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Charles Dickens
Chapter 40
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       My aunt, beginning, I imagine, to be made seriously uncomfortable
2  by my prolonged dejection, made a pretence of being anxious that I
3  should go to Dover, to see that all was working well at the
4  cottage, which was let; and to conclude an agreement, with the same
5  tenant, for a longer term of occupation. Janet was drafted into
6  the service of Mrs. Strong, where I saw her every day. She had
7  been undecided, on leaving Dover, whether or no to give the
8  finishing touch to that renunciation of mankind in which she had
9  been educated, by marrying a pilot; but she decided against that
10  venture. Not so much for the sake of principle, I believe, as
11  because she happened not to like him.

12       Although it required an effort to leave Miss Mills, I fell rather
13  willingly into my aunt's pretence, as a means of enabling me to
14  pass a few tranquil hours with Agnes. I consulted the good Doctor
15  relative to an absence of three days; and the Doctor wishing me to
16  take that relaxation, - he wished me to take more; but my energy
17  could not bear that, - I made up my mind to go.

18       As to the Commons, I had no great occasion to be particular about
19  my duties in that quarter. To say the truth, we were getting in no
20  very good odour among the tip-top proctors, and were rapidly
21  sliding down to but a doubtful position. The business had been
22  indifferent under Mr. jorkins, before Mr. Spenlow's time; and
23  although it had been quickened by the infusion of new blood, and by
24  the display which Mr. Spenlow made, still it was not established on
25  a sufficiently strong basis to bear, without being shaken, such a
26  blow as the sudden loss of its active manager. It fell off very
27  much. Mr. jorkins, notwithstanding his reputation in the firm, was
28  an easy-going, incapable sort of man, whose reputation out of doors
29  was not calculated to back it up. I was turned over to him now,
30  and when I saw him take his snuff and let the business go, I
31  regretted my aunt's thousand pounds more than ever.

32       But this was not the worst of it. There were a number of
33  hangers-on and outsiders about the Commons, who, without being
34  proctors themselves, dabbled in common-form business, and got it
35  done by real proctors, who lent their names in consideration of a
36  share in the spoil; - and there were a good many of these too. As
37  our house now wanted business on any terms, we joined this noble
38  band; and threw out lures to the hangers-on and outsiders, to bring
39  their business to us. Marriage licences and small probates were
40  what we all looked for, and what paid us best; and the competition
41  for these ran very high indeed. Kidnappers and inveiglers were
42  planted in all the avenues of entrance to the Commons, with
43  instructions to do their utmost to cut off all persons in mourning,
44  and all gentlemen with anything bashful in their appearance, and
45  entice them to the offices in which their respective employers were
46  interested; which instructions were so well observed, that I
47  myself, before I was known by sight, was twice hustled into the
48  premises of our principal opponent. The conflicting interests of
49  these touting gentlemen being of a nature to irritate their
50  feelings, personal collisions took place; and the Commons was even
51  scandalized by our principal inveigler (who had formerly been in
52  the wine trade, and afterwards in the sworn brokery line) walking
53  about for some days with a black eye. Any one of these scouts used
54  to think nothing of politely assisting an old lady in black out of
55  a vehicle, killing any proctor whom she inquired for, representing
56  his employer as the lawful successor and representative of that
57  proctor, and bearing the old lady off (sometimes greatly affected)
58  to his employer's office. Many captives were brought to me in this
59  way. As to marriage licences, the competition rose to such a
60  pitch, that a shy gentleman in want of one, had nothing to do but
61  submit himself to the first inveigler, or be fought for, and become
62  the prey of the strongest. One of our clerks, who was an outsider,
63  used, in the height of this contest, to sit with his hat on, that
64  he might be ready to rush out and swear before a surrogate any
65  victim who was brought in. The system of inveigling continues, I
66  believe, to this day. The last time I was in the Commons, a civil
67  able-bodied person in a white apron pounced out upon me from a
68  doorway, and whispering the word 'Marriage-licence' in my ear, was
69  with great difficulty prevented from taking me up in his arms and
70  lifting me into a proctor's. From this digression, let me proceed
71  to Dover.

72       I found everything in a satisfactory state at the cottage; and was
73  enabled to gratify my aunt exceedingly by reporting that the tenant
74  inherited her feud, and waged incessant war against donkeys.
75  Having settled the little business I had to transact there, and
76  slept there one night, I walked on to Canterbury early in the
77  morning. It was now winter again; and the fresh, cold windy day,
78  and the sweeping downland, brightened up my hopes a little.

79       Coming into Canterbury, I loitered through the old streets with a
80  sober pleasure that calmed my spirits, and eased my heart. There
81  were the old signs, the old names over the shops, the old people
82  serving in them. It appeared so long, since I had been a schoolboy
83  there, that I wondered the place was so little changed, until I
84  reflected how little I was changed myself. Strange to say, that
85  quiet influence which was inseparable in my mind from Agnes, seemed
86  to pervade even the city where she dwelt. The venerable cathedral
87  towers, and the old jackdaws and rooks whose airy voices made them
88  more retired than perfect silence would have done; the battered
89  gateways, one stuck full with statues, long thrown down, and
90  crumbled away, like the reverential pilgrims who had gazed upon
91  them; the still nooks, where the ivied growth of centuries crept
92  over gabled ends and ruined walls; the ancient houses, the pastoral
93  landscape of field, orchard, and garden; everywhere - on everything
94  - I felt the same serener air, the same calm, thoughtful, softening
95  spirit.

