There was a servant in that house, a man who, I understood, was usuallywith Steerforth, and had come into his service at the University, whowas in appearance a pattern of respectability. I believe there neverexisted in his station a more respectable-looking man. He was taciturn,soft-footed, very quiet in his manner, deferential, observant, always athand when wanted, and never near when not wanted; but his great claim toconsideration was his respectability. He had not a pliant face, he hadrather a stiff neck, rather a tight smooth head with short hair clingingto it at the sides, a soft way of speaking, with a peculiar habit ofwhispering the letter S so distinctly, that he seemed to use itoftener than any other man; but every peculiarity that he had he maderespectable. If his nose had been upside-down, he would have made thatrespectable. He surrounded himself with an atmosphere of respectability,and walked secure in it. It would have been next to impossible tosuspect him of anything wrong, he was so thoroughly respectable.Nobody could have thought of putting him in a livery, he was so highlyrespectable. To have imposed any derogatory work upon him, would havebeen to inflict a wanton insult on the feelings of a most respectableman. And of this, I noticed--the women-servants in the household wereso intuitively conscious, that they always did such work themselves, andgenerally while he read the paper by the pantry fire.

Such a self-contained man I never saw. But in that quality, as in everyother he possessed, he only seemed to be the more respectable. Even thefact that no one knew his Christian name, seemed to form a part of hisrespectability. Nothing could be objected against his surname, Littimer,by which he was known. Peter might have been hanged, or Tom transported;but Littimer was perfectly respectable.

It was occasioned, I suppose, by the reverend nature of respectabilityin the abstract, but I felt particularly young in this man's presence.How old he was himself, I could not guess--and that again went to hiscredit on the same score; for in the calmness of respectability he mighthave numbered fifty years as well as thirty.

Littimer was in my room in the morning before I was up, to bring me thatreproachful shaving-water, and to put out my clothes. When I undrew thecurtains and looked out of bed, I saw him, in an equable temperatureof respectability, unaffected by the east wind of January, and noteven breathing frostily, standing my boots right and left in the firstdancing position, and blowing specks of dust off my coat as he laid itdown like a baby.

I gave him good morning, and asked him what o'clock it was. He tookout of his pocket the most respectable hunting-watch I ever saw, andpreventing the spring with his thumb from opening far, looked in at theface as if he were consulting an oracular oyster, shut it up again, andsaid, if I pleased, it was half past eight.

'Mr. Steerforth will be glad to hear how you have rested, sir.'

'Thank you,' said I, 'very well indeed. Is Mr. Steerforth quite well?'

'Thank you, sir, Mr. Steerforth is tolerably well.' Another of hischaracteristics--no use of superlatives. A cool calm medium always.

'Is there anything more I can have the honour of doing for you, sir? Thewarning-bell will ring at nine; the family take breakfast at half pastnine.'

'Nothing, I thank you.'

'I thank YOU, sir, if you please'; and with that, and with a littleinclination of his head when he passed the bed-side, as an apology forcorrecting me, he went out, shutting the door as delicately as if I hadjust fallen into a sweet sleep on which my life depended.

Every morning we held exactly this conversation: never any more, andnever any less: and yet, invariably, however far I might have beenlifted out of myself over-night, and advanced towards maturer years,by Steerforth's companionship, or Mrs. Steerforth's confidence, or MissDartle's conversation, in the presence of this most respectable man Ibecame, as our smaller poets sing, 'a boy again'.

He got horses for us; and Steerforth, who knew everything, gave melessons in riding. He provided foils for us, and Steerforth gave melessons in fencing--gloves, and I began, of the same master, to improvein boxing. It gave me no manner of concern that Steerforth should findme a novice in these sciences, but I never could bear to show my want ofskill before the respectable Littimer. I had no reason to believethat Littimer understood such arts himself; he never led me to supposeanything of the kind, by so much as the vibration of one of hisrespectable eyelashes; yet whenever he was by, while we were practising,I felt myself the greenest and most inexperienced of mortals.

I am particular about this man, because he made a particular effect onme at that time, and because of what took place thereafter.

The week passed away in a most delightful manner. It passed rapidly, asmay be supposed, to one entranced as I was; and yet it gave me so manyoccasions for knowing Steerforth better, and admiring him more in athousand respects, that at its close I seemed to have been with himfor a much longer time. A dashing way he had of treating me like aplaything, was more agreeable to me than any behaviour he could haveadopted. It reminded me of our old acquaintance; it seemed the naturalsequel of it; it showed me that he was unchanged; it relieved me ofany uneasiness I might have felt, in comparing my merits with his, andmeasuring my claims upon his friendship by any equal standard; aboveall, it was a familiar, unrestrained, affectionate demeanour that heused towards no one else. As he had treated me at school differentlyfrom all the rest, I joyfully believed that he treated me in life unlikeany other friend he had. I believed that I was nearer to his heart thanany other friend, and my own heart warmed with attachment to him. Hemade up his mind to go with me into the country, and the day arrived forour departure. He had been doubtful at first whether to take Littimeror not, but decided to leave him at home. The respectable creature,satisfied with his lot whatever it was, arranged our portmanteaux onthe little carriage that was to take us into London, as if they wereintended to defy the shocks of ages, and received my modestly proffereddonation with perfect tranquillity.

