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| 1 | This is not the time at which I am to enter on the state of my mind
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| 2 | beneath its load of sorrow. I came to think that the Future was
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| 3 | walled up before me, that the energy and action of my life were at
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| 4 | an end, that I never could find any refuge but in the grave. I
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| 5 | came to think so, I say, but not in the first shock of my grief.
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| 6 | It slowly grew to that. If the events I go on to relate, had not
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| 7 | thickened around me, in the beginning to confuse, and in the end to
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| 8 | augment, my affliction, it is possible (though I think not
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| 9 | probable), that I might have fallen at once into this condition.
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| 10 | As it was, an interval occurred before I fully knew my own
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| 11 | distress; an interval, in which I even supposed that its sharpest
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| 12 | pangs were past; and when my mind could soothe itself by resting on
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| 13 | all that was most innocent and beautiful, in the tender story that
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| 14 | was closed for ever.
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| 15 | When it was first proposed that I should go abroad, or how it came
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| 16 | to be agreed among us that I was to seek the restoration of my
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| 17 | peace in change and travel, I do not, even now, distinctly know.
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| 18 | The spirit of Agnes so pervaded all we thought, and said, and did,
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| 19 | in that time of sorrow, that I assume I may refer the project to
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| 20 | her influence. But her influence was so quiet that I know no more.
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| 21 | And now, indeed, I began to think that in my old association of her
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| 22 | with the stained-glass window in the church, a prophetic
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| 23 | foreshadowing of what she would be to me, in the calamity that was
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| 24 | to happen in the fullness of time, had found a way into my mind.
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| 25 | In all that sorrow, from the moment, never to be forgotten, when
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| 26 | she stood before me with her upraised hand, she was like a sacred
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| 27 | presence in my lonely house. When the Angel of Death alighted
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| 28 | there, my child-wife fell asleep - they told me so when I could
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| 29 | bear to hear it - on her bosom, with a smile. From my swoon, I
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| 30 | first awoke to a consciousness of her compassionate tears, her
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| 31 | words of hope and peace, her gentle face bending down as from a
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| 32 | purer region nearer Heaven, over my undisciplined heart, and
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| 33 | softening its pain.
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| 34 | Let me go on.
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| 35 | I was to go abroad. That seemed to have been determined among us
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| 36 | from the first. The ground now covering all that could perish of
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| 37 | my departed wife, I waited only for what Mr. Micawber called the
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| 38 | 'final pulverization of Heep'; and for the departure of the
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| 39 | emigrants.
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| 40 | At the request of Traddles, most affectionate and devoted of
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| 41 | friends in my trouble, we returned to Canterbury: I mean my aunt,
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| 42 | Agnes, and I. We proceeded by appointment straight to Mr.
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| 43 | Micawber's house; where, and at Mr. Wickfield's, my friend had been
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| 44 | labouring ever since our explosive meeting. When poor Mrs.
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| 45 | Micawber saw me come in, in my black clothes, she was sensibly
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| 46 | affected. There was a great deal of good in Mrs. Micawber's heart,
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| 47 | which had not been dunned out of it in all those many years.
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| 48 | 'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber,' was my aunt's first salutation after
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| 49 | we were seated. 'Pray, have you thought about that emigration
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| 50 | proposal of mine?'
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| 51 | 'My dear madam,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'perhaps I cannot better
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| 52 | express the conclusion at which Mrs. Micawber, your humble servant,
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| 53 | and I may add our children, have jointly and severally arrived,
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| 54 | than by borrowing the language of an illustrious poet, to reply
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| 55 | that our Boat is on the shore, and our Bark is on the sea.'
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| 56 | 'That's right,' said my aunt. 'I augur all sort of good from your
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| 57 | sensible decision.'
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| 58 | 'Madam, you do us a great deal of honour,' he rejoined. He then
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| 59 | referred to a memorandum. 'With respect to the pecuniary
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| 60 | assistance enabling us to launch our frail canoe on the ocean of
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| 61 | enterprise, I have reconsidered that important business-point; and
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| 62 | would beg to propose my notes of hand - drawn, it is needless to
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| 63 | stipulate, on stamps of the amounts respectively required by the
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| 64 | various Acts of Parliament applying to such securities - at
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| 65 | eighteen, twenty-four, and thirty months. The proposition I
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| 66 | originally submitted, was twelve, eighteen, and twenty-four; but I
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| 67 | am apprehensive that such an arrangement might not allow sufficient
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| 68 | time for the requisite amount of - Something - to turn up. We
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| 69 | might not,' said Mr. Micawber, looking round the room as if it
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| 70 | represented several hundred acres of highly cultivated land, 'on
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| 71 | the first responsibility becoming due, have been successful in our
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| 72 | harvest, or we might not have got our harvest in. Labour, I
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| 73 | believe, is sometimes difficult to obtain in that portion of our
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| 74 | colonial possessions where it will be our lot to combat with the
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| 75 | teeming soil.'
