I saw no more of Uriah Heep, until the day when Agnes left town. I wasat the coach office to take leave of her and see her go; and there washe, returning to Canterbury by the same conveyance. It was some smallsatisfaction to me to observe his spare, short-waisted, high-shouldered,mulberry-coloured great-coat perched up, in company with an umbrellalike a small tent, on the edge of the back seat on the roof, whileAgnes was, of course, inside; but what I underwent in my efforts to befriendly with him, while Agnes looked on, perhaps deserved that littlerecompense. At the coach window, as at the dinner-party, he hoveredabout us without a moment's intermission, like a great vulture: gorginghimself on every syllable that I said to Agnes, or Agnes said to me.

In the state of trouble into which his disclosure by my fire had thrownme, I had thought very much of the words Agnes had used in reference tothe partnership. 'I did what I hope was right. Feeling sure that itwas necessary for papa's peace that the sacrifice should be made, Ientreated him to make it.' A miserable foreboding that she wouldyield to, and sustain herself by, the same feeling in reference to anysacrifice for his sake, had oppressed me ever since. I knew how sheloved him. I knew what the devotion of her nature was. I knew from herown lips that she regarded herself as the innocent cause of his errors,and as owing him a great debt she ardently desired to pay. I had noconsolation in seeing how different she was from this detestable Rufuswith the mulberry-coloured great-coat, for I felt that in the verydifference between them, in the self-denial of her pure soul and thesordid baseness of his, the greatest danger lay. All this, doubtless, heknew thoroughly, and had, in his cunning, considered well.

Yet I was so certain that the prospect of such a sacrifice afar off,must destroy the happiness of Agnes; and I was so sure, from her manner,of its being unseen by her then, and having cast no shadow on her yet;that I could as soon have injured her, as given her any warning of whatimpended. Thus it was that we parted without explanation: she wavingher hand and smiling farewell from the coach window; her evil geniuswrithing on the roof, as if he had her in his clutches and triumphed.

I could not get over this farewell glimpse of them for a long time. WhenAgnes wrote to tell me of her safe arrival, I was as miserable as whenI saw her going away. Whenever I fell into a thoughtful state, thissubject was sure to present itself, and all my uneasiness was sure to beredoubled. Hardly a night passed without my dreaming of it. It became apart of my life, and as inseparable from my life as my own head.

I had ample leisure to refine upon my uneasiness: for Steerforth was atOxford, as he wrote to me, and when I was not at the Commons, I wasvery much alone. I believe I had at this time some lurking distrust ofSteerforth. I wrote to him most affectionately in reply to his, but Ithink I was glad, upon the whole, that he could not come to London justthen. I suspect the truth to be, that the influence of Agnes was uponme, undisturbed by the sight of him; and that it was the more powerfulwith me, because she had so large a share in my thoughts and interest.

In the meantime, days and weeks slipped away. I was articled to Spenlowand Jorkins. I had ninety pounds a year (exclusive of my house-rentand sundry collateral matters) from my aunt. My rooms were engagedfor twelve months certain: and though I still found them dreary of anevening, and the evenings long, I could settle down into a state ofequable low spirits, and resign myself to coffee; which I seem, onlooking back, to have taken by the gallon at about this period of myexistence. At about this time, too, I made three discoveries: first,that Mrs. Crupp was a martyr to a curious disorder called 'thespazzums', which was generally accompanied with inflammation of thenose, and required to be constantly treated with peppermint; secondly,that something peculiar in the temperature of my pantry, made thebrandy-bottles burst; thirdly, that I was alone in the world, and muchgiven to record that circumstance in fragments of English versification.

On the day when I was articled, no festivity took place, beyond myhaving sandwiches and sherry into the office for the clerks, and goingalone to the theatre at night. I went to see The Stranger, as a Doctors'Commons sort of play, and was so dreadfully cut up, that I hardly knewmyself in my own glass when I got home. Mr. Spenlow remarked, on thisoccasion, when we concluded our business, that he should have beenhappy to have seen me at his house at Norwood to celebrate our becomingconnected, but for his domestic arrangements being in some disorder,on account of the expected return of his daughter from finishing hereducation at Paris. But, he intimated that when she came home he shouldhope to have the pleasure of entertaining me. I knew that he was awidower with one daughter, and expressed my acknowledgements.