We bade adieu to Mrs. Steerforth and Miss Dartle, with many thanks onmy part, and much kindness on the devoted mother's. The last thing Isaw was Littimer's unruffled eye; fraught, as I fancied, with the silentconviction that I was very young indeed.

What I felt, in returning so auspiciously to the old familiar places,I shall not endeavour to describe. We went down by the Mail. I wasso concerned, I recollect, even for the honour of Yarmouth, that whenSteerforth said, as we drove through its dark streets to the inn, that,as well as he could make out, it was a good, queer, out-of-the-way kindof hole, I was highly pleased. We went to bed on our arrival (I observeda pair of dirty shoes and gaiters in connexion with my old friend theDolphin as we passed that door), and breakfasted late in the morning.Steerforth, who was in great spirits, had been strolling about thebeach before I was up, and had made acquaintance, he said, with half theboatmen in the place. Moreover, he had seen, in the distance, what hewas sure must be the identical house of Mr. Peggotty, with smoke comingout of the chimney; and had had a great mind, he told me, to walk in andswear he was myself grown out of knowledge.

'When do you propose to introduce me there, Daisy?' he said. 'I am atyour disposal. Make your own arrangements.'

'Why, I was thinking that this evening would be a good time, Steerforth,when they are all sitting round the fire. I should like you to see itwhen it's snug, it's such a curious place.'

'So be it!' returned Steerforth. 'This evening.'

'I shall not give them any notice that we are here, you know,' said I,delighted. 'We must take them by surprise.'

'Oh, of course! It's no fun,' said Steerforth, 'unless we take them bysurprise. Let us see the natives in their aboriginal condition.'

'Though they ARE that sort of people that you mentioned,' I returned.

'Aha! What! you recollect my skirmishes with Rosa, do you?' he exclaimedwith a quick look. 'Confound the girl, I am half afraid of her. She'slike a goblin to me. But never mind her. Now what are you going to do?You are going to see your nurse, I suppose?'

'Why, yes,' I said, 'I must see Peggotty first of all.'

'Well,' replied Steerforth, looking at his watch. 'Suppose I deliver youup to be cried over for a couple of hours. Is that long enough?'

I answered, laughing, that I thought we might get through it in thattime, but that he must come also; for he would find that his renown hadpreceded him, and that he was almost as great a personage as I was.

'I'll come anywhere you like,' said Steerforth, 'or do anything youlike. Tell me where to come to; and in two hours I'll produce myself inany state you please, sentimental or comical.'

I gave him minute directions for finding the residence of Mr. Barkis,carrier to Blunderstone and elsewhere; and, on this understanding, wentout alone. There was a sharp bracing air; the ground was dry; the seawas crisp and clear; the sun was diffusing abundance of light, if notmuch warmth; and everything was fresh and lively. I was so fresh andlively myself, in the pleasure of being there, that I could have stoppedthe people in the streets and shaken hands with them.

The streets looked small, of course. The streets that we have only seenas children always do, I believe, when we go back to them. But I hadforgotten nothing in them, and found nothing changed, until I came toMr. Omer's shop. OMER AND Joram was now written up, where OMER used tobe; but the inscription, DRAPER, TAILOR, HABERDASHER, FUNERAL FURNISHER,&c., remained as it was.

My footsteps seemed to tend so naturally to the shop door, after I hadread these words from over the way, that I went across the road andlooked in. There was a pretty woman at the back of the shop, dancinga little child in her arms, while another little fellow clung to herapron. I had no difficulty in recognizing either Minnie or Minnie'schildren. The glass door of the parlour was not open; but in theworkshop across the yard I could faintly hear the old tune playing, asif it had never left off.

'Is Mr. Omer at home?' said I, entering. 'I should like to see him, fora moment, if he is.'

'Oh yes, sir, he is at home,' said Minnie; 'the weather don't suit hisasthma out of doors. Joe, call your grandfather!'

The little fellow, who was holding her apron, gave such a lusty shout,that the sound of it made him bashful, and he buried his face in herskirts, to her great admiration. I heard a heavy puffing and blowingcoming towards us, and soon Mr. Omer, shorter-winded than of yore, butnot much older-looking, stood before me.

'Servant, sir,' said Mr. Omer. 'What can I do for you, sir?' 'You canshake hands with me, Mr. Omer, if you please,' said I, putting out myown. 'You were very good-natured to me once, when I am afraid I didn'tshow that I thought so.'

'Was I though?' returned the old man. 'I'm glad to hear it, but I don'tremember when. Are you sure it was me?'

