I was going out at my door on the morning after that deplorable day ofheadache, sickness, and repentance, with an odd confusion in my mindrelative to the date of my dinner-party, as if a body of Titans hadtaken an enormous lever and pushed the day before yesterday some monthsback, when I saw a ticket-porter coming upstairs, with a letter in hishand. He was taking his time about his errand, then; but when he saw meon the top of the staircase, looking at him over the banisters, he swunginto a trot, and came up panting as if he had run himself into a stateof exhaustion.

'T. Copperfield, Esquire,' said the ticket-porter, touching his hat withhis little cane.

I could scarcely lay claim to the name: I was so disturbed by theconviction that the letter came from Agnes. However, I told him I was T.Copperfield, Esquire, and he believed it, and gave me the letter, whichhe said required an answer. I shut him out on the landing to wait forthe answer, and went into my chambers again, in such a nervous statethat I was fain to lay the letter down on my breakfast table, andfamiliarize myself with the outside of it a little, before I couldresolve to break the seal.

I found, when I did open it, that it was a very kind note, containingno reference to my condition at the theatre. All it said was, 'My dearTrotwood. I am staying at the house of papa's agent, Mr. Waterbrook, inEly Place, Holborn. Will you come and see me today, at any time you liketo appoint? Ever yours affectionately, AGNES.'

It took me such a long time to write an answer at all to mysatisfaction, that I don't know what the ticket-porter can havethought, unless he thought I was learning to write. I must have writtenhalf-a-dozen answers at least. I began one, 'How can I ever hope,my dear Agnes, to efface from your remembrance the disgustingimpression'--there I didn't like it, and then I tore it up. I begananother, 'Shakespeare has observed, my dear Agnes, how strange it isthat a man should put an enemy into his mouth'--that reminded me ofMarkham, and it got no farther. I even tried poetry. I began one note,in a six-syllable line, 'Oh, do not remember'--but that associateditself with the fifth of November, and became an absurdity. After manyattempts, I wrote, 'My dear Agnes. Your letter is like you, and whatcould I say of it that would be higher praise than that? I will come atfour o'clock. Affectionately and sorrowfully, T.C.' With this missive(which I was in twenty minds at once about recalling, as soon as it wasout of my hands), the ticket-porter at last departed.

If the day were half as tremendous to any other professional gentlemanin Doctors' Commons as it was to me, I sincerely believe he made someexpiation for his share in that rotten old ecclesiastical cheese.Although I left the office at half past three, and was prowling aboutthe place of appointment within a few minutes afterwards, the appointedtime was exceeded by a full quarter of an hour, according to theclock of St. Andrew's, Holborn, before I could muster up sufficientdesperation to pull the private bell-handle let into the left-handdoor-post of Mr. Waterbrook's house.

The professional business of Mr. Waterbrook's establishment was done onthe ground-floor, and the genteel business (of which there was a gooddeal) in the upper part of the building. I was shown into a pretty butrather close drawing-room, and there sat Agnes, netting a purse.

She looked so quiet and good, and reminded me so strongly of my airyfresh school days at Canterbury, and the sodden, smoky, stupid wretchI had been the other night, that, nobody being by, I yielded to myself-reproach and shame, and--in short, made a fool of myself. I cannotdeny that I shed tears. To this hour I am undecided whether it was uponthe whole the wisest thing I could have done, or the most ridiculous.

'If it had been anyone but you, Agnes,' said I, turning away my head, 'Ishould not have minded it half so much. But that it should have been youwho saw me! I almost wish I had been dead, first.'

She put her hand--its touch was like no other hand--upon my arm for amoment; and I felt so befriended and comforted, that I could not helpmoving it to my lips, and gratefully kissing it.

'Sit down,' said Agnes, cheerfully. 'Don't be unhappy, Trotwood. If youcannot confidently trust me, whom will you trust?'

'Ah, Agnes!' I returned. 'You are my good Angel!'

She smiled rather sadly, I thought, and shook her head.

'Yes, Agnes, my good Angel! Always my good Angel!'

'If I were, indeed, Trotwood,' she returned, 'there is one thing that Ishould set my heart on very much.'

I looked at her inquiringly; but already with a foreknowledge of hermeaning.

'On warning you,' said Agnes, with a steady glance, 'against your badAngel.'

'My dear Agnes,' I began, 'if you mean Steerforth--'

'I do, Trotwood,' she returned. 'Then, Agnes, you wrong him very much.He my bad Angel, or anyone's! He, anything but a guide, a support, anda friend to me! My dear Agnes! Now, is it not unjust, and unlike you, tojudge him from what you saw of me the other night?'

'I do not judge him from what I saw of you the other night,' she quietlyreplied.

'From what, then?'

'From many things--trifles in themselves, but they do not seem to me tobe so, when they are put together. I judge him, partly from your accountof him, Trotwood, and your character, and the influence he has overyou.'

