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Charles Dickens
Chapter 39
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       I did not allow my resolution, with respect to the Parliamentary
2  Debates, to cool. It was one of the irons I began to heat
3  immediately, and one of the irons I kept hot, and hammered at, with
4  a perseverance I may honestly admire. I bought an approved scheme
5  of the noble art and mystery of stenography (which cost me ten and
6  sixpence); and plunged into a sea of perplexity that brought me, in
7  a few weeks, to the confines of distraction. The changes that were
8  rung upon dots, which in such a position meant such a thing, and in
9  such another position something else, entirely different; the
10  wonderful vagaries that were played by circles; the unaccountable
11  consequences that resulted from marks like flies' legs; the
12  tremendous effects of a curve in a wrong place; not only troubled
13  my waking hours, but reappeared before me in my sleep. When I had
14  groped my way, blindly, through these difficulties, and had
15  mastered the alphabet, which was an Egyptian Temple in itself,
16  there then appeared a procession of new horrors, called arbitrary
17  characters; the most despotic characters I have ever known; who
18  insisted, for instance, that a thing like the beginning of a
19  cobweb, meant expectation, and that a pen-and-ink sky-rocket, stood
20  for disadvantageous. When I had fixed these wretches in my mind,
21  I found that they had driven everything else out of it; then,
22  beginning again, I forgot them; while I was picking them up, I
23  dropped the other fragments of the system; in short, it was almost
24  heart-breaking.

25       It might have been quite heart-breaking, but for Dora, who was the
26  stay and anchor of my tempest-driven bark. Every scratch in the
27  scheme was a gnarled oak in the forest of difficulty, and I went on
28  cutting them down, one after another, with such vigour, that in
29  three or four months I was in a condition to make an experiment on
30  one of our crack speakers in the Commons. Shall I ever forget how
31  the crack speaker walked off from me before I began, and left my
32  imbecile pencil staggering about the paper as if it were in a fit!

33       This would not do, it was quite clear. I was flying too high, and
34  should never get on, so. I resorted to Traddles for advice; who
35  suggested that he should dictate speeches to me, at a pace, and
36  with occasional stoppages, adapted to my weakness. Very grateful
37  for this friendly aid, I accepted the proposal; and night after
38  night, almost every night, for a long time, we had a sort of
39  Private Parliament in Buckingham Street, after I came home from the
40  Doctor's.

41       I should like to see such a Parliament anywhere else! My aunt and
42  Mr. Dick represented the Government or the Opposition (as the case
43  might be), and Traddles, with the assistance of Enfield's Speakers,
44  or a volume of parliamentary orations, thundered astonishing
45  invectives against them. Standing by the table, with his finger in
46  the page to keep the place, and his right arm flourishing above his
47  head, Traddles, as Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Burke, Lord
48  Castlereagh, Viscount Sidmouth, or Mr. Canning, would work himself
49  into the most violent heats, and deliver the most withering
50  denunciations of the profligacy and corruption of my aunt and Mr.
51  Dick; while I used to sit, at a little distance, with my notebook
52  on my knee, fagging after him with all my might and main. The
53  inconsistency and recklessness of Traddles were not to be exceeded
54  by any real politician. He was for any description of policy, in
55  the compass of a week; and nailed all sorts of colours to every
56  denomination of mast. My aunt, looking very like an immovable
57  Chancellor of the Exchequer, would occasionally throw in an
58  interruption or two, as 'Hear!' or 'No!' or 'Oh!' when the text
59  seemed to require it: which was always a signal to Mr. Dick (a
60  perfect country gentleman) to follow lustily with the same cry.
61  But Mr. Dick got taxed with such things in the course of his
62  Parliamentary career, and was made responsible for such awful
63  consequences, that he became uncomfortable in his mind sometimes.
64  I believe he actually began to be afraid he really had been doing
65  something, tending to the annihilation of the British constitution,
66  and the ruin of the country.

67       Often and often we pursued these debates until the clock pointed to
68  midnight, and the candles were burning down. The result of so much
69  good practice was, that by and by I began to keep pace with
70  Traddles pretty well, and should have been quite triumphant if I
71  had had the least idea what my notes were about. But, as to
72  reading them after I had got them, I might as well have copied the
73  Chinese inscriptions of an immense collection of tea-chests, or the
74  golden characters on all the great red and green bottles in the
75  chemists' shops!