96       Arrived at Mr. Wickfield's house, I found, in the little lower room
97  on the ground floor, where Uriah Heep had been of old accustomed to
98  sit, Mr. Micawber plying his pen with great assiduity. He was
99  dressed in a legal-looking suit of black, and loomed, burly and
100  large, in that small office.

101       Mr. Micawber was extremely glad to see me, but a little confused
102  too. He would have conducted me immediately into the presence of
103  Uriah, but I declined.

104       'I know the house of old, you recollect,' said I, 'and will find my
105  way upstairs. How do you like the law, Mr. Micawber?'

106       'My dear Copperfield,' he replied. 'To a man possessed of the
107  higher imaginative powers, the objection to legal studies is the
108  amount of detail which they involve. Even in our professional
109  correspondence,' said Mr. Micawber, glancing at some letters he was
110  writing, 'the mind is not at liberty to soar to any exalted form of
111  expression. Still, it is a great pursuit. A great pursuit!'

112       He then told me that he had become the tenant of Uriah Heep's old
113  house; and that Mrs. Micawber would be delighted to receive me,
114  once more, under her own roof.

115       'It is humble,' said Mr. Micawber, '- to quote a favourite
116  expression of my friend Heep; but it may prove the stepping-stone
117  to more ambitious domiciliary accommodation.'

118       I asked him whether he had reason, so far, to be satisfied with his
119  friend Heep's treatment of him? He got up to ascertain if the door
120  were close shut, before he replied, in a lower voice:

121       'My dear Copperfield, a man who labours under the pressure of
122  pecuniary embarrassments, is, with the generality of people, at a
123  disadvantage. That disadvantage is not diminished, when that
124  pressure necessitates the drawing of stipendiary emoluments, before
125  those emoluments are strictly due and payable. All I can say is,
126  that my friend Heep has responded to appeals to which I need not
127  more particularly refer, in a manner calculated to redound equally
128  to the honour of his head, and of his heart.'

129       'I should not have supposed him to be very free with his money
130  either,' I observed.

131       'Pardon me!' said Mr. Micawber, with an air of constraint, 'I speak
132  of my friend Heep as I have experience.'

133       'I am glad your experience is so favourable,' I returned.

134       'You are very obliging, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber;
135  and hummed a tune.

136       'Do you see much of Mr. Wickfield?' I asked, to change the subject.

137       'Not much,' said Mr. Micawber, slightingly. 'Mr. Wickfield is, I
138  dare say, a man of very excellent intentions; but he is - in short,
139  he is obsolete.'

140       'I am afraid his partner seeks to make him so,' said I.

141       'My dear Copperfield!' returned Mr. Micawber, after some uneasy
142  evolutions on his stool, 'allow me to offer a remark! I am here,
143  in a capacity of confidence. I am here, in a position of trust.
144  The discussion of some topics, even with Mrs. Micawber herself (so
145  long the partner of my various vicissitudes, and a woman of a
146  remarkable lucidity of intellect), is, I am led to consider,
147  incompatible with the functions now devolving on me. I would
148  therefore take the liberty of suggesting that in our friendly
149  intercourse - which I trust will never be disturbed! - we draw a
150  line. On one side of this line,' said Mr. Micawber, representing
151  it on the desk with the office ruler, 'is the whole range of the
152  human intellect, with a trifling exception; on the other, IS that
153  exception; that is to say, the affairs of Messrs Wickfield and
154  Heep, with all belonging and appertaining thereunto. I trust I
155  give no offence to the companion of my youth, in submitting this
156  proposition to his cooler judgement?'

157       Though I saw an uneasy change in Mr. Micawber, which sat tightly on
158  him, as if his new duties were a misfit, I felt I had no right to
159  be offended. My telling him so, appeared to relieve him; and he
160  shook hands with me.

161       'I am charmed, Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'let me assure you,
162  with Miss Wickfield. She is a very superior young lady, of very
163  remarkable attractions, graces, and virtues. Upon my honour,' said
164  Mr. Micawber, indefinitely kissing his hand and bowing with his
165  genteelest air, 'I do Homage to Miss Wickfield! Hem!'
166  'I am glad of that, at least,' said I.

167       'If you had not assured us, my dear Copperfield, on the occasion of
168  that agreeable afternoon we had the happiness of passing with you,
169  that D. was your favourite letter,' said Mr. Micawber, 'I should
170  unquestionably have supposed that A. had been so.'

171       We have all some experience of a feeling, that comes over us
172  occasionally, of what we are saying and doing having been said and
173  done before, in a remote time - of our having been surrounded, dim
174  ages ago, by the same faces, objects, and circumstances - of our
175  knowing perfectly what will be said next, as if we suddenly
176  remembered it! I never had this mysterious impression more
177  strongly in my life, than before he uttered those words.