There was always something in her modest voice that seemed to touch achord within me, answering to that sound alone. It was always earnest;but when it was very earnest, as it was now, there was a thrill in itthat quite subdued me. I sat looking at her as she cast her eyes down onher work; I sat seeming still to listen to her; and Steerforth, in spiteof all my attachment to him, darkened in that tone.

'It is very bold in me,' said Agnes, looking up again, 'who have livedin such seclusion, and can know so little of the world, to give you myadvice so confidently, or even to have this strong opinion. But I knowin what it is engendered, Trotwood,--in how true a remembrance of ourhaving grown up together, and in how true an interest in all relatingto you. It is that which makes me bold. I am certain that what I say isright. I am quite sure it is. I feel as if it were someone else speakingto you, and not I, when I caution you that you have made a dangerousfriend.'

Again I looked at her, again I listened to her after she was silent, andagain his image, though it was still fixed in my heart, darkened.

'I am not so unreasonable as to expect,' said Agnes, resuming her usualtone, after a little while, 'that you will, or that you can, at once,change any sentiment that has become a conviction to you; least of alla sentiment that is rooted in your trusting disposition. You ought nothastily to do that. I only ask you, Trotwood, if you ever think of me--Imean,' with a quiet smile, for I was going to interrupt her, and sheknew why, 'as often as you think of me--to think of what I have said. Doyou forgive me for all this?'

'I will forgive you, Agnes,' I replied, 'when you come to do Steerforthjustice, and to like him as well as I do.'

'Not until then?' said Agnes.

I saw a passing shadow on her face when I made this mention of him, butshe returned my smile, and we were again as unreserved in our mutualconfidence as of old.

'And when, Agnes,' said I, 'will you forgive me the other night?'

'When I recall it,' said Agnes.

She would have dismissed the subject so, but I was too full of it toallow that, and insisted on telling her how it happened that I haddisgraced myself, and what chain of accidental circumstances had had thetheatre for its final link. It was a great relief to me to do this, andto enlarge on the obligation that I owed to Steerforth for his care ofme when I was unable to take care of myself.

'You must not forget,' said Agnes, calmly changing the conversation assoon as I had concluded, 'that you are always to tell me, not only whenyou fall into trouble, but when you fall in love. Who has succeeded toMiss Larkins, Trotwood?'

'No one, Agnes.'

'Someone, Trotwood,' said Agnes, laughing, and holding up her finger.

'No, Agnes, upon my word! There is a lady, certainly, at Mrs.Steerforth's house, who is very clever, and whom I like to talk to--MissDartle--but I don't adore her.'

Agnes laughed again at her own penetration, and told me that if I werefaithful to her in my confidence she thought she should keep a littleregister of my violent attachments, with the date, duration, andtermination of each, like the table of the reigns of the kings andqueens, in the History of England. Then she asked me if I had seenUriah.

'Uriah Heep?' said I. 'No. Is he in London?'

'He comes to the office downstairs, every day,' returned Agnes. 'Hewas in London a week before me. I am afraid on disagreeable business,Trotwood.'

'On some business that makes you uneasy, Agnes, I see,' said I. 'Whatcan that be?'

Agnes laid aside her work, and replied, folding her hands upon oneanother, and looking pensively at me out of those beautiful soft eyes ofhers:

'I believe he is going to enter into partnership with papa.'

'What? Uriah? That mean, fawning fellow, worm himself into suchpromotion!' I cried, indignantly. 'Have you made no remonstrance aboutit, Agnes? Consider what a connexion it is likely to be. You must speakout. You must not allow your father to take such a mad step. You mustprevent it, Agnes, while there's time.'

Still looking at me, Agnes shook her head while I was speaking, with afaint smile at my warmth: and then replied:

'You remember our last conversation about papa? It was not long afterthat--not more than two or three days--when he gave me the firstintimation of what I tell you. It was sad to see him struggling betweenhis desire to represent it to me as a matter of choice on his part,and his inability to conceal that it was forced upon him. I felt verysorry.'

'Forced upon him, Agnes! Who forces it upon him?'

'Uriah,' she replied, after a moment's hesitation, 'has made himselfindispensable to papa. He is subtle and watchful. He has mastered papa'sweaknesses, fostered them, and taken advantage of them, until--to sayall that I mean in a word, Trotwood,--until papa is afraid of him.'

There was more that she might have said; more that she knew, or that shesuspected; I clearly saw. I could not give her pain by asking what itwas, for I knew that she withheld it from me, to spare her father. Ithad long been going on to this, I was sensible: yes, I could not butfeel, on the least reflection, that it had been going on to this for along time. I remained silent.

'His ascendancy over papa,' said Agnes, 'is very great. He professeshumility and gratitude--with truth, perhaps: I hope so--but his positionis really one of power, and I fear he makes a hard use of his power.'

I said he was a hound, which, at the moment, was a great satisfaction tome.

