Steerforth and I stayed for more than a fortnight in that part of thecountry. We were very much together, I need not say; but occasionally wewere asunder for some hours at a time. He was a good sailor, and I wasbut an indifferent one; and when he went out boating with Mr. Peggotty,which was a favourite amusement of his, I generally remained ashore. Myoccupation of Peggotty's spare-room put a constraint upon me, from whichhe was free: for, knowing how assiduously she attended on Mr. Barkisall day, I did not like to remain out late at night; whereas Steerforth,lying at the Inn, had nothing to consult but his own humour. Thus itcame about, that I heard of his making little treats for the fishermenat Mr. Peggotty's house of call, 'The Willing Mind', after I was in bed,and of his being afloat, wrapped in fishermen's clothes, whole moonlightnights, and coming back when the morning tide was at flood. By thistime, however, I knew that his restless nature and bold spiritsdelighted to find a vent in rough toil and hard weather, as in any othermeans of excitement that presented itself freshly to him; so none of hisproceedings surprised me.

Another cause of our being sometimes apart, was, that I had naturally aninterest in going over to Blunderstone, and revisiting the old familiarscenes of my childhood; while Steerforth, after being there once, hadnaturally no great interest in going there again. Hence, on three orfour days that I can at once recall, we went our several ways after anearly breakfast, and met again at a late dinner. I had no idea how heemployed his time in the interval, beyond a general knowledge thathe was very popular in the place, and had twenty means of activelydiverting himself where another man might not have found one.

For my own part, my occupation in my solitary pilgrimages was to recallevery yard of the old road as I went along it, and to haunt the oldspots, of which I never tired. I haunted them, as my memory had oftendone, and lingered among them as my younger thoughts had lingered when Iwas far away. The grave beneath the tree, where both my parents lay--onwhich I had looked out, when it was my father's only, with such curiousfeelings of compassion, and by which I had stood, so desolate, when itwas opened to receive my pretty mother and her baby--the grave whichPeggotty's own faithful care had ever since kept neat, and made a gardenof, I walked near, by the hour. It lay a little off the churchyard path,in a quiet corner, not so far removed but I could read the namesupon the stone as I walked to and fro, startled by the sound of thechurch-bell when it struck the hour, for it was like a departed voice tome. My reflections at these times were always associated with the figureI was to make in life, and the distinguished things I was to do. Myechoing footsteps went to no other tune, but were as constant to that asif I had come home to build my castles in the air at a living mother'sside.

There were great changes in my old home. The ragged nests, so longdeserted by the rooks, were gone; and the trees were lopped and toppedout of their remembered shapes. The garden had run wild, and half thewindows of the house were shut up. It was occupied, but only by a poorlunatic gentleman, and the people who took care of him. He was alwayssitting at my little window, looking out into the churchyard; and Iwondered whether his rambling thoughts ever went upon any of the fanciesthat used to occupy mine, on the rosy mornings when I peeped out ofthat same little window in my night-clothes, and saw the sheep quietlyfeeding in the light of the rising sun.

Our old neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Grayper, were gone to South America,and the rain had made its way through the roof of their empty house,and stained the outer walls. Mr. Chillip was married again to a tall,raw-boned, high-nosed wife; and they had a weazen little baby, with aheavy head that it couldn't hold up, and two weak staring eyes, withwhich it seemed to be always wondering why it had ever been born.

It was with a singular jumble of sadness and pleasure that I used tolinger about my native place, until the reddening winter sun admonishedme that it was time to start on my returning walk. But, when the placewas left behind, and especially when Steerforth and I were happilyseated over our dinner by a blazing fire, it was delicious to think ofhaving been there. So it was, though in a softened degree, when Iwent to my neat room at night; and, turning over the leaves of thecrocodile-book (which was always there, upon a little table), rememberedwith a grateful heart how blest I was in having such a friend asSteerforth, such a friend as Peggotty, and such a substitute for what Ihad lost as my excellent and generous aunt.

MY nearest way to Yarmouth, in coming back from these long walks, was bya ferry. It landed me on the flat between the town and the sea, which Icould make straight across, and so save myself a considerable circuit bythe high road. Mr. Peggotty's house being on that waste-place, and nota hundred yards out of my track, I always looked in as I went by.Steerforth was pretty sure to be there expecting me, and we went ontogether through the frosty air and gathering fog towards the twinklinglights of the town.

One dark evening, when I was later than usual--for I had, that day, beenmaking my parting visit to Blunderstone, as we were now about to returnhome--I found him alone in Mr. Peggotty's house, sitting thoughtfullybefore the fire. He was so intent upon his own reflections that he wasquite unconscious of my approach. This, indeed, he might easily havebeen if he had been less absorbed, for footsteps fell noiselessly on thesandy ground outside; but even my entrance failed to rouse him. I wasstanding close to him, looking at him; and still, with a heavy brow, hewas lost in his meditations.

He gave such a start when I put my hand upon his shoulder, that he mademe start too.

'You come upon me,' he said, almost angrily, 'like a reproachful ghost!'

'I was obliged to announce myself, somehow,' I replied. 'Have I calledyou down from the stars?'

'No,' he answered. 'No.'

'Up from anywhere, then?' said I, taking my seat near him.

'I was looking at the pictures in the fire,' he returned.

'But you are spoiling them for me,' said I, as he stirred it quicklywith a piece of burning wood, striking out of it a train of red-hotsparks that went careering up the little chimney, and roaring out intothe air.

'You would not have seen them,' he returned. 'I detest this mongreltime, neither day nor night. How late you are! Where have you been?'