76       There was nothing for it, but to turn back and begin all over
77  again. It was very hard, but I turned back, though with a heavy
78  heart, and began laboriously and methodically to plod over the same
79  tedious ground at a snail's pace; stopping to examine minutely
80  every speck in the way, on all sides, and making the most desperate
81  efforts to know these elusive characters by sight wherever I met
82  them. I was always punctual at the office; at the Doctor's too:
83  and I really did work, as the common expression is, like a
84  cart-horse.
85  One day, when I went to the Commons as usual, I found Mr. Spenlow
86  in the doorway looking extremely grave, and talking to himself. As
87  he was in the habit of complaining of pains in his head - he had
88  naturally a short throat, and I do seriously believe he
89  over-starched himself - I was at first alarmed by the idea that he
90  was not quite right in that direction; but he soon relieved my
91  uneasiness.

92       Instead of returning my 'Good morning' with his usual affability,
93  he looked at me in a distant, ceremonious manner, and coldly
94  requested me to accompany him to a certain coffee-house, which, in
95  those days, had a door opening into the Commons, just within the
96  little archway in St. Paul's Churchyard. I complied, in a very
97  uncomfortable state, and with a warm shooting all over me, as if my
98  apprehensions were breaking out into buds. When I allowed him to
99  go on a little before, on account of the narrowness of the way, I
100  observed that he carried his head with a lofty air that was
101  particularly unpromising; and my mind misgave me that he had found
102  out about my darling Dora.

103       If I had not guessed this, on the way to the coffee-house, I could
104  hardly have failed to know what was the matter when I followed him
105  into an upstairs room, and found Miss Murdstone there, supported by
106  a background of sideboard, on which were several inverted tumblers
107  sustaining lemons, and two of those extraordinary boxes, all
108  corners and flutings, for sticking knives and forks in, which,
109  happily for mankind, are now obsolete.

110       Miss Murdstone gave me her chilly finger-nails, and sat severely
111  rigid. Mr. Spenlow shut the door, motioned me to a chair, and
112  stood on the hearth-rug in front of the fireplace.

113       'Have the goodness to show Mr. Copperfield,' said Mr. Spenlow, what
114  you have in your reticule, Miss Murdstone.'

115       I believe it was the old identical steel-clasped reticule of my
116  childhood, that shut up like a bite. Compressing her lips, in
117  sympathy with the snap, Miss Murdstone opened it - opening her
118  mouth a little at the same time - and produced my last letter to
119  Dora, teeming with expressions of devoted affection.

120       'I believe that is your writing, Mr. Copperfield?' said Mr.
121  Spenlow.

122       I was very hot, and the voice I heard was very unlike mine, when I
123  said, 'It is, sir!'

124       'If I am not mistaken,' said Mr. Spenlow, as Miss Murdstone brought
125  a parcel of letters out of her reticule, tied round with the
126  dearest bit of blue ribbon, 'those are also from your pen, Mr.
127  Copperfield?'

128       I took them from her with a most desolate sensation; and, glancing
129  at such phrases at the top, as 'My ever dearest and own Dora,' 'My
130  best beloved angel,' 'My blessed one for ever,' and the like,
131  blushed deeply, and inclined my head.

132       'No, thank you!' said Mr. Spenlow, coldly, as I mechanically
133  offered them back to him. 'I will not deprive you of them. Miss
134  Murdstone, be so good as to proceed!'

135       That gentle creature, after a moment's thoughtful survey of the
136  carpet, delivered herself with much dry unction as follows.

137       'I must confess to having entertained my suspicions of Miss
138  Spenlow, in reference to David Copperfield, for some time. I
139  observed Miss Spenlow and David Copperfield, when they first met;
140  and the impression made upon me then was not agreeable. The
141  depravity of the human heart is such -'

142       'You will oblige me, ma'am,' interrupted Mr. Spenlow, 'by confining
143  yourself to facts.'

144       Miss Murdstone cast down her eyes, shook her head as if protesting
145  against this unseemly interruption, and with frowning dignity
146  resumed:

147       'Since I am to confine myself to facts, I will state them as dryly
148  as I can. Perhaps that will be considered an acceptable course of
149  proceeding. I have already said, sir, that I have had my
150  suspicions of Miss Spenlow, in reference to David Copperfield, for
151  some time. I have frequently endeavoured to find decisive
152  corroboration of those suspicions, but without effect. I have
153  therefore forborne to mention them to Miss Spenlow's father';
154  looking severely at him- 'knowing how little disposition there
155  usually is in such cases, to acknowledge the conscientious
156  discharge of duty.'

157       Mr. Spenlow seemed quite cowed by the gentlemanly sternness of Miss
158  Murdstone's manner, and deprecated her severity with a conciliatory
159  little wave of his hand.

