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| 1 | My new life had lasted for more than a week, and I was stronger
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| 2 | than ever in those tremendous practical resolutions that I felt the
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| 3 | crisis required. I continued to walk extremely fast, and to have
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| 4 | a general idea that I was getting on. I made it a rule to take as
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| 5 | much out of myself as I possibly could, in my way of doing
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| 6 | everything to which I applied my energies. I made a perfect victim
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| 7 | of myself. I even entertained some idea of putting myself on a
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| 8 | vegetable diet, vaguely conceiving that, in becoming a
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| 9 | graminivorous animal, I should sacrifice to Dora.
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| 10 | As yet, little Dora was quite unconscious of my desperate firmness,
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| 11 | otherwise than as my letters darkly shadowed it forth. But another
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| 12 | Saturday came, and on that Saturday evening she was to be at Miss
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| 13 | Mills's; and when Mr. Mills had gone to his whist-club (telegraphed
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| 14 | to me in the street, by a bird-cage in the drawing-room middle
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| 15 | window), I was to go there to tea.
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| 16 | By this time, we were quite settled down in Buckingham Street,
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| 17 | where Mr. Dick continued his copying in a state of absolute
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| 18 | felicity. My aunt had obtained a signal victory over Mrs. Crupp,
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| 19 | by paying her off, throwing the first pitcher she planted on the
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| 20 | stairs out of window, and protecting in person, up and down the
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| 21 | staircase, a supernumerary whom she engaged from the outer world.
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| 22 | These vigorous measures struck such terror to the breast of Mrs.
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| 23 | Crupp, that she subsided into her own kitchen, under the impression
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| 24 | that my aunt was mad. My aunt being supremely indifferent to Mrs.
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| 25 | Crupp's opinion and everybody else's, and rather favouring than
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| 26 | discouraging the idea, Mrs. Crupp, of late the bold, became within
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| 27 | a few days so faint-hearted, that rather than encounter my aunt
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| 28 | upon the staircase, she would endeavour to hide her portly form
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| 29 | behind doors - leaving visible, however, a wide margin of flannel
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| 30 | petticoat - or would shrink into dark corners. This gave my aunt
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| 31 | such unspeakable satisfaction, that I believe she took a delight in
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| 32 | prowling up and down, with her bonnet insanely perched on the top
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| 33 | of her head, at times when Mrs. Crupp was likely to be in the way.
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| 34 | My aunt, being uncommonly neat and ingenious, made so many little
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| 35 | improvements in our domestic arrangements, that I seemed to be
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| 36 | richer instead of poorer. Among the rest, she converted the pantry
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| 37 | into a dressing-room for me; and purchased and embellished a
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| 38 | bedstead for my occupation, which looked as like a bookcase in the
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| 39 | daytime as a bedstead could. I was the object of her constant
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| 40 | solicitude; and my poor mother herself could not have loved me
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| 41 | better, or studied more how to make me happy.
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| 42 | Peggotty had considered herself highly privileged in being allowed
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| 43 | to participate in these labours; and, although she still retained
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| 44 | something of her old sentiment of awe in reference to my aunt, had
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| 45 | received so many marks of encouragement and confidence, that they
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| 46 | were the best friends possible. But the time had now come (I am
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| 47 | speaking of the Saturday when I was to take tea at Miss Mills's)
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| 48 | when it was necessary for her to return home, and enter on the
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| 49 | discharge of the duties she had undertaken in behalf of Ham. 'So
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| 50 | good-bye, Barkis,' said my aunt, 'and take care of yourself! I am
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| 51 | sure I never thought I could be sorry to lose you!'
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| 52 | I took Peggotty to the coach office and saw her off. She cried at
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| 53 | parting, and confided her brother to my friendship as Ham had done.
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| 54 | We had heard nothing of him since he went away, that sunny
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| 55 | afternoon.
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| 56 | 'And now, my own dear Davy,' said Peggotty, 'if, while you're a
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| 57 | prentice, you should want any money to spend; or if, when you're
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| 58 | out of your time, my dear, you should want any to set you up (and
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| 59 | you must do one or other, or both, my darling); who has such a good
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| 60 | right to ask leave to lend it you, as my sweet girl's own old
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| 61 | stupid me!'
