know what from, I suppose from
29  fire. Perhaps from mice, to which she had a great objection.

30       My love was so much in my mind and it was so natural to me to
31  confide in Peggotty, when I found her again by my side of an
32  evening with the old set of industrial implements, busily making
33  the tour of my wardrobe, that I imparted to her, in a sufficiently
34  roundabout way, my great secret. Peggotty was strongly interested,
35  but I could not get her into my view of the case at all. She was
36  audaciously prejudiced in my favour, and quite unable to understand
37  why I should have any misgivings, or be low-spirited about it.
38  'The young lady might think herself well off,' she observed, 'to
39  have such a beau. And as to her Pa,' she said, 'what did the
40  gentleman expect, for gracious sake!'

41       I observed, however, that Mr. Spenlow's proctorial gown and stiff
42  cravat took Peggotty down a little, and inspired her with a greater
43  reverence for the man who was gradually becoming more and more
44  etherealized in my eyes every day, and about whom a reflected
45  radiance seemed to me to beam when he sat erect in Court among his
46  papers, like a little lighthouse in a sea of stationery. And by
47  the by, it used to be uncommonly strange to me to consider, I
48  remember, as I sat in Court too, how those dim old judges and
49  doctors wouldn't have cared for Dora, if they had known her; how
50  they wouldn't have gone out of their senses with rapture, if
51  marriage with Dora had been proposed to them; how Dora might have
52  sung, and played upon that glorified guitar, until she led me to
53  the verge of madness, yet not have tempted one of those slow-goers
54  an inch out of his road!

55       I despised them, to a man. Frozen-out old gardeners in the
56  flower-beds of the heart, I took a personal offence against them
57  all. The Bench was nothing to me but an insensible blunderer. The
58  Bar had no more tenderness or poetry in it, than the bar of a
59  public-house.

60       Taking the management of Peggotty's affairs into my own hands, with
61  no little pride, I proved the will, and came to a settlement with
62  the Legacy Duty-office, and took her to the Bank, and soon got
63  everything into an orderly train. We varied the legal character of
64  these proceedings by going to see some perspiring Wax-work, in
65  Fleet Street (melted, I should hope, these twenty years); and by
66  visiting Miss Linwood's Exhibition, which I remember as a Mausoleum
67  of needlework, favourable to self-examination and repentance; and
68  by inspecting the Tower of London; and going to the top of St.
69  Paul's. All these wonders afforded Peggotty as much pleasure as
70  she was able to enjoy, under existing circumstances: except, I
71  think, St. Paul's, which, from her long attachment to her work-box,
72  became a rival of the picture on the lid, and was, in some
73  particulars, vanquished, she considered, by that work of art.

74       Peggotty's business, which was what we used to call 'common-form
75  business' in the Commons (and very light and lucrative the
76  common-form business was), being settled, I took her down to the
77  office one morning to pay her bill. Mr. Spenlow had stepped out,
78  old Tiffey said, to get a gentleman sworn for a marriage licence;
79  but as I knew he would be back directly, our place lying close to
80  the Surrogate's, and to the Vicar-General's office too, I told
81  Peggotty to wait.

82       We were a little like undertakers, in the Commons, as regarded
83  Probate transactions; generally making it a rule to look more or
84  less cut up, when we had to deal with clients in mourning. In a
85  similar feeling of delicacy, we were always blithe and
86  light-hearted with the licence clients. Therefore I hinted to
87  Peggotty that she would find Mr. Spenlow much recovered from the
88  shock of Mr. Barkis's decease; and indeed he came in like a
89  bridegroom.

90       But neither Peggotty nor I had eyes for him, when we saw, in
91  company with him, Mr. Murdstone. He was very little changed. His
92  hair looked as thick, and was certainly as black, as ever; and his
93  glance was as little to be trusted as of old.

94       'Ah, Copperfield?' said Mr. Spenlow. 'You know this gentleman, I
95  believe?'

96       I made my gentleman a distant bow, and Peggotty barely recognized
97  him. He was, at first, somewhat disconcerted to meet us two
98  together; but quickly decided what to do, and came up to me.

99       'I hope,' he said, 'that you are doing well?'

100       'It can hardly be interesting to you,' said I. 'Yes, if you wish
101  to know.'

102       We looked at each other, and he addressed himself to Peggotty.

103       'And you,' said he. 'I am sorry to observe that you have lost your
104  husband.'