160       'On my return to Norwood, after the period of absence occasioned by
161  my brother's marriage,' pursued Miss Murdstone in a disdainful
162  voice, 'and on the return of Miss Spenlow from her visit to her
163  friend Miss Mills, I imagined that the manner of Miss Spenlow gave
164  me greater occasion for suspicion than before. Therefore I watched
165  Miss Spenlow closely.'

166       Dear, tender little Dora, so unconscious of this Dragon's eye!

167       'Still,' resumed Miss Murdstone, 'I found no proof until last
168  night. It appeared to me that Miss Spenlow received too many
169  letters from her friend Miss Mills; but Miss Mills being her friend
170  with her father's full concurrence,' another telling blow at Mr.
171  Spenlow, 'it was not for me to interfere. If I may not be
172  permitted to allude to the natural depravity of the human heart, at
173  least I may - I must - be permitted, so far to refer to misplaced
174  confidence.'

175       Mr. Spenlow apologetically murmured his assent.

176       'Last evening after tea,' pursued Miss Murdstone, 'I observed the
177  little dog starting, rolling, and growling about the drawing-room,
178  worrying something. I said to Miss Spenlow, "Dora, what is that
179  the dog has in his mouth? It's paper." Miss Spenlow immediately
180  put her hand to her frock, gave a sudden cry, and ran to the dog.
181  I interposed, and said, "Dora, my love, you must permit me." '

182       Oh Jip, miserable Spaniel, this wretchedness, then, was your work!

183       'Miss Spenlow endeavoured,' said Miss Murdstone, 'to bribe me with
184  kisses, work-boxes, and small articles of jewellery - that, of
185  course, I pass over. The little dog retreated under the sofa on my
186  approaching him, and was with great difficulty dislodged by the
187  fire-irons. Even when dislodged, he still kept the letter in his
188  mouth; and on my endeavouring to take it from him, at the imminent
189  risk of being bitten, he kept it between his teeth so
190  pertinaciously as to suffer himself to be held suspended in the air
191  by means of the document. At length I obtained possession of it.
192  After perusing it, I taxed Miss Spenlow with having many such
193  letters in her possession; and ultimately obtained from her the
194  packet which is now in David Copperfield's hand.'

195       Here she ceased; and snapping her reticule again, and shutting her
196  mouth, looked as if she might be broken, but could never be bent.

197       'You have heard Miss Murdstone,' said Mr. Spenlow, turning to me.
198  'I beg to ask, Mr. Copperfield, if you have anything to say in
199  reply?'

200       The picture I had before me, of the beautiful little treasure of my
201  heart, sobbing and crying all night - of her being alone,
202  frightened, and wretched, then - of her having so piteously begged
203  and prayed that stony-hearted woman to forgive her - of her having
204  vainly offered her those kisses, work-boxes, and trinkets - of her
205  being in such grievous distress, and all for me - very much
206  impaired the little dignity I had been able to muster. I am afraid
207  I was in a tremulous state for a minute or so, though I did my best
208  to disguise it.

209       'There is nothing I can say, sir,' I returned, 'except that all the
210  blame is mine. Dora -'

211       'Miss Spenlow, if you please,' said her father, majestically.

212       '- was induced and persuaded by me,' I went on, swallowing that
213  colder designation, 'to consent to this concealment, and I bitterly
214  regret it.'

215       'You are very much to blame, sir,' said Mr. Spenlow, walking to and
216  fro upon the hearth-rug, and emphasizing what he said with his
217  whole body instead of his head, on account of the stiffness of his
218  cravat and spine. 'You have done a stealthy and unbecoming action,
219  Mr. Copperfield. When I take a gentleman to my house, no matter
220  whether he is nineteen, twenty-nine, or ninety, I take him there in
221  a spirit of confidence. If he abuses my confidence, he commits a
222  dishonourable action, Mr. Copperfield.'

223       'I feel it, sir, I assure you,' I returned. 'But I never thought
224  so, before. Sincerely, honestly, indeed, Mr. Spenlow, I never
225  thought so, before. I love Miss Spenlow to that extent -'

226       'Pooh! nonsense!' said Mr. Spenlow, reddening. 'Pray don't tell me
227  to my face that you love my daughter, Mr. Copperfield!'

228       'Could I defend my conduct if I did not, sir?' I returned, with all
229  humility.

230       'Can you defend your conduct if you do, sir?' said Mr. Spenlow,
231  stopping short upon the hearth-rug. 'Have you considered your
232  years, and my daughter's years, Mr. Copperfield? Have you
233  considered what it is to undermine the confidence that should
234  subsist between my daughter and myself? Have you considered my
235  daughter's station in life, the projects I may contemplate for her
236  advancement, the testamentary intentions I may have with reference
237  to her? Have you considered anything, Mr. Copperfield?'

