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Charles Dickens
Chapter 43
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       I feel as if it were not for me to record, even though this
2  manuscript is intended for no eyes but mine, how hard I worked at
3  that tremendous short-hand, and all improvement appertaining to it,
4  in my sense of responsibility to Dora and her aunts. I will only
5  add, to what I have already written of my perseverance at this time
6  of my life, and of a patient and continuous energy which then began
7  to be matured within me, and which I know to be the strong part of
8  my character, if it have any strength at all, that there, on
9  looking back, I find the source of my success. I have been very
10  fortunate in worldly matters; many men have worked much harder, and
11  not succeeded half so well; but I never could have done what I have
12  done, without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence,
13  without the determination to concentrate myself on one object at a
14  time, no matter how quickly its successor should come upon its
15  heels, which I then formed. Heaven knows I write this, in no
16  spirit of self-laudation. The man who reviews his own life, as I
17  do mine, in going on here, from page to page, had need to have been
18  a good man indeed, if he would be spared the sharp consciousness of
19  many talents neglected, many opportunities wasted, many erratic and
20  perverted feelings constantly at war within his breast, and
21  defeating him. I do not hold one natural gift, I dare say, that I
22  have not abused. My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried
23  to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that
24  whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to
25  completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been
26  thoroughly in earnest. I have never believed it possible that any
27  natural or improved ability can claim immunity from the
28  companionship of the steady, plain, hard-working qualities, and
29  hope to gain its end. There is no such thing as such fulfilment on
30  this earth. Some happy talent, and some fortunate opportunity, may
31  form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the
32  rounds of that ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear;
33  and there is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent, and sincere
34  earnestness. Never to put one hand to anything, on which I could
35  throw my whole self; and never to affect depreciation of my work,
36  whatever it was; I find, now, to have been my golden rules.

37       How much of the practice I have just reduced to precept, I owe to
38  Agnes, I will not repeat here. My narrative proceeds to Agnes,
39  with a thankful love.

40       She came on a visit of a fortnight to the Doctor's. Mr. Wickfield
41  was the Doctor's old friend, and the Doctor wished to talk with
42  him, and do him good. It had been matter of conversation with
43  Agnes when she was last in town, and this visit was the result.
44  She and her father came together. I was not much surprised to hear
45  from her that she had engaged to find a lodging in the
46  neighbourhood for Mrs. Heep, whose rheumatic complaint required
47  change of air, and who would be charmed to have it in such company.
48  Neither was I surprised when, on the very next day, Uriah, like a
49  dutiful son, brought his worthy mother to take possession.

50       'You see, Master Copperfield,' said he, as he forced himself upon
51  my company for a turn in the Doctor's garden, 'where a person
52  loves, a person is a little jealous - leastways, anxious to keep an
53  eye on the beloved one.'

54       'Of whom are you jealous, now?' said I.

55       'Thanks to you, Master Copperfield,' he returned, 'of no one in
56  particular just at present - no male person, at least.'

57       'Do you mean that you are jealous of a female person?'

58       He gave me a sidelong glance out of his sinister red eyes, and
59  laughed.

60       'Really, Master Copperfield,' he said, '- I should say Mister, but
61  I know you'll excuse the abit I've got into - you're so
62  insinuating, that you draw me like a corkscrew! Well, I don't mind
63  telling you,' putting his fish-like hand on mine, 'I'm not a lady's
64  man in general, sir, and I never was, with Mrs. Strong.'

65       His eyes looked green now, as they watched mine with a rascally
66  cunning.

67       'What do you mean?' said I.

68       'Why, though I am a lawyer, Master Copperfield,' he replied, with
69  a dry grin, 'I mean, just at present, what I say.'

70       'And what do you mean by your look?' I retorted, quietly.

71       'By my look? Dear me, Copperfield, that's sharp practice! What do
72  I mean by my look?'

73       'Yes,' said I. 'By your look.'

74       He seemed very much amused, and laughed as heartily as it was in
75  his nature to laugh. After some scraping of his chin with his
76  hand, he went on to say, with his eyes cast downward - still
77  scraping, very slowly:

78       'When I was but an umble clerk, she always looked down upon me.
79  She was for ever having my Agnes backwards and forwards at her
80  ouse, and she was for ever being a friend to you, Master
81  Copperfield; but I was too far beneath her, myself, to be noticed.'

82       'Well?' said I; 'suppose you were!'

83       '- And beneath him too,' pursued Uriah, very distinctly, and in a
84  meditative tone of voice, as he continued to scrape his chin.

85       'Don't you know the Doctor better,' said I, 'than to suppose him
86  conscious of your existence, when you were not before him?'

87       He directed his eyes at me in that sidelong glance again, and he
88  made his face very lantern-jawed, for the greater convenience of
89  scraping, as he answered:

90       'Oh dear, I am not referring to the Doctor! Oh no, poor man! I
91  mean Mr. Maldon!'

92       My heart quite died within me. All my old doubts and apprehensions
93  on that subject, all the Doctor's happiness and peace, all the
94  mingled possibilities of innocence and compromise, that I could not
95  unravel, I saw, in a moment, at the mercy of this fellow's
96  twisting.

97       'He never could come into the office, without ordering and shoving
98  me about,' said Uriah. 'One of your fine gentlemen he was! I was
99  very meek and umble - and I am. But I didn't like that sort of
100  thing - and I don't!'