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| 76 | 'Arrange it in any way you please, sir,' said my aunt.
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| 77 | 'Madam,' he replied, 'Mrs. Micawber and myself are deeply sensible
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| 78 | of the very considerate kindness of our friends and patrons. What
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| 79 | I wish is, to be perfectly business-like, and perfectly punctual.
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| 80 | Turning over, as we are about to turn over, an entirely new leaf;
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| 81 | and falling back, as we are now in the act of falling back, for a
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| 82 | Spring of no common magnitude; it is important to my sense of
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| 83 | self-respect, besides being an example to my son, that these
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| 84 | arrangements should be concluded as between man and man.'
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| 85 | I don't know that Mr. Micawber attached any meaning to this last
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| 86 | phrase; I don't know that anybody ever does, or did; but he
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| 87 | appeared to relish it uncommonly, and repeated, with an impressive
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| 88 | cough, 'as between man and man'.
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| 89 | 'I propose,' said Mr. Micawber, 'Bills - a convenience to the
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| 90 | mercantile world, for which, I believe, we are originally indebted
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| 91 | to the Jews, who appear to me to have had a devilish deal too much
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| 92 | to do with them ever since - because they are negotiable. But if
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| 93 | a Bond, or any other description of security, would be preferred,
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| 94 | I should be happy to execute any such instrument. As between man
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| 95 | and man.'
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| 96 | MY aunt observed, that in a case where both parties were willing to
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| 97 | agree to anything, she took it for granted there would be no
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| 98 | difficulty in settling this point. Mr. Micawber was of her
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| 99 | opinion.
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| 100 | 'In reference to our domestic preparations, madam,' said Mr.
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| 101 | Micawber, with some pride, 'for meeting the destiny to which we are
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| 102 | now understood to be self-devoted, I beg to report them. My eldest
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| 103 | daughter attends at five every morning in a neighbouring
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| 104 | establishment, to acquire the process - if process it may be called
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| 105 | - of milking cows. My younger children are instructed to observe,
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| 106 | as closely as circumstances will permit, the habits of the pigs and
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| 107 | poultry maintained in the poorer parts of this city: a pursuit from
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| 108 | which they have, on two occasions, been brought home, within an
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| 109 | inch of being run over. I have myself directed some attention,
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| 110 | during the past week, to the art of baking; and my son Wilkins has
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| 111 | issued forth with a walking-stick and driven cattle, when
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| 112 | permitted, by the rugged hirelings who had them in charge, to
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| 113 | render any voluntary service in that direction - which I regret to
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| 114 | say, for the credit of our nature, was not often; he being
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| 115 | generally warned, with imprecations, to desist.'
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| 116 | 'All very right indeed,' said my aunt, encouragingly. 'Mrs.
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| 117 | Micawber has been busy, too, I have no doubt.'
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| 118 | 'My dear madam,' returned Mrs. Micawber, with her business-like
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| 119 | air. 'I am free to confess that I have not been actively engaged
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| 120 | in pursuits immediately connected with cultivation or with stock,
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| 121 | though well aware that both will claim my attention on a foreign
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| 122 | shore. Such opportunities as I have been enabled to alienate from
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| 123 | my domestic duties, I have devoted to corresponding at some length
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| 124 | with my family. For I own it seems to me, my dear Mr.
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| 125 | Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, who always fell back on me, I
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| 126 | suppose from old habit, to whomsoever else she might address her
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| 127 | discourse at starting, 'that the time is come when the past should
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| 128 | be buried in oblivion; when my family should take Mr. Micawber by
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| 129 | the hand, and Mr. Micawber should take my family by the hand; when
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| 130 | the lion should lie down with the lamb, and my family be on terms
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| 131 | with Mr. Micawber.'
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| 132 | I said I thought so too.
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| 133 | 'This, at least, is the light, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' pursued
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| 134 | Mrs. Micawber, 'in which I view the subject. When I lived at home
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| 135 | with my papa and mama, my papa was accustomed to ask, when any
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| 136 | point was under discussion in our limited circle, "In what light
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| 137 | does my Emma view the subject?" That my papa was too partial, I
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| 138 | know; still, on such a point as the frigid coldness which has ever
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| 139 | subsisted between Mr. Micawber and my family, I necessarily have
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| 140 | formed an opinion, delusive though it may be.'
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| 141 | 'No doubt. Of course you have, ma'am,' said my aunt.
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| 142 | 'Precisely so,' assented Mrs. Micawber. 'Now, I may be wrong in my
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| 143 | conclusions; it is very likely that I am, but my individual
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| 144 | impression is, that the gulf between my family and Mr. Micawber may
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| 145 | be traced to an apprehension, on the part of my family, that Mr.