105       'It's not the first loss I have had in my life, Mr. Murdstone,'
106  replied Peggotty, trembling from head to foot. 'I am glad to hope
107  that there is nobody to blame for this one, - nobody to answer for
108  it.'

109       'Ha!' said he; 'that's a comfortable reflection. You have done
110  your duty?'

111       'I have not worn anybody's life away,' said Peggotty, 'I am
112  thankful to think! No, Mr. Murdstone, I have not worrited and
113  frightened any sweet creetur to an early grave!'

114       He eyed her gloomily - remorsefully I thought - for an instant; and
115  said, turning his head towards me, but looking at my feet instead
116  of my face:

117       'We are not likely to encounter soon again; - a source of
118  satisfaction to us both, no doubt, for such meetings as this can
119  never be agreeable. I do not expect that you, who always rebelled
120  against my just authority, exerted for your benefit and
121  reformation, should owe me any good-will now. There is an
122  antipathy between us -'

123       'An old one, I believe?' said I, interrupting him.

124       He smiled, and shot as evil a glance at me as could come from his
125  dark eyes.

126       'It rankled in your baby breast,' he said. 'It embittered the life
127  of your poor mother. You are right. I hope you may do better,
128  yet; I hope you may correct yourself.'

129       Here he ended the dialogue, which had been carried on in a low
130  voice, in a corner of the outer office, by passing into Mr.
131  Spenlow's room, and saying aloud, in his smoothest manner:

132       'Gentlemen of Mr. Spenlow's profession are accustomed to family
133  differences, and know how complicated and difficult they always
134  are!' With that, he paid the money for his licence; and, receiving
135  it neatly folded from Mr. Spenlow, together with a shake of the
136  hand, and a polite wish for his happiness and the lady's, went out
137  of the office.

138       I might have had more difficulty in constraining myself to be
139  silent under his words, if I had had less difficulty in impressing
140  upon Peggotty (who was only angry on my account, good creature!)
141  that we were not in a place for recrimination, and that I besought
142  her to hold her peace. She was so unusually roused, that I was
143  glad to compound for an affectionate hug, elicited by this revival
144  in her mind of our old injuries, and to make the best I could of
145  it, before Mr. Spenlow and the clerks.

146       Mr. Spenlow did not appear to know what the connexion between Mr.
147  Murdstone and myself was; which I was glad of, for I could not bear
148  to acknowledge him, even in my own breast, remembering what I did
149  of the history of my poor mother. Mr. Spenlow seemed to think, if
150  he thought anything about the matter, that my aunt was the leader
151  of the state party in our family, and that there was a rebel party
152  commanded by somebody else - so I gathered at least from what he
153  said, while we were waiting for Mr. Tiffey to make out Peggotty's
154  bill of costs.

155       'Miss Trotwood,' he remarked, 'is very firm, no doubt, and not
156  likely to give way to opposition. I have an admiration for her
157  character, and I may congratulate you, Copperfield, on being on the
158  right side. Differences between relations are much to be deplored
159  - but they are extremely general - and the great thing is, to be on
160  the right side': meaning, I take it, on the side of the moneyed
161  interest.

162       'Rather a good marriage this, I believe?' said Mr. Spenlow.

163       I explained that I knew nothing about it.

164       'Indeed!' he said. 'Speaking from the few words Mr. Murdstone
165  dropped - as a man frequently does on these occasions - and from
166  what Miss Murdstone let fall, I should say it was rather a good
167  marriage.'

168       'Do you mean that there is money, sir?' I asked.

169       'Yes,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'I understand there's money. Beauty too,
170  I am told.'

171       'Indeed! Is his new wife young?'

172       'Just of age,' said Mr. Spenlow. 'So lately, that I should think
173  they had been waiting for that.'

174       'Lord deliver her!' said Peggotty. So very emphatically and
175  unexpectedly, that we were all three discomposed; until Tiffey came
176  in with the bill.

177       Old Tiffey soon appeared, however, and handed it to Mr. Spenlow, to
178  look over. Mr. Spenlow, settling his chin in his cravat and
179  rubbing it softly, went over the items with a deprecatory air - as
180  if it were all Jorkins's doing - and handed it back to Tiffey with
181  a bland sigh.