101       He left off scraping his chin, and sucked in his cheeks until they
102  seemed to meet inside; keeping his sidelong glance upon me all the
103  while.

104       'She is one of your lovely women, she is,' he pursued, when he had
105  slowly restored his face to its natural form; 'and ready to be no
106  friend to such as me, I know. She's just the person as would put
107  my Agnes up to higher sort of game. Now, I ain't one of your
108  lady's men, Master Copperfield; but I've had eyes in my ed, a
109  pretty long time back. We umble ones have got eyes, mostly
110  speaking - and we look out of 'em.'

111       I endeavoured to appear unconscious and not disquieted, but, I saw
112  in his face, with poor success.

113       'Now, I'm not a-going to let myself be run down, Copperfield,' he
114  continued, raising that part of his countenance, where his red
115  eyebrows would have been if he had had any, with malignant triumph,
116  'and I shall do what I can to put a stop to this friendship. I
117  don't approve of it. I don't mind acknowledging to you that I've
118  got rather a grudging disposition, and want to keep off all
119  intruders. I ain't a-going, if I know it, to run the risk of being
120  plotted against.'

121       'You are always plotting, and delude yourself into the belief that
122  everybody else is doing the like, I think,' said I.

123       'Perhaps so, Master Copperfield,' he replied. 'But I've got a
124  motive, as my fellow-partner used to say; and I go at it tooth and
125  nail. I mustn't be put upon, as a numble person, too much. I
126  can't allow people in my way. Really they must come out of the
127  cart, Master Copperfield!'

128       'I don't understand you,' said I.

129       'Don't you, though?' he returned, with one of his jerks. 'I'm
130  astonished at that, Master Copperfield, you being usually so quick!
131  I'll try to be plainer, another time. - Is that Mr. Maldon
132  a-norseback, ringing at the gate, sir?'

133       'It looks like him,' I replied, as carelessly as I could.

134       Uriah stopped short, put his hands between his great knobs of
135  knees, and doubled himself up with laughter. With perfectly silent
136  laughter. Not a sound escaped from him. I was so repelled by his
137  odious behaviour, particularly by this concluding instance, that I
138  turned away without any ceremony; and left him doubled up in the
139  middle of the garden, like a scarecrow in want of support.

140       It was not on that evening; but, as I well remember, on the next
141  evening but one, which was a Sunday; that I took Agnes to see Dora.
142  I had arranged the visit, beforehand, with Miss Lavinia; and Agnes
143  was expected to tea.

144       I was in a flutter of pride and anxiety; pride in my dear little
145  betrothed, and anxiety that Agnes should like her. All the way to
146  Putney, Agnes being inside the stage-coach, and I outside, I
147  pictured Dora to myself in every one of the pretty looks I knew so
148  well; now making up my mind that I should like her to look exactly
149  as she looked at such a time, and then doubting whether I should
150  not prefer her looking as she looked at such another time; and
151  almost worrying myself into a fever about it.

152       I was troubled by no doubt of her being very pretty, in any case;
153  but it fell out that I had never seen her look so well. She was
154  not in the drawing-room when I presented Agnes to her little aunts,
155  but was shyly keeping out of the way. I knew where to look for
156  her, now; and sure enough I found her stopping her ears again,
157  behind the same dull old door.

158       At first she wouldn't come at all; and then she pleaded for five
159  minutes by my watch. When at length she put her arm through mine,
160  to be taken to the drawing-room, her charming little face was
161  flushed, and had never been so pretty. But, when we went into the
162  room, and it turned pale, she was ten thousand times prettier yet.

163       Dora was afraid of Agnes. She had told me that she knew Agnes was
164  'too clever'. But when she saw her looking at once so cheerful and
165  so earnest, and so thoughtful, and so good, she gave a faint little
166  cry of pleased surprise, and just put her affectionate arms round
167  Agnes's neck, and laid her innocent cheek against her face.

168       I never was so happy. I never was so pleased as when I saw those
169  two sit down together, side by side. As when I saw my little
170  darling looking up so naturally to those cordial eyes. As when I
171  saw the tender, beautiful regard which Agnes cast upon her.

172       Miss Lavinia and Miss Clarissa partook, in their way, of my joy.
173  It was the pleasantest tea-table in the world. Miss Clarissa
174  presided. I cut and handed the sweet seed-cake - the little
175  sisters had a bird-like fondness for picking up seeds and pecking
176  at sugar; Miss Lavinia looked on with benignant patronage, as if
177  our happy love were all her work; and we were perfectly contented
178  with ourselves and one another.

179       The gentle cheerfulness of Agnes went to all their hearts. Her
180  quiet interest in everything that interested Dora; her manner of
181  making acquaintance with Jip (who responded instantly); her
182  pleasant way, when Dora was ashamed to come over to her usual seat
183  by me; her modest grace and ease, eliciting a crowd of blushing
184  little marks of confidence from Dora; seemed to make our circle
185  quite complete.

186       'I am so glad,' said Dora, after tea, 'that you like me. I didn't
187  think you would; and I want, more than ever, to be liked, now Julia
188  Mills is gone.'