Mr. Spenlow was as good as his word. In a week or two, he referred tothis engagement, and said, that if I would do him the favour to comedown next Saturday, and stay till Monday, he would be extremely happy.Of course I said I would do him the favour; and he was to drive me downin his phaeton, and to bring me back.

When the day arrived, my very carpet-bag was an object of venerationto the stipendiary clerks, to whom the house at Norwood was a sacredmystery. One of them informed me that he had heard that Mr. Spenlowate entirely off plate and china; and another hinted at champagne beingconstantly on draught, after the usual custom of table-beer. The oldclerk with the wig, whose name was Mr. Tiffey, had been down on businessseveral times in the course of his career, and had on each occasionpenetrated to the breakfast-parlour. He described it as an apartment ofthe most sumptuous nature, and said that he had drunk brown East Indiasherry there, of a quality so precious as to make a man wink. We hadan adjourned cause in the Consistory that day--about excommunicating abaker who had been objecting in a vestry to a paving-rate--and as theevidence was just twice the length of Robinson Crusoe, according to acalculation I made, it was rather late in the day before we finished.However, we got him excommunicated for six weeks, and sentenced inno end of costs; and then the baker's proctor, and the judge, and theadvocates on both sides (who were all nearly related), went out of towntogether, and Mr. Spenlow and I drove away in the phaeton.

The phaeton was a very handsome affair; the horses arched their necksand lifted up their legs as if they knew they belonged to Doctors'Commons. There was a good deal of competition in the Commons on allpoints of display, and it turned out some very choice equipages then;though I always have considered, and always shall consider, that in mytime the great article of competition there was starch: which I thinkwas worn among the proctors to as great an extent as it is in the natureof man to bear.

We were very pleasant, going down, and Mr. Spenlow gave me some hints inreference to my profession. He said it was the genteelest profession inthe world, and must on no account be confounded with the profession of asolicitor: being quite another sort of thing, infinitely more exclusive,less mechanical, and more profitable. We took things much more easilyin the Commons than they could be taken anywhere else, he observed, andthat set us, as a privileged class, apart. He said it was impossibleto conceal the disagreeable fact, that we were chiefly employed bysolicitors; but he gave me to understand that they were an inferior raceof men, universally looked down upon by all proctors of any pretensions.

I asked Mr. Spenlow what he considered the best sort of professionalbusiness? He replied, that a good case of a disputed will, where therewas a neat little estate of thirty or forty thousand pounds, was,perhaps, the best of all. In such a case, he said, not only were therevery pretty pickings, in the way of arguments at every stage of theproceedings, and mountains upon mountains of evidence on interrogatoryand counter-interrogatory (to say nothing of an appeal lying, first tothe Delegates, and then to the Lords), but, the costs being pretty sureto come out of the estate at last, both sides went at it in a livelyand spirited manner, and expense was no consideration. Then, he launchedinto a general eulogium on the Commons. What was to be particularlyadmired (he said) in the Commons, was its compactness. It was the mostconveniently organized place in the world. It was the complete idea ofsnugness. It lay in a nutshell. For example: You brought a divorce case,or a restitution case, into the Consistory. Very good. You tried it inthe Consistory. You made a quiet little round game of it, among a familygroup, and you played it out at leisure. Suppose you were not satisfiedwith the Consistory, what did you do then? Why, you went into theArches. What was the Arches? The same court, in the same room, with thesame bar, and the same practitioners, but another judge, for there theConsistory judge could plead any court-day as an advocate. Well, youplayed your round game out again. Still you were not satisfied. Verygood. What did you do then? Why, you went to the Delegates. Who were theDelegates? Why, the Ecclesiastical Delegates were the advocates withoutany business, who had looked on at the round game when it was playing inboth courts, and had seen the cards shuffled, and cut, and played, andhad talked to all the players about it, and now came fresh, as judges,to settle the matter to the satisfaction of everybody! Discontentedpeople might talk of corruption in the Commons, closeness in theCommons, and the necessity of reforming the Commons, said Mr. Spenlowsolemnly, in conclusion; but when the price of wheat per bushel had beenhighest, the Commons had been busiest; and a man might lay his hand uponhis heart, and say this to the whole world,--'Touch the Commons, anddown comes the country!'