178       I took my leave of Mr. Micawber, for the time, charging him with my
179  best remembrances to all at home. As I left him, resuming his
180  stool and his pen, and rolling his head in his stock, to get it
181  into easier writing order, I clearly perceived that there was
182  something interposed between him and me, since he had come into his
183  new functions, which prevented our getting at each other as we used
184  to do, and quite altered the character of our intercourse.

185       There was no one in the quaint old drawing-room, though it
186  presented tokens of Mrs. Heep's whereabouts. I looked into the
187  room still belonging to Agnes, and saw her sitting by the fire, at
188  a pretty old-fashioned desk she had, writing.

189       My darkening the light made her look up. What a pleasure to be the
190  cause of that bright change in her attentive face, and the object
191  of that sweet regard and welcome!

192       'Ah, Agnes!' said I, when we were sitting together, side by side;
193  'I have missed you so much, lately!'

194       'Indeed?' she replied. 'Again! And so soon?'

195       I shook my head.

196       'I don't know how it is, Agnes; I seem to want some faculty of mind
197  that I ought to have. You were so much in the habit of thinking
198  for me, in the happy old days here, and I came so naturally to you
199  for counsel and support, that I really think I have missed
200  acquiring it.'

201       'And what is it?' said Agnes, cheerfully.

202       'I don't know what to call it,' I replied. 'I think I am earnest
203  and persevering?'

204       'I am sure of it,' said Agnes.

205       'And patient, Agnes?' I inquired, with a little hesitation.

206       'Yes,' returned Agnes, laughing. 'Pretty well.'

207       'And yet,' said I, 'I get so miserable and worried, and am so
208  unsteady and irresolute in my power of assuring myself, that I know
209  I must want - shall I call it - reliance, of some kind?'

210       'Call it so, if you will,' said Agnes.

211       'Well!' I returned. 'See here! You come to London, I rely on you,
212  and I have an object and a course at once. I am driven out of it,
213  I come here, and in a moment I feel an altered person. The
214  circumstances that distressed me are not changed, since I came into
215  this room; but an influence comes over me in that short interval
216  that alters me, oh, how much for the better! What is it? What is
217  your secret, Agnes?'

218       Her head was bent down, looking at the fire.

219       'It's the old story,' said I. 'Don't laugh, when I say it was
220  always the same in little things as it is in greater ones. My old
221  troubles were nonsense, and now they are serious; but whenever I
222  have gone away from my adopted sister -'

223       Agnes looked up - with such a Heavenly face! - and gave me her
224  hand, which I kissed.

225       'Whenever I have not had you, Agnes, to advise and approve in the
226  beginning, I have seemed to go wild, and to get into all sorts of
227  difficulty. When I have come to you, at last (as I have always
228  done), I have come to peace and happiness. I come home, now, like
229  a tired traveller, and find such a blessed sense of rest!'

230       I felt so deeply what I said, it affected me so sincerely, that my
231  voice failed, and I covered my face with my hand, and broke into
232  tears. I write the truth. Whatever contradictions and
233  inconsistencies there were within me, as there are within so many
234  of us; whatever might have been so different, and so much better;
235  whatever I had done, in which I had perversely wandered away from
236  the voice of my own heart; I knew nothing of. I only knew that I
237  was fervently in earnest, when I felt the rest and peace of having
238  Agnes near me.

239       In her placid sisterly manner; with her beaming eyes; with her
240  tender voice; and with that sweet composure, which had long ago
241  made the house that held her quite a sacred place to me; she soon
242  won me from this weakness, and led me on to tell all that had
243  happened since our last meeting.

244       'And there is not another word to tell, Agnes,' said I, when I had
245  made an end of my confidence. 'Now, my reliance is on you.'

246       'But it must not be on me, Trotwood,' returned Agnes, with a
247  pleasant smile. 'It must be on someone else.'

248       'On Dora?' said I.

249       'Assuredly.'

250       'Why, I have not mentioned, Agnes,' said I, a little embarrassed,
251  'that Dora is rather difficult to - I would not, for the world,
252  say, to rely upon, because she is the soul of purity and truth -
253  but rather difficult to - I hardly know how to express it, really,
254  Agnes. She is a timid little thing, and easily disturbed and
255  frightened. Some time ago, before her father's death, when I
256  thought it right to mention to her - but I'll tell you, if you will
257  bear with me, how it was.'

258       Accordingly, I told Agnes about my declaration of poverty, about
259  the cookery-book, the housekeeping accounts, and all the rest of
260  it.

261       'Oh, Trotwood!' she remonstrated, with a smile. 'Just your old
262  headlong way! You might have been in earnest in striving to get on
263  in the world, without being so very sudden with a timid, loving,
264  inexperienced girl. Poor Dora!'

265       I never heard such sweet forbearing kindness expressed in a voice,
266  as she expressed in making this reply. It was as if I had seen her
267  admiringly and tenderly embracing Dora, and tacitly reproving me,
268  by her considerate protection, for my hot haste in fluttering that
269  little heart. It was as if I had seen Dora, in all her fascinating
270  artlessness, caressing Agnes, and thanking her, and coaxingly
271  appealing against me, and loving me with all her childish
272  innocence.

273       I felt so grateful to Agnes, and admired her so! I saw those two
274  together, in a bright perspective, such well-associated friends,
275  each adorning the other so much!