189       I have omitted to mention it, by the by. Miss Mills had sailed,
190  and Dora and I had gone aboard a great East Indiaman at Gravesend
191  to see her; and we had had preserved ginger, and guava, and other
192  delicacies of that sort for lunch; and we had left Miss Mills
193  weeping on a camp-stool on the quarter-deck, with a large new diary
194  under her arm, in which the original reflections awakened by the
195  contemplation of Ocean were to be recorded under lock and key.

196       Agnes said she was afraid I must have given her an unpromising
197  character; but Dora corrected that directly.

198       'Oh no!' she said, shaking her curls at me; 'it was all praise. He
199  thinks so much of your opinion, that I was quite afraid of it.'

200       'My good opinion cannot strengthen his attachment to some people
201  whom he knows,' said Agnes, with a smile; 'it is not worth their
202  having.'

203       'But please let me have it,' said Dora, in her coaxing way, 'if you
204  can!'

205       We made merry about Dora's wanting to be liked, and Dora said I was
206  a goose, and she didn't like me at any rate, and the short evening
207  flew away on gossamer-wings. The time was at hand when the coach
208  was to call for us. I was standing alone before the fire, when
209  Dora came stealing softly in, to give me that usual precious little
210  kiss before I went.

211       'Don't you think, if I had had her for a friend a long time ago,
212  Doady,' said Dora, her bright eyes shining very brightly, and her
213  little right hand idly busying itself with one of the buttons of my
214  coat, 'I might have been more clever perhaps?'

215       'My love!' said I, 'what nonsense!'

216       'Do you think it is nonsense?' returned Dora, without looking at
217  me. 'Are you sure it is?'

218       'Of course I am!'
219  'I have forgotten,' said Dora, still turning the button round and
220  round, 'what relation Agnes is to you, you dear bad boy.'

221       'No blood-relation,' I replied; 'but we were brought up together,
222  like brother and sister.'

223       'I wonder why you ever fell in love with me?' said Dora, beginning
224  on another button of my coat.

225       'Perhaps because I couldn't see you, and not love you, Dora!'

226       'Suppose you had never seen me at all,' said Dora, going to another
227  button.

228       'Suppose we had never been born!' said I, gaily.

229       I wondered what she was thinking about, as I glanced in admiring
230  silence at the little soft hand travelling up the row of buttons on
231  my coat, and at the clustering hair that lay against my breast, and
232  at the lashes of her downcast eyes, slightly rising as they
233  followed her idle fingers. At length her eyes were lifted up to
234  mine, and she stood on tiptoe to give me, more thoughtfully than
235  usual, that precious little kiss - once, twice, three times - and
236  went out of the room.

237       They all came back together within five minutes afterwards, and
238  Dora's unusual thoughtfulness was quite gone then. She was
239  laughingly resolved to put Jip through the whole of his
240  performances, before the coach came. They took some time (not so
241  much on account of their variety, as Jip's reluctance), and were
242  still unfinished when it was heard at the door. There was a
243  hurried but affectionate parting between Agnes and herself; and
244  Dora was to write to Agnes (who was not to mind her letters being
245  foolish, she said), and Agnes was to write to Dora; and they had a
246  second parting at the coach door, and a third when Dora, in spite
247  of the remonstrances of Miss Lavinia, would come running out once
248  more to remind Agnes at the coach window about writing, and to
249  shake her curls at me on the box.

250       The stage-coach was to put us down near Covent Garden, where we
251  were to take another stage-coach for Highgate. I was impatient for
252  the short walk in the interval, that Agnes might praise Dora to me.
253  Ah! what praise it was! How lovingly and fervently did it commend
254  the pretty creature I had won, with all her artless graces best
255  displayed, to my most gentle care! How thoughtfully remind me, yet
256  with no pretence of doing so, of the trust in which I held the
257  orphan child!

258       Never, never, had I loved Dora so deeply and truly, as I loved her
259  that night. When we had again alighted, and were walking in the
260  starlight along the quiet road that led to the Doctor's house, I
261  told Agnes it was her doing.

262       'When you were sitting by her,' said I, 'you seemed to be no less
263  her guardian angel than mine; and you seem so now, Agnes.'

264       'A poor angel,' she returned, 'but faithful.'

265       The clear tone of her voice, going straight to my heart, made it
266  natural to me to say:

267       'The cheerfulness that belongs to you, Agnes (and to no one else
268  that ever I have seen), is so restored, I have observed today, that
269  I have begun to hope you are happier at home?'

270       'I am happier in myself,' she said; 'I am quite cheerful and
271  light-hearted.'

272       I glanced at the serene face looking upward, and thought it was the
273  stars that made it seem so noble.

274       'There has been no change at home,' said Agnes, after a few
275  moments.

276       'No fresh reference,' said I, 'to - I wouldn't distress you, Agnes,
277  but I cannot help asking - to what we spoke of, when we parted
278  last?'

279       'No, none,' she answered.

280       'I have thought so much about it.'

281       'You must think less about it. Remember that I confide in simple
282  love and truth at last. Have no apprehensions for me, Trotwood,'
283  she added, after a moment; 'the step you dread my taking, I shall
284  never take.'

285       Although I think I had never really feared it, in any season of
286  cool reflection, it was an unspeakable relief to me to have this
287  assurance from her own truthful lips. I told her so, earnestly.

288       'And when this visit is over,' said I, - 'for we may not be alone
289  another time, - how long is it likely to be, my dear Agnes, before
290  you come to London again?'