I listened to all this with attention; and though, I must say, I had mydoubts whether the country was quite as much obliged to the Commons asMr. Spenlow made out, I respectfully deferred to his opinion. Thatabout the price of wheat per bushel, I modestly felt was too much formy strength, and quite settled the question. I have never, to this hour,got the better of that bushel of wheat. It has reappeared to annihilateme, all through my life, in connexion with all kinds of subjects. Idon't know now, exactly, what it has to do with me, or what right it hasto crush me, on an infinite variety of occasions; but whenever I see myold friend the bushel brought in by the head and shoulders (as he alwaysis, I observe), I give up a subject for lost.

This is a digression. I was not the man to touch the Commons, andbring down the country. I submissively expressed, by my silence, myacquiescence in all I had heard from my superior in years and knowledge;and we talked about The Stranger and the Drama, and the pairs of horses,until we came to Mr. Spenlow's gate.

There was a lovely garden to Mr. Spenlow's house; and though that wasnot the best time of the year for seeing a garden, it was so beautifullykept, that I was quite enchanted. There was a charming lawn, there wereclusters of trees, and there were perspective walks that I could justdistinguish in the dark, arched over with trellis-work, on which shrubsand flowers grew in the growing season. 'Here Miss Spenlow walks byherself,' I thought. 'Dear me!'

We went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up, and into a hallwhere there were all sorts of hats, caps, great-coats, plaids, gloves,whips, and walking-sticks. 'Where is Miss Dora?' said Mr. Spenlow to theservant. 'Dora!' I thought. 'What a beautiful name!'

We turned into a room near at hand (I think it was the identicalbreakfast-room, made memorable by the brown East Indian sherry), and Iheard a voice say, 'Mr. Copperfield, my daughter Dora, and my daughterDora's confidential friend!' It was, no doubt, Mr. Spenlow's voice,but I didn't know it, and I didn't care whose it was. All was over in amoment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was a captive and a slave. I lovedDora Spenlow to distraction!

She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don'tknow what she was--anything that no one ever saw, and everything thateverybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in aninstant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or lookingback; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a word to her.

'I,' observed a well-remembered voice, when I had bowed and murmuredsomething, 'have seen Mr. Copperfield before.'

The speaker was not Dora. No; the confidential friend, Miss Murdstone!

I don't think I was much astonished. To the best of my judgement,no capacity of astonishment was left in me. There was nothing worthmentioning in the material world, but Dora Spenlow, to be astonishedabout. I said, 'How do you do, Miss Murdstone? I hope you are well.' Sheanswered, 'Very well.' I said, 'How is Mr. Murdstone?' She replied, 'Mybrother is robust, I am obliged to you.'

Mr. Spenlow, who, I suppose, had been surprised to see us recognize eachother, then put in his word.

'I am glad to find,' he said, 'Copperfield, that you and Miss Murdstoneare already acquainted.'

'Mr. Copperfield and myself,' said Miss Murdstone, with severecomposure, 'are connexions. We were once slightly acquainted. It was inhis childish days. Circumstances have separated us since. I should nothave known him.'

I replied that I should have known her, anywhere. Which was true enough.

'Miss Murdstone has had the goodness,' said Mr. Spenlow to me, 'toaccept the office--if I may so describe it--of my daughter Dora'sconfidential friend. My daughter Dora having, unhappily, no mother, MissMurdstone is obliging enough to become her companion and protector.'