182       'Yes,' he said. 'That's right. Quite right. I should have been
183  extremely happy, Copperfield, to have limited these charges to the
184  actual expenditure out of pocket, but it is an irksome incident in
185  my professional life, that I am not at liberty to consult my own
186  wishes. I have a partner - Mr. Jorkins.'

187       As he said this with a gentle melancholy, which was the next thing
188  to making no charge at all, I expressed my acknowledgements on
189  Peggotty's behalf, and paid Tiffey in banknotes. Peggotty then
190  retired to her lodging, and Mr. Spenlow and I went into Court,
191  where we had a divorce-suit coming on, under an ingenious little
192  statute (repealed now, I believe, but in virtue of which I have
193  seen several marriages annulled), of which the merits were these.
194  The husband, whose name was Thomas Benjamin, had taken out his
195  marriage licence as Thomas only; suppressing the Benjamin, in case
196  he should not find himself as comfortable as he expected. NOT
197  finding himself as comfortable as he expected, or being a little
198  fatigued with his wife, poor fellow, he now came forward, by a
199  friend, after being married a year or two, and declared that his
200  name was Thomas Benjamin, and therefore he was not married at all.
201  Which the Court confirmed, to his great satisfaction.

202       I must say that I had my doubts about the strict justice of this,
203  and was not even frightened out of them by the bushel of wheat
204  which reconciles all anomalies. But Mr. Spenlow argued the matter
205  with me. He said, Look at the world, there was good and evil in
206  that; look at the ecclesiastical law, there was good and evil in
207  THAT. It was all part of a system. Very good. There you were!

208       I had not the hardihood to suggest to Dora's father that possibly
209  we might even improve the world a little, if we got up early in the
210  morning, and took off our coats to the work; but I confessed that
211  I thought we might improve the Commons. Mr. Spenlow replied that
212  he would particularly advise me to dismiss that idea from my mind,
213  as not being worthy of my gentlemanly character; but that he would
214  be glad to hear from me of what improvement I thought the Commons
215  susceptible?

216       Taking that part of the Commons which happened to be nearest to us
217  - for our man was unmarried by this time, and we were out of Court,
218  and strolling past the Prerogative Office - I submitted that I
219  thought the Prerogative Office rather a queerly managed
220  institution. Mr. Spenlow inquired in what respect? I replied,
221  with all due deference to his experience (but with more deference,
222  I am afraid, to his being Dora's father), that perhaps it was a
223  little nonsensical that the Registry of that Court, containing the
224  original wills of all persons leaving effects within the immense
225  province of Canterbury, for three whole centuries, should be an
226  accidental building, never designed for the purpose, leased by the
227  registrars for their Own private emolument, unsafe, not even
228  ascertained to be fire-proof, choked with the important documents
229  it held, and positively, from the roof to the basement, a mercenary
230  speculation of the registrars, who took great fees from the public,
231  and crammed the public's wills away anyhow and anywhere, having no
232  other object than to get rid of them cheaply. That, perhaps, it
233  was a little unreasonable that these registrars in the receipt of
234  profits amounting to eight or nine thousand pounds a year (to say
235  nothing of the profits of the deputy registrars, and clerks of
236  seats), should not be obliged to spend a little of that money, in
237  finding a reasonably safe place for the important documents which
238  all classes of people were compelled to hand over to them, whether
239  they would or no. That, perhaps, it was a little unjust, that all
240  the great offices in this great office should be magnificent
241  sinecures, while the unfortunate working-clerks in the cold dark
242  room upstairs were the worst rewarded, and the least considered
243  men, doing important services, in London. That perhaps it was a
244  little indecent that the principal registrar of all, whose duty it
245  was to find the public, constantly resorting to this place, all
246  needful accommodation, should be an enormous sinecurist in virtue
247  of that post (and might be, besides, a clergyman, a pluralist, the
248  holder of a staff in a cathedral, and what not), - while the public
249  was put to the inconvenience of which we had a specimen every
250  afternoon when the office was busy, and which we knew to be quite
251  monstrous. That, perhaps, in short, this Prerogative Office of the
252  diocese of Canterbury was altogether such a pestilent job, and such
253  a pernicious absurdity, that but for its being squeezed away in a
254  corner of St. Paul's Churchyard, which few people knew, it must
255  have been turned completely inside out, and upside down, long ago.