238       'Very little, sir, I am afraid;' I answered, speaking to him as
239  respectfully and sorrowfully as I felt; 'but pray believe me, I
240  have considered my own worldly position. When I explained it to
241  you, we were already engaged -'

242       'I BEG,' said Mr. Spenlow, more like Punch than I had ever seen
243  him, as he energetically struck one hand upon the other - I could
244  not help noticing that even in my despair; 'that YOU Will NOT talk
245  to me of engagements, Mr. Copperfield!'

246       The otherwise immovable Miss Murdstone laughed contemptuously in
247  one short syllable.

248       'When I explained my altered position to you, sir,' I began again,
249  substituting a new form of expression for what was so unpalatable
250  to him, 'this concealment, into which I am so unhappy as to have
251  led Miss Spenlow, had begun. Since I have been in that altered
252  position, I have strained every nerve, I have exerted every energy,
253  to improve it. I am sure I shall improve it in time. Will you
254  grant me time - any length of time? We are both so young, sir, -'

255       'You are right,' interrupted Mr. Spenlow, nodding his head a great
256  many times, and frowning very much, 'you are both very young. It's
257  all nonsense. Let there be an end of the nonsense. Take away
258  those letters, and throw them in the fire. Give me Miss Spenlow's
259  letters to throw in the fire; and although our future intercourse
260  must, you are aware, be restricted to the Commons here, we will
261  agree to make no further mention of the past. Come, Mr.
262  Copperfield, you don't want sense; and this is the sensible
263  course.'

264       No. I couldn't think of agreeing to it. I was very sorry, but
265  there was a higher consideration than sense. Love was above all
266  earthly considerations, and I loved Dora to idolatry, and Dora
267  loved me. I didn't exactly say so; I softened it down as much as
268  I could; but I implied it, and I was resolute upon it. I don't
269  think I made myself very ridiculous, but I know I was resolute.

270       'Very well, Mr. Copperfield,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'I must try my
271  influence with my daughter.'

272       Miss Murdstone, by an expressive sound, a long drawn respiration,
273  which was neither a sigh nor a moan, but was like both, gave it as
274  her opinion that he should have done this at first.

275       'I must try,' said Mr. Spenlow, confirmed by this support, 'my
276  influence with my daughter. Do you decline to take those letters,
277  Mr. Copperfield?' For I had laid them on the table.

278       Yes. I told him I hoped he would not think it wrong, but I
279  couldn't possibly take them from Miss Murdstone.

280       'Nor from me?' said Mr. Spenlow.

281       No, I replied with the profoundest respect; nor from him.

282       'Very well!' said Mr. Spenlow.

283       A silence succeeding, I was undecided whether to go or stay. At
284  length I was moving quietly towards the door, with the intention of
285  saying that perhaps I should consult his feelings best by
286  withdrawing: when he said, with his hands in his coat pockets, into
287  which it was as much as he could do to get them; and with what I
288  should call, upon the whole, a decidedly pious air:

289       'You are probably aware, Mr. Copperfield, that I am not altogether
290  destitute of worldly possessions, and that my daughter is my
291  nearest and dearest relative?'

292       I hurriedly made him a reply to the effect, that I hoped the error
293  into which I had been betrayed by the desperate nature of my love,
294  did not induce him to think me mercenary too?

295       'I don't allude to the matter in that light,' said Mr. Spenlow.
296  'It would be better for yourself, and all of us, if you WERE
297  mercenary, Mr. Copperfield - I mean, if you were more discreet and
298  less influenced by all this youthful nonsense. No. I merely say,
299  with quite another view, you are probably aware I have some
300  property to bequeath to my child?'

301       I certainly supposed so.

302       'And you can hardly think,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'having experience of
303  what we see, in the Commons here, every day, of the various
304  unaccountable and negligent proceedings of men, in respect of their
305  testamentary arrangements - of all subjects, the one on which
306  perhaps the strangest revelations of human inconsistency are to be
307  met with - but that mine are made?'

308       I inclined my head in acquiescence.

309       'I should not allow,' said Mr. Spenlow, with an evident increase of
310  pious sentiment, and slowly shaking his head as he poised himself
311  upon his toes and heels alternately, 'my suitable provision for my
312  child to be influenced by a piece of youthful folly like the
313  present. It is mere folly. Mere nonsense. In a little while, it
314  will weigh lighter than any feather. But I might - I might - if
315  this silly business were not completely relinquished altogether, be
316  induced in some anxious moment to guard her from, and surround her
317  with protections against, the consequences of any foolish step in
318  the way of marriage. Now, Mr. Copperfield, I hope that you will
319  not render it necessary for me to open, even for a quarter of an
320  hour, that closed page in the book of life, and unsettle, even for
321  a quarter of an hour, grave affairs long since composed.'