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| 62 | I was not so savagely independent as to say anything in reply, but
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| 63 | that if ever I borrowed money of anyone, I would borrow it of her.
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| 64 | Next to accepting a large sum on the spot, I believe this gave
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| 65 | Peggotty more comfort than anything I could have done.
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| 66 | 'And, my dear!' whispered Peggotty, 'tell the pretty little angel
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| 67 | that I should so have liked to see her, only for a minute! And
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| 68 | tell her that before she marries my boy, I'll come and make your
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| 69 | house so beautiful for you, if you'll let me!'
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| 70 | I declared that nobody else should touch it; and this gave Peggotty
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| 71 | such delight that she went away in good spirits.
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| 72 | I fatigued myself as much as I possibly could in the Commons all
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| 73 | day, by a variety of devices, and at the appointed time in the
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| 74 | evening repaired to Mr. Mills's street. Mr. Mills, who was a
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| 75 | terrible fellow to fall asleep after dinner, had not yet gone out,
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| 76 | and there was no bird-cage in the middle window.
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| 77 | He kept me waiting so long, that I fervently hoped the Club would
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| 78 | fine him for being late. At last he came out; and then I saw my
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| 79 | own Dora hang up the bird-cage, and peep into the balcony to look
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| 80 | for me, and run in again when she saw I was there, while Jip
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| 81 | remained behind, to bark injuriously at an immense butcher's dog in
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| 82 | the street, who could have taken him like a pill.
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| 83 | Dora came to the drawing-room door to meet me; and Jip came
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| 84 | scrambling out, tumbling over his own growls, under the impression
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| 85 | that I was a Bandit; and we all three went in, as happy and loving
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| 86 | as could be. I soon carried desolation into the bosom of our joys
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| 87 | - not that I meant to do it, but that I was so full of the subject
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| 88 | - by asking Dora, without the smallest preparation, if she could
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| 89 | love a beggar?
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| 90 | My pretty, little, startled Dora! Her only association with the
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| 91 | word was a yellow face and a nightcap, or a pair of crutches, or a
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| 92 | wooden leg, or a dog with a decanter-stand in his mouth, or
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| 93 | something of that kind; and she stared at me with the most
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| 94 | delightful wonder.
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| 95 | 'How can you ask me anything so foolish?' pouted Dora. 'Love a
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| 96 | beggar!'
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| 97 | 'Dora, my own dearest!' said I. 'I am a beggar!'
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| 98 | 'How can you be such a silly thing,' replied Dora, slapping my
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| 99 | hand, 'as to sit there, telling such stories? I'll make Jip bite
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| 100 | you!'
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| 101 | Her childish way was the most delicious way in the world to me, but
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| 102 | it was necessary to be explicit, and I solemnly repeated:
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| 103 | 'Dora, my own life, I am your ruined David!'
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| 104 | 'I declare I'll make Jip bite you!' said Dora, shaking her curls,
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| 105 | 'if you are so ridiculous.'
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| 106 | But I looked so serious, that Dora left off shaking her curls, and
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| 107 | laid her trembling little hand upon my shoulder, and first looked
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| 108 | scared and anxious, then began to cry. That was dreadful. I fell
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| 109 | upon my knees before the sofa, caressing her, and imploring her not
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| 110 | to rend my heart; but, for some time, poor little Dora did nothing
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| 111 | but exclaim Oh dear! Oh dear! And oh, she was so frightened! And
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| 112 | where was Julia Mills! And oh, take her to Julia Mills, and go
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| 113 | away, please! until I was almost beside myself.