'Quite.'

'I think my memory has got as short as my breath,' said Mr. Omer,looking at me and shaking his head; 'for I don't remember you.'

'Don't you remember your coming to the coach to meet me, and my havingbreakfast here, and our riding out to Blunderstone together: you, and I,and Mrs. Joram, and Mr. Joram too--who wasn't her husband then?'

'Why, Lord bless my soul!' exclaimed Mr. Omer, after being thrown by hissurprise into a fit of coughing, 'you don't say so! Minnie, my dear, yourecollect? Dear me, yes; the party was a lady, I think?'

'My mother,' I rejoined.

'To--be--sure,' said Mr. Omer, touching my waistcoat with hisforefinger, 'and there was a little child too! There was two parties.The little party was laid along with the other party. Over atBlunderstone it was, of course. Dear me! And how have you been since?'

Very well, I thanked him, as I hoped he had been too.

'Oh! nothing to grumble at, you know,' said Mr. Omer. 'I find my breathgets short, but it seldom gets longer as a man gets older. I take it asit comes, and make the most of it. That's the best way, ain't it?'

Mr. Omer coughed again, in consequence of laughing, and was assisted outof his fit by his daughter, who now stood close beside us, dancing hersmallest child on the counter.

'Dear me!' said Mr. Omer. 'Yes, to be sure. Two parties! Why, in thatvery ride, if you'll believe me, the day was named for my Minnie tomarry Joram. "Do name it, sir," says Joram. "Yes, do, father," saysMinnie. And now he's come into the business. And look here! Theyoungest!'

Minnie laughed, and stroked her banded hair upon her temples, as herfather put one of his fat fingers into the hand of the child she wasdancing on the counter.

'Two parties, of course!' said Mr. Omer, nodding his headretrospectively. 'Ex-actly so! And Joram's at work, at this minute, ona grey one with silver nails, not this measurement'--the measurement ofthe dancing child upon the counter--'by a good two inches.---Will youtake something?'

I thanked him, but declined.

'Let me see,' said Mr. Omer. 'Barkis's the carrier's wife--Peggotty'sthe boatman's sister--she had something to do with your family? She wasin service there, sure?'

My answering in the affirmative gave him great satisfaction.

'I believe my breath will get long next, my memory's getting so muchso,' said Mr. Omer. 'Well, sir, we've got a young relation of hers here,under articles to us, that has as elegant a taste in the dress-makingbusiness--I assure you I don't believe there's a Duchess in England cantouch her.'

'Not little Em'ly?' said I, involuntarily.

'Em'ly's her name,' said Mr. Omer, 'and she's little too. But if you'llbelieve me, she has such a face of her own that half the women in thistown are mad against her.'

'Nonsense, father!' cried Minnie.

'My dear,' said Mr. Omer, 'I don't say it's the case with you,' winkingat me, 'but I say that half the women in Yarmouth--ah! and in five mileround--are mad against that girl.'

'Then she should have kept to her own station in life, father,' saidMinnie, 'and not have given them any hold to talk about her, and thenthey couldn't have done it.'

'Couldn't have done it, my dear!' retorted Mr. Omer. 'Couldn't havedone it! Is that YOUR knowledge of life? What is there that any womancouldn't do, that she shouldn't do--especially on the subject of anotherwoman's good looks?'

I really thought it was all over with Mr. Omer, after he had utteredthis libellous pleasantry. He coughed to that extent, and his breatheluded all his attempts to recover it with that obstinacy, that I fullyexpected to see his head go down behind the counter, and his littleblack breeches, with the rusty little bunches of ribbons at the knees,come quivering up in a last ineffectual struggle. At length, however,he got better, though he still panted hard, and was so exhausted that hewas obliged to sit on the stool of the shop-desk.

'You see,' he said, wiping his head, and breathing with difficulty, 'shehasn't taken much to any companions here; she hasn't taken kindly toany particular acquaintances and friends, not to mention sweethearts. Inconsequence, an ill-natured story got about, that Em'ly wanted to be alady. Now my opinion is, that it came into circulation principally onaccount of her sometimes saying, at the school, that if she was a ladyshe would like to do so-and-so for her uncle--don't you see?--and buyhim such-and-such fine things.'

'I assure you, Mr. Omer, she has said so to me,' I returned eagerly,'when we were both children.'

Mr. Omer nodded his head and rubbed his chin. 'Just so. Then out of avery little, she could dress herself, you see, better than most otherscould out of a deal, and that made things unpleasant. Moreover, she wasrather what might be called wayward--I'll go so far as to say what Ishould call wayward myself,' said Mr. Omer; '-didn't know her own mindquite--a little spoiled--and couldn't, at first, exactly bind herselfdown. No more than that was ever said against her, Minnie?'

'No, father,' said Mrs. Joram. 'That's the worst, I believe.'