276       'What ought I to do then, Agnes?' I inquired, after looking at the
277  fire a little while. 'What would it be right to do?'

278       'I think,' said Agnes, 'that the honourable course to take, would
279  be to write to those two ladies. Don't you think that any secret
280  course is an unworthy one?'

281       'Yes. If YOU think so,' said I.

282       'I am poorly qualified to judge of such matters,' replied Agnes,
283  with a modest hesitation, 'but I certainly feel - in short, I feel
284  that your being secret and clandestine, is not being like
285  yourself.'

286       'Like myself, in the too high opinion you have of me, Agnes, I am
287  afraid,' said I.

288       'Like yourself, in the candour of your nature,' she returned; 'and
289  therefore I would write to those two ladies. I would relate, as
290  plainly and as openly as possible, all that has taken place; and I
291  would ask their permission to visit sometimes, at their house.
292  Considering that you are young, and striving for a place in life,
293  I think it would be well to say that you would readily abide by any
294  conditions they might impose upon you. I would entreat them not to
295  dismiss your request, without a reference to Dora; and to discuss
296  it with her when they should think the time suitable. I would not
297  be too vehement,' said Agnes, gently, 'or propose too much. I
298  would trust to my fidelity and perseverance - and to Dora.'

299       'But if they were to frighten Dora again, Agnes, by speaking to
300  her,' said I. 'And if Dora were to cry, and say nothing about me!'

301       'Is that likely?' inquired Agnes, with the same sweet consideration
302  in her face.

303       'God bless her, she is as easily scared as a bird,' said I. 'It
304  might be! Or if the two Miss Spenlows (elderly ladies of that sort
305  are odd characters sometimes) should not be likely persons to
306  address in that way!'

307       'I don't think, Trotwood,' returned Agnes, raising her soft eyes to
308  mine, 'I would consider that. Perhaps it would be better only to
309  consider whether it is right to do this; and, if it is, to do it.'

310       I had no longer any doubt on the subject. With a lightened heart,
311  though with a profound sense of the weighty importance of my task,
312  I devoted the whole afternoon to the composition of the draft of
313  this letter; for which great purpose, Agnes relinquished her desk
314  to me. But first I went downstairs to see Mr. Wickfield and Uriah
315  Heep.

316       I found Uriah in possession of a new, plaster-smelling office,
317  built out in the garden; looking extraordinarily mean, in the midst
318  of a quantity of books and papers. He received me in his usual
319  fawning way, and pretended not to have heard of my arrival from Mr.
320  Micawber; a pretence I took the liberty of disbelieving. He
321  accompanied me into Mr. Wickfield's room, which was the shadow of
322  its former self - having been divested of a variety of
323  conveniences, for the accommodation of the new partner - and stood
324  before the fire, warming his back, and shaving his chin with his
325  bony hand, while Mr. Wickfield and I exchanged greetings.

326       'You stay with us, Trotwood, while you remain in Canterbury?' said
327  Mr. Wickfield, not without a glance at Uriah for his approval.

328       'Is there room for me?' said I.

329       'I am sure, Master Copperfield - I should say Mister, but the other
330  comes so natural,' said Uriah, -'I would turn out of your old room
331  with pleasure, if it would be agreeable.'

332       'No, no,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'Why should you be inconvenienced?
333  There's another room. There's another room.'
334  'Oh, but you know,' returned Uriah, with a grin, 'I should really
335  be delighted!'

336       To cut the matter short, I said I would have the other room or none
337  at all; so it was settled that I should have the other room; and,
338  taking my leave of the firm until dinner, I went upstairs again.

339       I had hoped to have no other companion than Agnes. But Mrs. Heep
340  had asked permission to bring herself and her knitting near the
341  fire, in that room; on pretence of its having an aspect more
342  favourable for her rheumatics, as the wind then was, than the
343  drawing-room or dining-parlour. Though I could almost have
344  consigned her to the mercies of the wind on the topmost pinnacle of
345  the Cathedral, without remorse, I made a virtue of necessity, and
346  gave her a friendly salutation.

347       'I'm umbly thankful to you, sir,' said Mrs. Heep, in
348  acknowledgement of my inquiries concerning her health, 'but I'm
349  only pretty well. I haven't much to boast of. If I could see my
350  Uriah well settled in life, I couldn't expect much more I think.
351  How do you think my Ury looking, sir?'

352       I thought him looking as villainous as ever, and I replied that I
353  saw no change in him.

354       'Oh, don't you think he's changed?' said Mrs. Heep. 'There I must
355  umbly beg leave to differ from you. Don't you see a thinness in
356  him?'

357       'Not more than usual,' I replied.

358       'Don't you though!' said Mrs. Heep. 'But you don't take notice of
359  him with a mother's eye!'

360       His mother's eye was an evil eye to the rest of the world, I
361  thought as it met mine, howsoever affectionate to him; and I
362  believe she and her son were devoted to one another. It passed me,
363  and went on to Agnes.

364       'Don't YOU see a wasting and a wearing in him, Miss Wickfield?'
365  inquired Mrs. Heep.

366       'No,' said Agnes, quietly pursuing the work on which she was
367  engaged. 'You are too solicitous about him. He is very well.'