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| 114 | At last, after an agony of supplication and protestation, I got
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| 115 | Dora to look at me, with a horrified expression of face, which I
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| 116 | gradually soothed until it was only loving, and her soft, pretty
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| 117 | cheek was lying against mine. Then I told her, with my arms
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| 118 | clasped round her, how I loved her, so dearly, and so dearly; how
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| 119 | I felt it right to offer to release her from her engagement,
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| 120 | because now I was poor; how I never could bear it, or recover it,
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| 121 | if I lost her; how I had no fears of poverty, if she had none, my
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| 122 | arm being nerved and my heart inspired by her; how I was already
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| 123 | working with a courage such as none but lovers knew; how I had
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| 124 | begun to be practical, and look into the future; how a crust well
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| 125 | earned was sweeter far than a feast inherited; and much more to the
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| 126 | same purpose, which I delivered in a burst of passionate eloquence
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| 127 | quite surprising to myself, though I had been thinking about it,
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| 128 | day and night, ever since my aunt had astonished me.
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| 129 | 'Is your heart mine still, dear Dora?' said I, rapturously, for I
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| 130 | knew by her clinging to me that it was.
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| 131 | 'Oh, yes!' cried Dora. 'Oh, yes, it's all yours. Oh, don't be
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| 132 | dreadful!'
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| 133 | I dreadful! To Dora!
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| 134 | 'Don't talk about being poor, and working hard!' said Dora,
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| 135 | nestling closer to me. 'Oh, don't, don't!'
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| 136 | 'My dearest love,' said I, 'the crust well-earned -'
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| 137 | 'Oh, yes; but I don't want to hear any more about crusts!' said
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| 138 | Dora. 'And Jip must have a mutton-chop every day at twelve, or
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| 139 | he'll die.'
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| 140 | I was charmed with her childish, winning way. I fondly explained
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| 141 | to Dora that Jip should have his mutton-chop with his accustomed
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| 142 | regularity. I drew a picture of our frugal home, made independent
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| 143 | by my labour - sketching in the little house I had seen at
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| 144 | Highgate, and my aunt in her room upstairs.
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| 145 | 'I am not dreadful now, Dora?' said I, tenderly.
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| 146 | 'Oh, no, no!' cried Dora. 'But I hope your aunt will keep in her
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| 147 | own room a good deal. And I hope she's not a scolding old thing!'
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| 148 | If it were possible for me to love Dora more than ever, I am sure
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| 149 | I did. But I felt she was a little impracticable. It damped my
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| 150 | new-born ardour, to find that ardour so difficult of communication
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| 151 | to her. I made another trial. When she was quite herself again,
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| 152 | and was curling Jip's ears, as he lay upon her lap, I became grave,
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| 153 | and said:
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| 154 | 'My own! May I mention something?'
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| 155 | 'Oh, please don't be practical!' said Dora, coaxingly. 'Because it
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| 156 | frightens me so!'
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| 157 | 'Sweetheart!' I returned; 'there is nothing to alarm you in all
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| 158 | this. I want you to think of it quite differently. I want to make
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| 159 | it nerve you, and inspire you, Dora!'
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| 160 | 'Oh, but that's so shocking!' cried Dora.
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| 161 | 'My love, no. Perseverance and strength of character will enable
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| 162 | us to bear much worse things.'
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| 163 | 'But I haven't got any strength at all,' said Dora, shaking her
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| 164 | curls. 'Have I, Jip? Oh, do kiss Jip, and be agreeable!'
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| 165 | It was impossible to resist kissing Jip, when she held him up to me
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| 166 | for that purpose, putting her own bright, rosy little mouth into
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| 167 | kissing form, as she directed the operation, which she insisted
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| 168 | should be performed symmetrically, on the centre of his nose. I
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| 169 | did as she bade me - rewarding myself afterwards for my obedience
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| 170 | - and she charmed me out of my graver character for I don't know
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| 171 | how long.
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| 172 | 'But, Dora, my beloved!' said I, at last resuming it; 'I was going
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| 173 | to mention something.'
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| 174 | The judge of the Prerogative Court might have fallen in love with
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| 175 | her, to see her fold her little hands and hold them up, begging and
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| 176 | praying me not to be dreadful any more.
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| 177 | 'Indeed I am not going to be, my darling!' I assured her. 'But,
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| 178 | Dora, my love, if you will sometimes think, - not despondingly, you
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| 179 | know; far from that! - but if you will sometimes think - just to
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| 180 | encourage yourself - that you are engaged to a poor man -'
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| 181 | 'Don't, don't! Pray don't!' cried Dora. 'It's so very dreadful!'