'So when she got a situation,' said Mr. Omer, 'to keep a fractious oldlady company, they didn't very well agree, and she didn't stop. At lastshe came here, apprenticed for three years. Nearly two of 'em are over,and she has been as good a girl as ever was. Worth any six! Minnie, isshe worth any six, now?'

'Yes, father,' replied Minnie. 'Never say I detracted from her!'

'Very good,' said Mr. Omer. 'That's right. And so, young gentleman,' headded, after a few moments' further rubbing of his chin, 'that you maynot consider me long-winded as well as short-breathed, I believe that'sall about it.'

As they had spoken in a subdued tone, while speaking of Em'ly, I had nodoubt that she was near. On my asking now, if that were not so, Mr.Omer nodded yes, and nodded towards the door of the parlour. My hurriedinquiry if I might peep in, was answered with a free permission; and,looking through the glass, I saw her sitting at her work. I saw her, amost beautiful little creature, with the cloudless blue eyes, that hadlooked into my childish heart, turned laughingly upon another childof Minnie's who was playing near her; with enough of wilfulness in herbright face to justify what I had heard; with much of the old capriciouscoyness lurking in it; but with nothing in her pretty looks, I am sure,but what was meant for goodness and for happiness, and what was on agood and happy course.

The tune across the yard that seemed as if it never had left off--alas!it was the tune that never DOES leave off--was beating, softly, all thewhile.

'Wouldn't you like to step in,' said Mr. Omer, 'and speak to her? Walkin and speak to her, sir! Make yourself at home!'

I was too bashful to do so then--I was afraid of confusing her, and Iwas no less afraid of confusing myself.--but I informed myself of thehour at which she left of an evening, in order that our visit mightbe timed accordingly; and taking leave of Mr. Omer, and his prettydaughter, and her little children, went away to my dear old Peggotty's.

Here she was, in the tiled kitchen, cooking dinner! The moment I knockedat the door she opened it, and asked me what I pleased to want. I lookedat her with a smile, but she gave me no smile in return. I had neverceased to write to her, but it must have been seven years since we hadmet.

'Is Mr. Barkis at home, ma'am?' I said, feigning to speak roughly toher.

'He's at home, sir,' returned Peggotty, 'but he's bad abed with therheumatics.'

'Don't he go over to Blunderstone now?' I asked.

'When he's well he do,' she answered.

'Do YOU ever go there, Mrs. Barkis?'

She looked at me more attentively, and I noticed a quick movement of herhands towards each other.

'Because I want to ask a question about a house there, that they callthe--what is it?--the Rookery,' said I.

She took a step backward, and put out her hands in an undecidedfrightened way, as if to keep me off.

'Peggotty!' I cried to her.

She cried, 'My darling boy!' and we both burst into tears, and werelocked in one another's arms.

What extravagances she committed; what laughing and crying over me; whatpride she showed, what joy, what sorrow that she whose pride and joy Imight have been, could never hold me in a fond embrace; I have not theheart to tell. I was troubled with no misgiving that it was young inme to respond to her emotions. I had never laughed and cried in all mylife, I dare say--not even to her--more freely than I did that morning.

'Barkis will be so glad,' said Peggotty, wiping her eyes with her apron,'that it'll do him more good than pints of liniment. May I go and tellhim you are here? Will you come up and see him, my dear?'

Of course I would. But Peggotty could not get out of the room as easilyas she meant to, for as often as she got to the door and looked roundat me, she came back again to have another laugh and another cry upon myshoulder. At last, to make the matter easier, I went upstairs withher; and having waited outside for a minute, while she said a word ofpreparation to Mr. Barkis, presented myself before that invalid.

He received me with absolute enthusiasm. He was too rheumatic to beshaken hands with, but he begged me to shake the tassel on the top ofhis nightcap, which I did most cordially. When I sat down by the sideof the bed, he said that it did him a world of good to feel as if hewas driving me on the Blunderstone road again. As he lay in bed, faceupward, and so covered, with that exception, that he seemed to benothing but a face--like a conventional cherubim--he looked the queerestobject I ever beheld.

'What name was it, as I wrote up in the cart, sir?' said Mr. Barkis,with a slow rheumatic smile.

'Ah! Mr. Barkis, we had some grave talks about that matter, hadn't we?'

'I was willin' a long time, sir?' said Mr. Barkis.

'A long time,' said I.

'And I don't regret it,' said Mr. Barkis. 'Do you remember what youtold me once, about her making all the apple parsties and doing all thecooking?'

'Yes, very well,' I returned.

'It was as true,' said Mr. Barkis, 'as turnips is. It was as true,' saidMr. Barkis, nodding his nightcap, which was his only means of emphasis,'as taxes is. And nothing's truer than them.'

Mr. Barkis turned his eyes upon me, as if for my assent to this resultof his reflections in bed; and I gave it.

'Nothing's truer than them,' repeated Mr. Barkis; 'a man as poor as Iam, finds that out in his mind when he's laid up. I'm a very poor man,sir!'