A passing thought occurred to me that Miss Murdstone, like the pocketinstrument called a life-preserver, was not so much designed forpurposes of protection as of assault. But as I had none but passingthoughts for any subject save Dora, I glanced at her, directlyafterwards, and was thinking that I saw, in her prettily pettish manner,that she was not very much inclined to be particularly confidential toher companion and protector, when a bell rang, which Mr. Spenlow saidwas the first dinner-bell, and so carried me off to dress.

The idea of dressing one's self, or doing anything in the way of action,in that state of love, was a little too ridiculous. I could only sitdown before my fire, biting the key of my carpet-bag, and think of thecaptivating, girlish, bright-eyed lovely Dora. What a form she had, whata face she had, what a graceful, variable, enchanting manner!

The bell rang again so soon that I made a mere scramble of my dressing,instead of the careful operation I could have wished under thecircumstances, and went downstairs. There was some company. Dora wastalking to an old gentleman with a grey head. Grey as he was--and agreat-grandfather into the bargain, for he said so--I was madly jealousof him.

What a state of mind I was in! I was jealous of everybody. I couldn'tbear the idea of anybody knowing Mr. Spenlow better than I did. It wastorturing to me to hear them talk of occurrences in which I had had noshare. When a most amiable person, with a highly polished bald head,asked me across the dinner table, if that were the first occasion of myseeing the grounds, I could have done anything to him that was savageand revengeful.

I don't remember who was there, except Dora. I have not the least ideawhat we had for dinner, besides Dora. My impression is, that I dined offDora, entirely, and sent away half-a-dozen plates untouched. I sat nextto her. I talked to her. She had the most delightful little voice, thegayest little laugh, the pleasantest and most fascinating littleways, that ever led a lost youth into hopeless slavery. She was ratherdiminutive altogether. So much the more precious, I thought.

When she went out of the room with Miss Murdstone (no other ladieswere of the party), I fell into a reverie, only disturbed by the cruelapprehension that Miss Murdstone would disparage me to her. The amiablecreature with the polished head told me a long story, which I think wasabout gardening. I think I heard him say, 'my gardener', several times.I seemed to pay the deepest attention to him, but I was wandering in agarden of Eden all the while, with Dora.

My apprehensions of being disparaged to the object of my engrossingaffection were revived when we went into the drawing-room, by the grimand distant aspect of Miss Murdstone. But I was relieved of them in anunexpected manner.

'David Copperfield,' said Miss Murdstone, beckoning me aside into awindow. 'A word.'

I confronted Miss Murdstone alone.

'David Copperfield,' said Miss Murdstone, 'I need not enlarge uponfamily circumstances. They are not a tempting subject.' 'Far from it,ma'am,' I returned.

'Far from it,' assented Miss Murdstone. 'I do not wish to revivethe memory of past differences, or of past outrages. I have receivedoutrages from a person--a female I am sorry to say, for the credit of mysex--who is not to be mentioned without scorn and disgust; and thereforeI would rather not mention her.'

I felt very fiery on my aunt's account; but I said it would certainly bebetter, if Miss Murdstone pleased, not to mention her. I could not hearher disrespectfully mentioned, I added, without expressing my opinion ina decided tone.

Miss Murdstone shut her eyes, and disdainfully inclined her head; then,slowly opening her eyes, resumed:

'David Copperfield, I shall not attempt to disguise the fact, that Iformed an unfavourable opinion of you in your childhood. It may havebeen a mistaken one, or you may have ceased to justify it. That is notin question between us now. I belong to a family remarkable, I believe,for some firmness; and I am not the creature of circumstance or change.I may have my opinion of you. You may have your opinion of me.'

I inclined my head, in my turn.

'But it is not necessary,' said Miss Murdstone, 'that these opinionsshould come into collision here. Under existing circumstances, it is aswell on all accounts that they should not. As the chances of life havebrought us together again, and may bring us together on other occasions,I would say, let us meet here as distant acquaintances. Familycircumstances are a sufficient reason for our only meeting on thatfooting, and it is quite unnecessary that either of us should make theother the subject of remark. Do you approve of this?'