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| 146 | Micawber would require pecuniary accommodation. I cannot help
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| 147 | thinking,' said Mrs. Micawber, with an air of deep sagacity, 'that
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| 148 | there are members of my family who have been apprehensive that Mr.
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| 149 | Micawber would solicit them for their names. - I do not mean to be
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| 150 | conferred in Baptism upon our children, but to be inscribed on
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| 151 | Bills of Exchange, and negotiated in the Money Market.'
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| 152 | The look of penetration with which Mrs. Micawber announced this
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| 153 | discovery, as if no one had ever thought of it before, seemed
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| 154 | rather to astonish my aunt; who abruptly replied, 'Well, ma'am,
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| 155 | upon the whole, I shouldn't wonder if you were right!'
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| 156 | 'Mr. Micawber being now on the eve of casting off the pecuniary
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| 157 | shackles that have so long enthralled him,' said Mrs. Micawber,
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| 158 | 'and of commencing a new career in a country where there is
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| 159 | sufficient range for his abilities, - which, in my opinion, is
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| 160 | exceedingly important; Mr. Micawber's abilities peculiarly
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| 161 | requiring space, - it seems to me that my family should signalize
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| 162 | the occasion by coming forward. What I could wish to see, would be
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| 163 | a meeting between Mr. Micawber and my family at a festive
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| 164 | entertainment, to be given at my family's expense; where Mr.
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| 165 | Micawber's health and prosperity being proposed, by some leading
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| 166 | member of my family, Mr. Micawber might have an opportunity of
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| 167 | developing his views.'
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| 168 | 'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber, with some heat, 'it may be better for
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| 169 | me to state distinctly, at once, that if I were to develop my views
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| 170 | to that assembled group, they would possibly be found of an
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| 171 | offensive nature: my impression being that your family are, in the
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| 172 | aggregate, impertinent Snobs; and, in detail, unmitigated
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| 173 | Ruffians.'
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| 174 | 'Micawber,' said Mrs. Micawber, shaking her head, 'no! You have
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| 175 | never understood them, and they have never understood you.'
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| 176 | Mr. Micawber coughed.
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| 177 | 'They have never understood you, Micawber,' said his wife. 'They
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| 178 | may be incapable of it. If so, that is their misfortune. I can
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| 179 | pity their misfortune.'
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| 180 | 'I am extremely sorry, my dear Emma,' said Mr. Micawber, relenting,
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| 181 | 'to have been betrayed into any expressions that might, even
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| 182 | remotely, have the appearance of being strong expressions. All I
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| 183 | would say is, that I can go abroad without your family coming
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| 184 | forward to favour me, - in short, with a parting Shove of their
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| 185 | cold shoulders; and that, upon the whole, I would rather leave
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| 186 | England with such impetus as I possess, than derive any
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| 187 | acceleration of it from that quarter. At the same time, my dear,
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| 188 | if they should condescend to reply to your communications - which
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| 189 | our joint experience renders most improbable - far be it from me to
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| 190 | be a barrier to your wishes.'
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| 191 | The matter being thus amicably settled, Mr. Micawber gave Mrs.
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| 192 | Micawber his arm, and glancing at the heap of books and papers
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| 193 | lying before Traddles on the table, said they would leave us to
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| 194 | ourselves; which they ceremoniously did.
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| 195 | 'My dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, leaning back in his chair
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| 196 | when they were gone, and looking at me with an affection that made
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| 197 | his eyes red, and his hair all kinds of shapes, 'I don't make any
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| 198 | excuse for troubling you with business, because I know you are
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| 199 | deeply interested in it, and it may divert your thoughts. My dear
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| 200 | boy, I hope you are not worn out?'
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| 201 | 'I am quite myself,' said I, after a pause. 'We have more cause to
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| 202 | think of my aunt than of anyone. You know how much she has done.'
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| 203 | 'Surely, surely,' answered Traddles. 'Who can forget it!'
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| 204 | 'But even that is not all,' said I. 'During the last fortnight,
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| 205 | some new trouble has vexed her; and she has been in and out of
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| 206 | London every day. Several times she has gone out early, and been
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| 207 | absent until evening. Last night, Traddles, with this journey
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| 208 | before her, it was almost midnight before she came home. You know
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| 209 | what her consideration for others is. She will not tell me what
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| 210 | has happened to distress her.'
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| 211 | My aunt, very pale, and with deep lines in her face, sat immovable
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| 212 | until I had finished; when some stray tears found their way to her
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| 213 | cheeks, and she put her hand on mine.
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| 214 | 'It's nothing, Trot; it's nothing. There will be no more of it.
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| 215 | You shall know by and by. Now Agnes, my dear, let us attend to
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| 216 | these affairs.'
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| 217 | 'I must do Mr. Micawber the justice to say,' Traddles began, 'that
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| 218 | although he would appear not to have worked to any good account for
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| 219 | himself, he is a most untiring man when he works for other people.