291       'Probably a long time,' she replied; 'I think it will be best - for
292  papa's sake - to remain at home. We are not likely to meet often,
293  for some time to come; but I shall be a good correspondent of
294  Dora's, and we shall frequently hear of one another that way.'

295       We were now within the little courtyard of the Doctor's cottage.
296  It was growing late. There was a light in the window of Mrs.
297  Strong's chamber, and Agnes, pointing to it, bade me good night.

298       'Do not be troubled,' she said, giving me her hand, 'by our
299  misfortunes and anxieties. I can be happier in nothing than in
300  your happiness. If you can ever give me help, rely upon it I will
301  ask you for it. God bless you always!'
302  In her beaming smile, and in these last tones of her cheerful
303  voice, I seemed again to see and hear my little Dora in her
304  company. I stood awhile, looking through the porch at the stars,
305  with a heart full of love and gratitude, and then walked slowly
306  forth. I had engaged a bed at a decent alehouse close by, and was
307  going out at the gate, when, happening to turn my head, I saw a
308  light in the Doctor's study. A half-reproachful fancy came into my
309  mind, that he had been working at the Dictionary without my help.
310  With the view of seeing if this were so, and, in any case, of
311  bidding him good night, if he were yet sitting among his books, I
312  turned back, and going softly across the hall, and gently opening
313  the door, looked in.

314       The first person whom I saw, to my surprise, by the sober light of
315  the shaded lamp, was Uriah. He was standing close beside it, with
316  one of his skeleton hands over his mouth, and the other resting on
317  the Doctor's table. The Doctor sat in his study chair, covering
318  his face with his hands. Mr. Wickfield, sorely troubled and
319  distressed, was leaning forward, irresolutely touching the Doctor's
320  arm.

321       For an instant, I supposed that the Doctor was ill. I hastily
322  advanced a step under that impression, when I met Uriah's eye, and
323  saw what was the matter. I would have withdrawn, but the Doctor
324  made a gesture to detain me, and I remained.

325       'At any rate,' observed Uriah, with a writhe of his ungainly
326  person, 'we may keep the door shut. We needn't make it known to
327  ALL the town.'

328       Saying which, he went on his toes to the door, which I had left
329  open, and carefully closed it. He then came back, and took up his
330  former position. There was an obtrusive show of compassionate zeal
331  in his voice and manner, more intolerable - at least to me - than
332  any demeanour he could have assumed.

333       'I have felt it incumbent upon me, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah,
334  'to point out to Doctor Strong what you and me have already talked
335  about. You didn't exactly understand me, though?'

336       I gave him a look, but no other answer; and, going to my good old
337  master, said a few words that I meant to be words of comfort and
338  encouragement. He put his hand upon my shoulder, as it had been
339  his custom to do when I was quite a little fellow, but did not lift
340  his grey head.

341       'As you didn't understand me, Master Copperfield,' resumed Uriah in
342  the same officious manner, 'I may take the liberty of umbly
343  mentioning, being among friends, that I have called Doctor Strong's
344  attention to the goings-on of Mrs. Strong. It's much against the
345  grain with me, I assure you, Copperfield, to be concerned in
346  anything so unpleasant; but really, as it is, we're all mixing
347  ourselves up with what oughtn't to be. That was what my meaning
348  was, sir, when you didn't understand me.'
349  I wonder now, when I recall his leer, that I did not collar him,
350  and try to shake the breath out of his body.

351       'I dare say I didn't make myself very clear,' he went on, 'nor you
352  neither. Naturally, we was both of us inclined to give such a
353  subject a wide berth. Hows'ever, at last I have made up my mind to
354  speak plain; and I have mentioned to Doctor Strong that - did you
355  speak, sir?'

356       This was to the Doctor, who had moaned. The sound might have
357  touched any heart, I thought, but it had no effect upon Uriah's.

358       '- mentioned to Doctor Strong,' he proceeded, 'that anyone may see
359  that Mr. Maldon, and the lovely and agreeable lady as is Doctor
360  Strong's wife, are too sweet on one another. Really the time is
361  come (we being at present all mixing ourselves up with what
362  oughtn't to be), when Doctor Strong must be told that this was full
363  as plain to everybody as the sun, before Mr. Maldon went to India;
364  that Mr. Maldon made excuses to come back, for nothing else; and
365  that he's always here, for nothing else. When you come in, sir, I
366  was just putting it to my fellow-partner,' towards whom he turned,
367  'to say to Doctor Strong upon his word and honour, whether he'd
368  ever been of this opinion long ago, or not. Come, Mr. Wickfield,
369  sir! Would you be so good as tell us? Yes or no, sir? Come,
370  partner!'

371       'For God's sake, my dear Doctor,' said Mr. Wickfield again laying
372  his irresolute hand upon the Doctor's arm, 'don't attach too much
373  weight to any suspicions I may have entertained.'

374       'There!' cried Uriah, shaking his head. 'What a melancholy
375  confirmation: ain't it? Him! Such an old friend! Bless your
376  soul, when I was nothing but a clerk in his office, Copperfield,
377  I've seen him twenty times, if I've seen him once, quite in a
378  taking about it - quite put out, you know (and very proper in him
379  as a father; I'm sure I can't blame him), to think that Miss Agnes
380  was mixing herself up with what oughtn't to be.'