256       Mr. Spenlow smiled as I became modestly warm on the subject, and
257  then argued this question with me as he had argued the other. He
258  said, what was it after all? It was a question of feeling. If the
259  public felt that their wills were in safe keeping, and took it for
260  granted that the office was not to be made better, who was the
261  worse for it? Nobody. Who was the better for it? All the
262  Sinecurists. Very well. Then the good predominated. It might not
263  be a perfect system; nothing was perfect; but what he objected to,
264  was, the insertion of the wedge. Under the Prerogative Office, the
265  country had been glorious. Insert the wedge into the Prerogative
266  Office, and the country would cease to be glorious. He considered
267  it the principle of a gentleman to take things as he found them;
268  and he had no doubt the Prerogative Office would last our time. I
269  deferred to his opinion, though I had great doubts of it myself.
270  I find he was right, however; for it has not only lasted to the
271  present moment, but has done so in the teeth of a great
272  parliamentary report made (not too willingly) eighteen years ago,
273  when all these objections of mine were set forth in detail, and
274  when the existing stowage for wills was described as equal to the
275  accumulation of only two years and a half more. What they have
276  done with them since; whether they have lost many, or whether they
277  sell any, now and then, to the butter shops; I don't know. I am
278  glad mine is not there, and I hope it may not go there, yet awhile.

279       I have set all this down, in my present blissful chapter, because
280  here it comes into its natural place. Mr. Spenlow and I falling
281  into this conversation, prolonged it and our saunter to and fro,
282  until we diverged into general topics. And so it came about, in
283  the end, that Mr. Spenlow told me this day week was Dora's
284  birthday, and he would be glad if I would come down and join a
285  little picnic on the occasion. I went out of my senses
286  immediately; became a mere driveller next day, on receipt of a
287  little lace-edged sheet of note-paper, 'Favoured by papa. To
288  remind'; and passed the intervening period in a state of dotage.

289       I think I committed every possible absurdity in the way of
290  preparation for this blessed event. I turn hot when I remember the
291  cravat I bought. My boots might be placed in any collection of
292  instruments of torture. I provided, and sent down by the Norwood
293  coach the night before, a delicate little hamper, amounting in
294  itself, I thought, almost to a declaration. There were crackers in
295  it with the tenderest mottoes that could be got for money. At six
296  in the morning, I was in Covent Garden Market, buying a bouquet for
297  Dora. At ten I was on horseback (I hired a gallant grey, for the
298  occasion), with the bouquet in my hat, to keep it fresh, trotting
299  down to Norwood.

300       I suppose that when I saw Dora in the garden and pretended not to
301  see her, and rode past the house pretending to be anxiously looking
302  for it, I committed two small fooleries which other young gentlemen
303  in my circumstances might have committed - because they came so
304  very natural to me. But oh! when I DID find the house, and DID
305  dismount at the garden-gate, and drag those stony-hearted boots
306  across the lawn to Dora sitting on a garden-seat under a lilac
307  tree, what a spectacle she was, upon that beautiful morning, among
308  the butterflies, in a white chip bonnet and a dress of celestial
309  blue! There was a young lady with her - comparatively stricken in
310  years - almost twenty, I should say. Her name was Miss Mills. and
311  Dora called her Julia. She was the bosom friend of Dora. Happy
312  Miss Mills!

313       Jip was there, and Jip WOULD bark at me again. When I presented my
314  bouquet, he gnashed his teeth with jealousy. Well he might. If he
315  had the least idea how I adored his mistress, well he might!

316       'Oh, thank you, Mr. Copperfield! What dear flowers!' said Dora.

317       I had had an intention of saying (and had been studying the best
318  form of words for three miles) that I thought them beautiful before
319  I saw them so near HER. But I couldn't manage it. She was too
320  bewildering. To see her lay the flowers against her little dimpled
321  chin, was to lose all presence of mind and power of language in a
322  feeble ecstasy. I wonder I didn't say, 'Kill me, if you have a
323  heart, Miss Mills. Let me die here!'

324       Then Dora held my flowers to Jip to smell. Then Jip growled, and
325  wouldn't smell them. Then Dora laughed, and held them a little
326  closer to Jip, to make him. Then Jip laid hold of a bit of
327  geranium with his teeth, and worried imaginary cats in it. Then
328  Dora beat him, and pouted, and said, 'My poor beautiful flowers!'
329  as compassionately, I thought, as if Jip had laid hold of me. I
330  wished he had!