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| 220 | I never saw such a fellow. If he always goes on in the same way,
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| 221 | he must be, virtually, about two hundred years old, at present.
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| 222 | The heat into which he has been continually putting himself; and
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| 223 | the distracted and impetuous manner in which he has been diving,
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| 224 | day and night, among papers and books; to say nothing of the
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| 225 | immense number of letters he has written me between this house and
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| 226 | Mr. Wickfield's, and often across the table when he has been
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| 227 | sitting opposite, and might much more easily have spoken; is quite
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| 228 | extraordinary.'
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| 229 | 'Letters!' cried my aunt. 'I believe he dreams in letters!'
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| 230 | 'There's Mr. Dick, too,' said Traddles, 'has been doing wonders! As
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| 231 | soon as he was released from overlooking Uriah Heep, whom he kept
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| 232 | in such charge as I never saw exceeded, he began to devote himself
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| 233 | to Mr. Wickfield. And really his anxiety to be of use in the
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| 234 | investigations we have been making, and his real usefulness in
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| 235 | extracting, and copying, and fetching, and carrying, have been
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| 236 | quite stimulating to us.'
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| 237 | 'Dick is a very remarkable man,' exclaimed my aunt; 'and I always
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| 238 | said he was. Trot, you know it.'
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| 239 | 'I am happy to say, Miss Wickfield,' pursued Traddles, at once with
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| 240 | great delicacy and with great earnestness, 'that in your absence
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| 241 | Mr. Wickfield has considerably improved. Relieved of the incubus
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| 242 | that had fastened upon him for so long a time, and of the dreadful
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| 243 | apprehensions under which he had lived, he is hardly the same
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| 244 | person. At times, even his impaired power of concentrating his
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| 245 | memory and attention on particular points of business, has
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| 246 | recovered itself very much; and he has been able to assist us in
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| 247 | making some things clear, that we should have found very difficult
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| 248 | indeed, if not hopeless, without him. But what I have to do is to
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| 249 | come to results; which are short enough; not to gossip on all the
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| 250 | hopeful circumstances I have observed, or I shall never have done.'
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| 251 | His natural manner and agreeable simplicity made it transparent
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| 252 | that he said this to put us in good heart, and to enable Agnes to
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| 253 | hear her father mentioned with greater confidence; but it was not
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| 254 | the less pleasant for that.
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| 255 | 'Now, let me see,' said Traddles, looking among the papers on the
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| 256 | table. 'Having counted our funds, and reduced to order a great
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| 257 | mass of unintentional confusion in the first place, and of wilful
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| 258 | confusion and falsification in the second, we take it to be clear
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| 259 | that Mr. Wickfield might now wind up his business, and his
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| 260 | agency-trust, and exhibit no deficiency or defalcation whatever.'
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| 261 | 'Oh, thank Heaven!' cried Agnes, fervently.
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| 262 | 'But,' said Traddles, 'the surplus that would be left as his means
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| 263 | of support - and I suppose the house to be sold, even in saying
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| 264 | this - would be so small, not exceeding in all probability some
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| 265 | hundreds of pounds, that perhaps, Miss Wickfield, it would be best
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| 266 | to consider whether he might not retain his agency of the estate to
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| 267 | which he has so long been receiver. His friends might advise him,
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| 268 | you know; now he is free. You yourself, Miss Wickfield -
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| 269 | Copperfield - I -'
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| 270 | 'I have considered it, Trotwood,' said Agnes, looking to me, 'and
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| 271 | I feel that it ought not to be, and must not be; even on the
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| 272 | recommendation of a friend to whom I am so grateful, and owe so
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| 273 | much.'
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| 274 | 'I will not say that I recommend it,' observed Traddles. 'I think
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| 275 | it right to suggest it. No more.'
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| 276 | 'I am happy to hear you say so,' answered Agnes, steadily, 'for it
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| 277 | gives me hope, almost assurance, that we think alike. Dear Mr.
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| 278 | Traddles and dear Trotwood, papa once free with honour, what could
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| 279 | I wish for! I have always aspired, if I could have released him
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| 280 | from the toils in which he was held, to render back some little
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| 281 | portion of the love and care I owe him, and to devote my life to
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| 282 | him. It has been, for years, the utmost height of my hopes. To
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| 283 | take our future on myself, will be the next great happiness - the
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| 284 | next to his release from all trust and responsibility - that I can
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| 285 | know.'
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| 286 | 'Have you thought how, Agnes?'
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| 287 | 'Often! I am not afraid, dear Trotwood. I am certain of success.
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| 288 | So many people know me here, and think kindly of me, that I am
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| 289 | certain. Don't mistrust me. Our wants are not many. If I rent
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| 290 | the dear old house, and keep a school, I shall be useful and
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| 291 | happy.'