322       There was a serenity, a tranquillity, a calm sunset air about him,
323  which quite affected me. He was so peaceful and resigned - clearly
324  had his affairs in such perfect train, and so systematically wound
325  up - that he was a man to feel touched in the contemplation of. I
326  really think I saw tears rise to his eyes, from the depth of his
327  own feeling of all this.

328       But what could I do? I could not deny Dora and my own heart. When
329  he told me I had better take a week to consider of what he had
330  said, how could I say I wouldn't take a week, yet how could I fail
331  to know that no amount of weeks could influence such love as mine?

332       'In the meantime, confer with Miss Trotwood, or with any person
333  with any knowledge of life,' said Mr. Spenlow, adjusting his cravat
334  with both hands. 'Take a week, Mr. Copperfield.'

335       I submitted; and, with a countenance as expressive as I was able to
336  make it of dejected and despairing constancy, came out of the room.
337  Miss Murdstone's heavy eyebrows followed me to the door - I say her
338  eyebrows rather than her eyes, because they were much more
339  important in her face - and she looked so exactly as she used to
340  look, at about that hour of the morning, in our parlour at
341  Blunderstone, that I could have fancied I had been breaking down in
342  my lessons again, and that the dead weight on my mind was that
343  horrible old spelling-book, with oval woodcuts, shaped, to my
344  youthful fancy, like the glasses out of spectacles.

345       When I got to the office, and, shutting out old Tiffey and the rest
346  of them with my hands, sat at my desk, in my own particular nook,
347  thinking of this earthquake that had taken place so unexpectedly,
348  and in the bitterness of my spirit cursing Jip, I fell into such a
349  state of torment about Dora, that I wonder I did not take up my hat
350  and rush insanely to Norwood. The idea of their frightening her,
351  and making her cry, and of my not being there to comfort her, was
352  so excruciating, that it impelled me to write a wild letter to Mr.
353  Spenlow, beseeching him not to visit upon her the consequences of
354  my awful destiny. I implored him to spare her gentle nature - not
355  to crush a fragile flower - and addressed him generally, to the
356  best of my remembrance, as if, instead of being her father, he had
357  been an Ogre, or the Dragon of Wantley.3 This letter I sealed and
358  laid upon his desk before he returned; and when he came in, I saw
359  him, through the half-opened door of his room, take it up and read
360  it.

361       He said nothing about it all the morning; but before he went away
362  in the afternoon he called me in, and told me that I need not make
363  myself at all uneasy about his daughter's happiness. He had
364  assured her, he said, that it was all nonsense; and he had nothing
365  more to say to her. He believed he was an indulgent father (as
366  indeed he was), and I might spare myself any solicitude on her
367  account.

368       'You may make it necessary, if you are foolish or obstinate, Mr.
369  Copperfield,' he observed, 'for me to send my daughter abroad
370  again, for a term; but I have a better opinion of you. I hope you
371  will be wiser than that, in a few days. As to Miss Murdstone,' for
372  I had alluded to her in the letter, 'I respect that lady's
373  vigilance, and feel obliged to her; but she has strict charge to
374  avoid the subject. All I desire, Mr. Copperfield, is, that it
375  should be forgotten. All you have got to do, Mr. Copperfield, is
376  to forget it.'

377       All! In the note I wrote to Miss Mills, I bitterly quoted this
378  sentiment. All I had to do, I said, with gloomy sarcasm, was to
379  forget Dora. That was all, and what was that! I entreated Miss
380  Mills to see me, that evening. If it could not be done with Mr.
381  Mills's sanction and concurrence, I besought a clandestine
382  interview in the back kitchen where the Mangle was. I informed her
383  that my reason was tottering on its throne, and only she, Miss
384  Mills, could prevent its being deposed. I signed myself, hers
385  distractedly; and I couldn't help feeling, while I read this
386  composition over, before sending it by a porter, that it was
387  something in the style of Mr. Micawber.

388       However, I sent it. At night I repaired to Miss Mills's street,
389  and walked up and down, until I was stealthily fetched in by Miss
390  Mills's maid, and taken the area way to the back kitchen. I have
391  since seen reason to believe that there was nothing on earth to
392  prevent my going in at the front door, and being shown up into the
393  drawing-room, except Miss Mills's love of the romantic and
394  mysterious.

395       In the back kitchen, I raved as became me. I went there, I
396  suppose, to make a fool of myself, and I am quite sure I did it.
397  Miss Mills had received a hasty note from Dora, telling her that
398  all was discovered, and saying. 'Oh pray come to me, Julia, do,
399  do!' But Miss Mills, mistrusting the acceptability of her presence
400  to the higher powers, had not yet gone; and we were all benighted
401  in the Desert of Sahara.