'I am sorry to hear it, Mr. Barkis.'

'A very poor man, indeed I am,' said Mr. Barkis.

Here his right hand came slowly and feebly from under the bedclothes,and with a purposeless uncertain grasp took hold of a stick which wasloosely tied to the side of the bed. After some poking about withthis instrument, in the course of which his face assumed a variety ofdistracted expressions, Mr. Barkis poked it against a box, an endof which had been visible to me all the time. Then his face becamecomposed.

'Old clothes,' said Mr. Barkis.

'Oh!' said I.

'I wish it was Money, sir,' said Mr. Barkis.

'I wish it was, indeed,' said I.

'But it AIN'T,' said Mr. Barkis, opening both his eyes as wide as hepossibly could.

I expressed myself quite sure of that, and Mr. Barkis, turning his eyesmore gently to his wife, said:

'She's the usefullest and best of women, C. P. Barkis. All the praisethat anyone can give to C. P. Barkis, she deserves, and more! My dear,you'll get a dinner today, for company; something good to eat and drink,will you?'

I should have protested against this unnecessary demonstration inmy honour, but that I saw Peggotty, on the opposite side of the bed,extremely anxious I should not. So I held my peace.

'I have got a trifle of money somewhere about me, my dear,' said Mr.Barkis, 'but I'm a little tired. If you and Mr. David will leave me fora short nap, I'll try and find it when I wake.'

We left the room, in compliance with this request. When we got outsidethe door, Peggotty informed me that Mr. Barkis, being now 'a littlenearer' than he used to be, always resorted to this same device beforeproducing a single coin from his store; and that he endured unheard-ofagonies in crawling out of bed alone, and taking it from that unluckybox. In effect, we presently heard him uttering suppressed groans of themost dismal nature, as this magpie proceeding racked him in every joint;but while Peggotty's eyes were full of compassion for him, she said hisgenerous impulse would do him good, and it was better not to check it.So he groaned on, until he had got into bed again, suffering, I have nodoubt, a martyrdom; and then called us in, pretending to have justwoke up from a refreshing sleep, and to produce a guinea from under hispillow. His satisfaction in which happy imposition on us, and inhaving preserved the impenetrable secret of the box, appeared to be asufficient compensation to him for all his tortures.

I prepared Peggotty for Steerforth's arrival and it was not long beforehe came. I am persuaded she knew no difference between his having been apersonal benefactor of hers, and a kind friend to me, and that she wouldhave received him with the utmost gratitude and devotion in any case.But his easy, spirited good humour; his genial manner, his handsomelooks, his natural gift of adapting himself to whomsoever he pleased,and making direct, when he cared to do it, to the main point of interestin anybody's heart; bound her to him wholly in five minutes. Hismanner to me, alone, would have won her. But, through all these causescombined, I sincerely believe she had a kind of adoration for him beforehe left the house that night.

He stayed there with me to dinner--if I were to say willingly, I shouldnot half express how readily and gaily. He went into Mr. Barkis's roomlike light and air, brightening and refreshing it as if he were healthyweather. There was no noise, no effort, no consciousness, in anythinghe did; but in everything an indescribable lightness, a seemingimpossibility of doing anything else, or doing anything better, whichwas so graceful, so natural, and agreeable, that it overcomes me, evennow, in the remembrance.

We made merry in the little parlour, where the Book of Martyrs,unthumbed since my time, was laid out upon the desk as of old, and whereI now turned over its terrific pictures, remembering the old sensationsthey had awakened, but not feeling them. When Peggotty spoke of whatshe called my room, and of its being ready for me at night, and of herhoping I would occupy it, before I could so much as look at Steerforth,hesitating, he was possessed of the whole case.

'Of course,' he said. 'You'll sleep here, while we stay, and I shallsleep at the hotel.'

'But to bring you so far,' I returned, 'and to separate, seems badcompanionship, Steerforth.'

'Why, in the name of Heaven, where do you naturally belong?' he said.'What is "seems", compared to that?' It was settled at once.

He maintained all his delightful qualities to the last, until we startedforth, at eight o'clock, for Mr. Peggotty's boat. Indeed, they were moreand more brightly exhibited as the hours went on; for I thought eventhen, and I have no doubt now, that the consciousness of success in hisdetermination to please, inspired him with a new delicacy of perception,and made it, subtle as it was, more easy to him. If anyone had told me,then, that all this was a brilliant game, played for the excitement ofthe moment, for the employment of high spirits, in the thoughtless loveof superiority, in a mere wasteful careless course of winning what wasworthless to him, and next minute thrown away--I say, if anyone had toldme such a lie that night, I wonder in what manner of receiving it myindignation would have found a vent! Probably only in an increase, hadthat been possible, of the romantic feelings of fidelity and friendshipwith which I walked beside him, over the dark wintry sands towards theold boat; the wind sighing around us even more mournfully, than it hadsighed and moaned upon the night when I first darkened Mr. Peggotty'sdoor.