'At the time I speak of, as the time when papa spoke to me,' pursuedAgnes, 'he had told papa that he was going away; that he was very sorry,and unwilling to leave, but that he had better prospects. Papa was verymuch depressed then, and more bowed down by care than ever you or I haveseen him; but he seemed relieved by this expedient of the partnership,though at the same time he seemed hurt by it and ashamed of it.'

'And how did you receive it, Agnes?'

'I did, Trotwood,' she replied, 'what I hope was right. Feeling surethat it was necessary for papa's peace that the sacrifice should bemade, I entreated him to make it. I said it would lighten the loadof his life--I hope it will!--and that it would give me increasedopportunities of being his companion. Oh, Trotwood!' cried Agnes,putting her hands before her face, as her tears started on it, 'I almostfeel as if I had been papa's enemy, instead of his loving child. ForI know how he has altered, in his devotion to me. I know how he hasnarrowed the circle of his sympathies and duties, in the concentrationof his whole mind upon me. I know what a multitude of things he has shutout for my sake, and how his anxious thoughts of me have shadowed hislife, and weakened his strength and energy, by turning them always uponone idea. If I could ever set this right! If I could ever work out hisrestoration, as I have so innocently been the cause of his decline!'

I had never before seen Agnes cry. I had seen tears in her eyes when Ihad brought new honours home from school, and I had seen them there whenwe last spoke about her father, and I had seen her turn her gentle headaside when we took leave of one another; but I had never seen her grievelike this. It made me so sorry that I could only say, in a foolish,helpless manner, 'Pray, Agnes, don't! Don't, my dear sister!'

But Agnes was too superior to me in character and purpose, as I knowwell now, whatever I might know or not know then, to be long in need ofmy entreaties. The beautiful, calm manner, which makes her so differentin my remembrance from everybody else, came back again, as if a cloudhad passed from a serene sky.

'We are not likely to remain alone much longer,' said Agnes, 'and whileI have an opportunity, let me earnestly entreat you, Trotwood, to befriendly to Uriah. Don't repel him. Don't resent (as I think you have ageneral disposition to do) what may be uncongenial to you in him. He maynot deserve it, for we know no certain ill of him. In any case, thinkfirst of papa and me!'

Agnes had no time to say more, for the room door opened, and Mrs.Waterbrook, who was a large lady--or who wore a large dress: I don'texactly know which, for I don't know which was dress and which waslady--came sailing in. I had a dim recollection of having seen herat the theatre, as if I had seen her in a pale magic lantern; but sheappeared to remember me perfectly, and still to suspect me of being in astate of intoxication.

Finding by degrees, however, that I was sober, and (I hope) that I wasa modest young gentleman, Mrs. Waterbrook softened towards meconsiderably, and inquired, firstly, if I went much into the parks,and secondly, if I went much into society. On my replying to both thesequestions in the negative, it occurred to me that I fell again in hergood opinion; but she concealed the fact gracefully, and invited me todinner next day. I accepted the invitation, and took my leave, making acall on Uriah in the office as I went out, and leaving a card for him inhis absence.

When I went to dinner next day, and on the street door being opened,plunged into a vapour-bath of haunch of mutton, I divined that I wasnot the only guest, for I immediately identified the ticket-porter indisguise, assisting the family servant, and waiting at the foot of thestairs to carry up my name. He looked, to the best of his ability, whenhe asked me for it confidentially, as if he had never seen me before;but well did I know him, and well did he know me. Conscience madecowards of us both.

I found Mr. Waterbrook to be a middle-aged gentleman, with a shortthroat, and a good deal of shirt-collar, who only wanted a black nose tobe the portrait of a pug-dog. He told me he was happy to have thehonour of making my acquaintance; and when I had paid my homage to Mrs.Waterbrook, presented me, with much ceremony, to a very awful lady ina black velvet dress, and a great black velvet hat, whom I remember aslooking like a near relation of Hamlet's--say his aunt.

Mrs. Henry Spiker was this lady's name; and her husband was theretoo: so cold a man, that his head, instead of being grey, seemed tobe sprinkled with hoar-frost. Immense deference was shown to the HenrySpikers, male and female; which Agnes told me was on account of Mr.Henry Spiker being solicitor to something Or to Somebody, I forget whator which, remotely connected with the Treasury.

I found Uriah Heep among the company, in a suit of black, and in deephumility. He told me, when I shook hands with him, that he was proudto be noticed by me, and that he really felt obliged to me for mycondescension. I could have wished he had been less obliged to me, forhe hovered about me in his gratitude all the rest of the evening; andwhenever I said a word to Agnes, was sure, with his shadowless eyes andcadaverous face, to be looking gauntly down upon us from behind.

There were other guests--all iced for the occasion, as it struck me,like the wine. But there was one who attracted my attention before hecame in, on account of my hearing him announced as Mr. Traddles! My mindflew back to Salem House; and could it be Tommy, I thought, who used todraw the skeletons!