'Miss Murdstone,' I returned, 'I think you and Mr. Murdstone used mevery cruelly, and treated my mother with great unkindness. I shallalways think so, as long as I live. But I quite agree in what youpropose.'

Miss Murdstone shut her eyes again, and bent her head. Then, justtouching the back of my hand with the tips of her cold, stiff fingers,she walked away, arranging the little fetters on her wrists and roundher neck; which seemed to be the same set, in exactly the same state,as when I had seen her last. These reminded me, in reference to MissMurdstone's nature, of the fetters over a jail door; suggesting on theoutside, to all beholders, what was to be expected within.

All I know of the rest of the evening is, that I heard the empress ofmy heart sing enchanted ballads in the French language, generally to theeffect that, whatever was the matter, we ought always to dance, Ta rala, Ta ra la! accompanying herself on a glorified instrument, resemblinga guitar. That I was lost in blissful delirium. That I refusedrefreshment. That my soul recoiled from punch particularly. That whenMiss Murdstone took her into custody and led her away, she smiled andgave me her delicious hand. That I caught a view of myself in a mirror,looking perfectly imbecile and idiotic. That I retired to bed in a mostmaudlin state of mind, and got up in a crisis of feeble infatuation.

It was a fine morning, and early, and I thought I would go and take astroll down one of those wire-arched walks, and indulge my passion bydwelling on her image. On my way through the hall, I encountered herlittle dog, who was called Jip--short for Gipsy. I approached himtenderly, for I loved even him; but he showed his whole set of teeth,got under a chair expressly to snarl, and wouldn't hear of the leastfamiliarity.

The garden was cool and solitary. I walked about, wondering what myfeelings of happiness would be, if I could ever become engaged to thisdear wonder. As to marriage, and fortune, and all that, I believe I wasalmost as innocently undesigning then, as when I loved little Em'ly. Tobe allowed to call her 'Dora', to write to her, to dote upon and worshipher, to have reason to think that when she was with other people she wasyet mindful of me, seemed to me the summit of human ambition--I amsure it was the summit of mine. There is no doubt whatever that I wasa lackadaisical young spooney; but there was a purity of heart in allthis, that prevents my having quite a contemptuous recollection of it,let me laugh as I may.

I had not been walking long, when I turned a corner, and met her. Itingle again from head to foot as my recollection turns that corner, andmy pen shakes in my hand.

'You--are--out early, Miss Spenlow,' said I.

'It's so stupid at home,' she replied, 'and Miss Murdstone is so absurd!She talks such nonsense about its being necessary for the day to beaired, before I come out. Aired!' (She laughed, here, in the mostmelodious manner.) 'On a Sunday morning, when I don't practise, I mustdo something. So I told papa last night I must come out. Besides, it'sthe brightest time of the whole day. Don't you think so?'

I hazarded a bold flight, and said (not without stammering) that itwas very bright to me then, though it had been very dark to me a minutebefore.

'Do you mean a compliment?' said Dora, 'or that the weather has reallychanged?'

I stammered worse than before, in replying that I meant no compliment,but the plain truth; though I was not aware of any change having takenplace in the weather. It was in the state of my own feelings, I addedbashfully: to clench the explanation.

I never saw such curls--how could I, for there never were suchcurls!--as those she shook out to hide her blushes. As to the straw hatand blue ribbons which was on the top of the curls, if I could only havehung it up in my room in Buckingham Street, what a priceless possessionit would have been!

'You have just come home from Paris,' said I.

'Yes,' said she. 'Have you ever been there?'

'No.'

'Oh! I hope you'll go soon! You would like it so much!'

Traces of deep-seated anguish appeared in my countenance. That sheshould hope I would go, that she should think it possible I could go,was insupportable. I depreciated Paris; I depreciated France. I said Iwouldn't leave England, under existing circumstances, for any earthlyconsideration. Nothing should induce me. In short, she was shaking thecurls again, when the little dog came running along the walk to ourrelief.