'This is a wild kind of place, Steerforth, is it not?'

'Dismal enough in the dark,' he said: 'and the sea roars as if it werehungry for us. Is that the boat, where I see a light yonder?' 'That'sthe boat,' said I.

'And it's the same I saw this morning,' he returned. 'I came straight toit, by instinct, I suppose.'

We said no more as we approached the light, but made softly for thedoor. I laid my hand upon the latch; and whispering Steerforth to keepclose to me, went in.

A murmur of voices had been audible on the outside, and, at themoment of our entrance, a clapping of hands: which latter noise, Iwas surprised to see, proceeded from the generally disconsolate Mrs.Gummidge. But Mrs. Gummidge was not the only person there who wasunusually excited. Mr. Peggotty, his face lighted up with uncommonsatisfaction, and laughing with all his might, held his rough armswide open, as if for little Em'ly to run into them; Ham, with a mixedexpression in his face of admiration, exultation, and a lumbering sortof bashfulness that sat upon him very well, held little Em'ly bythe hand, as if he were presenting her to Mr. Peggotty; little Em'lyherself, blushing and shy, but delighted with Mr. Peggotty's delight, asher joyous eyes expressed, was stopped by our entrance (for she saw usfirst) in the very act of springing from Ham to nestle in Mr. Peggotty'sembrace. In the first glimpse we had of them all, and at the moment ofour passing from the dark cold night into the warm light room, thiswas the way in which they were all employed: Mrs. Gummidge in thebackground, clapping her hands like a madwoman.

The little picture was so instantaneously dissolved by our going in,that one might have doubted whether it had ever been. I was in the midstof the astonished family, face to face with Mr. Peggotty, and holdingout my hand to him, when Ham shouted:

'Mas'r Davy! It's Mas'r Davy!'

In a moment we were all shaking hands with one another, and asking oneanother how we did, and telling one another how glad we were to meet,and all talking at once. Mr. Peggotty was so proud and overjoyed to seeus, that he did not know what to say or do, but kept over and over againshaking hands with me, and then with Steerforth, and then with me, andthen ruffling his shaggy hair all over his head, and laughing with suchglee and triumph, that it was a treat to see him.

'Why, that you two gent'lmen--gent'lmen growed--should come to this hereroof tonight, of all nights in my life,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'is such athing as never happened afore, I do rightly believe! Em'ly, my darling,come here! Come here, my little witch! There's Mas'r Davy's friend, mydear! There's the gent'lman as you've heerd on, Em'ly. He comes to seeyou, along with Mas'r Davy, on the brightest night of your uncle's lifeas ever was or will be, Gorm the t'other one, and horroar for it!'

After delivering this speech all in a breath, and with extraordinaryanimation and pleasure, Mr. Peggotty put one of his large handsrapturously on each side of his niece's face, and kissing it a dozentimes, laid it with a gentle pride and love upon his broad chest, andpatted it as if his hand had been a lady's. Then he let her go; and asshe ran into the little chamber where I used to sleep, looked round uponus, quite hot and out of breath with his uncommon satisfaction.

'If you two gent'lmen--gent'lmen growed now, and such gent'lmen--' saidMr. Peggotty.

'So th' are, so th' are!' cried Ham. 'Well said! So th' are. Mas'r Davybor'--gent'lmen growed--so th' are!'

'If you two gent'lmen, gent'lmen growed,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'don'tex-cuse me for being in a state of mind, when you understand matters,I'll arks your pardon. Em'ly, my dear!--She knows I'm a going to tell,'here his delight broke out again, 'and has made off. Would you be sogood as look arter her, Mawther, for a minute?'

Mrs. Gummidge nodded and disappeared.

'If this ain't,' said Mr. Peggotty, sitting down among us by the fire,'the brightest night o' my life, I'm a shellfish--biled too--and more Ican't say. This here little Em'ly, sir,' in a low voice to Steerforth,'--her as you see a blushing here just now--'

Steerforth only nodded; but with such a pleased expression of interest,and of participation in Mr. Peggotty's feelings, that the latteranswered him as if he had spoken.

'To be sure,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'That's her, and so she is. Thankee,sir.'

Ham nodded to me several times, as if he would have said so too.

'This here little Em'ly of ours,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'has been, in ourhouse, what I suppose (I'm a ignorant man, but that's my belief) no onebut a little bright-eyed creetur can be in a house. She ain't mychild; I never had one; but I couldn't love her more. You understand! Icouldn't do it!'

'I quite understand,' said Steerforth.