331       'You'll be so glad to hear, Mr. Copperfield,' said Dora, 'that that
332  cross Miss Murdstone is not here. She has gone to her brother's
333  marriage, and will be away at least three weeks. Isn't that
334  delightful?'

335       I said I was sure it must be delightful to her, and all that was
336  delightful to her was delightful to me. Miss Mills, with an air of
337  superior wisdom and benevolence, smiled upon us.

338       'She is the most disagreeable thing I ever saw,' said Dora. 'You
339  can't believe how ill-tempered and shocking she is, Julia.'

340       'Yes, I can, my dear!' said Julia.

341       'YOU can, perhaps, love,' returned Dora, with her hand on julia's.
342  'Forgive my not excepting you, my dear, at first.'

343       I learnt, from this, that Miss Mills had had her trials in the
344  course of a chequered existence; and that to these, perhaps, I
345  might refer that wise benignity of manner which I had already
346  noticed. i found, in the course of the day, that this was the
347  case: Miss Mills having been unhappy in a misplaced affection, and
348  being understood to have retired from the world on her awful stock
349  of experience, but still to take a calm interest in the unblighted
350  hopes and loves of youth.

351       But now Mr. Spenlow came out of the house, and Dora went to him,
352  saying, 'Look, papa, what beautiful flowers!' And Miss Mills smiled
353  thoughtfully, as who should say, 'Ye Mayflies, enjoy your brief
354  existence in the bright morning of life!' And we all walked from
355  the lawn towards the carriage, which was getting ready.

356       I shall never have such a ride again. I have never had such
357  another. There were only those three, their hamper, my hamper, and
358  the guitar-case, in the phaeton; and, of course, the phaeton was
359  open; and I rode behind it, and Dora sat with her back to the
360  horses, looking towards me. She kept the bouquet close to her on
361  the cushion, and wouldn't allow Jip to sit on that side of her at
362  all, for fear he should crush it. She often carried it in her
363  hand, often refreshed herself with its fragrance. Our eyes at
364  those times often met; and my great astonishment is that I didn't
365  go over the head of my gallant grey into the carriage.

366       There was dust, I believe. There was a good deal of dust, I
367  believe. I have a faint impression that Mr. Spenlow remonstrated
368  with me for riding in it; but I knew of none. I was sensible of a
369  mist of love and beauty about Dora, but of nothing else. He stood
370  up sometimes, and asked me what I thought of the prospect. I said
371  it was delightful, and I dare say it was; but it was all Dora to
372  me. The sun shone Dora, and the birds sang Dora. The south wind
373  blew Dora, and the wild flowers in the hedges were all Doras, to a
374  bud. My comfort is, Miss Mills understood me. Miss Mills alone
375  could enter into my feelings thoroughly.

376       I don't know how long we were going, and to this hour I know as
377  little where we went. Perhaps it was near Guildford. Perhaps some
378  Arabian-night magician, opened up the place for the day, and shut
379  it up for ever when we came away. It was a green spot, on a hill,
380  carpeted with soft turf. There were shady trees, and heather, and,
381  as far as the eye could see, a rich landscape.

382       It was a trying thing to find people here, waiting for us; and my
383  jealousy, even of the ladies, knew no bounds. But all of my own
384  sex - especially one impostor, three or four years my elder, with
385  a red whisker, on which he established an amount of presumption not
386  to be endured - were my mortal foes.

387       We all unpacked our baskets, and employed ourselves in getting
388  dinner ready. Red Whisker pretended he could make a salad (which
389  I don't believe), and obtruded himself on public notice. Some of
390  the young ladies washed the lettuces for him, and sliced them under
391  his directions. Dora was among these. I felt that fate had pitted
392  me against this man, and one of us must fall.

393       Red Whisker made his salad (I wondered how they could eat it.
394  Nothing should have induced ME to touch it!) and voted himself into
395  the charge of the wine-cellar, which he constructed, being an
396  ingenious beast, in the hollow trunk of a tree. By and by, I saw
397  him, with the majority of a lobster on his plate, eating his dinner
398  at the feet of Dora!