'I have been taking leave of my usual walk,' said I.

'And I have been sitting here,' said Steerforth, glancing round theroom, 'thinking that all the people we found so glad on the night ofour coming down, might--to judge from the present wasted air of theplace--be dispersed, or dead, or come to I don't know what harm. David,I wish to God I had had a judicious father these last twenty years!'

'My dear Steerforth, what is the matter?'

'I wish with all my soul I had been better guided!' he exclaimed. 'Iwish with all my soul I could guide myself better!'

There was a passionate dejection in his manner that quite amazed me. Hewas more unlike himself than I could have supposed possible.

'It would be better to be this poor Peggotty, or his lout of a nephew,'he said, getting up and leaning moodily against the chimney-piece, withhis face towards the fire, 'than to be myself, twenty times richer andtwenty times wiser, and be the torment to myself that I have been, inthis Devil's bark of a boat, within the last half-hour!'

I was so confounded by the alteration in him, that at first I could onlyobserve him in silence, as he stood leaning his head upon his hand, andlooking gloomily down at the fire. At length I begged him, with allthe earnestness I felt, to tell me what had occurred to cross him sounusually, and to let me sympathize with him, if I could not hope toadvise him. Before I had well concluded, he began to laugh--fretfully atfirst, but soon with returning gaiety.

'Tut, it's nothing, Daisy! nothing!' he replied. 'I told you at theinn in London, I am heavy company for myself, sometimes. I have been anightmare to myself, just now--must have had one, I think. At odd dulltimes, nursery tales come up into the memory, unrecognized for whatthey are. I believe I have been confounding myself with the bad boy who"didn't care", and became food for lions--a grander kind of going tothe dogs, I suppose. What old women call the horrors, have been creepingover me from head to foot. I have been afraid of myself.'

'You are afraid of nothing else, I think,' said I.

'Perhaps not, and yet may have enough to be afraid of too,' he answered.'Well! So it goes by! I am not about to be hipped again, David; but Itell you, my good fellow, once more, that it would have been well for me(and for more than me) if I had had a steadfast and judicious father!'

His face was always full of expression, but I never saw it express sucha dark kind of earnestness as when he said these words, with his glancebent on the fire.

'So much for that!' he said, making as if he tossed something lightinto the air, with his hand. "'Why, being gone, I am a man again," likeMacbeth. And now for dinner! If I have not (Macbeth-like) broken up thefeast with most admired disorder, Daisy.'

'But where are they all, I wonder!' said I.

'God knows,' said Steerforth. 'After strolling to the ferry lookingfor you, I strolled in here and found the place deserted. That set methinking, and you found me thinking.'

The advent of Mrs. Gummidge with a basket, explained how the house hadhappened to be empty. She had hurried out to buy something that wasneeded, against Mr. Peggotty's return with the tide; and had left thedoor open in the meanwhile, lest Ham and little Em'ly, with whom it wasan early night, should come home while she was gone. Steerforth, aftervery much improving Mrs. Gummidge's spirits by a cheerful salutation anda jocose embrace, took my arm, and hurried me away.

He had improved his own spirits, no less than Mrs. Gummidge's, forthey were again at their usual flow, and he was full of vivaciousconversation as we went along.

'And so,' he said, gaily, 'we abandon this buccaneer life tomorrow, dowe?'

'So we agreed,' I returned. 'And our places by the coach are taken, youknow.'

'Ay! there's no help for it, I suppose,' said Steerforth. 'I havealmost forgotten that there is anything to do in the world but to go outtossing on the sea here. I wish there was not.'

'As long as the novelty should last,' said I, laughing.

'Like enough,' he returned; 'though there's a sarcastic meaning in thatobservation for an amiable piece of innocence like my young friend.Well! I dare say I am a capricious fellow, David. I know I am; butwhile the iron is hot, I can strike it vigorously too. I could passa reasonably good examination already, as a pilot in these waters, Ithink.'

'Mr. Peggotty says you are a wonder,' I returned.

'A nautical phenomenon, eh?' laughed Steerforth.

'Indeed he does, and you know how truly; I know how ardent you arein any pursuit you follow, and how easily you can master it. And thatamazes me most in you, Steerforth--that you should be contented withsuch fitful uses of your powers.'

'Contented?' he answered, merrily. 'I am never contented, except withyour freshness, my gentle Daisy. As to fitfulness, I have never learntthe art of binding myself to any of the wheels on which the Ixions ofthese days are turning round and round. I missed it somehow in a badapprenticeship, and now don't care about it.---You know I have bought aboat down here?'

'What an extraordinary fellow you are, Steerforth!' I exclaimed,stopping--for this was the first I had heard of it. 'When you may nevercare to come near the place again!'

'I don't know that,' he returned. 'I have taken a fancy to the place. Atall events,' walking me briskly on, 'I have bought a boat that was forsale--a clipper, Mr. Peggotty says; and so she is--and Mr. Peggotty willbe master of her in my absence.'

'Now I understand you, Steerforth!' said I, exultingly. 'You pretendto have bought it for yourself, but you have really done so to confera benefit on him. I might have known as much at first, knowing you.My dear kind Steerforth, how can I tell you what I think of yourgenerosity?'

'Tush!' he answered, turning red. 'The less said, the better.'

'Didn't I know?' cried I, 'didn't I say that there was not a joy, orsorrow, or any emotion of such honest hearts that was indifferent toyou?'

'Aye, aye,' he answered, 'you told me all that. There let it rest. Wehave said enough!'

Afraid of offending him by pursuing the subject when he made so lightof it, I only pursued it in my thoughts as we went on at even a quickerpace than before.