I looked for Mr. Traddles with unusual interest. He was a sober,steady-looking young man of retiring manners, with a comic head of hair,and eyes that were rather wide open; and he got into an obscure cornerso soon, that I had some difficulty in making him out. At length I hada good view of him, and either my vision deceived me, or it was the oldunfortunate Tommy.

I made my way to Mr. Waterbrook, and said, that I believed I had thepleasure of seeing an old schoolfellow there.

'Indeed!' said Mr. Waterbrook, surprised. 'You are too young to havebeen at school with Mr. Henry Spiker?'

'Oh, I don't mean him!' I returned. 'I mean the gentleman namedTraddles.'

'Oh! Aye, aye! Indeed!' said my host, with much diminished interest.'Possibly.'

'If it's really the same person,' said I, glancing towards him, 'itwas at a place called Salem House where we were together, and he was anexcellent fellow.'

'Oh yes. Traddles is a good fellow,' returned my host nodding his headwith an air of toleration. 'Traddles is quite a good fellow.'

'It's a curious coincidence,' said I.

'It is really,' returned my host, 'quite a coincidence, that Traddlesshould be here at all: as Traddles was only invited this morning, whenthe place at table, intended to be occupied by Mrs. Henry Spiker'sbrother, became vacant, in consequence of his indisposition. A verygentlemanly man, Mrs. Henry Spiker's brother, Mr. Copperfield.'

I murmured an assent, which was full of feeling, considering that Iknew nothing at all about him; and I inquired what Mr. Traddles was byprofession.

'Traddles,' returned Mr. Waterbrook, 'is a young man reading for thebar. Yes. He is quite a good fellow--nobody's enemy but his own.'

'Is he his own enemy?' said I, sorry to hear this.

'Well,' returned Mr. Waterbrook, pursing up his mouth, and playing withhis watch-chain, in a comfortable, prosperous sort of way. 'I should sayhe was one of those men who stand in their own light. Yes, I should sayhe would never, for example, be worth five hundred pound. Traddles wasrecommended to me by a professional friend. Oh yes. Yes. He has a kindof talent for drawing briefs, and stating a case in writing, plainly. Iam able to throw something in Traddles's way, in the course of the year;something--for him--considerable. Oh yes. Yes.'

I was much impressed by the extremely comfortable and satisfied mannerin which Mr. Waterbrook delivered himself of this little word 'Yes',every now and then. There was wonderful expression in it. It completelyconveyed the idea of a man who had been born, not to say with a silverspoon, but with a scaling-ladder, and had gone on mounting all theheights of life one after another, until now he looked, from the top ofthe fortifications, with the eye of a philosopher and a patron, on thepeople down in the trenches.

My reflections on this theme were still in progress when dinner wasannounced. Mr. Waterbrook went down with Hamlet's aunt. Mr. Henry Spikertook Mrs. Waterbrook. Agnes, whom I should have liked to take myself,was given to a simpering fellow with weak legs. Uriah, Traddles, and I,as the junior part of the company, went down last, how we could. I wasnot so vexed at losing Agnes as I might have been, since it gave mean opportunity of making myself known to Traddles on the stairs, whogreeted me with great fervour; while Uriah writhed with such obtrusivesatisfaction and self-abasement, that I could gladly have pitchedhim over the banisters. Traddles and I were separated at table, beingbilleted in two remote corners: he in the glare of a red velvet lady;I, in the gloom of Hamlet's aunt. The dinner was very long, and theconversation was about the Aristocracy--and Blood. Mrs. Waterbrookrepeatedly told us, that if she had a weakness, it was Blood.

It occurred to me several times that we should have got on better, if wehad not been quite so genteel. We were so exceedingly genteel, that ourscope was very limited. A Mr. and Mrs. Gulpidge were of the party, whohad something to do at second-hand (at least, Mr. Gulpidge had) withthe law business of the Bank; and what with the Bank, and what withthe Treasury, we were as exclusive as the Court Circular. To mend thematter, Hamlet's aunt had the family failing of indulging in soliloquy,and held forth in a desultory manner, by herself, on every topic thatwas introduced. These were few enough, to be sure; but as we always fellback upon Blood, she had as wide a field for abstract speculation as hernephew himself.

We might have been a party of Ogres, the conversation assumed such asanguine complexion.

'I confess I am of Mrs. Waterbrook's opinion,' said Mr. Waterbrook, withhis wine-glass at his eye. 'Other things are all very well in their way,but give me Blood!'

'Oh! There is nothing,' observed Hamlet's aunt, 'so satisfactory to one!There is nothing that is so much one's beau-ideal of--of all that sortof thing, speaking generally. There are some low minds (not many, I amhappy to believe, but there are some) that would prefer to do what Ishould call bow down before idols. Positively Idols! Before service,intellect, and so on. But these are intangible points. Blood is not so.We see Blood in a nose, and we know it. We meet with it in a chin, andwe say, "There it is! That's Blood!" It is an actual matter of fact. Wepoint it out. It admits of no doubt.'