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| 292 | The calm fervour of her cheerful voice brought back so vividly,
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| 293 | first the dear old house itself, and then my solitary home, that my
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| 294 | heart was too full for speech. Traddles pretended for a little
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| 295 | while to be busily looking among the papers.
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| 296 | 'Next, Miss Trotwood,' said Traddles, 'that property of yours.'
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| 297 | 'Well, sir,' sighed my aunt. 'All I have got to say about it is,
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| 298 | that if it's gone, I can bear it; and if it's not gone, I shall be
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| 299 | glad to get it back.'
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| 300 | 'It was originally, I think, eight thousand pounds, Consols?' said
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| 301 | Traddles.
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| 302 | 'Right!' replied my aunt.
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| 303 | 'I can't account for more than five,' said Traddles, with an air of
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| 304 | perplexity.
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| 305 | '- thousand, do you mean?' inquired my aunt, with uncommon
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| 306 | composure, 'or pounds?'
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| 307 | 'Five thousand pounds,' said Traddles.
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| 308 | 'It was all there was,' returned my aunt. 'I sold three, myself.
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| 309 | One, I paid for your articles, Trot, my dear; and the other two I
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| 310 | have by me. When I lost the rest, I thought it wise to say nothing
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| 311 | about that sum, but to keep it secretly for a rainy day. I wanted
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| 312 | to see how you would come out of the trial, Trot; and you came out
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| 313 | nobly - persevering, self-reliant, self-denying! So did Dick.
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| 314 | Don't speak to me, for I find my nerves a little shaken!'
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| 315 | Nobody would have thought so, to see her sitting upright, with her
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| 316 | arms folded; but she had wonderful self-command.
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| 317 | 'Then I am delighted to say,' cried Traddles, beaming with joy,
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| 318 | 'that we have recovered the whole money!'
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| 319 | 'Don't congratulate me, anybody!' exclaimed my aunt. 'How so,
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| 320 | sir?'
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| 321 | 'You believed it had been misappropriated by Mr. Wickfield?' said
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| 322 | Traddles.
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| 323 | 'Of course I did,' said my aunt, 'and was therefore easily
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| 324 | silenced. Agnes, not a word!'
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| 325 | 'And indeed,' said Traddles, 'it was sold, by virtue of the power
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| 326 | of management he held from you; but I needn't say by whom sold, or
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| 327 | on whose actual signature. It was afterwards pretended to Mr.
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| 328 | Wickfield, by that rascal, - and proved, too, by figures, - that he
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| 329 | had possessed himself of the money (on general instructions, he
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| 330 | said) to keep other deficiencies and difficulties from the light.
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| 331 | Mr. Wickfield, being so weak and helpless in his hands as to pay
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| 332 | you, afterwards, several sums of interest on a pretended principal
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| 333 | which he knew did not exist, made himself, unhappily, a party to
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| 334 | the fraud.'
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| 335 | 'And at last took the blame upon himself,' added my aunt; 'and
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| 336 | wrote me a mad letter, charging himself with robbery, and wrong
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| 337 | unheard of. Upon which I paid him a visit early one morning,
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| 338 | called for a candle, burnt the letter, and told him if he ever
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| 339 | could right me and himself, to do it; and if he couldn't, to keep
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| 340 | his own counsel for his daughter's sake. - If anybody speaks to
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| 341 | me, I'll leave the house!'
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| 342 | We all remained quiet; Agnes covering her face.
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| 343 | 'Well, my dear friend,' said my aunt, after a pause, 'and you have
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| 344 | really extorted the money back from him?'
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| 345 | 'Why, the fact is,' returned Traddles, 'Mr. Micawber had so
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| 346 | completely hemmed him in, and was always ready with so many new
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| 347 | points if an old one failed, that he could not escape from us. A
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| 348 | most remarkable circumstance is, that I really don't think he
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| 349 | grasped this sum even so much for the gratification of his avarice,
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| 350 | which was inordinate, as in the hatred he felt for Copperfield. He
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| 351 | said so to me, plainly. He said he would even have spent as much,
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| 352 | to baulk or injure Copperfield.'
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| 353 | 'Ha!' said my aunt, knitting her brows thoughtfully, and glancing
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| 354 | at Agnes. 'And what's become of him?'
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| 355 | 'I don't know. He left here,' said Traddles, 'with his mother, who
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| 356 | had been clamouring, and beseeching, and disclosing, the whole
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| 357 | time. They went away by one of the London night coaches, and I
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| 358 | know no more about him; except that his malevolence to me at
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| 359 | parting was audacious. He seemed to consider himself hardly less
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| 360 | indebted to me, than to Mr. Micawber; which I consider (as I told
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| 361 | him) quite a compliment.'
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| 362 | 'Do you suppose he has any money, Traddles?' I asked.