'She must be newly rigged,' said Steerforth, 'and I shall leave Littimerbehind to see it done, that I may know she is quite complete. Did I tellyou Littimer had come down?'

'No.'

'Oh yes! came down this morning, with a letter from my mother.'

As our looks met, I observed that he was pale even to his lips, thoughhe looked very steadily at me. I feared that some difference between himand his mother might have led to his being in the frame of mind in whichI had found him at the solitary fireside. I hinted so.

'Oh no!' he said, shaking his head, and giving a slight laugh. 'Nothingof the sort! Yes. He is come down, that man of mine.'

'The same as ever?' said I.

'The same as ever,' said Steerforth. 'Distant and quiet as the NorthPole. He shall see to the boat being fresh named. She's the "StormyPetrel" now. What does Mr. Peggotty care for Stormy Petrels! I'll haveher christened again.'

'By what name?' I asked.

'The "Little Em'ly".'

As he had continued to look steadily at me, I took it as a reminder thathe objected to being extolled for his consideration. I could not helpshowing in my face how much it pleased me, but I said little, and heresumed his usual smile, and seemed relieved.

'But see here,' he said, looking before us, 'where the original littleEm'ly comes! And that fellow with her, eh? Upon my soul, he's a trueknight. He never leaves her!'

Ham was a boat-builder in these days, having improved a naturalingenuity in that handicraft, until he had become a skilled workman. Hewas in his working-dress, and looked rugged enough, but manly withal,and a very fit protector for the blooming little creature at hisside. Indeed, there was a frankness in his face, an honesty, and anundisguised show of his pride in her, and his love for her, which were,to me, the best of good looks. I thought, as they came towards us, thatthey were well matched even in that particular.

She withdrew her hand timidly from his arm as we stopped to speak tothem, and blushed as she gave it to Steerforth and to me. When theypassed on, after we had exchanged a few words, she did not like toreplace that hand, but, still appearing timid and constrained, walkedby herself. I thought all this very pretty and engaging, and Steerforthseemed to think so too, as we looked after them fading away in the lightof a young moon.

Suddenly there passed us--evidently following them--a young woman whoseapproach we had not observed, but whose face I saw as she went by, andthought I had a faint remembrance of. She was lightly dressed; lookedbold, and haggard, and flaunting, and poor; but seemed, for the time, tohave given all that to the wind which was blowing, and to have nothingin her mind but going after them. As the dark distant level, absorbingtheir figures into itself, left but itself visible between us and thesea and clouds, her figure disappeared in like manner, still no nearerto them than before.

'That is a black shadow to be following the girl,' said Steerforth,standing still; 'what does it mean?'

He spoke in a low voice that sounded almost strange to Me.

'She must have it in her mind to beg of them, I think,' said I.

'A beggar would be no novelty,' said Steerforth; 'but it is a strangething that the beggar should take that shape tonight.'

'Why?' I asked.

'For no better reason, truly, than because I was thinking,' he said,after a pause, 'of something like it, when it came by. Where the Devildid it come from, I wonder!'

'From the shadow of this wall, I think,' said I, as we emerged upon aroad on which a wall abutted.

'It's gone!' he returned, looking over his shoulder. 'And all ill gowith it. Now for our dinner!'

But he looked again over his shoulder towards the sea-line glimmeringafar off, and yet again. And he wondered about it, in some brokenexpressions, several times, in the short remainder of our walk; and onlyseemed to forget it when the light of fire and candle shone upon us,seated warm and merry, at table.

Littimer was there, and had his usual effect upon me. When I said tohim that I hoped Mrs. Steerforth and Miss Dartle were well, he answeredrespectfully (and of course respectably), that they were tolerably well,he thanked me, and had sent their compliments. This was all, and yet heseemed to me to say as plainly as a man could say: 'You are very young,sir; you are exceedingly young.'

We had almost finished dinner, when taking a step or two towards thetable, from the corner where he kept watch upon us, or rather upon me,as I felt, he said to his master:

'I beg your pardon, sir. Miss Mowcher is down here.'

'Who?' cried Steerforth, much astonished.

'Miss Mowcher, sir.'

'Why, what on earth does she do here?' said Steerforth.

'It appears to be her native part of the country, sir. She informs methat she makes one of her professional visits here, every year, sir.I met her in the street this afternoon, and she wished to know if shemight have the honour of waiting on you after dinner, sir.'

'Do you know the Giantess in question, Daisy?' inquired Steerforth.

I was obliged to confess--I felt ashamed, even of being at thisdisadvantage before Littimer--that Miss Mowcher and I were whollyunacquainted.

'Then you shall know her,' said Steerforth, 'for she is one of the sevenwonders of the world. When Miss Mowcher comes, show her in.'

I felt some curiosity and excitement about this lady, especially asSteerforth burst into a fit of laughing when I referred to her, andpositively refused to answer any question of which I made her thesubject. I remained, therefore, in a state of considerable expectationuntil the cloth had been removed some half an hour, and we were sittingover our decanter of wine before the fire, when the door opened, andLittimer, with his habitual serenity quite undisturbed, announced:

'Miss Mowcher!'