He was mortally jealous of me, and persisted in barking at me. She tookhim up in her arms--oh my goodness!--and caressed him, but he persistedupon barking still. He wouldn't let me touch him, when I tried; and thenshe beat him. It increased my sufferings greatly to see the pats shegave him for punishment on the bridge of his blunt nose, while he winkedhis eyes, and licked her hand, and still growled within himself like alittle double-bass. At length he was quiet--well he might be with herdimpled chin upon his head!--and we walked away to look at a greenhouse.

'You are not very intimate with Miss Murdstone, are you?' said Dora.--'My pet.'

(The two last words were to the dog. Oh, if they had only been to me!)

'No,' I replied. 'Not at all so.'

'She is a tiresome creature,' said Dora, pouting. 'I can't think whatpapa can have been about, when he chose such a vexatious thing to be mycompanion. Who wants a protector? I am sure I don't want a protector.Jip can protect me a great deal better than Miss Murdstone,--can't you,Jip, dear?'

He only winked lazily, when she kissed his ball of a head.

'Papa calls her my confidential friend, but I am sure she is no suchthing--is she, Jip? We are not going to confide in any such crosspeople, Jip and I. We mean to bestow our confidence where we like,and to find out our own friends, instead of having them found out forus--don't we, Jip?'

Jip made a comfortable noise, in answer, a little like a tea-kettle whenit sings. As for me, every word was a new heap of fetters, riveted abovethe last.

'It is very hard, because we have not a kind Mama, that we are to have,instead, a sulky, gloomy old thing like Miss Murdstone, always followingus about--isn't it, Jip? Never mind, Jip. We won't be confidential, andwe'll make ourselves as happy as we can in spite of her, and we'll teaseher, and not please her--won't we, Jip?'

If it had lasted any longer, I think I must have gone down on my kneeson the gravel, with the probability before me of grazing them, and ofbeing presently ejected from the premises besides. But, by good fortunethe greenhouse was not far off, and these words brought us to it.

It contained quite a show of beautiful geraniums. We loitered along infront of them, and Dora often stopped to admire this one or that one,and I stopped to admire the same one, and Dora, laughing, held the dogup childishly, to smell the flowers; and if we were not all three inFairyland, certainly I was. The scent of a geranium leaf, at this day,strikes me with a half comical half serious wonder as to what change hascome over me in a moment; and then I see a straw hat and blue ribbons,and a quantity of curls, and a little black dog being held up, in twoslender arms, against a bank of blossoms and bright leaves.

Miss Murdstone had been looking for us. She found us here; and presentedher uncongenial cheek, the little wrinkles in it filled with hairpowder, to Dora to be kissed. Then she took Dora's arm in hers, andmarched us into breakfast as if it were a soldier's funeral.

How many cups of tea I drank, because Dora made it, I don't know. But,I perfectly remember that I sat swilling tea until my whole nervoussystem, if I had had any in those days, must have gone by the board. Byand by we went to church. Miss Murdstone was between Dora and me in thepew; but I heard her sing, and the congregation vanished. A sermon wasdelivered--about Dora, of course--and I am afraid that is all I know ofthe service.

We had a quiet day. No company, a walk, a family dinner of four, and anevening of looking over books and pictures; Miss Murdstone with a homilybefore her, and her eye upon us, keeping guard vigilantly. Ah! littledid Mr. Spenlow imagine, when he sat opposite to me after dinner thatday, with his pocket-handkerchief over his head, how fervently I wasembracing him, in my fancy, as his son-in-law! Little did he think, whenI took leave of him at night, that he had just given his full consent tomy being engaged to Dora, and that I was invoking blessings on his head!