'I know you do, sir,' returned Mr. Peggotty, 'and thankee again. Mas'rDavy, he can remember what she was; you may judge for your own self whatshe is; but neither of you can't fully know what she has been, is, andwill be, to my loving art. I am rough, sir,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'I am asrough as a Sea Porkypine; but no one, unless, mayhap, it is a woman, canknow, I think, what our little Em'ly is to me. And betwixt ourselves,'sinking his voice lower yet, 'that woman's name ain't Missis Gummidgeneither, though she has a world of merits.' Mr. Peggotty ruffled hishair again, with both hands, as a further preparation for what he wasgoing to say, and went on, with a hand upon each of his knees:

'There was a certain person as had know'd our Em'ly, from the time whenher father was drownded; as had seen her constant; when a babby, whena young gal, when a woman. Not much of a person to look at, he warn't,'said Mr. Peggotty, 'something o' my own build--rough--a good deal o'the sou'-wester in him--wery salt--but, on the whole, a honest sort of achap, with his art in the right place.'

I thought I had never seen Ham grin to anything like the extent to whichhe sat grinning at us now.

'What does this here blessed tarpaulin go and do,' said Mr. Peggotty,with his face one high noon of enjoyment, 'but he loses that there artof his to our little Em'ly. He follers her about, he makes hisself asort o' servant to her, he loses in a great measure his relish for hiswittles, and in the long-run he makes it clear to me wot's amiss. Now Icould wish myself, you see, that our little Em'ly was in a fair way ofbeing married. I could wish to see her, at all ewents, under articles toa honest man as had a right to defend her. I don't know how long I maylive, or how soon I may die; but I know that if I was capsized, anynight, in a gale of wind in Yarmouth Roads here, and was to see thetown-lights shining for the last time over the rollers as I couldn'tmake no head against, I could go down quieter for thinking "There's aman ashore there, iron-true to my little Em'ly, God bless her, and nowrong can touch my Em'ly while so be as that man lives."'

Mr. Peggotty, in simple earnestness, waved his right arm, as if he werewaving it at the town-lights for the last time, and then, exchanging anod with Ham, whose eye he caught, proceeded as before.

'Well! I counsels him to speak to Em'ly. He's big enough, but he'sbashfuller than a little un, and he don't like. So I speak. "What! Him!"says Em'ly. "Him that I've know'd so intimate so many years, and like somuch. Oh, Uncle! I never can have him. He's such a good fellow!" I givesher a kiss, and I says no more to her than, "My dear, you're right tospeak out, you're to choose for yourself, you're as free as a littlebird." Then I aways to him, and I says, "I wish it could have been so,but it can't. But you can both be as you was, and wot I say to you is,Be as you was with her, like a man." He says to me, a-shaking of myhand, "I will!" he says. And he was--honourable and manful--for two yeargoing on, and we was just the same at home here as afore.'

Mr. Peggotty's face, which had varied in its expression with the variousstages of his narrative, now resumed all its former triumphant delight,as he laid a hand upon my knee and a hand upon Steerforth's (previouslywetting them both, for the greater emphasis of the action), and dividedthe following speech between us:

'All of a sudden, one evening--as it might be tonight--comes littleEm'ly from her work, and him with her! There ain't so much in that,you'll say. No, because he takes care on her, like a brother, arterdark, and indeed afore dark, and at all times. But this tarpaulin chap,he takes hold of her hand, and he cries out to me, joyful, "Look here!This is to be my little wife!" And she says, half bold and half shy, andhalf a laughing and half a crying, "Yes, Uncle! If you please."--If Iplease!' cried Mr. Peggotty, rolling his head in an ecstasy at the idea;'Lord, as if I should do anythink else!--"If you please, I am steadiernow, and I have thought better of it, and I'll be as good a little wifeas I can to him, for he's a dear, good fellow!" Then Missis Gummidge,she claps her hands like a play, and you come in. Theer! the murder'sout!' said Mr. Peggotty--'You come in! It took place this here presenthour; and here's the man that'll marry her, the minute she's out of hertime.'

Ham staggered, as well he might, under the blow Mr. Peggotty dealthim in his unbounded joy, as a mark of confidence and friendship; butfeeling called upon to say something to us, he said, with much falteringand great difficulty:

'She warn't no higher than you was, Mas'r Davy--when you firstcome--when I thought what she'd grow up to be. I see her grownup--gent'lmen--like a flower. I'd lay down my life forher--Mas'r Davy--Oh! most content and cheerful! She's more tome--gent'lmen--than--she's all to me that ever I can want, and morethan ever I--than ever I could say. I--I love her true. There ain't agent'lman in all the land--nor yet sailing upon all the sea--thatcan love his lady more than I love her, though there's many a commonman--would say better--what he meant.'

I thought it affecting to see such a sturdy fellow as Ham was now,trembling in the strength of what he felt for the pretty little creaturewho had won his heart. I thought the simple confidence reposed in us byMr. Peggotty and by himself, was, in itself, affecting. I was affectedby the story altogether. How far my emotions were influenced by therecollections of my childhood, I don't know. Whether I had come therewith any lingering fancy that I was still to love little Em'ly, I don'tknow. I know that I was filled with pleasure by all this; but, at first,with an indescribably sensitive pleasure, that a very little would havechanged to pain.