I looked at the doorway and saw nothing. I was still looking atthe doorway, thinking that Miss Mowcher was a long while making herappearance, when, to my infinite astonishment, there came waddling rounda sofa which stood between me and it, a pursy dwarf, of about fortyor forty-five, with a very large head and face, a pair of roguish greyeyes, and such extremely little arms, that, to enable herself to lay afinger archly against her snub nose, as she ogled Steerforth, she wasobliged to meet the finger half-way, and lay her nose against it.Her chin, which was what is called a double chin, was so fat that itentirely swallowed up the strings of her bonnet, bow and all. Throat shehad none; waist she had none; legs she had none, worth mentioning; forthough she was more than full-sized down to where her waist would havebeen, if she had had any, and though she terminated, as human beingsgenerally do, in a pair of feet, she was so short that she stood at acommon-sized chair as at a table, resting a bag she carried on the seat.This lady--dressed in an off-hand, easy style; bringing her nose and herforefinger together, with the difficulty I have described; standing withher head necessarily on one side, and, with one of her sharp eyes shutup, making an uncommonly knowing face--after ogling Steerforth for a fewmoments, broke into a torrent of words.

'What! My flower!' she pleasantly began, shaking her large head at him.'You're there, are you! Oh, you naughty boy, fie for shame, what do youdo so far away from home? Up to mischief, I'll be bound. Oh, you're adowny fellow, Steerforth, so you are, and I'm another, ain't I? Ha, ha,ha! You'd have betted a hundred pound to five, now, that you wouldn'thave seen me here, wouldn't you? Bless you, man alive, I'm everywhere.I'm here and there, and where not, like the conjurer's half-crown in thelady's handkercher. Talking of handkerchers--and talking of ladies--whata comfort you are to your blessed mother, ain't you, my dear boy, overone of my shoulders, and I don't say which!'

Miss Mowcher untied her bonnet, at this passage of her discourse, threwback the strings, and sat down, panting, on a footstool in front ofthe fire--making a kind of arbour of the dining table, which spread itsmahogany shelter above her head.

'Oh my stars and what's-their-names!' she went on, clapping a hand oneach of her little knees, and glancing shrewdly at me, 'I'm of too fulla habit, that's the fact, Steerforth. After a flight of stairs, it givesme as much trouble to draw every breath I want, as if it was a bucket ofwater. If you saw me looking out of an upper window, you'd think I was afine woman, wouldn't you?'

'I should think that, wherever I saw you,' replied Steerforth.

'Go along, you dog, do!' cried the little creature, making a whisk athim with the handkerchief with which she was wiping her face, 'and don'tbe impudent! But I give you my word and honour I was at Lady Mithers'slast week--THERE'S a woman! How SHE wears!--and Mithers himself cameinto the room where I was waiting for her--THERE'S a man! How HE wears!and his wig too, for he's had it these ten years--and he went on atthat rate in the complimentary line, that I began to think I should beobliged to ring the bell. Ha! ha! ha! He's a pleasant wretch, but hewants principle.'

'What were you doing for Lady Mithers?' asked Steerforth.

'That's tellings, my blessed infant,' she retorted, tapping her noseagain, screwing up her face, and twinkling her eyes like an imp ofsupernatural intelligence. 'Never YOU mind! You'd like to know whetherI stop her hair from falling off, or dye it, or touch up hercomplexion, or improve her eyebrows, wouldn't you? And so you shall, mydarling--when I tell you! Do you know what my great grandfather's namewas?'

'No,' said Steerforth.

'It was Walker, my sweet pet,' replied Miss Mowcher, 'and he came of along line of Walkers, that I inherit all the Hookey estates from.'

I never beheld anything approaching to Miss Mowcher's wink except MissMowcher's self-possession. She had a wonderful way too, when listeningto what was said to her, or when waiting for an answer to what she hadsaid herself, of pausing with her head cunningly on one side, and oneeye turned up like a magpie's. Altogether I was lost in amazement,and sat staring at her, quite oblivious, I am afraid, of the laws ofpoliteness.

She had by this time drawn the chair to her side, and was busily engagedin producing from the bag (plunging in her short arm to the shoulder, atevery dive) a number of small bottles, sponges, combs, brushes, bits offlannel, little pairs of curling-irons, and other instruments, whichshe tumbled in a heap upon the chair. From this employment she suddenlydesisted, and said to Steerforth, much to my confusion:

'Who's your friend?'

'Mr. Copperfield,' said Steerforth; 'he wants to know you.'

'Well, then, he shall! I thought he looked as if he did!' returned MissMowcher, waddling up to me, bag in hand, and laughing on me as she came.'Face like a peach!' standing on tiptoe to pinch my cheek as Isat. 'Quite tempting! I'm very fond of peaches. Happy to make youracquaintance, Mr. Copperfield, I'm sure.'

I said that I congratulated myself on having the honour to make hers,and that the happiness was mutual.

'Oh, my goodness, how polite we are!' exclaimed Miss Mowcher, making apreposterous attempt to cover her large face with her morsel of a hand.'What a world of gammon and spinnage it is, though, ain't it!'

This was addressed confidentially to both of us, as the morsel of ahand came away from the face, and buried itself, arm and all, in the bagagain.

'What do you mean, Miss Mowcher?' said Steerforth.

'Ha! ha! ha! What a refreshing set of humbugs we are, to be sure, ain'twe, my sweet child?' replied that morsel of a woman, feeling in the bagwith her head on one side and her eye in the air. 'Look here!' takingsomething out. 'Scraps of the Russian Prince's nails. Prince Alphabetturned topsy-turvy, I call him, for his name's got all the letters init, higgledy-piggledy.'

'The Russian Prince is a client of yours, is he?' said Steerforth.

'I believe you, my pet,' replied Miss Mowcher. 'I keep his nails inorder for him. Twice a week! Fingers and toes.'

'He pays well, I hope?' said Steerforth.