368       Mrs. Heep, with a prodigious sniff, resumed her knitting.

369       She never left off, or left us for a moment. I had arrived early
370  in the day, and we had still three or four hours before dinner; but
371  she sat there, plying her knitting-needles as monotonously as an
372  hour-glass might have poured out its sands. She sat on one side of
373  the fire; I sat at the desk in front of it; a little beyond me, on
374  the other side, sat Agnes. Whensoever, slowly pondering over my
375  letter, I lifted up my eyes, and meeting the thoughtful face of
376  Agnes, saw it clear, and beam encouragement upon me, with its own
377  angelic expression, I was conscious presently of the evil eye
378  passing me, and going on to her, and coming back to me again, and
379  dropping furtively upon the knitting. What the knitting was, I
380  don't know, not being learned in that art; but it looked like a
381  net; and as she worked away with those Chinese chopsticks of
382  knitting-needles, she showed in the firelight like an ill-looking
383  enchantress, baulked as yet by the radiant goodness opposite, but
384  getting ready for a cast of her net by and by.

385       At dinner she maintained her watch, with the same unwinking eyes.
386  After dinner, her son took his turn; and when Mr. Wickfield,
387  himself, and I were left alone together, leered at me, and writhed
388  until I could hardly bear it. In the drawing-room, there was the
389  mother knitting and watching again. All the time that Agnes sang
390  and played, the mother sat at the piano. Once she asked for a
391  particular ballad, which she said her Ury (who was yawning in a
392  great chair) doted on; and at intervals she looked round at him,
393  and reported to Agnes that he was in raptures with the music. But
394  she hardly ever spoke - I question if she ever did - without making
395  some mention of him. It was evident to me that this was the duty
396  assigned to her.

397       This lasted until bedtime. To have seen the mother and son, like
398  two great bats hanging over the whole house, and darkening it with
399  their ugly forms, made me so uncomfortable, that I would rather
400  have remained downstairs, knitting and all, than gone to bed. I
401  hardly got any sleep. Next day the knitting and watching began
402  again, and lasted all day.

403       I had not an opportunity of speaking to Agnes, for ten minutes. I
404  could barely show her my letter. I proposed to her to walk out
405  with me; but Mrs. Heep repeatedly complaining that she was worse,
406  Agnes charitably remained within, to bear her company. Towards the
407  twilight I went out by myself, musing on what I ought to do, and
408  whether I was justified in withholding from Agnes, any longer, what
409  Uriah Heep had told me in London; for that began to trouble me
410  again, very much.

411       I had not walked out far enough to be quite clear of the town, upon
412  the Ramsgate road, where there was a good path, when I was hailed,
413  through the dust, by somebody behind me. The shambling figure, and
414  the scanty great-coat, were not to be mistaken. I stopped, and
415  Uriah Heep came up.

416       'Well?' said I.

417       'How fast you walk!' said he. 'My legs are pretty long, but you've
418  given 'em quite a job.'

419       'Where are you going?' said I.

420       'I am going with you, Master Copperfield, if you'll allow me the
421  pleasure of a walk with an old acquaintance.' Saying this, with a
422  jerk of his body, which might have been either propitiatory or
423  derisive, he fell into step beside me.

424       'Uriah!' said I, as civilly as I could, after a silence.

425       'Master Copperfield!' said Uriah.

426       'To tell you the truth (at which you will not be offended), I came
427  Out to walk alone, because I have had so much company.'

428       He looked at me sideways, and said with his hardest grin, 'You mean
429  mother.'

430       'Why yes, I do,' said I.

431       'Ah! But you know we're so very umble,' he returned. 'And having
432  such a knowledge of our own umbleness, we must really take care
433  that we're not pushed to the wall by them as isn't umble. All
434  stratagems are fair in love, sir.'

435       Raising his great hands until they touched his chin, he rubbed them
436  softly, and softly chuckled; looking as like a malevolent baboon,
437  I thought, as anything human could look.

438       'You see,' he said, still hugging himself in that unpleasant way,
439  and shaking his head at me, 'you're quite a dangerous rival, Master
440  Copperfield. You always was, you know.'

441       'Do you set a watch upon Miss Wickfield, and make her home no home,
442  because of me?' said I.

443       'Oh! Master Copperfield! Those are very arsh words,' he replied.

444       'Put my meaning into any words you like,' said I. 'You know what
445  it is, Uriah, as well as I do.'

446       'Oh no! You must put it into words,' he said. 'Oh, really! I
447  couldn't myself.'

448       'Do you suppose,' said I, constraining myself to be very temperate
449  and quiet with him, on account of Agnes, 'that I regard Miss
450  Wickfield otherwise than as a very dear sister?'

451       'Well, Master Copperfield,' he replied, 'you perceive I am not
452  bound to answer that question. You may not, you know. But then,
453  you see, you may!'

454       Anything to equal the low cunning of his visage, and of his
455  shadowless eyes without the ghost of an eyelash, I never saw.

456       'Come then!' said I. 'For the sake of Miss Wickfield -'

457       'My Agnes!' he exclaimed, with a sickly, angular contortion of
458  himself. 'Would you be so good as call her Agnes, Master
459  Copperfield!'

460       'For the sake of Agnes Wickfield - Heaven bless her!'