402       Miss Mills had a wonderful flow of words, and liked to pour them
403  out. I could not help feeling, though she mingled her tears with
404  mine, that she had a dreadful luxury in our afflictions. She
405  petted them, as I may say, and made the most of them. A deep gulf,
406  she observed, had opened between Dora and me, and Love could only
407  span it with its rainbow. Love must suffer in this stern world; it
408  ever had been so, it ever would be so. No matter, Miss Mills
409  remarked. Hearts confined by cobwebs would burst at last, and then
410  Love was avenged.

411       This was small consolation, but Miss Mills wouldn't encourage
412  fallacious hopes. She made me much more wretched than I was
413  before, and I felt (and told her with the deepest gratitude) that
414  she was indeed a friend. We resolved that she should go to Dora
415  the first thing in the morning, and find some means of assuring
416  her, either by looks or words, of my devotion and misery. We
417  parted, overwhelmed with grief; and I think Miss Mills enjoyed
418  herself completely.

419       I confided all to my aunt when I got home; and in spite of all she
420  could say to me, went to bed despairing. I got up despairing, and
421  went out despairing. It was Saturday morning, and I went straight
422  to the Commons.

423       I was surprised, when I came within sight of our office-door, to
424  see the ticket-porters standing outside talking together, and some
425  half-dozen stragglers gazing at the windows which were shut up. I
426  quickened my pace, and, passing among them, wondering at their
427  looks, went hurriedly in.

428       The clerks were there, but nobody was doing anything. Old Tiffey,
429  for the first time in his life I should think, was sitting on
430  somebody else's stool, and had not hung up his hat.

431       'This is a dreadful calamity, Mr. Copperfield,' said he, as I
432  entered.

433       'What is?' I exclaimed. 'What's the matter?'

434       'Don't you know?' cried Tiffey, and all the rest of them, coming
435  round me.

436       'No!' said I, looking from face to face.

437       'Mr. Spenlow,' said Tiffey.

438       'What about him!'

439       'Dead!'
440  I thought it was the office reeling, and not I, as one of the
441  clerks caught hold of me. They sat me down in a chair, untied my
442  neck-cloth, and brought me some water. I have no idea whether this
443  took any time.

444       'Dead?' said I.

445       'He dined in town yesterday, and drove down in the phaeton by
446  himself,' said Tiffey, 'having sent his own groom home by the
447  coach, as he sometimes did, you know -'

448       'Well?'

449       'The phaeton went home without him. The horses stopped at the
450  stable-gate. The man went out with a lantern. Nobody in the
451  carriage.'

452       'Had they run away?'

453       'They were not hot,' said Tiffey, putting on his glasses; 'no
454  hotter, I understand, than they would have been, going down at the
455  usual pace. The reins were broken, but they had been dragging on
456  the ground. The house was roused up directly, and three of them
457  went out along the road. They found him a mile off.'

458       'More than a mile off, Mr. Tiffey,' interposed a junior.

459       'Was it? I believe you are right,' said Tiffey, - 'more than a
460  mile off - not far from the church - lying partly on the roadside,
461  and partly on the path, upon his face. Whether he fell out in a
462  fit, or got out, feeling ill before the fit came on - or even
463  whether he was quite dead then, though there is no doubt he was
464  quite insensible - no one appears to know. If he breathed,
465  certainly he never spoke. Medical assistance was got as soon as
466  possible, but it was quite useless.'

467       I cannot describe the state of mind into which I was thrown by this
468  intelligence. The shock of such an event happening so suddenly,
469  and happening to one with whom I had been in any respect at
470  variance - the appalling vacancy in the room he had occupied so
471  lately, where his chair and table seemed to wait for him, and his
472  handwriting of yesterday was like a ghost - the in- definable
473  impossibility of separating him from the place, and feeling, when
474  the door opened, as if he might come in - the lazy hush and rest
475  there was in the office, and the insatiable relish with which our
476  people talked about it, and other people came in and out all day,
477  and gorged themselves with the subject - this is easily
478  intelligible to anyone. What I cannot describe is, how, in the
479  innermost recesses of my own heart, I had a lurking jealousy even
480  of Death. How I felt as if its might would push me from my ground
481  in Dora's thoughts. How I was, in a grudging way I have no words
482  for, envious of her grief. How it made me restless to think of her
483  weeping to others, or being consoled by others. How I had a
484  grasping, avaricious wish to shut out everybody from her but
485  myself, and to be all in all to her, at that unseasonable time of
486  all times.