'Pays, as he speaks, my dear child--through the nose,' replied MissMowcher. 'None of your close shavers the Prince ain't. You'd say so, ifyou saw his moustachios. Red by nature, black by art.'

'By your art, of course,' said Steerforth.

Miss Mowcher winked assent. 'Forced to send for me. Couldn't help it.The climate affected his dye; it did very well in Russia, but it was nogo here. You never saw such a rusty Prince in all your born days as hewas. Like old iron!' 'Is that why you called him a humbug, just now?'inquired Steerforth.

'Oh, you're a broth of a boy, ain't you?' returned Miss Mowcher, shakingher head violently. 'I said, what a set of humbugs we were in general,and I showed you the scraps of the Prince's nails to prove it. ThePrince's nails do more for me in private families of the genteel sort,than all my talents put together. I always carry 'em about. They're thebest introduction. If Miss Mowcher cuts the Prince's nails, she must beall right. I give 'em away to the young ladies. They put 'em in albums,I believe. Ha! ha! ha! Upon my life, "the whole social system" (asthe men call it when they make speeches in Parliament) is a system ofPrince's nails!' said this least of women, trying to fold her shortarms, and nodding her large head.

Steerforth laughed heartily, and I laughed too. Miss Mowcher continuingall the time to shake her head (which was very much on one side), and tolook into the air with one eye, and to wink with the other.

'Well, well!' she said, smiting her small knees, and rising, 'this isnot business. Come, Steerforth, let's explore the polar regions, andhave it over.'

She then selected two or three of the little instruments, and alittle bottle, and asked (to my surprise) if the table would bear. OnSteerforth's replying in the affirmative, she pushed a chair against it,and begging the assistance of my hand, mounted up, pretty nimbly, to thetop, as if it were a stage.

'If either of you saw my ankles,' she said, when she was safelyelevated, 'say so, and I'll go home and destroy myself!'

'I did not,' said Steerforth.

'I did not,' said I.

'Well then,' cried Miss Mowcher,' I'll consent to live. Now, ducky,ducky, ducky, come to Mrs. Bond and be killed.'

This was an invocation to Steerforth to place himself under her hands;who, accordingly, sat himself down, with his back to the table, andhis laughing face towards me, and submitted his head to her inspection,evidently for no other purpose than our entertainment. To see MissMowcher standing over him, looking at his rich profusion of brownhair through a large round magnifying glass, which she took out of herpocket, was a most amazing spectacle.

'You're a pretty fellow!' said Miss Mowcher, after a brief inspection.'You'd be as bald as a friar on the top of your head in twelve months,but for me. Just half a minute, my young friend, and we'll give you apolishing that shall keep your curls on for the next ten years!'

With this, she tilted some of the contents of the little bottle on toone of the little bits of flannel, and, again imparting some of thevirtues of that preparation to one of the little brushes, began rubbingand scraping away with both on the crown of Steerforth's head in thebusiest manner I ever witnessed, talking all the time.

'There's Charley Pyegrave, the duke's son,' she said. 'You knowCharley?' peeping round into his face.

'A little,' said Steerforth.

'What a man HE is! THERE'S a whisker! As to Charley's legs, if theywere only a pair (which they ain't), they'd defy competition. Would youbelieve he tried to do without me--in the Life-Guards, too?'

'Mad!' said Steerforth.

'It looks like it. However, mad or sane, he tried,' returned MissMowcher. 'What does he do, but, lo and behold you, he goes into aperfumer's shop, and wants to buy a bottle of the Madagascar Liquid.'

'Charley does?' said Steerforth.

'Charley does. But they haven't got any of the Madagascar Liquid.'

'What is it? Something to drink?' asked Steerforth.

'To drink?' returned Miss Mowcher, stopping to slap his cheek. 'Todoctor his own moustachios with, you know. There was a woman in theshop--elderly female--quite a Griffin--who had never even heard of itby name. "Begging pardon, sir," said the Griffin to Charley, "it'snot--not--not ROUGE, is it?" "Rouge," said Charley to the Griffin. "Whatthe unmentionable to ears polite, do you think I want with rouge?" "Nooffence, sir," said the Griffin; "we have it asked for by so many names,I thought it might be." Now that, my child,' continued Miss Mowcher,rubbing all the time as busily as ever, 'is another instance ofthe refreshing humbug I was speaking of. I do something in that waymyself--perhaps a good deal--perhaps a little--sharp's the word, my dearboy--never mind!'

'In what way do you mean? In the rouge way?' said Steerforth.

'Put this and that together, my tender pupil,' returned the waryMowcher, touching her nose, 'work it by the rule of Secrets in alltrades, and the product will give you the desired result. I say I do alittle in that way myself. One Dowager, SHE calls it lip-salve. Another,SHE calls it gloves. Another, SHE calls it tucker-edging. Another, SHEcalls it a fan. I call it whatever THEY call it. I supply it for 'em,but we keep up the trick so, to one another, and make believe withsuch a face, that they'd as soon think of laying it on, before a wholedrawing-room, as before me. And when I wait upon 'em, they'll say tome sometimes--WITH IT ON--thick, and no mistake--"How am I looking,Mowcher? Am I pale?" Ha! ha! ha! ha! Isn't THAT refreshing, my youngfriend!'

I never did in my days behold anything like Mowcher as she stood uponthe dining table, intensely enjoying this refreshment, rubbing busily atSteerforth's head, and winking at me over it.

'Ah!' she said. 'Such things are not much in demand hereabouts. Thatsets me off again! I haven't seen a pretty woman since I've been here,jemmy.'

'No?' said Steerforth.