381       'My dear Strong,' said Mr. Wickfield in a tremulous voice, 'my good
382  friend, I needn't tell you that it has been my vice to look for
383  some one master motive in everybody, and to try all actions by one
384  narrow test. I may have fallen into such doubts as I have had,
385  through this mistake.'

386       'You have had doubts, Wickfield,' said the Doctor, without lifting
387  up his head. 'You have had doubts.'

388       'Speak up, fellow-partner,' urged Uriah.

389       'I had, at one time, certainly,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'I - God
390  forgive me - I thought YOU had.'

391       'No, no, no!' returned the Doctor, in a tone of most pathetic
392  grief.
393  'I thought, at one time,' said Mr. Wickfield, 'that you wished to
394  send Maldon abroad to effect a desirable separation.'

395       'No, no, no!' returned the Doctor. 'To give Annie pleasure, by
396  making some provision for the companion of her childhood. Nothing
397  else.'

398       'So I found,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'I couldn't doubt it, when you
399  told me so. But I thought - I implore you to remember the narrow
400  construction which has been my besetting sin - that, in a case
401  where there was so much disparity in point of years -'

402       'That's the way to put it, you see, Master Copperfield!' observed
403  Uriah, with fawning and offensive pity.

404       '- a lady of such youth, and such attractions, however real her
405  respect for you, might have been influenced in marrying, by worldly
406  considerations only. I make no allowance for innumerable feelings
407  and circumstances that may have all tended to good. For Heaven's
408  sake remember that!'

409       'How kind he puts it!' said Uriah, shaking his head.

410       'Always observing her from one point of view,' said Mr. Wickfield;
411  'but by all that is dear to you, my old friend, I entreat you to
412  consider what it was; I am forced to confess now, having no escape
413  -'

414       'No! There's no way out of it, Mr. Wickfield, sir,' observed
415  Uriah, 'when it's got to this.'

416       '- that I did,' said Mr. Wickfield, glancing helplessly and
417  distractedly at his partner, 'that I did doubt her, and think her
418  wanting in her duty to you; and that I did sometimes, if I must say
419  all, feel averse to Agnes being in such a familiar relation towards
420  her, as to see what I saw, or in my diseased theory fancied that I
421  saw. I never mentioned this to anyone. I never meant it to be
422  known to anyone. And though it is terrible to you to hear,' said
423  Mr. Wickfield, quite subdued, 'if you knew how terrible it is for
424  me to tell, you would feel compassion for me!'

425       The Doctor, in the perfect goodness of his nature, put out his
426  hand. Mr. Wickfield held it for a little while in his, with his
427  head bowed down.

428       'I am sure,' said Uriah, writhing himself into the silence like a
429  Conger-eel, 'that this is a subject full of unpleasantness to
430  everybody. But since we have got so far, I ought to take the
431  liberty of mentioning that Copperfield has noticed it too.'

432       I turned upon him, and asked him how he dared refer to me!

433       'Oh! it's very kind of you, Copperfield,' returned Uriah,
434  undulating all over, 'and we all know what an amiable character
435  yours is; but you know that the moment I spoke to you the other
436  night, you knew what I meant. You know you knew what I meant,
437  Copperfield. Don't deny it! You deny it with the best intentions;
438  but don't do it, Copperfield.'

439       I saw the mild eye of the good old Doctor turned upon me for a
440  moment, and I felt that the confession of my old misgivings and
441  remembrances was too plainly written in my face to be overlooked.
442  It was of no use raging. I could not undo that. Say what I would,
443  I could not unsay it.

444       We were silent again, and remained so, until the Doctor rose and
445  walked twice or thrice across the room. Presently he returned to
446  where his chair stood; and, leaning on the back of it, and
447  occasionally putting his handkerchief to his eyes, with a simple
448  honesty that did him more honour, to my thinking, than any disguise
449  he could have effected, said:

450       'I have been much to blame. I believe I have been very much to
451  blame. I have exposed one whom I hold in my heart, to trials and
452  aspersions - I call them aspersions, even to have been conceived in
453  anybody's inmost mind - of which she never, but for me, could have
454  been the object.'

455       Uriah Heep gave a kind of snivel. I think to express sympathy.

456       'Of which my Annie,' said the Doctor, 'never, but for me, could
457  have been the object. Gentlemen, I am old now, as you know; I do
458  not feel, tonight, that I have much to live for. But my life - my
459  Life - upon the truth and honour of the dear lady who has been the
460  subject of this conversation!'

461       I do not think that the best embodiment of chivalry, the
462  realization of the handsomest and most romantic figure ever
463  imagined by painter, could have said this, with a more impressive
464  and affecting dignity than the plain old Doctor did.

465       'But I am not prepared,' he went on, 'to deny - perhaps I may have
466  been, without knowing it, in some degree prepared to admit - that
467  I may have unwittingly ensnared that lady into an unhappy marriage.
468  I am a man quite unaccustomed to observe; and I cannot but believe
469  that the observation of several people, of different ages and
470  positions, all too plainly tending in one direction (and that so
471  natural), is better than mine.'

472       I had often admired, as I have elsewhere described, his benignant
473  manner towards his youthful wife; but the respectful tenderness he
474  manifested in every reference to her on this occasion, and the
475  almost reverential manner in which he put away from him the
476  lightest doubt of her integrity, exalted him, in my eyes, beyond
477  description.