The simpering fellow with the weak legs, who had taken Agnes down,stated the question more decisively yet, I thought.

'Oh, you know, deuce take it,' said this gentleman, looking round theboard with an imbecile smile, 'we can't forego Blood, you know. We musthave Blood, you know. Some young fellows, you know, may be a littlebehind their station, perhaps, in point of education and behaviour, andmay go a little wrong, you know, and get themselves and other peopleinto a variety of fixes--and all that--but deuce take it, it'sdelightful to reflect that they've got Blood in 'em! Myself, I'd ratherat any time be knocked down by a man who had got Blood in him, than I'dbe picked up by a man who hadn't!'

This sentiment, as compressing the general question into a nutshell,gave the utmost satisfaction, and brought the gentleman into greatnotice until the ladies retired. After that, I observed that Mr.Gulpidge and Mr. Henry Spiker, who had hitherto been very distant,entered into a defensive alliance against us, the common enemy, andexchanged a mysterious dialogue across the table for our defeat andoverthrow.

'That affair of the first bond for four thousand five hundred pounds hasnot taken the course that was expected, Spiker,' said Mr. Gulpidge.

'Do you mean the D. of A.'s?' said Mr. Spiker.

'The C. of B.'s!' said Mr. Gulpidge.

Mr. Spiker raised his eyebrows, and looked much concerned.

'When the question was referred to Lord--I needn't name him,' said Mr.Gulpidge, checking himself--

'I understand,' said Mr. Spiker, 'N.'

Mr. Gulpidge darkly nodded--'was referred to him, his answer was,"Money, or no release."'

'Lord bless my soul!' cried Mr. Spiker.

"'Money, or no release,"' repeated Mr. Gulpidge, firmly. 'The next inreversion--you understand me?'

'K.,' said Mr. Spiker, with an ominous look.

'--K. then positively refused to sign. He was attended at Newmarket forthat purpose, and he point-blank refused to do it.'

Mr. Spiker was so interested, that he became quite stony.

'So the matter rests at this hour,' said Mr. Gulpidge, throwing himselfback in his chair. 'Our friend Waterbrook will excuse me if I forbear toexplain myself generally, on account of the magnitude of the interestsinvolved.'

Mr. Waterbrook was only too happy, as it appeared to me, to have suchinterests, and such names, even hinted at, across his table. He assumedan expression of gloomy intelligence (though I am persuaded he knewno more about the discussion than I did), and highly approved of thediscretion that had been observed. Mr. Spiker, after the receipt of sucha confidence, naturally desired to favour his friend with a confidenceof his own; therefore the foregoing dialogue was succeeded by another,in which it was Mr. Gulpidge's turn to be surprised, and that by anotherin which the surprise came round to Mr. Spiker's turn again, and so on,turn and turn about. All this time we, the outsiders, remained oppressedby the tremendous interests involved in the conversation; and ourhost regarded us with pride, as the victims of a salutary awe andastonishment. I was very glad indeed to get upstairs to Agnes, and totalk with her in a corner, and to introduce Traddles to her, who wasshy, but agreeable, and the same good-natured creature still. As hewas obliged to leave early, on account of going away next morning fora month, I had not nearly so much conversation with him as I could havewished; but we exchanged addresses, and promised ourselves the pleasureof another meeting when he should come back to town. He was greatlyinterested to hear that I knew Steerforth, and spoke of him with suchwarmth that I made him tell Agnes what he thought of him. But Agnes onlylooked at me the while, and very slightly shook her head when only Iobserved her.

As she was not among people with whom I believed she could be very muchat home, I was almost glad to hear that she was going away within a fewdays, though I was sorry at the prospect of parting from her againso soon. This caused me to remain until all the company were gone.Conversing with her, and hearing her sing, was such a delightfulreminder to me of my happy life in the grave old house she had made sobeautiful, that I could have remained there half the night; but, havingno excuse for staying any longer, when the lights of Mr. Waterbrook'ssociety were all snuffed out, I took my leave very much against myinclination. I felt then, more than ever, that she was my better Angel;and if I thought of her sweet face and placid smile, as though they hadshone on me from some removed being, like an Angel, I hope I thought noharm.

I have said that the company were all gone; but I ought to have exceptedUriah, whom I don't include in that denomination, and who had neverceased to hover near us. He was close behind me when I went downstairs.He was close beside me, when I walked away from the house, slowlyfitting his long skeleton fingers into the still longer fingers of agreat Guy Fawkes pair of gloves.

It was in no disposition for Uriah's company, but in remembrance of theentreaty Agnes had made to me, that I asked him if he would come home tomy rooms, and have some coffee.