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| 182 | 'My soul, not at all!' said I, cheerfully. 'If you will sometimes
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| 183 | think of that, and look about now and then at your papa's
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| 184 | housekeeping, and endeavour to acquire a little habit - of
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| 185 | accounts, for instance -'
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| 186 | Poor little Dora received this suggestion with something that was
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| 187 | half a sob and half a scream.
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| 188 | '- It would be so useful to us afterwards,' I went on. 'And if you
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| 189 | would promise me to read a little - a little Cookery Book that I
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| 190 | would send you, it would be so excellent for both of us. For our
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| 191 | path in life, my Dora,' said I, warming with the subject, 'is stony
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| 192 | and rugged now, and it rests with us to smooth it. We must fight
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| 193 | our way onward. We must be brave. There are obstacles to be met,
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| 194 | and we must meet, and crush them!'
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| 195 | I was going on at a great rate, with a clenched hand, and a most
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| 196 | enthusiastic countenance; but it was quite unnecessary to proceed.
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| 197 | I had said enough. I had done it again. Oh, she was so
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| 198 | frightened! Oh, where was Julia Mills! Oh, take her to Julia
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| 199 | Mills, and go away, please! So that, in short, I was quite
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| 200 | distracted, and raved about the drawing-room.
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| 201 | I thought I had killed her, this time. I sprinkled water on her
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| 202 | face. I went down on my knees. I plucked at my hair. I denounced
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| 203 | myself as a remorseless brute and a ruthless beast. I implored her
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| 204 | forgiveness. I besought her to look up. I ravaged Miss Mills's
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| 205 | work-box for a smelling-bottle, and in my agony of mind applied an
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| 206 | ivory needle-case instead, and dropped all the needles over Dora.
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| 207 | I shook my fists at Jip, who was as frantic as myself. I did every
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| 208 | wild extravagance that could be done, and was a long way beyond the
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| 209 | end of my wits when Miss Mills came into the room.
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| 210 | 'Who has done this?' exclaimed Miss Mills, succouring her friend.
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| 211 | I replied, 'I, Miss Mills! I have done it! Behold the destroyer!'
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| 212 | - or words to that effect - and hid my face from the light, in the
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| 213 | sofa cushion.
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| 214 | At first Miss Mills thought it was a quarrel, and that we were
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| 215 | verging on the Desert of Sahara; but she soon found out how matters
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| 216 | stood, for my dear affectionate little Dora, embracing her, began
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| 217 | exclaiming that I was 'a poor labourer'; and then cried for me, and
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| 218 | embraced me, and asked me would I let her give me all her money to
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| 219 | keep, and then fell on Miss Mills's neck, sobbing as if her tender
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| 220 | heart were broken.
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| 221 | Miss Mills must have been born to be a blessing to us. She
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| 222 | ascertained from me in a few words what it was all about, comforted
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| 223 | Dora, and gradually convinced her that I was not a labourer - from
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| 224 | my manner of stating the case I believe Dora concluded that I was
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| 225 | a navigator, and went balancing myself up and down a plank all day
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| 226 | with a wheelbarrow - and so brought us together in peace. When we
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| 227 | were quite composed, and Dora had gone up-stairs to put some
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| 228 | rose-water to her eyes, Miss Mills rang for tea. In the ensuing
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| 229 | interval, I told Miss Mills that she was evermore my friend, and
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| 230 | that my heart must cease to vibrate ere I could forget her
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| 231 | sympathy.
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| 232 | I then expounded to Miss Mills what I had endeavoured, so very
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| 233 | unsuccessfully, to expound to Dora. Miss Mills replied, on general
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| 234 | principles, that the Cottage of content was better than the Palace
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| 235 | of cold splendour, and that where love was, all was.
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| 236 | I said to Miss Mills that this was very true, and who should know
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| 237 | it better than I, who loved Dora with a love that never mortal had
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| 238 | experienced yet? But on Miss Mills observing, with despondency,
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| 239 | that it were well indeed for some hearts if this were so, I
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| 240 | explained that I begged leave to restrict the observation to
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| 241 | mortals of the masculine gender.