'Not the ghost of one,' replied Miss Mowcher.

'We could show her the substance of one, I think?' said Steerforth,addressing his eyes to mine. 'Eh, Daisy?'

'Yes, indeed,' said I.

'Aha?' cried the little creature, glancing sharply at my face, and thenpeeping round at Steerforth's. 'Umph?'

The first exclamation sounded like a question put to both of us, and thesecond like a question put to Steerforth only. She seemed to have foundno answer to either, but continued to rub, with her head on one side andher eye turned up, as if she were looking for an answer in the air andwere confident of its appearing presently.

'A sister of yours, Mr. Copperfield?' she cried, after a pause, andstill keeping the same look-out. 'Aye, aye?'

'No,' said Steerforth, before I could reply. 'Nothing of the sort. Onthe contrary, Mr. Copperfield used--or I am much mistaken--to have agreat admiration for her.'

'Why, hasn't he now?' returned Miss Mowcher. 'Is he fickle? Oh, forshame! Did he sip every flower, and change every hour, until Polly hispassion requited?--Is her name Polly?'

The Elfin suddenness with which she pounced upon me with this question,and a searching look, quite disconcerted me for a moment.

'No, Miss Mowcher,' I replied. 'Her name is Emily.'

'Aha?' she cried exactly as before. 'Umph? What a rattle I am! Mr.Copperfield, ain't I volatile?'

Her tone and look implied something that was not agreeable to me inconnexion with the subject. So I said, in a graver manner than any of ushad yet assumed: 'She is as virtuous as she is pretty. She is engagedto be married to a most worthy and deserving man in her own station oflife. I esteem her for her good sense, as much as I admire her for hergood looks.'

'Well said!' cried Steerforth. 'Hear, hear, hear! Now I'll quench thecuriosity of this little Fatima, my dear Daisy, by leaving her nothingto guess at. She is at present apprenticed, Miss Mowcher, or articled,or whatever it may be, to Omer and Joram, Haberdashers, Milliners, andso forth, in this town. Do you observe? Omer and Joram. The promise ofwhich my friend has spoken, is made and entered into with her cousin;Christian name, Ham; surname, Peggotty; occupation, boat-builder;also of this town. She lives with a relative; Christian name, unknown;surname, Peggotty; occupation, seafaring; also of this town. She is theprettiest and most engaging little fairy in the world. I admire her--asmy friend does--exceedingly. If it were not that I might appear todisparage her Intended, which I know my friend would not like, I wouldadd, that to me she seems to be throwing herself away; that I am sureshe might do better; and that I swear she was born to be a lady.'

Miss Mowcher listened to these words, which were very slowly anddistinctly spoken, with her head on one side, and her eye in the airas if she were still looking for that answer. When he ceased she becamebrisk again in an instant, and rattled away with surprising volubility.

'Oh! And that's all about it, is it?' she exclaimed, trimming hiswhiskers with a little restless pair of scissors, that went glancinground his head in all directions. 'Very well: very well! Quite a longstory. Ought to end "and they lived happy ever afterwards"; oughtn'tit? Ah! What's that game at forfeits? I love my love with an E, becauseshe's enticing; I hate her with an E, because she's engaged. I took herto the sign of the exquisite, and treated her with an elopement, hername's Emily, and she lives in the east? Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Copperfield,ain't I volatile?'

Merely looking at me with extravagant slyness, and not waiting for anyreply, she continued, without drawing breath:

'There! If ever any scapegrace was trimmed and touched up to perfection,you are, Steerforth. If I understand any noddle in the world, Iunderstand yours. Do you hear me when I tell you that, my darling? Iunderstand yours,' peeping down into his face. 'Now you may mizzle,jemmy (as we say at Court), and if Mr. Copperfield will take the chairI'll operate on him.'

'What do you say, Daisy?' inquired Steerforth, laughing, and resigninghis seat. 'Will you be improved?'

'Thank you, Miss Mowcher, not this evening.'

'Don't say no,' returned the little woman, looking at me with the aspectof a connoisseur; 'a little bit more eyebrow?'

'Thank you,' I returned, 'some other time.'

'Have it carried half a quarter of an inch towards the temple,' saidMiss Mowcher. 'We can do it in a fortnight.'

'No, I thank you. Not at present.'

'Go in for a tip,' she urged. 'No? Let's get the scaffolding up, then,for a pair of whiskers. Come!'

I could not help blushing as I declined, for I felt we were on my weakpoint, now. But Miss Mowcher, finding that I was not at present disposedfor any decoration within the range of her art, and that I was, for thetime being, proof against the blandishments of the small bottle whichshe held up before one eye to enforce her persuasions, said we wouldmake a beginning on an early day, and requested the aid of my hand todescend from her elevated station. Thus assisted, she skipped down withmuch agility, and began to tie her double chin into her bonnet.

'The fee,' said Steerforth, 'is--'

'Five bob,' replied Miss Mowcher, 'and dirt cheap, my chicken. Ain't Ivolatile, Mr. Copperfield?'

I replied politely: 'Not at all.' But I thought she was rather so, whenshe tossed up his two half-crowns like a goblin pieman, caught them,dropped them in her pocket, and gave it a loud slap.

'That's the Till!' observed Miss Mowcher, standing at the chair again,and replacing in the bag a miscellaneous collection of little objectsshe had emptied out of it. 'Have I got all my traps? It seems so. Itwon't do to be like long Ned Beadwood, when they took him to church "tomarry him to somebody", as he says, and left the bride behind. Ha! ha!ha! A wicked rascal, Ned, but droll! Now, I know I'm going to breakyour hearts, but I am forced to leave you. You must call up all yourfortitude, and try to bear it. Good-bye, Mr. Copperfield! Take care ofyourself, jockey of Norfolk! How I have been rattling on! It's allthe fault of you two wretches. I forgive you! "Bob swore!"--as theEnglishman said for "Good night", when he first learnt French, andthought it so like English. "Bob swore," my ducks!'