487       In the trouble of this state of mind - not exclusively my own, I
488  hope, but known to others - I went down to Norwood that night; and
489  finding from one of the servants, when I made my inquiries at the
490  door, that Miss Mills was there, got my aunt to direct a letter to
491  her, which I wrote. I deplored the untimely death of Mr. Spenlow,
492  most sincerely, and shed tears in doing so. I entreated her to
493  tell Dora, if Dora were in a state to hear it, that he had spoken
494  to me with the utmost kindness and consideration; and had coupled
495  nothing but tenderness, not a single or reproachful word, with her
496  name. I know I did this selfishly, to have my name brought before
497  her; but I tried to believe it was an act of justice to his memory.
498  Perhaps I did believe it.

499       My aunt received a few lines next day in reply; addressed, outside,
500  to her; within, to me. Dora was overcome by grief; and when her
501  friend had asked her should she send her love to me, had only
502  cried, as she was always crying, 'Oh, dear papa! oh, poor papa!'
503  But she had not said No, and that I made the most of.

504       Mr. jorkins, who had been at Norwood since the occurrence, came to
505  the office a few days afterwards. He and Tiffey were closeted
506  together for some few moments, and then Tiffey looked out at the
507  door and beckoned me in.

508       'Oh!' said Mr. jorkins. 'Mr. Tiffey and myself, Mr. Copperfield,
509  are about to examine the desks, the drawers, and other such
510  repositories of the deceased, with the view of sealing up his
511  private papers, and searching for a Will. There is no trace of
512  any, elsewhere. It may be as well for you to assist us, if you
513  please.'

514       I had been in agony to obtain some knowledge of the circumstances
515  in which my Dora would be placed - as, in whose guardianship, and
516  so forth - and this was something towards it. We began the search
517  at once; Mr. jorkins unlocking the drawers and desks, and we all
518  taking out the papers. The office-papers we placed on one side,
519  and the private papers (which were not numerous) on the other. We
520  were very grave; and when we came to a stray seal, or pencil-case,
521  or ring, or any little article of that kind which we associated
522  personally with him, we spoke very low.

523       We had sealed up several packets; and were still going on dustily
524  and quietly, when Mr. jorkins said to us, applying exactly the same
525  words to his late partner as his late partner had applied to him:

526       'Mr. Spenlow was very difficult to move from the beaten track. You
527  know what he was! I am disposed to think he had made no will.'

528       'Oh, I know he had!' said I.

529       They both stopped and looked at me.
530  'On the very day when I last saw him,' said I, 'he told me that he
531  had, and that his affairs were long since settled.'

532       Mr. jorkins and old Tiffey shook their heads with one accord.

533       'That looks unpromising,' said Tiffey.

534       'Very unpromising,' said Mr. jorkins.

535       'Surely you don't doubt -' I began.

536       'My good Mr. Copperfield!' said Tiffey, laying his hand upon my
537  arm, and shutting up both his eyes as he shook his head: 'if you
538  had been in the Commons as long as I have, you would know that
539  there is no subject on which men are so inconsistent, and so little
540  to be trusted.'

541       'Why, bless my soul, he made that very remark!' I replied
542  persistently.

543       'I should call that almost final,' observed Tiffey. 'My opinion is
544  - no will.'

545       It appeared a wonderful thing to me, but it turned out that there
546  was no will. He had never so much as thought of making one, so far
547  as his papers afforded any evidence; for there was no kind of hint,
548  sketch, or memorandum, of any testamentary intention whatever.
549  What was scarcely less astonishing to me, was, that his affairs
550  were in a most disordered state. It was extremely difficult, I
551  heard, to make out what he owed, or what he had paid, or of what he
552  died possessed. It was considered likely that for years he could
553  have had no clear opinion on these subjects himself. By little and
554  little it came out, that, in the competition on all points of
555  appearance and gentility then running high in the Commons, he had
556  spent more than his professional income, which was not a very large
557  one, and had reduced his private means, if they ever had been great
558  (which was exceedingly doubtful), to a very low ebb indeed. There
559  was a sale of the furniture and lease, at Norwood; and Tiffey told
560  me, little thinking how interested I was in the story, that, paying
561  all the just debts of the deceased, and deducting his share of
562  outstanding bad and doubtful debts due to the firm, he wouldn't
563  give a thousand pounds for all the assets remaining.