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| 363 | 'Oh dear, yes, I should think so,' he replied, shaking his head,
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| 364 | seriously. 'I should say he must have pocketed a good deal, in one
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| 365 | way or other. But, I think you would find, Copperfield, if you had
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| 366 | an opportunity of observing his course, that money would never keep
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| 367 | that man out of mischief. He is such an incarnate hypocrite, that
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| 368 | whatever object he pursues, he must pursue crookedly. It's his
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| 369 | only compensation for the outward restraints he puts upon himself.
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| 370 | Always creeping along the ground to some small end or other, he
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| 371 | will always magnify every object in the way; and consequently will
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| 372 | hate and suspect everybody that comes, in the most innocent manner,
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| 373 | between him and it. So the crooked courses will become crookeder,
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| 374 | at any moment, for the least reason, or for none. It's only
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| 375 | necessary to consider his history here,' said Traddles, 'to know
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| 376 | that.'
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| 377 | 'He's a monster of meanness!' said my aunt.
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| 378 | 'Really I don't know about that,' observed Traddles thoughtfully.
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| 379 | 'Many people can be very mean, when they give their minds to it.'
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| 380 | 'And now, touching Mr. Micawber,' said my aunt.
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| 381 | 'Well, really,' said Traddles, cheerfully, 'I must, once more, give
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| 382 | Mr. Micawber high praise. But for his having been so patient and
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| 383 | persevering for so long a time, we never could have hoped to do
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| 384 | anything worth speaking of. And I think we ought to consider that
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| 385 | Mr. Micawber did right, for right's sake, when we reflect what
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| 386 | terms he might have made with Uriah Heep himself, for his silence.'
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| 387 | 'I think so too,' said I.
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| 388 | 'Now, what would you give him?' inquired my aunt.
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| 389 | 'Oh! Before you come to that,' said Traddles, a little
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| 390 | disconcerted, 'I am afraid I thought it discreet to omit (not being
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| 391 | able to carry everything before me) two points, in making this
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| 392 | lawless adjustment - for it's perfectly lawless from beginning to
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| 393 | end - of a difficult affair. Those I.O.U.'s, and so forth, which
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| 394 | Mr. Micawber gave him for the advances he had -'
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| 395 | 'Well! They must be paid,' said my aunt.
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| 396 | 'Yes, but I don't know when they may be proceeded on, or where they
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| 397 | are,' rejoined Traddles, opening his eyes; 'and I anticipate, that,
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| 398 | between this time and his departure, Mr. Micawber will be
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| 399 | constantly arrested, or taken in execution.'
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| 400 | 'Then he must be constantly set free again, and taken out of
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| 401 | execution,' said my aunt. 'What's the amount altogether?'
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| 402 | 'Why, Mr. Micawber has entered the transactions - he calls them
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| 403 | transactions - with great form, in a book,' rejoined Traddles,
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| 404 | smiling; 'and he makes the amount a hundred and three pounds,
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| 405 | five.'
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| 406 | 'Now, what shall we give him, that sum included?' said my aunt.
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| 407 | 'Agnes, my dear, you and I can talk about division of it
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| 408 | afterwards. What should it be? Five hundred pounds?'
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| 409 | Upon this, Traddles and I both struck in at once. We both
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| 410 | recommended a small sum in money, and the payment, without
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| 411 | stipulation to Mr. Micawber, of the Uriah claims as they came in.
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| 412 | We proposed that the family should have their passage and their
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| 413 | outfit, and a hundred pounds; and that Mr. Micawber's arrangement
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| 414 | for the repayment of the advances should be gravely entered into,
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| 415 | as it might be wholesome for him to suppose himself under that
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| 416 | responsibility. To this, I added the suggestion, that I should
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| 417 | give some explanation of his character and history to Mr. Peggotty,
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| 418 | who I knew could be relied on; and that to Mr. Peggotty should be
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| 419 | quietly entrusted the discretion of advancing another hundred. I
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| 420 | further proposed to interest Mr. Micawber in Mr. Peggotty, by
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| 421 | confiding so much of Mr. Peggotty's story to him as I might feel
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| 422 | justified in relating, or might think expedient; and to endeavour
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| 423 | to bring each of them to bear upon the other, for the common
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| 424 | advantage. We all entered warmly into these views; and I may
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| 425 | mention at once, that the principals themselves did so, shortly
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| 426 | afterwards, with perfect good will and harmony.
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| 427 | Seeing that Traddles now glanced anxiously at my aunt again, I
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| 428 | reminded him of the second and last point to which he had adverted.
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| 429 | 'You and your aunt will excuse me, Copperfield, if I touch upon a
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| 430 | painful theme, as I greatly fear I shall,' said Traddles,
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| 431 | hesitating; 'but I think it necessary to bring it to your
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| 432 | recollection. On the day of Mr. Micawber's memorable denunciation
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| 433 | a threatening allusion was made by Uriah Heep to your aunt's -
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| 434 | husband.'