478       'I married that lady,' said the Doctor, 'when she was extremely
479  young. I took her to myself when her character was scarcely
480  formed. So far as it was developed, it had been my happiness to
481  form it. I knew her father well. I knew her well. I had taught
482  her what I could, for the love of all her beautiful and virtuous
483  qualities. If I did her wrong; as I fear I did, in taking
484  advantage (but I never meant it) of her gratitude and her
485  affection; I ask pardon of that lady, in my heart!'

486       He walked across the room, and came back to the same place; holding
487  the chair with a grasp that trembled, like his subdued voice, in
488  its earnestness.

489       'I regarded myself as a refuge, for her, from the dangers and
490  vicissitudes of life. I persuaded myself that, unequal though we
491  were in years, she would live tranquilly and contentedly with me.
492  I did not shut out of my consideration the time when I should leave
493  her free, and still young and still beautiful, but with her
494  judgement more matured - no, gentlemen - upon my truth!'

495       His homely figure seemed to be lightened up by his fidelity and
496  generosity. Every word he uttered had a force that no other grace
497  could have imparted to it.

498       'My life with this lady has been very happy. Until tonight, I have
499  had uninterrupted occasion to bless the day on which I did her
500  great injustice.'

501       His voice, more and more faltering in the utterance of these words,
502  stopped for a few moments; then he went on:

503       'Once awakened from my dream - I have been a poor dreamer, in one
504  way or other, all my life - I see how natural it is that she should
505  have some regretful feeling towards her old companion and her
506  equal. That she does regard him with some innocent regret, with
507  some blameless thoughts of what might have been, but for me, is, I
508  fear, too true. Much that I have seen, but not noted, has come
509  back upon me with new meaning, during this last trying hour. But,
510  beyond this, gentlemen, the dear lady's name never must be coupled
511  with a word, a breath, of doubt.'

512       For a little while, his eye kindled and his voice was firm; for a
513  little while he was again silent. Presently, he proceeded as
514  before:

515       'It only remains for me, to bear the knowledge of the unhappiness
516  I have occasioned, as submissively as I can. It is she who should
517  reproach; not I. To save her from misconstruction, cruel
518  misconstruction, that even my friends have not been able to avoid,
519  becomes my duty. The more retired we live, the better I shall
520  discharge it. And when the time comes - may it come soon, if it be
521  His merciful pleasure! - when my death shall release her from
522  constraint, I shall close my eyes upon her honoured face, with
523  unbounded confidence and love; and leave her, with no sorrow then,
524  to happier and brighter days.'

525       I could not see him for the tears which his earnestness and
526  goodness, so adorned by, and so adorning, the perfect simplicity of
527  his manner, brought into my eyes. He had moved to the door, when
528  he added:

529       'Gentlemen, I have shown you my heart. I am sure you will respect
530  it. What we have said tonight is never to be said more.
531  Wickfield, give me an old friend's arm upstairs!'

532       Mr. Wickfield hastened to him. Without interchanging a word they
533  went slowly out of the room together, Uriah looking after them.

534       'Well, Master Copperfield!' said Uriah, meekly turning to me. 'The
535  thing hasn't took quite the turn that might have been expected, for
536  the old Scholar - what an excellent man! - is as blind as a
537  brickbat; but this family's out of the cart, I think!'

538       I needed but the sound of his voice to be so madly enraged as I
539  never was before, and never have been since.

540       'You villain,' said I, 'what do you mean by entrapping me into your
541  schemes? How dare you appeal to me just now, you false rascal, as
542  if we had been in discussion together?'

543       As we stood, front to front, I saw so plainly, in the stealthy
544  exultation of his face, what I already so plainly knew; I mean that
545  he forced his confidence upon me, expressly to make me miserable,
546  and had set a deliberate trap for me in this very matter; that I
547  couldn't bear it. The whole of his lank cheek was invitingly
548  before me, and I struck it with my open hand with that force that
549  my fingers tingled as if I had burnt them.

550       He caught the hand in his, and we stood in that connexion, looking
551  at each other. We stood so, a long time; long enough for me to see
552  the white marks of my fingers die out of the deep red of his cheek,
553  and leave it a deeper red.

554       'Copperfield,' he said at length, in a breathless voice, 'have you
555  taken leave of your senses?'

556       'I have taken leave of you,' said I, wresting my hand away. 'You
557  dog, I'll know no more of you.'

558       'Won't you?' said he, constrained by the pain of his cheek to put
559  his hand there. 'Perhaps you won't be able to help it. Isn't this
560  ungrateful of you, now?'

561       'I have shown you often enough,' said I, 'that I despise you. I
562  have shown you now, more plainly, that I do. Why should I dread
563  your doing your worst to all about you? What else do you ever do?'

564       He perfectly understood this allusion to the considerations that
565  had hitherto restrained me in my communications with him. I rather
566  think that neither the blow, nor the allusion, would have escaped
567  me, but for the assurance I had had from Agnes that night. It is
568  no matter.

569       There was another long pause. His eyes, as he looked at me, seemed
570  to take every shade of colour that could make eyes ugly.

571       'Copperfield,' he said, removing his hand from his cheek, 'you have
572  always gone against me. I know you always used to be against me at
573  Mr. Wickfield's.'

574       'You may think what you like,' said I, still in a towering rage.
575  'If it is not true, so much the worthier you.'

576       'And yet I always liked you, Copperfield!' he rejoined.