399       I have but an indistinct idea of what happened for some time after
400  this baleful object presented itself to my view. I was very merry,
401  I know; but it was hollow merriment. I attached myself to a young
402  creature in pink, with little eyes, and flirted with her
403  desperately. She received my attentions with favour; but whether
404  on my account solely, or because she had any designs on Red
405  Whisker, I can't say. Dora's health was drunk. When I drank it,
406  I affected to interrupt my conversation for that purpose, and to
407  resume it immediately afterwards. I caught Dora's eye as I bowed
408  to her, and I thought it looked appealing. But it looked at me
409  over the head of Red Whisker, and I was adamant.

410       The young creature in pink had a mother in green; and I rather
411  think the latter separated us from motives of policy. Howbeit,
412  there was a general breaking up of the party, while the remnants of
413  the dinner were being put away; and I strolled off by myself among
414  the trees, in a raging and remorseful state. I was debating
415  whether I should pretend that I was not well, and fly - I don't
416  know where - upon my gallant grey, when Dora and Miss Mills met me.

417       'Mr. Copperfield,' said Miss Mills, 'you are dull.'

418       I begged her pardon. Not at all.

419       'And Dora,' said Miss Mills, 'YOU are dull.'

420       Oh dear no! Not in the least.

421       'Mr. Copperfield and Dora,' said Miss Mills, with an almost
422  venerable air. 'Enough of this. Do not allow a trivial
423  misunderstanding to wither the blossoms of spring, which, once put
424  forth and blighted, cannot be renewed. I speak,' said Miss Mills,
425  'from experience of the past - the remote, irrevocable past. The
426  gushing fountains which sparkle in the sun, must not be stopped in
427  mere caprice; the oasis in the desert of Sahara must not be plucked
428  up idly.'

429       I hardly knew what I did, I was burning all over to that
430  extraordinary extent; but I took Dora's little hand and kissed it
431  - and she let me! I kissed Miss Mills's hand; and we all seemed,
432  to my thinking, to go straight up to the seventh heaven.
433  We did not come down again. We stayed up there all the evening.
434  At first we strayed to and fro among the trees: I with Dora's shy
435  arm drawn through mine: and Heaven knows, folly as it all was, it
436  would have been a happy fate to have been struck immortal with
437  those foolish feelings, and have stayed among the trees for ever!

438       But, much too soon, we heard the others laughing and talking, and
439  calling 'where's Dora?' So we went back, and they wanted Dora to
440  sing. Red Whisker would have got the guitar-case out of the
441  carriage, but Dora told him nobody knew where it was, but I. So
442  Red Whisker was done for in a moment; and I got it, and I unlocked
443  it, and I took the guitar out, and I sat by her, and I held her
444  handkerchief and gloves, and I drank in every note of her dear
445  voice, and she sang to ME who loved her, and all the others might
446  applaud as much as they liked, but they had nothing to do with it!

447       I was intoxicated with joy. I was afraid it was too happy to be
448  real, and that I should wake in Buckingham Street presently, and
449  hear Mrs. Crupp clinking the teacups in getting breakfast ready.
450  But Dora sang, and others sang, and Miss Mills sang - about the
451  slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory; as if she were a
452  hundred years old - and the evening came on; and we had tea, with
453  the kettle boiling gipsy-fashion; and I was still as happy as ever.

454       I was happier than ever when the party broke up, and the other
455  people, defeated Red Whisker and all, went their several ways, and
456  we went ours through the still evening and the dying light, with
457  sweet scents rising up around us. Mr. Spenlow being a little
458  drowsy after the champagne - honour to the soil that grew the
459  grape, to the grape that made the wine, to the sun that ripened it,
460  and to the merchant who adulterated it! - and being fast asleep in
461  a corner of the carriage, I rode by the side and talked to Dora.
462  She admired my horse and patted him - oh, what a dear little hand
463  it looked upon a horse! - and her shawl would not keep right, and
464  now and then I drew it round her with my arm; and I even fancied
465  that Jip began to see how it was, and to understand that he must
466  make up his mind to be friends with me.

467       That sagacious Miss Mills, too; that amiable, though quite used up,
468  recluse; that little patriarch of something less than twenty, who
469  had done with the world, and mustn't on any account have the
470  slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory awakened; what a kind
471  thing she did!

472       'Mr. Copperfield,' said Miss Mills, 'come to this side of the
473  carriage a moment - if you can spare a moment. I want to speak to
474  you.'