461       'Thank you for that blessing, Master Copperfield!'he interposed.

462       'I will tell you what I should, under any other circumstances, as
463  soon have thought of telling to - Jack Ketch.'

464       'To who, sir?' said Uriah, stretching out his neck, and shading his
465  ear with his hand.

466       'To the hangman,' I returned. 'The most unlikely person I could
467  think of,' - though his own face had suggested the allusion quite
468  as a natural sequence. 'I am engaged to another young lady. I
469  hope that contents you.'

470       'Upon your soul?' said Uriah.

471       I was about indignantly to give my assertion the confirmation he
472  required, when he caught hold of my hand, and gave it a squeeze.

473       'Oh, Master Copperfield!' he said. 'If you had only had the
474  condescension to return my confidence when I poured out the fulness
475  of my art, the night I put you so much out of the way by sleeping
476  before your sitting-room fire, I never should have doubted you. As
477  it is, I'm sure I'll take off mother directly, and only too appy.
478  I know you'll excuse the precautions of affection, won't you? What
479  a pity, Master Copperfield, that you didn't condescend to return my
480  confidence! I'm sure I gave you every opportunity. But you never
481  have condescended to me, as much as I could have wished. I know
482  you have never liked me, as I have liked you!'

483       All this time he was squeezing my hand with his damp fishy fingers,
484  while I made every effort I decently could to get it away. But I
485  was quite unsuccessful. He drew it under the sleeve of his
486  mulberry-coloured great-coat, and I walked on, almost upon
487  compulsion, arm-in-arm with him.

488       'Shall we turn?' said Uriah, by and by wheeling me face about
489  towards the town, on which the early moon was now shining,
490  silvering the distant windows.

491       'Before we leave the subject, you ought to understand,' said I,
492  breaking a pretty long silence, 'that I believe Agnes Wickfield to
493  be as far above you, and as far removed from all your aspirations,
494  as that moon herself!'

495       'Peaceful! Ain't she!' said Uriah. 'Very! Now confess, Master
496  Copperfield, that you haven't liked me quite as I have liked you.
497  All along you've thought me too umble now, I shouldn't wonder?'

498       'I am not fond of professions of humility,' I returned, 'or
499  professions of anything else.'
500  'There now!' said Uriah, looking flabby and lead-coloured in the
501  moonlight. 'Didn't I know it! But how little you think of the
502  rightful umbleness of a person in my station, Master Copperfield!
503  Father and me was both brought up at a foundation school for boys;
504  and mother, she was likewise brought up at a public, sort of
505  charitable, establishment. They taught us all a deal of umbleness
506  - not much else that I know of, from morning to night. We was to
507  be umble to this person, and umble to that; and to pull off our
508  caps here, and to make bows there; and always to know our place,
509  and abase ourselves before our betters. And we had such a lot of
510  betters! Father got the monitor-medal by being umble. So did I.
511  Father got made a sexton by being umble. He had the character,
512  among the gentlefolks, of being such a well-behaved man, that they
513  were determined to bring him in. "Be umble, Uriah," says father to
514  me, "and you'll get on. It was what was always being dinned into
515  you and me at school; it's what goes down best. Be umble," says
516  father," and you'll do!" And really it ain't done bad!'

517       It was the first time it had ever occurred to me, that this
518  detestable cant of false humility might have originated out of the
519  Heep family. I had seen the harvest, but had never thought of the
520  seed.

521       'When I was quite a young boy,' said Uriah, 'I got to know what
522  umbleness did, and I took to it. I ate umble pie with an appetite.
523  I stopped at the umble point of my learning, and says I, "Hold
524  hard!" When you offered to teach me Latin, I knew better. "People
525  like to be above you," says father, "keep yourself down." I am very
526  umble to the present moment, Master Copperfield, but I've got a
527  little power!'

528       And he said all this - I knew, as I saw his face in the moonlight
529  - that I might understand he was resolved to recompense himself by
530  using his power. I had never doubted his meanness, his craft and
531  malice; but I fully comprehended now, for the first time, what a
532  base, unrelenting, and revengeful spirit, must have been engendered
533  by this early, and this long, suppression.

534       His account of himself was so far attended with an agreeable
535  result, that it led to his withdrawing his hand in order that he
536  might have another hug of himself under the chin. Once apart from
537  him, I was determined to keep apart; and we walked back, side by
538  side, saying very little more by the way. Whether his spirits were
539  elevated by the communication I had made to him, or by his having
540  indulged in this retrospect, I don't know; but they were raised by
541  some influence. He talked more at dinner than was usual with him;
542  asked his mother (off duty, from the moment of our re-entering the
543  house) whether he was not growing too old for a bachelor; and once
544  looked at Agnes so, that I would have given all I had, for leave to
545  knock him down.

546       When we three males were left alone after dinner, he got into a
547  more adventurous state. He had taken little or no wine; and I
548  presume it was the mere insolence of triumph that was upon him,
549  flushed perhaps by the temptation my presence furnished to its
550  exhibition.

551       I had observed yesterday, that he tried to entice Mr. Wickfield to
552  drink; and, interpreting the look which Agnes had given me as she
553  went out, had limited myself to one glass, and then proposed that
554  we should follow her. I would have done so again today; but Uriah
555  was too quick for me.