'Oh, really, Master Copperfield,' he rejoined--'I beg your pardon,Mister Copperfield, but the other comes so natural, I don't like thatyou should put a constraint upon yourself to ask a numble person like meto your ouse.'

'There is no constraint in the case,' said I. 'Will you come?'

'I should like to, very much,' replied Uriah, with a writhe.

'Well, then, come along!' said I.

I could not help being rather short with him, but he appeared not tomind it. We went the nearest way, without conversing much upon the road;and he was so humble in respect of those scarecrow gloves, that hewas still putting them on, and seemed to have made no advance in thatlabour, when we got to my place.

I led him up the dark stairs, to prevent his knocking his head againstanything, and really his damp cold hand felt so like a frog in mine,that I was tempted to drop it and run away. Agnes and hospitalityprevailed, however, and I conducted him to my fireside. When I lightedmy candles, he fell into meek transports with the room that was revealedto him; and when I heated the coffee in an unassuming block-tin vesselin which Mrs. Crupp delighted to prepare it (chiefly, I believe, becauseit was not intended for the purpose, being a shaving-pot, and becausethere was a patent invention of great price mouldering away in thepantry), he professed so much emotion, that I could joyfully havescalded him.

'Oh, really, Master Copperfield,--I mean Mister Copperfield,' saidUriah, 'to see you waiting upon me is what I never could have expected!But, one way and another, so many things happen to me which I nevercould have expected, I am sure, in my umble station, that it seemsto rain blessings on my ed. You have heard something, I des-say, of achange in my expectations, Master Copperfield,--I should say, MisterCopperfield?'

As he sat on my sofa, with his long knees drawn up under his coffee-cup,his hat and gloves upon the ground close to him, his spoon going softlyround and round, his shadowless red eyes, which looked as if they hadscorched their lashes off, turned towards me without looking at me, thedisagreeable dints I have formerly described in his nostrils coming andgoing with his breath, and a snaky undulation pervading his frame fromhis chin to his boots, I decided in my own mind that I disliked himintensely. It made me very uncomfortable to have him for a guest, for Iwas young then, and unused to disguise what I so strongly felt.

'You have heard something, I des-say, of a change in my expectations,Master Copperfield,--I should say, Mister Copperfield?' observed Uriah.

'Yes,' said I, 'something.'

'Ah! I thought Miss Agnes would know of it!' he quietly returned. 'I'mglad to find Miss Agnes knows of it. Oh, thank you, Master--MisterCopperfield!'

I could have thrown my bootjack at him (it lay ready on the rug), forhaving entrapped me into the disclosure of anything concerning Agnes,however immaterial. But I only drank my coffee.

'What a prophet you have shown yourself, Mister Copperfield!' pursuedUriah. 'Dear me, what a prophet you have proved yourself to be! Don'tyou remember saying to me once, that perhaps I should be a partner inMr. Wickfield's business, and perhaps it might be Wickfield andHeep? You may not recollect it; but when a person is umble, MasterCopperfield, a person treasures such things up!'

'I recollect talking about it,' said I, 'though I certainly did notthink it very likely then.' 'Oh! who would have thought it likely,Mister Copperfield!' returned Uriah, enthusiastically. 'I am sure Ididn't myself. I recollect saying with my own lips that I was much tooumble. So I considered myself really and truly.'

He sat, with that carved grin on his face, looking at the fire, as Ilooked at him.

'But the umblest persons, Master Copperfield,' he presently resumed,'may be the instruments of good. I am glad to think I have been theinstrument of good to Mr. Wickfield, and that I may be more so. Oh whata worthy man he is, Mister Copperfield, but how imprudent he has been!'

'I am sorry to hear it,' said I. I could not help adding, ratherpointedly, 'on all accounts.'

'Decidedly so, Mister Copperfield,' replied Uriah. 'On all accounts.Miss Agnes's above all! You don't remember your own eloquentexpressions, Master Copperfield; but I remember how you said one daythat everybody must admire her, and how I thanked you for it! You haveforgot that, I have no doubt, Master Copperfield?'

'No,' said I, drily.

'Oh how glad I am you have not!' exclaimed Uriah. 'To think that youshould be the first to kindle the sparks of ambition in my umble breast,and that you've not forgot it! Oh!--Would you excuse me asking for a cupmore coffee?'

Something in the emphasis he laid upon the kindling of those sparks,and something in the glance he directed at me as he said it, had made mestart as if I had seen him illuminated by a blaze of light. Recalled byhis request, preferred in quite another tone of voice, I did the honoursof the shaving-pot; but I did them with an unsteadiness of hand, asudden sense of being no match for him, and a perplexed suspiciousanxiety as to what he might be going to say next, which I felt could notescape his observation.

He said nothing at all. He stirred his coffee round and round, he sippedit, he felt his chin softly with his grisly hand, he looked at the fire,he looked about the room, he gasped rather than smiled at me, he writhedand undulated about, in his deferential servility, he stirred and sippedagain, but he left the renewal of the conversation to me.