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| 242 | I then put it to Miss Mills, to say whether she considered that
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| 243 | there was or was not any practical merit in the suggestion I had
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| 244 | been anxious to make, concerning the accounts, the housekeeping,
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| 245 | and the Cookery Book?
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| 246 | Miss Mills, after some consideration, thus replied:
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| 247 | 'Mr. Copperfield, I will be plain with you. Mental suffering and
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| 248 | trial supply, in some natures, the place of years, and I will be as
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| 249 | plain with you as if I were a Lady Abbess. No. The suggestion is
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| 250 | not appropriate to our Dora. Our dearest Dora is a favourite child
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| 251 | of nature. She is a thing of light, and airiness, and joy. I am
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| 252 | free to confess that if it could be done, it might be well, but -'
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| 253 | And Miss Mills shook her head.
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| 254 | I was encouraged by this closing admission on the part of Miss
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| 255 | Mills to ask her, whether, for Dora's sake, if she had any
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| 256 | opportunity of luring her attention to such preparations for an
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| 257 | earnest life, she would avail herself of it? Miss Mills replied in
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| 258 | the affirmative so readily, that I further asked her if she would
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| 259 | take charge of the Cookery Book; and, if she ever could insinuate
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| 260 | it upon Dora's acceptance, without frightening her, undertake to do
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| 261 | me that crowning service. Miss Mills accepted this trust, too; but
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| 262 | was not sanguine.
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| 263 | And Dora returned, looking such a lovely little creature, that I
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| 264 | really doubted whether she ought to be troubled with anything so
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| 265 | ordinary. And she loved me so much, and was so captivating
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| 266 | (particularly when she made Jip stand on his hind legs for toast,
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| 267 | and when she pretended to hold that nose of his against the hot
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| 268 | teapot for punishment because he wouldn't), that I felt like a sort
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| 269 | of Monster who had got into a Fairy's bower, when I thought of
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| 270 | having frightened her, and made her cry.
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| 271 | After tea we had the guitar; and Dora sang those same dear old
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| 272 | French songs about the impossibility of ever on any account leaving
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| 273 | off dancing, La ra la, La ra la, until I felt a much greater
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| 274 | Monster than before.
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| 275 | We had only one check to our pleasure, and that happened a little
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| 276 | while before I took my leave, when, Miss Mills chancing to make
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| 277 | some allusion to tomorrow morning, I unluckily let out that, being
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| 278 | obliged to exert myself now, I got up at five o'clock. Whether
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| 279 | Dora had any idea that I was a Private Watchman, I am unable to
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| 280 | say; but it made a great impression on her, and she neither played
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| 281 | nor sang any more.
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| 282 | It was still on her mind when I bade her adieu; and she said to me,
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| 283 | in her pretty coaxing way - as if I were a doll, I used to think:
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| 284 | 'Now don't get up at five o'clock, you naughty boy. It's so
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| 285 | nonsensical!'
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| 286 | 'My love,' said I, 'I have work to do.'
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| 287 | 'But don't do it!' returned Dora. 'Why should you?'
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| 288 | It was impossible to say to that sweet little surprised face,
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| 289 | otherwise than lightly and playfully, that we must work to live.
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| 290 | 'Oh! How ridiculous!' cried Dora.
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| 291 | 'How shall we live without, Dora?' said I.
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| 292 | 'How? Any how!' said Dora.
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| 293 | She seemed to think she had quite settled the question, and gave me
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| 294 | such a triumphant little kiss, direct from her innocent heart, that
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| 295 | I would hardly have put her out of conceit with her answer, for a
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| 296 | fortune.
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| 297 | Well! I loved her, and I went on loving her, most absorbingly,
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| 298 | entirely, and completely. But going on, too, working pretty hard,
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| 299 | and busily keeping red-hot all the irons I now had in the fire, I
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| 300 | would sit sometimes of a night, opposite my aunt, thinking how I
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| 301 | had frightened Dora that time, and how I could best make my way
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| 302 | with a guitar-case through the forest of difficulty, until I used
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| 303 | to fancy that my head was turning quite grey.
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