577       I deigned to make him no reply; and, taking up my hat, was going
578  out to bed, when he came between me and the door.

579       'Copperfield,' he said, 'there must be two parties to a quarrel.
580  I won't be one.'

581       'You may go to the devil!' said I.

582       'Don't say that!' he replied. 'I know you'll be sorry afterwards.
583  How can you make yourself so inferior to me, as to show such a bad
584  spirit? But I forgive you.'

585       'You forgive me!' I repeated disdainfully.

586       'I do, and you can't help yourself,' replied Uriah. 'To think of
587  your going and attacking me, that have always been a friend to you!
588  But there can't be a quarrel without two parties, and I won't be
589  one. I will be a friend to you, in spite of you. So now you know
590  what you've got to expect.'

591       The necessity of carrying on this dialogue (his part in which was
592  very slow; mine very quick) in a low tone, that the house might not
593  be disturbed at an unseasonable hour, did not improve my temper;
594  though my passion was cooling down. Merely telling him that I
595  should expect from him what I always had expected, and had never
596  yet been disappointed in, I opened the door upon him, as if he had
597  been a great walnut put there to be cracked, and went out of the
598  house. But he slept out of the house too, at his mother's lodging;
599  and before I had gone many hundred yards, came up with me.

600       'You know, Copperfield,' he said, in my ear (I did not turn my
601  head), 'you're in quite a wrong position'; which I felt to be true,
602  and that made me chafe the more; 'you can't make this a brave
603  thing, and you can't help being forgiven. I don't intend to
604  mention it to mother, nor to any living soul. I'm determined to
605  forgive you. But I do wonder that you should lift your hand
606  against a person that you knew to be so umble!'

607       I felt only less mean than he. He knew me better than I knew
608  myself. If he had retorted or openly exasperated me, it would have
609  been a relief and a justification; but he had put me on a slow
610  fire, on which I lay tormented half the night.

611       In the morning, when I came out, the early church-bell was ringing,
612  and he was walking up and down with his mother. He addressed me as
613  if nothing had happened, and I could do no less than reply. I had
614  struck him hard enough to give him the toothache, I suppose. At
615  all events his face was tied up in a black silk handkerchief,
616  which, with his hat perched on the top of it, was far from
617  improving his appearance. I heard that he went to a dentist's in
618  London on the Monday morning, and had a tooth out. I hope it was
619  a double one.

620       The Doctor gave out that he was not quite well; and remained alone,
621  for a considerable part of every day, during the remainder of the
622  visit. Agnes and her father had been gone a week, before we
623  resumed our usual work. On the day preceding its resumption, the
624  Doctor gave me with his own hands a folded note not sealed. It was
625  addressed to myself; and laid an injunction on me, in a few
626  affectionate words, never to refer to the subject of that evening.
627  I had confided it to my aunt, but to no one else. It was not a
628  subject I could discuss with Agnes, and Agnes certainly had not the
629  least suspicion of what had passed.

630       Neither, I felt convinced, had Mrs. Strong then. Several weeks
631  elapsed before I saw the least change in her. It came on slowly,
632  like a cloud when there is no wind. At first, she seemed to wonder
633  at the gentle compassion with which the Doctor spoke to her, and at
634  his wish that she should have her mother with her, to relieve the
635  dull monotony of her life. Often, when we were at work, and she
636  was sitting by, I would see her pausing and looking at him with
637  that memorable face. Afterwards, I sometimes observed her rise,
638  with her eyes full of tears, and go out of the room. Gradually, an
639  unhappy shadow fell upon her beauty, and deepened every day. Mrs.
640  Markleham was a regular inmate of the cottage then; but she talked
641  and talked, and saw nothing.

642       As this change stole on Annie, once like sunshine in the Doctor's
643  house, the Doctor became older in appearance, and more grave; but
644  the sweetness of his temper, the placid kindness of his manner, and
645  his benevolent solicitude for her, if they were capable of any
646  increase, were increased. I saw him once, early on the morning of
647  her birthday, when she came to sit in the window while we were at
648  work (which she had always done, but now began to do with a timid
649  and uncertain air that I thought very touching), take her forehead
650  between his hands, kiss it, and go hurriedly away, too much moved
651  to remain. I saw her stand where he had left her, like a statue;
652  and then bend down her head, and clasp her hands, and weep, I
653  cannot say how sorrowfully.

654       Sometimes, after that, I fancied that she tried to speak even to
655  me, in intervals when we were left alone. But she never uttered a
656  word. The Doctor always had some new project for her participating
657  in amusements away from home, with her mother; and Mrs. Markleham,
658  who was very fond of amusements, and very easily dissatisfied with
659  anything else, entered into them with great good-will, and was loud
660  in her commendations. But Annie, in a spiritless unhappy way, only
661  went whither she was led, and seemed to have no care for anything.

662       I did not know what to think. Neither did my aunt; who must have
663  walked, at various times, a hundred miles in her uncertainty. What
664  was strangest of all was, that the only real relief which seemed to
665  make its way into the secret region of this domestic unhappiness,
666  made its way there in the person of Mr. Dick.