'So, Mr. Wickfield,' said I, at last, 'who is worth five hundred ofyou--or me'; for my life, I think, I could not have helped dividing thatpart of the sentence with an awkward jerk; 'has been imprudent, has he,Mr. Heep?'

'Oh, very imprudent indeed, Master Copperfield,' returned Uriah, sighingmodestly. 'Oh, very much so! But I wish you'd call me Uriah, if youplease. It's like old times.'

'Well! Uriah,' said I, bolting it out with some difficulty.

'Thank you,' he returned, with fervour. 'Thank you, Master Copperfield!It's like the blowing of old breezes or the ringing of old bellses tohear YOU say Uriah. I beg your pardon. Was I making any observation?'

'About Mr. Wickfield,' I suggested.

'Oh! Yes, truly,' said Uriah. 'Ah! Great imprudence, Master Copperfield.It's a topic that I wouldn't touch upon, to any soul but you. Even toyou I can only touch upon it, and no more. If anyone else had been inmy place during the last few years, by this time he would have had Mr.Wickfield (oh, what a worthy man he is, Master Copperfield, too!) underhis thumb. Un--der--his thumb,' said Uriah, very slowly, as he stretchedout his cruel-looking hand above my table, and pressed his own thumbupon it, until it shook, and shook the room.

If I had been obliged to look at him with him splay foot on Mr.Wickfield's head, I think I could scarcely have hated him more.

'Oh, dear, yes, Master Copperfield,' he proceeded, in a soft voice,most remarkably contrasting with the action of his thumb, which did notdiminish its hard pressure in the least degree, 'there's no doubt ofit. There would have been loss, disgrace, I don't know what at all. Mr.Wickfield knows it. I am the umble instrument of umbly serving him,and he puts me on an eminence I hardly could have hoped to reach. Howthankful should I be!' With his face turned towards me, as he finished,but without looking at me, he took his crooked thumb off the spot wherehe had planted it, and slowly and thoughtfully scraped his lank jaw withit, as if he were shaving himself.

I recollect well how indignantly my heart beat, as I saw his craftyface, with the appropriately red light of the fire upon it, preparingfor something else.

'Master Copperfield,' he began--'but am I keeping you up?'

'You are not keeping me up. I generally go to bed late.'

'Thank you, Master Copperfield! I have risen from my umble station sincefirst you used to address me, it is true; but I am umble still. I hope Inever shall be otherwise than umble. You will not think the worse ofmy umbleness, if I make a little confidence to you, Master Copperfield?Will you?'

'Oh no,' said I, with an effort.

'Thank you!' He took out his pocket-handkerchief, and began wiping thepalms of his hands. 'Miss Agnes, Master Copperfield--' 'Well, Uriah?'

'Oh, how pleasant to be called Uriah, spontaneously!' he cried; and gavehimself a jerk, like a convulsive fish. 'You thought her looking verybeautiful tonight, Master Copperfield?'

'I thought her looking as she always does: superior, in all respects, toeveryone around her,' I returned.

'Oh, thank you! It's so true!' he cried. 'Oh, thank you very much forthat!'

'Not at all,' I said, loftily. 'There is no reason why you should thankme.'

'Why that, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'is, in fact, the confidencethat I am going to take the liberty of reposing. Umble as I am,' hewiped his hands harder, and looked at them and at the fire by turns,'umble as my mother is, and lowly as our poor but honest roof has everbeen, the image of Miss Agnes (I don't mind trusting you with my secret,Master Copperfield, for I have always overflowed towards you since thefirst moment I had the pleasure of beholding you in a pony-shay) hasbeen in my breast for years. Oh, Master Copperfield, with what a pureaffection do I love the ground my Agnes walks on!'

I believe I had a delirious idea of seizing the red-hot poker out ofthe fire, and running him through with it. It went from me with a shock,like a ball fired from a rifle: but the image of Agnes, outraged by somuch as a thought of this red-headed animal's, remained in my mind whenI looked at him, sitting all awry as if his mean soul griped his body,and made me giddy. He seemed to swell and grow before my eyes; the roomseemed full of the echoes of his voice; and the strange feeling (towhich, perhaps, no one is quite a stranger) that all this had occurredbefore, at some indefinite time, and that I knew what he was going tosay next, took possession of me.

A timely observation of the sense of power that there was in his face,did more to bring back to my remembrance the entreaty of Agnes, inits full force, than any effort I could have made. I asked him, witha better appearance of composure than I could have thought possible aminute before, whether he had made his feelings known to Agnes.

'Oh no, Master Copperfield!' he returned; 'oh dear, no! Not to anyonebut you. You see I am only just emerging from my lowly station. I rest agood deal of hope on her observing how useful I am to her father (forI trust to be very useful to him indeed, Master Copperfield), and how Ismooth the way for him, and keep him straight. She's so much attachedto her father, Master Copperfield (oh, what a lovely thing it is in adaughter!), that I think she may come, on his account, to be kind tome.'