475       Behold me, on my gallant grey, bending at the side of Miss Mills,
476  with my hand upon the carriage door!

477       'Dora is coming to stay with me. She is coming home with me the
478  day after tomorrow. If you would like to call, I am sure papa
479  would be happy to see you.'
480  What could I do but invoke a silent blessing on Miss Mills's head,
481  and store Miss Mills's address in the securest corner of my memory!
482  What could I do but tell Miss Mills, with grateful looks and
483  fervent words, how much I appreciated her good offices, and what an
484  inestimable value I set upon her friendship!

485       Then Miss Mills benignantly dismissed me, saying, 'Go back to
486  Dora!' and I went; and Dora leaned out of the carriage to talk to
487  me, and we talked all the rest of the way; and I rode my gallant
488  grey so close to the wheel that I grazed his near fore leg against
489  it, and 'took the bark off', as his owner told me, 'to the tune of
490  three pun' sivin' - which I paid, and thought extremely cheap for
491  so much joy. What time Miss Mills sat looking at the moon,
492  murmuring verses- and recalling, I suppose, the ancient days when
493  she and earth had anything in common.

494       Norwood was many miles too near, and we reached it many hours too
495  soon; but Mr. Spenlow came to himself a little short of it, and
496  said, 'You must come in, Copperfield, and rest!' and I consenting,
497  we had sandwiches and wine-and-water. In the light room, Dora
498  blushing looked so lovely, that I could not tear myself away, but
499  sat there staring, in a dream, until the snoring of Mr. Spenlow
500  inspired me with sufficient consciousness to take my leave. So we
501  parted; I riding all the way to London with the farewell touch of
502  Dora's hand still light on mine, recalling every incident and word
503  ten thousand times; lying down in my own bed at last, as enraptured
504  a young noodle as ever was carried out of his five wits by love.

505       When I awoke next morning, I was resolute to declare my passion to
506  Dora, and know my fate. Happiness or misery was now the question.
507  There was no other question that I knew of in the world, and only
508  Dora could give the answer to it. I passed three days in a luxury
509  of wretchedness, torturing myself by putting every conceivable
510  variety of discouraging construction on all that ever had taken
511  place between Dora and me. At last, arrayed for the purpose at a
512  vast expense, I went to Miss Mills's, fraught with a declaration.

513       How many times I went up and down the street, and round the square
514  - painfully aware of being a much better answer to the old riddle
515  than the original one - before I could persuade myself to go up the
516  steps and knock, is no matter now. Even when, at last, I had
517  knocked, and was waiting at the door, I had some flurried thought
518  of asking if that were Mr. Blackboy's (in imitation of poor
519  Barkis), begging pardon, and retreating. But I kept my ground.

520       Mr. Mills was not at home. I did not expect he would be. Nobody
521  wanted HIM. Miss Mills was at home. Miss Mills would do.

522       I was shown into a room upstairs, where Miss Mills and Dora were.
523  Jip was there. Miss Mills was copying music (I recollect, it was
524  a new song, called 'Affection's Dirge'), and Dora was painting
525  flowers. What were my feelings, when I recognized my own flowers;
526  the identical Covent Garden Market purchase! I cannot say that
527  they were very like, or that they particularly resembled any
528  flowers that have ever come under my observation; but I knew from
529  the paper round them which was accurately copied, what the
530  composition was.

531       Miss Mills was very glad to see me, and very sorry her papa was not
532  at home: though I thought we all bore that with fortitude. Miss
533  Mills was conversational for a few minutes, and then, laying down
534  her pen upon 'Affection's Dirge', got up, and left the room.

535       I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

536       'I hope your poor horse was not tired, when he got home at night,'
537  said Dora, lifting up her beautiful eyes. 'It was a long way for
538  him.'

539       I began to think I would do it today.

540       'It was a long way for him,' said I, 'for he had nothing to uphold
541  him on the journey.'

542       'Wasn't he fed, poor thing?' asked Dora.

543       I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

544       'Ye-yes,' I said, 'he was well taken care of. I mean he had not
545  the unutterable happiness that I had in being so near you.'

546       Dora bent her head over her drawing and said, after a little while
547  - I had sat, in the interval, in a burning fever, and with my legs
548  in a very rigid state -

549       'You didn't seem to be sensible of that happiness yourself, at one
550  time of the day.'

551       I saw now that I was in for it, and it must be done on the spot.

552       'You didn't care for that happiness in the least,' said Dora,
553  slightly raising her eyebrows, and shaking her head, 'when you were
554  sitting by Miss Kitt.'