Therefore, if it had depended upon me to touch the prevailing chordamong them with any skill, I should have made a poor hand of it. But itdepended upon Steerforth; and he did it with such address, that in a fewminutes we were all as easy and as happy as it was possible to be.

'Mr. Peggotty,' he said, 'you are a thoroughly good fellow, and deserveto be as happy as you are tonight. My hand upon it! Ham, I give youjoy, my boy. My hand upon that, too! Daisy, stir the fire, and make it abrisk one! and Mr. Peggotty, unless you can induce your gentle niece tocome back (for whom I vacate this seat in the corner), I shall go.Any gap at your fireside on such a night--such a gap least of all--Iwouldn't make, for the wealth of the Indies!'

So Mr. Peggotty went into my old room to fetch little Em'ly. At firstlittle Em'ly didn't like to come, and then Ham went. Presently theybrought her to the fireside, very much confused, and very shy,--butshe soon became more assured when she found how gently and respectfullySteerforth spoke to her; how skilfully he avoided anything that wouldembarrass her; how he talked to Mr. Peggotty of boats, and ships, andtides, and fish; how he referred to me about the time when he had seenMr. Peggotty at Salem House; how delighted he was with the boat and allbelonging to it; how lightly and easily he carried on, until he broughtus, by degrees, into a charmed circle, and we were all talking awaywithout any reserve.

Em'ly, indeed, said little all the evening; but she looked, andlistened, and her face got animated, and she was charming. Steerforthtold a story of a dismal shipwreck (which arose out of his talk with Mr.Peggotty), as if he saw it all before him--and little Em'ly's eyes werefastened on him all the time, as if she saw it too. He told us a merryadventure of his own, as a relief to that, with as much gaiety as if thenarrative were as fresh to him as it was to us--and little Em'lylaughed until the boat rang with the musical sounds, and we all laughed(Steerforth too), in irresistible sympathy with what was so pleasant andlight-hearted. He got Mr. Peggotty to sing, or rather to roar, 'Whenthe stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow'; and he sang a sailor'ssong himself, so pathetically and beautifully, that I could have almostfancied that the real wind creeping sorrowfully round the house, andmurmuring low through our unbroken silence, was there to listen.

As to Mrs. Gummidge, he roused that victim of despondency with a successnever attained by anyone else (so Mr. Peggotty informed me), sincethe decease of the old one. He left her so little leisure for beingmiserable, that she said next day she thought she must have beenbewitched.

But he set up no monopoly of the general attention, or the conversation.When little Em'ly grew more courageous, and talked (but still bashfully)across the fire to me, of our old wanderings upon the beach, to pick upshells and pebbles; and when I asked her if she recollected how I usedto be devoted to her; and when we both laughed and reddened, castingthese looks back on the pleasant old times, so unreal to look at now; hewas silent and attentive, and observed us thoughtfully. She sat, at thistime, and all the evening, on the old locker in her old little cornerby the fire--Ham beside her, where I used to sit. I could not satisfymyself whether it was in her own little tormenting way, or in a maidenlyreserve before us, that she kept quite close to the wall, and away fromhim; but I observed that she did so, all the evening.

As I remember, it was almost midnight when we took our leave. We had hadsome biscuit and dried fish for supper, and Steerforth had produced fromhis pocket a full flask of Hollands, which we men (I may say we men,now, without a blush) had emptied. We parted merrily; and as they allstood crowded round the door to light us as far as they could upon ourroad, I saw the sweet blue eyes of little Em'ly peeping after us, frombehind Ham, and heard her soft voice calling to us to be careful how wewent.

'A most engaging little Beauty!' said Steerforth, taking my arm. 'Well!It's a quaint place, and they are quaint company, and it's quite a newsensation to mix with them.'

'How fortunate we are, too,' I returned, 'to have arrived to witnesstheir happiness in that intended marriage! I never saw people so happy.How delightful to see it, and to be made the sharers in their honestjoy, as we have been!'

'That's rather a chuckle-headed fellow for the girl; isn't he?' saidSteerforth.

He had been so hearty with him, and with them all, that I felt a shockin this unexpected and cold reply. But turning quickly upon him, andseeing a laugh in his eyes, I answered, much relieved:

'Ah, Steerforth! It's well for you to joke about the poor! You mayskirmish with Miss Dartle, or try to hide your sympathies in jest fromme, but I know better. When I see how perfectly you understand them, howexquisitely you can enter into happiness like this plain fisherman's,or humour a love like my old nurse's, I know that there is not a joy orsorrow, not an emotion, of such people, that can be indifferent to you.And I admire and love you for it, Steerforth, twenty times the more!'

He stopped, and, looking in my face, said, 'Daisy, I believe you arein earnest, and are good. I wish we all were!' Next moment he wasgaily singing Mr. Peggotty's song, as we walked at a round pace back toYarmouth.