556       'We seldom see our present visitor, sir,' he said, addressing Mr.
557  Wickfield, sitting, such a contrast to him, at the end of the
558  table, 'and I should propose to give him welcome in another glass
559  or two of wine, if you have no objections. Mr. Copperfield, your
560  elth and appiness!'

561       I was obliged to make a show of taking the hand he stretched across
562  to me; and then, with very different emotions, I took the hand of
563  the broken gentleman, his partner.

564       'Come, fellow-partner,' said Uriah, 'if I may take the liberty, -
565  now, suppose you give us something or another appropriate to
566  Copperfield!'

567       I pass over Mr. Wickfield's proposing my aunt, his proposing Mr.
568  Dick, his proposing Doctors' Commons, his proposing Uriah, his
569  drinking everything twice; his consciousness of his own weakness,
570  the ineffectual effort that he made against it; the struggle
571  between his shame in Uriah's deportment, and his desire to
572  conciliate him; the manifest exultation with which Uriah twisted
573  and turned, and held him up before me. It made me sick at heart to
574  see, and my hand recoils from writing it.

575       'Come, fellow-partner!' said Uriah, at last, 'I'll give you another
576  one, and I umbly ask for bumpers, seeing I intend to make it the
577  divinest of her sex.'

578       Her father had his empty glass in his hand. I saw him set it down,
579  look at the picture she was so like, put his hand to his forehead,
580  and shrink back in his elbow-chair.

581       'I'm an umble individual to give you her elth,' proceeded Uriah,
582  'but I admire - adore her.'

583       No physical pain that her father's grey head could have borne, I
584  think, could have been more terrible to me, than the mental
585  endurance I saw compressed now within both his hands.

586       'Agnes,' said Uriah, either not regarding him, or not knowing what
587  the nature of his action was, 'Agnes Wickfield is, I am safe to
588  say, the divinest of her sex. May I speak out, among friends? To
589  be her father is a proud distinction, but to be her usband -'

590       Spare me from ever again hearing such a cry, as that with which her
591  father rose up from the table!
592  'What's the matter?' said Uriah, turning of a deadly colour. 'You
593  are not gone mad, after all, Mr. Wickfield, I hope? If I say I've
594  an ambition to make your Agnes my Agnes, I have as good a right to
595  it as another man. I have a better right to it than any other
596  man!'

597       I had my arms round Mr. Wickfield, imploring him by everything that
598  I could think of, oftenest of all by his love for Agnes, to calm
599  himself a little. He was mad for the moment; tearing out his hair,
600  beating his head, trying to force me from him, and to force himself
601  from me, not answering a word, not looking at or seeing anyone;
602  blindly striving for he knew not what, his face all staring and
603  distorted - a frightful spectacle.

604       I conjured him, incoherently, but in the most impassioned manner,
605  not to abandon himself to this wildness, but to hear me. I
606  besought him to think of Agnes, to connect me with Agnes, to
607  recollect how Agnes and I had grown up together, how I honoured her
608  and loved her, how she was his pride and joy. I tried to bring her
609  idea before him in any form; I even reproached him with not having
610  firmness to spare her the knowledge of such a scene as this. I may
611  have effected something, or his wildness may have spent itself; but
612  by degrees he struggled less, and began to look at me - strangely
613  at first, then with recognition in his eyes. At length he said, 'I
614  know, Trotwood! My darling child and you - I know! But look at
615  him!'

616       He pointed to Uriah, pale and glowering in a corner, evidently very
617  much out in his calculations, and taken by surprise.

618       'Look at my torturer,' he replied. 'Before him I have step by step
619  abandoned name and reputation, peace and quiet, house and home.'

620       'I have kept your name and reputation for you, and your peace and
621  quiet, and your house and home too,' said Uriah, with a sulky,
622  hurried, defeated air of compromise. 'Don't be foolish, Mr.
623  Wickfield. If I have gone a little beyond what you were prepared
624  for, I can go back, I suppose? There's no harm done.'

625       'I looked for single motives in everyone,' said Mr. Wickfield, and
626  I was satisfied I had bound him to me by motives of interest. But
627  see what he is - oh, see what he is!'

628       'You had better stop him, Copperfield, if you can,' cried Uriah,
629  with his long forefinger pointing towards me. 'He'll say something
630  presently - mind you! - he'll be sorry to have said afterwards, and
631  you'll be sorry to have heard!'

632       'I'll say anything!' cried Mr. Wickfield, with a desperate air.
633  'Why should I not be in all the world's power if I am in yours?'

634       'Mind! I tell you!' said Uriah, continuing to warn me. 'If you
635  don't stop his mouth, you're not his friend! Why shouldn't you be
636  in all the world's power, Mr. Wickfield? Because you have got a
637  daughter. You and me know what we know, don't we? Let sleeping
638  dogs lie - who wants to rouse 'em? I don't. Can't you see I am as
639  umble as I can be? I tell you, if I've gone too far, I'm sorry.
640  What would you have, sir?'