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| 435 | My aunt, retaining her stiff position, and apparent composure,
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| 436 | assented with a nod.
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| 437 | 'Perhaps,' observed Traddles, 'it was mere purposeless
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| 438 | impertinence?'
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| 439 | 'No,' returned my aunt.
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| 440 | 'There was - pardon me - really such a person, and at all in his
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| 441 | power?' hinted Traddles.
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| 442 | 'Yes, my good friend,' said my aunt.
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| 443 | Traddles, with a perceptible lengthening of his face, explained
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| 444 | that he had not been able to approach this subject; that it had
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| 445 | shared the fate of Mr. Micawber's liabilities, in not being
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| 446 | comprehended in the terms he had made; that we were no longer of
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| 447 | any authority with Uriah Heep; and that if he could do us, or any
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| 448 | of us, any injury or annoyance, no doubt he would.
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| 449 | My aunt remained quiet; until again some stray tears found their
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| 450 | way to her cheeks.
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| 451 | 'You are quite right,' she said. 'It was very thoughtful to
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| 452 | mention it.'
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| 453 | 'Can I - or Copperfield - do anything?' asked Traddles, gently.
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| 454 | 'Nothing,' said my aunt. 'I thank you many times. Trot, my dear,
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| 455 | a vain threat! Let us have Mr. and Mrs. Micawber back. And don't
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| 456 | any of you speak to me!' With that she smoothed her dress, and sat,
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| 457 | with her upright carriage, looking at the door.
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| 458 | 'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber!' said my aunt, when they entered.
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| 459 | 'We have been discussing your emigration, with many apologies to
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| 460 | you for keeping you out of the room so long; and I'll tell you what
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| 461 | arrangements we propose.'
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| 462 | These she explained to the unbounded satisfaction of the family, -
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| 463 | children and all being then present, - and so much to the awakening
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| 464 | of Mr. Micawber's punctual habits in the opening stage of all bill
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| 465 | transactions, that he could not be dissuaded from immediately
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| 466 | rushing out, in the highest spirits, to buy the stamps for his
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| 467 | notes of hand. But, his joy received a sudden check; for within
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| 468 | five minutes, he returned in the custody of a sheriff 's officer,
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| 469 | informing us, in a flood of tears, that all was lost. We, being
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| 470 | quite prepared for this event, which was of course a proceeding of
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| 471 | Uriah Heep's, soon paid the money; and in five minutes more Mr.
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| 472 | Micawber was seated at the table, filling up the stamps with an
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| 473 | expression of perfect joy, which only that congenial employment, or
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| 474 | the making of punch, could impart in full completeness to his
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| 475 | shining face. To see him at work on the stamps, with the relish of
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| 476 | an artist, touching them like pictures, looking at them sideways,
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| 477 | taking weighty notes of dates and amounts in his pocket-book, and
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| 478 | contemplating them when finished, with a high sense of their
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| 479 | precious value, was a sight indeed.
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| 480 | 'Now, the best thing you can do, sir, if you'll allow me to advise
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| 481 | you,' said my aunt, after silently observing him, 'is to abjure
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| 482 | that occupation for evermore.'
|
| 483 | 'Madam,' replied Mr. Micawber, 'it is my intention to register such
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| 484 | a vow on the virgin page of the future. Mrs. Micawber will attest
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| 485 | it. I trust,' said Mr. Micawber, solemnly, 'that my son Wilkins
|
| 486 | will ever bear in mind, that he had infinitely better put his fist
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| 487 | in the fire, than use it to handle the serpents that have poisoned
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| 488 | the life-blood of his unhappy parent!' Deeply affected, and changed
|
| 489 | in a moment to the image of despair, Mr. Micawber regarded the
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| 490 | serpents with a look of gloomy abhorrence (in which his late
|
| 491 | admiration of them was not quite subdued), folded them up and put
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| 492 | them in his pocket.
|
| 493 | This closed the proceedings of the evening. We were weary with
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| 494 | sorrow and fatigue, and my aunt and I were to return to London on
|
| 495 | the morrow. It was arranged that the Micawbers should follow us,
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| 496 | after effecting a sale of their goods to a broker; that Mr.
|
| 497 | Wickfield's affairs should be brought to a settlement, with all
|
| 498 | convenient speed, under the direction of Traddles; and that Agnes
|
| 499 | should also come to London, pending those arrangements. We passed
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| 500 | the night at the old house, which, freed from the presence of the
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| 501 | Heeps, seemed purged of a disease; and I lay in my old room, like
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| 502 | a shipwrecked wanderer come home.