I fathomed the depth of the rascal's whole scheme, and understood why helaid it bare.

'If you'll have the goodness to keep my secret, Master Copperfield,' hepursued, 'and not, in general, to go against me, I shall take it as aparticular favour. You wouldn't wish to make unpleasantness. I knowwhat a friendly heart you've got; but having only known me on my umblefooting (on my umblest I should say, for I am very umble still), youmight, unbeknown, go against me rather, with my Agnes. I call her mine,you see, Master Copperfield. There's a song that says, "I'd crownsresign, to call her mine!" I hope to do it, one of these days.'

Dear Agnes! So much too loving and too good for anyone that I couldthink of, was it possible that she was reserved to be the wife of such awretch as this!

'There's no hurry at present, you know, Master Copperfield,' Uriahproceeded, in his slimy way, as I sat gazing at him, with this thoughtin my mind. 'My Agnes is very young still; and mother and me will haveto work our way upwards, and make a good many new arrangements, beforeit would be quite convenient. So I shall have time gradually to make herfamiliar with my hopes, as opportunities offer. Oh, I'm so much obligedto you for this confidence! Oh, it's such a relief, you can't think, toknow that you understand our situation, and are certain (as you wouldn'twish to make unpleasantness in the family) not to go against me!'

He took the hand which I dared not withhold, and having given it a dampsqueeze, referred to his pale-faced watch.

'Dear me!' he said, 'it's past one. The moments slip away so, in theconfidence of old times, Master Copperfield, that it's almost half pastone!'

I answered that I had thought it was later. Not that I had reallythought so, but because my conversational powers were effectuallyscattered.

'Dear me!' he said, considering. 'The ouse that I am stopping at--a sortof a private hotel and boarding ouse, Master Copperfield, near the NewRiver ed--will have gone to bed these two hours.'

'I am sorry,' I returned, 'that there is only one bed here, and thatI--'

'Oh, don't think of mentioning beds, Master Copperfield!' he rejoinedecstatically, drawing up one leg. 'But would you have any objections tomy laying down before the fire?'

'If it comes to that,' I said, 'pray take my bed, and I'll lie downbefore the fire.'

His repudiation of this offer was almost shrill enough, in the excess ofits surprise and humility, to have penetrated to the ears of Mrs. Crupp,then sleeping, I suppose, in a distant chamber, situated at about thelevel of low-water mark, soothed in her slumbers by the ticking of anincorrigible clock, to which she always referred me when we had anylittle difference on the score of punctuality, and which was never lessthan three-quarters of an hour too slow, and had always been put rightin the morning by the best authorities. As no arguments I could urge,in my bewildered condition, had the least effect upon his modestyin inducing him to accept my bedroom, I was obliged to make the bestarrangements I could, for his repose before the fire. The mattress ofthe sofa (which was a great deal too short for his lank figure), thesofa pillows, a blanket, the table-cover, a clean breakfast-cloth, anda great-coat, made him a bed and covering, for which he was more thanthankful. Having lent him a night-cap, which he put on at once, and inwhich he made such an awful figure, that I have never worn one since, Ileft him to his rest.

I never shall forget that night. I never shall forget how I turnedand tumbled; how I wearied myself with thinking about Agnes and thiscreature; how I considered what could I do, and what ought I to do; howI could come to no other conclusion than that the best course for herpeace was to do nothing, and to keep to myself what I had heard. IfI went to sleep for a few moments, the image of Agnes with her tendereyes, and of her father looking fondly on her, as I had so often seenhim look, arose before me with appealing faces, and filled me with vagueterrors. When I awoke, the recollection that Uriah was lying in the nextroom, sat heavy on me like a waking nightmare; and oppressed me with aleaden dread, as if I had had some meaner quality of devil for a lodger.

The poker got into my dozing thoughts besides, and wouldn't come out. Ithought, between sleeping and waking, that it was still red hot, and Ihad snatched it out of the fire, and run him through the body. I was sohaunted at last by the idea, though I knew there was nothing in it, thatI stole into the next room to look at him. There I saw him, lying on hisback, with his legs extending to I don't know where, gurglings takingplace in his throat, stoppages in his nose, and his mouth open likea post-office. He was so much worse in reality than in my distemperedfancy, that afterwards I was attracted to him in very repulsion, andcould not help wandering in and out every half-hour or so, and takinganother look at him. Still, the long, long night seemed heavy andhopeless as ever, and no promise of day was in the murky sky.

When I saw him going downstairs early in the morning (for, thank Heaven!he would not stay to breakfast), it appeared to me as if the night wasgoing away in his person. When I went out to the Commons, I chargedMrs. Crupp with particular directions to leave the windows open, that mysitting-room might be aired, and purged of his presence.