With the bag slung over her arm, and rattling as she waddled away, shewaddled to the door, where she stopped to inquire if she should leaveus a lock of her hair. 'Ain't I volatile?' she added, as a commentary onthis offer, and, with her finger on her nose, departed.

Steerforth laughed to that degree, that it was impossible for me to helplaughing too; though I am not sure I should have done so, but for thisinducement. When we had had our laugh quite out, which was after sometime, he told me that Miss Mowcher had quite an extensive connexion, andmade herself useful to a variety of people in a variety of ways. Somepeople trifled with her as a mere oddity, he said; but she was asshrewdly and sharply observant as anyone he knew, and as long-headed asshe was short-armed. He told me that what she had said of being here,and there, and everywhere, was true enough; for she made little dartsinto the provinces, and seemed to pick up customers everywhere, and toknow everybody. I asked him what her disposition was: whether it was atall mischievous, and if her sympathies were generally on the right sideof things: but, not succeeding in attracting his attention to thesequestions after two or three attempts, I forbore or forgot to repeatthem. He told me instead, with much rapidity, a good deal about herskill, and her profits; and about her being a scientific cupper, if Ishould ever have occasion for her service in that capacity.

She was the principal theme of our conversation during the evening:and when we parted for the night Steerforth called after me over thebanisters, 'Bob swore!' as I went downstairs.

I was surprised, when I came to Mr. Barkis's house, to find Ham walkingup and down in front of it, and still more surprised to learn from himthat little Em'ly was inside. I naturally inquired why he was not theretoo, instead of pacing the streets by himself?

'Why, you see, Mas'r Davy,' he rejoined, in a hesitating manner, 'Em'ly,she's talking to some 'un in here.'

'I should have thought,' said I, smiling, 'that that was a reason foryour being in here too, Ham.'

'Well, Mas'r Davy, in a general way, so 't would be,' he returned;'but look'ee here, Mas'r Davy,' lowering his voice, and speaking verygravely. 'It's a young woman, sir--a young woman, that Em'ly knowedonce, and doen't ought to know no more.'

When I heard these words, a light began to fall upon the figure I hadseen following them, some hours ago.

'It's a poor wurem, Mas'r Davy,' said Ham, 'as is trod under foot by allthe town. Up street and down street. The mowld o' the churchyard don'thold any that the folk shrink away from, more.'

'Did I see her tonight, Ham, on the sand, after we met you?'

'Keeping us in sight?' said Ham. 'It's like you did, Mas'r Davy. Notthat I know'd then, she was theer, sir, but along of her creeping soonarterwards under Em'ly's little winder, when she see the light come,and whispering "Em'ly, Em'ly, for Christ's sake, have a woman's hearttowards me. I was once like you!" Those was solemn words, Mas'r Davy,fur to hear!'

'They were indeed, Ham. What did Em'ly do?' 'Says Em'ly, "Martha, isit you? Oh, Martha, can it be you?"--for they had sat at work together,many a day, at Mr. Omer's.'

'I recollect her now!' cried I, recalling one of the two girls I hadseen when I first went there. 'I recollect her quite well!'

'Martha Endell,' said Ham. 'Two or three year older than Em'ly, but wasat the school with her.'

'I never heard her name,' said I. 'I didn't mean to interrupt you.'

'For the matter o' that, Mas'r Davy,' replied Ham, 'all's told a'mostin them words, "Em'ly, Em'ly, for Christ's sake, have a woman's hearttowards me. I was once like you!" She wanted to speak to Em'ly. Em'lycouldn't speak to her theer, for her loving uncle was come home, andhe wouldn't--no, Mas'r Davy,' said Ham, with great earnestness, 'hecouldn't, kind-natur'd, tender-hearted as he is, see them two together,side by side, for all the treasures that's wrecked in the sea.'

I felt how true this was. I knew it, on the instant, quite as well asHam.

'So Em'ly writes in pencil on a bit of paper,' he pursued, 'and gives itto her out o' winder to bring here. "Show that," she says, "to my aunt,Mrs. Barkis, and she'll set you down by her fire, for the love of me,till uncle is gone out, and I can come." By and by she tells me whatI tell you, Mas'r Davy, and asks me to bring her. What can I do? Shedoen't ought to know any such, but I can't deny her, when the tears ison her face.'

He put his hand into the breast of his shaggy jacket, and took out withgreat care a pretty little purse.

'And if I could deny her when the tears was on her face, Mas'r Davy,'said Ham, tenderly adjusting it on the rough palm of his hand, 'howcould I deny her when she give me this to carry for her--knowing whatshe brought it for? Such a toy as it is!' said Ham, thoughtfully lookingon it. 'With such a little money in it, Em'ly my dear.'

I shook him warmly by the hand when he had put it away again--for thatwas more satisfactory to me than saying anything--and we walked upand down, for a minute or two, in silence. The door opened then, andPeggotty appeared, beckoning to Ham to come in. I would have kept away,but she came after me, entreating me to come in too. Even then, Iwould have avoided the room where they all were, but for its being theneat-tiled kitchen I have mentioned more than once. The door openingimmediately into it, I found myself among them before I consideredwhither I was going.