667       What his thoughts were on the subject, or what his observation was,
668  I am as unable to explain, as I dare say he would have been to
669  assist me in the task. But, as I have recorded in the narrative of
670  my school days, his veneration for the Doctor was unbounded; and
671  there is a subtlety of perception in real attachment, even when it
672  is borne towards man by one of the lower animals, which leaves the
673  highest intellect behind. To this mind of the heart, if I may call
674  it so, in Mr. Dick, some bright ray of the truth shot straight.

675       He had proudly resumed his privilege, in many of his spare hours,
676  of walking up and down the garden with the Doctor; as he had been
677  accustomed to pace up and down The Doctor's Walk at Canterbury.
678  But matters were no sooner in this state, than he devoted all his
679  spare time (and got up earlier to make it more) to these
680  perambulations. If he had never been so happy as when the Doctor
681  read that marvellous performance, the Dictionary, to him; he was
682  now quite miserable unless the Doctor pulled it out of his pocket,
683  and began. When the Doctor and I were engaged, he now fell into
684  the custom of walking up and down with Mrs. Strong, and helping her
685  to trim her favourite flowers, or weed the beds. I dare say he
686  rarely spoke a dozen words in an hour: but his quiet interest, and
687  his wistful face, found immediate response in both their breasts;
688  each knew that the other liked him, and that he loved both; and he
689  became what no one else could be - a link between them.

690       When I think of him, with his impenetrably wise face, walking up
691  and down with the Doctor, delighted to be battered by the hard
692  words in the Dictionary; when I think of him carrying huge
693  watering-pots after Annie; kneeling down, in very paws of gloves,
694  at patient microscopic work among the little leaves; expressing as
695  no philosopher could have expressed, in everything he did, a
696  delicate desire to be her friend; showering sympathy, trustfulness,
697  and affection, out of every hole in the watering-pot; when I think
698  of him never wandering in that better mind of his to which
699  unhappiness addressed itself, never bringing the unfortunate King
700  Charles into the garden, never wavering in his grateful service,
701  never diverted from his knowledge that there was something wrong,
702  or from his wish to set it right- I really feel almost ashamed of
703  having known that he was not quite in his wits, taking account of
704  the utmost I have done with mine.

705       'Nobody but myself, Trot, knows what that man is!' my aunt would
706  proudly remark, when we conversed about it. 'Dick will distinguish
707  himself yet!'

708       I must refer to one other topic before I close this chapter. While
709  the visit at the Doctor's was still in progress, I observed that
710  the postman brought two or three letters every morning for Uriah
711  Heep, who remained at Highgate until the rest went back, it being
712  a leisure time; and that these were always directed in a
713  business-like manner by Mr. Micawber, who now assumed a round legal
714  hand. I was glad to infer, from these slight premises, that Mr.
715  Micawber was doing well; and consequently was much surprised to
716  receive, about this time, the following letter from his amiable
717  wife.

718       

'CANTERBURY, Monday Evening.

719       'You will doubtless be surprised, my dear Mr. Copperfield, to
720  receive this communication. Still more so, by its contents. Still
721  more so, by the stipulation of implicit confidence which I beg to
722  impose. But my feelings as a wife and mother require relief; and
723  as I do not wish to consult my family (already obnoxious to the
724  feelings of Mr. Micawber), I know no one of whom I can better ask
725  advice than my friend and former lodger.

726       'You may be aware, my dear Mr. Copperfield, that between myself and
727  Mr. Micawber (whom I will never desert), there has always been
728  preserved a spirit of mutual confidence. Mr. Micawber may have
729  occasionally given a bill without consulting me, or he may have
730  misled me as to the period when that obligation would become due.
731  This has actually happened. But, in general, Mr. Micawber has had
732  no secrets from the bosom of affection - I allude to his wife - and
733  has invariably, on our retirement to rest, recalled the events of
734  the day.

735       'You will picture to yourself, my dear Mr. Copperfield, what the
736  poignancy of my feelings must be, when I inform you that Mr.
737  Micawber is entirely changed. He is reserved. He is secret. His
738  life is a mystery to the partner of his joys and sorrows - I again
739  allude to his wife - and if I should assure you that beyond knowing
740  that it is passed from morning to night at the office, I now know
741  less of it than I do of the man in the south, connected with whose
742  mouth the thoughtless children repeat an idle tale respecting cold
743  plum porridge, I should adopt a popular fallacy to express an
744  actual fact.

745       'But this is not all. Mr. Micawber is morose. He is severe. He
746  is estranged from our eldest son and daughter, he has no pride in
747  his twins, he looks with an eye of coldness even on the unoffending
748  stranger who last became a member of our circle. The pecuniary
749  means of meeting our expenses, kept down to the utmost farthing,
750  are obtained from him with great difficulty, and even under fearful
751  threats that he will Settle himself (the exact expression); and he
752  inexorably refuses to give any explanation whatever of this
753  distracting policy.

754       'This is hard to bear. This is heart-breaking. If you will advise
755  me, knowing my feeble powers such as they are, how you think it
756  will be best to exert them in a dilemma so unwonted, you will add
757  another friendly obligation to the many you have already rendered
758  me. With loves from the children, and a smile from the
759  happily-unconscious stranger, I remain, dear Mr. Copperfield,

760       

Your afflicted,

761       

'EMMA MICAWBER.'

762       I did not feel justified in giving a wife of Mrs. Micawber's
763  experience any other recommendation, than that she should try to
764  reclaim Mr. Micawber by patience and kindness (as I knew she would
765  in any case); but the letter set me thinking about him very much.

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