555       Kitt, I should observe, was the name of the creature in pink, with
556  the little eyes.

557       'Though certainly I don't know why you should,' said Dora, or why
558  you should call it a happiness at all. But of course you don't
559  mean what you say. And I am sure no one doubts your being at
560  liberty to do whatever you like. Jip, you naughty boy, come here!'

561       I don't know how I did it. I did it in a moment. I intercepted
562  Jip. I had Dora in my arms. I was full of eloquence. I never
563  stopped for a word. I told her how I loved her. I told her I
564  should die without her. I told her that I idolized and worshipped
565  her. Jip barked madly all the time.

566       When Dora hung her head and cried, and trembled, my eloquence
567  increased so much the more. If she would like me to die for her,
568  she had but to say the word, and I was ready. Life without Dora's
569  love was not a thing to have on any terms. I couldn't bear it, and
570  I wouldn't. I had loved her every minute, day and night, since I
571  first saw her. I loved her at that minute to distraction. I
572  should always love her, every minute, to distraction. Lovers had
573  loved before, and lovers would love again; but no lover had loved,
574  might, could, would, or should ever love, as I loved Dora. The
575  more I raved, the more Jip barked. Each of us, in his own way, got
576  more mad every moment.

577       Well, well! Dora and I were sitting on the sofa by and by, quiet
578  enough, and Jip was lying in her lap, winking peacefully at me. It
579  was off my mind. I was in a state of perfect rapture. Dora and I
580  were engaged.

581       I suppose we had some notion that this was to end in marriage. We
582  must have had some, because Dora stipulated that we were never to
583  be married without her papa's consent. But, in our youthful
584  ecstasy, I don't think that we really looked before us or behind
585  us; or had any aspiration beyond the ignorant present. We were to
586  keep our secret from Mr. Spenlow; but I am sure the idea never
587  entered my head, then, that there was anything dishonourable in
588  that.

589       Miss Mills was more than usually pensive when Dora, going to find
590  her, brought her back; - I apprehend, because there was a tendency
591  in what had passed to awaken the slumbering echoes in the caverns
592  of Memory. But she gave us her blessing, and the assurance of her
593  lasting friendship, and spoke to us, generally, as became a Voice
594  from the Cloister.

595       What an idle time it was! What an insubstantial, happy, foolish
596  time it was!

597       When I measured Dora's finger for a ring that was to be made of
598  Forget-me-nots, and when the jeweller, to whom I took the measure,
599  found me out, and laughed over his order-book, and charged me
600  anything he liked for the pretty little toy, with its blue stones
601  - so associated in my remembrance with Dora's hand, that yesterday,
602  when I saw such another, by chance, on the finger of my own
603  daughter, there was a momentary stirring in my heart, like pain!

604       When I walked about, exalted with my secret, and full of my own
605  interest, and felt the dignity of loving Dora, and of being
606  beloved, so much, that if I had walked the air, I could not have
607  been more above the people not so situated, who were creeping on
608  the earth!

609       When we had those meetings in the garden of the square, and sat
610  within the dingy summer-house, so happy, that I love the London
611  sparrows to this hour, for nothing else, and see the plumage of the
612  tropics in their smoky feathers!
613  When we had our first great quarrel (within a week of our
614  betrothal), and when Dora sent me back the ring, enclosed in a
615  despairing cocked-hat note, wherein she used the terrible
616  expression that 'our love had begun in folly, and ended in
617  madness!' which dreadful words occasioned me to tear my hair, and
618  cry that all was over!

619       When, under cover of the night, I flew to Miss Mills, whom I saw by
620  stealth in a back kitchen where there was a mangle, and implored
621  Miss Mills to interpose between us and avert insanity. When Miss
622  Mills undertook the office and returned with Dora, exhorting us,
623  from the pulpit of her own bitter youth, to mutual concession, and
624  the avoidance of the Desert of Sahara!

625       When we cried, and made it up, and were so blest again, that the
626  back kitchen, mangle and all, changed to Love's own temple, where
627  we arranged a plan of correspondence through Miss Mills, always to
628  comprehend at least one letter on each side every day!

629       What an idle time! What an insubstantial, happy, foolish time! Of
630  all the times of mine that Time has in his grip, there is none that
631  in one retrospect I can smile at half so much, and think of half so
632  tenderly.

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