The girl--the same I had seen upon the sands--was near the fire. Shewas sitting on the ground, with her head and one arm lying on a chair.I fancied, from the disposition of her figure, that Em'ly had but newlyrisen from the chair, and that the forlorn head might perhaps have beenlying on her lap. I saw but little of the girl's face, over which herhair fell loose and scattered, as if she had been disordering it withher own hands; but I saw that she was young, and of a fair complexion.Peggotty had been crying. So had little Em'ly. Not a word was spokenwhen we first went in; and the Dutch clock by the dresser seemed, in thesilence, to tick twice as loud as usual. Em'ly spoke first.

'Martha wants,' she said to Ham, 'to go to London.'

'Why to London?' returned Ham.

He stood between them, looking on the prostrate girl with a mixture ofcompassion for her, and of jealousy of her holding any companionshipwith her whom he loved so well, which I have always remembereddistinctly. They both spoke as if she were ill; in a soft, suppressedtone that was plainly heard, although it hardly rose above a whisper.

'Better there than here,' said a third voice aloud--Martha's, though shedid not move. 'No one knows me there. Everybody knows me here.'

'What will she do there?' inquired Ham.

She lifted up her head, and looked darkly round at him for a moment;then laid it down again, and curved her right arm about her neck, asa woman in a fever, or in an agony of pain from a shot, might twistherself.

'She will try to do well,' said little Em'ly. 'You don't know what shehas said to us. Does he--do they--aunt?'

Peggotty shook her head compassionately.

'I'll try,' said Martha, 'if you'll help me away. I never can do worsethan I have done here. I may do better. Oh!' with a dreadful shiver,'take me out of these streets, where the whole town knows me from achild!'

As Em'ly held out her hand to Ham, I saw him put in it a little canvasbag. She took it, as if she thought it were her purse, and made a stepor two forward; but finding her mistake, came back to where he hadretired near me, and showed it to him.

'It's all yourn, Em'ly,' I could hear him say. 'I haven't nowt in allthe wureld that ain't yourn, my dear. It ain't of no delight to me,except for you!'

The tears rose freshly in her eyes, but she turned away and went toMartha. What she gave her, I don't know. I saw her stooping over her,and putting money in her bosom. She whispered something, as she askedwas that enough? 'More than enough,' the other said, and took her handand kissed it.

Then Martha arose, and gathering her shawl about her, covering herface with it, and weeping aloud, went slowly to the door. She stoppeda moment before going out, as if she would have uttered something orturned back; but no word passed her lips. Making the same low, dreary,wretched moaning in her shawl, she went away.

As the door closed, little Em'ly looked at us three in a hurried mannerand then hid her face in her hands, and fell to sobbing.

'Doen't, Em'ly!' said Ham, tapping her gently on the shoulder. 'Doen't,my dear! You doen't ought to cry so, pretty!'

'Oh, Ham!' she exclaimed, still weeping pitifully, 'I am not so good agirl as I ought to be! I know I have not the thankful heart, sometimes,I ought to have!'

'Yes, yes, you have, I'm sure,' said Ham.

'No! no! no!' cried little Em'ly, sobbing, and shaking her head. 'I amnot as good a girl as I ought to be. Not near! not near!' And still shecried, as if her heart would break.

'I try your love too much. I know I do!' she sobbed. 'I'm often cross toyou, and changeable with you, when I ought to be far different. You arenever so to me. Why am I ever so to you, when I should think of nothingbut how to be grateful, and to make you happy!'

'You always make me so,' said Ham, 'my dear! I am happy in the sight ofyou. I am happy, all day long, in the thoughts of you.'

'Ah! that's not enough!' she cried. 'That is because you are good; notbecause I am! Oh, my dear, it might have been a better fortune foryou, if you had been fond of someone else--of someone steadier andmuch worthier than me, who was all bound up in you, and never vain andchangeable like me!'

'Poor little tender-heart,' said Ham, in a low voice. 'Martha hasoverset her, altogether.'

'Please, aunt,' sobbed Em'ly, 'come here, and let me lay my head uponyou. Oh, I am very miserable tonight, aunt! Oh, I am not as good a girlas I ought to be. I am not, I know!'

Peggotty had hastened to the chair before the fire. Em'ly, with herarms around her neck, kneeled by her, looking up most earnestly into herface.

'Oh, pray, aunt, try to help me! Ham, dear, try to help me! Mr. David,for the sake of old times, do, please, try to help me! I want to be abetter girl than I am. I want to feel a hundred times more thankful thanI do. I want to feel more, what a blessed thing it is to be the wife ofa good man, and to lead a peaceful life. Oh me, oh me! Oh my heart, myheart!'

She dropped her face on my old nurse's breast, and, ceasing thissupplication, which in its agony and grief was half a woman's, half achild's, as all her manner was (being, in that, more natural, and bettersuited to her beauty, as I thought, than any other manner could havebeen), wept silently, while my old nurse hushed her like an infant.

She got calmer by degrees, and then we soothed her; now talkingencouragingly, and now jesting a little with her, until she began toraise her head and speak to us. So we got on, until she was able tosmile, and then to laugh, and then to sit up, half ashamed; whilePeggotty recalled her stray ringlets, dried her eyes, and made her neatagain, lest her uncle should wonder, when she got home, why his darlinghad been crying.

I saw her do, that night, what I had never seen her do before. I saw herinnocently kiss her chosen husband on the cheek, and creep close to hisbluff form as if it were her best support. When they went away together,in the waning moonlight, and I looked after them, comparing theirdeparture in my mind with Martha's, I saw that she held his arm withboth her hands, and still kept close to him.