564       This was at the expiration of about six weeks. I had suffered
565  tortures all the time; and thought I really must have laid violent
566  hands upon myself, when Miss Mills still reported to me, that my
567  broken-hearted little Dora would say nothing, when I was mentioned,
568  but 'Oh, poor papa! Oh, dear papa!' Also, that she had no other
569  relations than two aunts, maiden sisters of Mr. Spenlow, who lived
570  at Putney, and who had not held any other than chance communication
571  with their brother for many years. Not that they had ever
572  quarrelled (Miss Mills informed me); but that having been, on the
573  occasion of Dora's christening, invited to tea, when they
574  considered themselves privileged to be invited to dinner, they had
575  expressed their opinion in writing, that it was 'better for the
576  happiness of all parties' that they should stay away. Since which
577  they had gone their road, and their brother had gone his.

578       These two ladies now emerged from their retirement, and proposed to
579  take Dora to live at Putney. Dora, clinging to them both, and
580  weeping, exclaimed, 'O yes, aunts! Please take Julia Mills and me
581  and Jip to Putney!' So they went, very soon after the funeral.

582       How I found time to haunt Putney, I am sure I don't know; but I
583  contrived, by some means or other, to prowl about the neighbourhood
584  pretty often. Miss Mills, for the more exact discharge of the
585  duties of friendship, kept a journal; and she used to meet me
586  sometimes, on the Common, and read it, or (if she had not time to
587  do that) lend it to me. How I treasured up the entries, of which
588  I subjoin a sample! -

589       'Monday. My sweet D. still much depressed. Headache. Called
590  attention to J. as being beautifully sleek. D. fondled J.
591  Associations thus awakened, opened floodgates of sorrow. Rush of
592  grief admitted. (Are tears the dewdrops of the heart? J. M.)

593       'Tuesday. D. weak and nervous. Beautiful in pallor. (Do we not
594  remark this in moon likewise? J. M.) D., J. M. and J. took airing
595  in carriage. J. looking out of window, and barking violently at
596  dustman, occasioned smile to overspread features of D. (Of such
597  slight links is chain of life composed! J. M.)

598       'Wednesday. D. comparatively cheerful. Sang to her, as congenial
599  melody, "Evening Bells". Effect not soothing, but reverse. D.
600  inexpressibly affected. Found sobbing afterwards, in own room.
601  Quoted verses respecting self and young Gazelle. Ineffectually.
602  Also referred to Patience on Monument. (Qy. Why on monument? J.
603  M.)

604       'Thursday. D. certainly improved. Better night. Slight tinge of
605  damask revisiting cheek. Resolved to mention name of D. C.
606  Introduced same, cautiously, in course of airing. D. immediately
607  overcome. "Oh, dear, dear Julia! Oh, I have been a naughty and
608  undutiful child!" Soothed and caressed. Drew ideal picture of D.
609  C. on verge of tomb. D. again overcome. "Oh, what shall I do,
610  what shall I do? Oh, take me somewhere!" Much alarmed. Fainting
611  of D. and glass of water from public-house. (Poetical affinity.
612  Chequered sign on door-post; chequered human life. Alas! J. M.)

613       'Friday. Day of incident. Man appears in kitchen, with blue bag,
614  "for lady's boots left out to heel". Cook replies, "No such
615  orders." Man argues point. Cook withdraws to inquire, leaving man
616  alone with J. On Cook's return, man still argues point, but
617  ultimately goes. J. missing. D. distracted. Information sent to
618  police. Man to be identified by broad nose, and legs like
619  balustrades of bridge. Search made in every direction. No J. D.
620  weeping bitterly, and inconsolable. Renewed reference to young
621  Gazelle. Appropriate, but unavailing. Towards evening, strange
622  boy calls. Brought into parlour. Broad nose, but no balustrades.
623  Says he wants a pound, and knows a dog. Declines to explain
624  further, though much pressed. Pound being produced by D. takes
625  Cook to little house, where J. alone tied up to leg of table. joy
626  of D. who dances round J. while he eats his supper. Emboldened by
627  this happy change, mention D. C. upstairs. D. weeps afresh, cries
628  piteously, "Oh, don't, don't, don't! It is so wicked to think of
629  anything but poor papa!" - embraces J. and sobs herself to sleep.
630  (Must not D. C. confine himself to the broad pinions of Time? J.
631  M.)'

632       Miss Mills and her journal were my sole consolation at this period.
633  To see her, who had seen Dora but a little while before - to trace
634  the initial letter of Dora's name through her sympathetic pages -
635  to be made more and more miserable by her - were my only comforts.
636  I felt as if I had been living in a palace of cards, which had
637  tumbled down, leaving only Miss Mills and me among the ruins; I
638  felt as if some grim enchanter had drawn a magic circle round the
639  innocent goddess of my heart, which nothing indeed but those same
640  strong pinions, capable of carrying so many people over so much,
641  would enable me to enter!

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