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| 503 | We went back next day to my aunt's house - not to mine- and when
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| 504 | she and I sat alone, as of old, before going to bed, she said:
|
| 505 | 'Trot, do you really wish to know what I have had upon my mind
|
| 506 | lately?'
|
| 507 | 'Indeed I do, aunt. If there ever was a time when I felt unwilling
|
| 508 | that you should have a sorrow or anxiety which I could not share,
|
| 509 | it is now.'
|
| 510 | 'You have had sorrow enough, child,' said my aunt, affectionately,
|
| 511 | 'without the addition of my little miseries. I could have no other
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| 512 | motive, Trot, in keeping anything from you.'
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| 513 | 'I know that well,' said I. 'But tell me now.'
|
| 514 | 'Would you ride with me a little way tomorrow morning?' asked my
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| 515 | aunt.
|
| 516 | 'Of course.'
|
| 517 | 'At nine,' said she. 'I'll tell you then, my dear.'
|
| 518 | At nine, accordingly, we went out in a little chariot, and drove to
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| 519 | London. We drove a long way through the streets, until we came to
|
| 520 | one of the large hospitals. Standing hard by the building was a
|
| 521 | plain hearse. The driver recognized my aunt, and, in obedience to
|
| 522 | a motion of her hand at the window, drove slowly off; we following.
|
| 523 | 'You understand it now, Trot,' said my aunt. 'He is gone!'
|
| 524 | 'Did he die in the hospital?'
|
| 525 | 'Yes.'
|
| 526 | She sat immovable beside me; but, again I saw the stray tears on
|
| 527 | her face.
|
| 528 | 'He was there once before,' said my aunt presently. 'He was ailing
|
| 529 | a long time - a shattered, broken man, these many years. When he
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| 530 | knew his state in this last illness, he asked them to send for me.
|
| 531 | He was sorry then. Very sorry.'
|
| 532 | 'You went, I know, aunt.'
|
| 533 | 'I went. I was with him a good deal afterwards.'
|
| 534 | 'He died the night before we went to Canterbury?' said I.
|
| 535 | My aunt nodded. 'No one can harm him now,' she said. 'It was a
|
| 536 | vain threat.'
|
| 537 | We drove away, out of town, to the churchyard at Hornsey. 'Better
|
| 538 | here than in the streets,' said my aunt. 'He was born here.'
|
| 539 | We alighted; and followed the plain coffin to a corner I remember
|
| 540 | well, where the service was read consigning it to the dust.
|
| 541 | 'Six-and-thirty years ago, this day, my dear,' said my aunt, as we
|
| 542 | walked back to the chariot, 'I was married. God forgive us all!'
|
| 543 | We took our seats in silence; and so she sat beside me for a long
|
| 544 | time, holding my hand. At length she suddenly burst into tears,
|
| 545 | and said:
|
| 546 | 'He was a fine-looking man when I married him, Trot - and he was
|
| 547 | sadly changed!'
|
| 548 | It did not last long. After the relief of tears, she soon became
|
| 549 | composed, and even cheerful. Her nerves were a little shaken, she
|
| 550 | said, or she would not have given way to it. God forgive us all!
|
| 551 | So we rode back to her little cottage at Highgate, where we found
|
| 552 | the following short note, which had arrived by that morning's post
|
| 553 | from Mr. Micawber:
|
| 554 | 'Canterbury,
|
| 555 | 'Friday.
|
| 556 | 'My dear Madam, and Copperfield,
|
| 557 | 'The fair land of promise lately looming on the horizon is again
|
| 558 | enveloped in impenetrable mists, and for ever withdrawn from the
|
| 559 | eyes of a drifting wretch whose Doom is sealed!
|
| 560 | 'Another writ has been issued (in His Majesty's High Court of
|
| 561 | King's Bench at Westminster), in another cause of HEEP V.
|
| 562 | MICAWBER, and the defendant in that cause is the prey of the
|
| 563 | sheriff having legal jurisdiction in this bailiwick.
|
| 564 | 'Now's the day, and now's the hour,
|
| 565 | See the front of battle lower,
|
| 566 | See approach proud EDWARD'S power -
|
| 567 | Chains and slavery!
|
| 568 | 'Consigned to which, and to a speedy end (for mental torture is not
|
| 569 | supportable beyond a certain point, and that point I feel I have
|
| 570 | attained), my course is run. Bless you, bless you! Some future
|
| 571 | traveller, visiting, from motives of curiosity, not unmingled, let
|
| 572 | us hope, with sympathy, the place of confinement allotted to
|
| 573 | debtors in this city, may, and I trust will, Ponder, as he traces
|
| 574 | on its wall, inscribed with a rusty nail,
|
| 575 | 'The obscure initials,
|
| 576 | 'W. M.
|
| 577 | 'P.S. I re-open this to say that our common friend, Mr. Thomas
|
| 578 | Traddles (who has not yet left us, and is looking extremely well),
|
| 579 | has paid the debt and costs, in the noble name of Miss Trotwood;
|
| 580 | and that myself and family are at the height of earthly bliss.'
|