641       'Oh, Trotwood, Trotwood!'exclaimed Mr. Wickfield, wringing his
642  hands. 'What I have come down to be, since I first saw you in this
643  house! I was on my downward way then, but the dreary, dreary road
644  I have traversed since! Weak indulgence has ruined me. Indulgence
645  in remembrance, and indulgence in forgetfulness. My natural grief
646  for my child's mother turned to disease; my natural love for my
647  child turned to disease. I have infected everything I touched. I
648  have brought misery on what I dearly love, I know -you know! I
649  thought it possible that I could truly love one creature in the
650  world, and not love the rest; I thought it possible that I could
651  truly mourn for one creature gone out of the world, and not have
652  some part in the grief of all who mourned. Thus the lessons of my
653  life have been perverted! I have preyed on my own morbid coward
654  heart, and it has preyed on me. Sordid in my grief, sordid in my
655  love, sordid in my miserable escape from the darker side of both,
656  oh see the ruin I am, and hate me, shun me!'

657       He dropped into a chair, and weakly sobbed. The excitement into
658  which he had been roused was leaving him. Uriah came out of his
659  corner.

660       'I don't know all I have done, in my fatuity,' said Mr. Wickfield,
661  putting out his hands, as if to deprecate my condemnation. 'He
662  knows best,' meaning Uriah Heep, 'for he has always been at my
663  elbow, whispering me. You see the millstone that he is about my
664  neck. You find him in my house, you find him in my business. You
665  heard him, but a little time ago. What need have I to say more!'

666       'You haven't need to say so much, nor half so much, nor anything at
667  all,' observed Uriah, half defiant, and half fawning. 'You
668  wouldn't have took it up so, if it hadn't been for the wine.
669  You'll think better of it tomorrow, sir. If I have said too much,
670  or more than I meant, what of it? I haven't stood by it!'

671       The door opened, and Agnes, gliding in, without a vestige of colour
672  in her face, put her arm round his neck, and steadily said, 'Papa,
673  you are not well. Come with me!'

674       He laid his head upon her shoulder, as if he were oppressed with
675  heavy shame, and went out with her. Her eyes met mine for but an
676  instant, yet I saw how much she knew of what had passed.

677       'I didn't expect he'd cut up so rough, Master Copperfield,' said
678  Uriah. 'But it's nothing. I'll be friends with him tomorrow.
679  It's for his good. I'm umbly anxious for his good.'

680       I gave him no answer, and went upstairs into the quiet room where
681  Agnes had so often sat beside me at my books. Nobody came near me
682  until late at night. I took up a book, and tried to read. I heard
683  the clocks strike twelve, and was still reading, without knowing
684  what I read, when Agnes touched me.

685       'You will be going early in the morning, Trotwood! Let us say
686  good-bye, now!'

687       She had been weeping, but her face then was so calm and beautiful!

688       'Heaven bless you!' she said, giving me her hand.

689       'Dearest Agnes!' I returned, 'I see you ask me not to speak of
690  tonight - but is there nothing to be done?'

691       'There is God to trust in!' she replied.

692       'Can I do nothing- I, who come to you with my poor sorrows?'

693       'And make mine so much lighter,' she replied. 'Dear Trotwood, no!'

694       'Dear Agnes,' I said, 'it is presumptuous for me, who am so poor in
695  all in which you are so rich - goodness, resolution, all noble
696  qualities - to doubt or direct you; but you know how much I love
697  you, and how much I owe you. You will never sacrifice yourself to
698  a mistaken sense of duty, Agnes?'

699       More agitated for a moment than I had ever seen her, she took her
700  hands from me, and moved a step back.

701       'Say you have no such thought, dear Agnes! Much more than sister!
702  Think of the priceless gift of such a heart as yours, of such a
703  love as yours!'

704       Oh! long, long afterwards, I saw that face rise up before me, with
705  its momentary look, not wondering, not accusing, not regretting.
706  Oh, long, long afterwards, I saw that look subside, as it did now,
707  into the lovely smile, with which she told me she had no fear for
708  herself - I need have none for her - and parted from me by the name
709  of Brother, and was gone!

710       It was dark in the morning, when I got upon the coach at the inn
711  door. The day was just breaking when we were about to start, and
712  then, as I sat thinking of her, came struggling up the coach side,
713  through the mingled day and night, Uriah's head.

714       'Copperfield!' said he, in a croaking whisper, as he hung by the
715  iron on the roof, 'I thought you'd be glad to hear before you went
716  off, that there are no squares broke between us. I've been into
717  his room already, and we've made it all smooth. Why, though I'm
718  umble, I'm useful to him, you know; and he understands his interest
719  when he isn't in liquor! What an agreeable man he is, after all,
720  Master Copperfield!'

721       I obliged myself to say that I was glad he had made his apology.

722       'Oh, to be sure!' said Uriah. 'When a person's umble, you know,
723  what's an apology? So easy! I say! I suppose,' with a jerk, 'you
724  have sometimes plucked a pear before it was ripe, Master
725  Copperfield?'

726       'I suppose I have,' I replied.

727       'I did that last night,' said Uriah; 'but it'll ripen yet! It only
728  wants attending to. I can wait!'

729       Profuse in his farewells, he got down again as the coachman got up.
730  For anything I know, he was eating something to keep the raw
731  morning air out; but he made motions with his mouth as if the pear
732  were ripe already, and he were smacking his lips over it.

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