We departed early in the morning, for we had a Salvage case coming on inthe Admiralty Court, requiring a rather accurate knowledge of the wholescience of navigation, in which (as we couldn't be expected to knowmuch about those matters in the Commons) the judge had entreated two oldTrinity Masters, for charity's sake, to come and help him out. Dora wasat the breakfast-table to make the tea again, however; and I had themelancholy pleasure of taking off my hat to her in the phaeton, as shestood on the door-step with Jip in her arms.

What the Admiralty was to me that day; what nonsense I made of our casein my mind, as I listened to it; how I saw 'DORA' engraved upon theblade of the silver oar which they lay upon the table, as the emblemof that high jurisdiction; and how I felt when Mr. Spenlow went homewithout me (I had had an insane hope that he might take me back again),as if I were a mariner myself, and the ship to which I belonged hadsailed away and left me on a desert island; I shall make no fruitlesseffort to describe. If that sleepy old court could rouse itself, andpresent in any visible form the daydreams I have had in it about Dora,it would reveal my truth.

I don't mean the dreams that I dreamed on that day alone, but day afterday, from week to week, and term to term. I went there, not to attend towhat was going on, but to think about Dora. If ever I bestowed a thoughtupon the cases, as they dragged their slow length before me, it was onlyto wonder, in the matrimonial cases (remembering Dora), how it wasthat married people could ever be otherwise than happy; and, in thePrerogative cases, to consider, if the money in question had been leftto me, what were the foremost steps I should immediately have takenin regard to Dora. Within the first week of my passion, I bought foursumptuous waistcoats--not for myself; I had no pride in them; forDora--and took to wearing straw-coloured kid gloves in the streets, andlaid the foundations of all the corns I have ever had. If the boots Iwore at that period could only be produced and compared with the naturalsize of my feet, they would show what the state of my heart was, in amost affecting manner.

And yet, wretched cripple as I made myself by this act of homage toDora, I walked miles upon miles daily in the hope of seeing her. Notonly was I soon as well known on the Norwood Road as the postmen on thatbeat, but I pervaded London likewise. I walked about the streets wherethe best shops for ladies were, I haunted the Bazaar like an unquietspirit, I fagged through the Park again and again, long after I wasquite knocked up. Sometimes, at long intervals and on rare occasions, Isaw her. Perhaps I saw her glove waved in a carriage window; perhaps Imet her, walked with her and Miss Murdstone a little way, and spoke toher. In the latter case I was always very miserable afterwards, to thinkthat I had said nothing to the purpose; or that she had no idea of theextent of my devotion, or that she cared nothing about me. I was alwayslooking out, as may be supposed, for another invitation to Mr. Spenlow'shouse. I was always being disappointed, for I got none.

Mrs. Crupp must have been a woman of penetration; for when thisattachment was but a few weeks old, and I had not had the courageto write more explicitly even to Agnes, than that I had been to Mr.Spenlow's house, 'whose family,' I added, 'consists of one daughter';--Isay Mrs. Crupp must have been a woman of penetration, for, even in thatearly stage, she found it out. She came up to me one evening, when Iwas very low, to ask (she being then afflicted with the disorder I havementioned) if I could oblige her with a little tincture of cardamumsmixed with rhubarb, and flavoured with seven drops of the essence ofcloves, which was the best remedy for her complaint;--or, if I had notsuch a thing by me, with a little brandy, which was the next best. Itwas not, she remarked, so palatable to her, but it was the next best. AsI had never even heard of the first remedy, and always had the second inthe closet, I gave Mrs. Crupp a glass of the second, which (that I mighthave no suspicion of its being devoted to any improper use) she began totake in my presence.

'Cheer up, sir,' said Mrs. Crupp. 'I can't abear to see you so, sir: I'ma mother myself.'

I did not quite perceive the application of this fact to myself, but Ismiled on Mrs. Crupp, as benignly as was in my power.

'Come, sir,' said Mrs. Crupp. 'Excuse me. I know what it is, sir.There's a lady in the case.'

'Mrs. Crupp?' I returned, reddening.

'Oh, bless you! Keep a good heart, sir!' said Mrs. Crupp, noddingencouragement. 'Never say die, sir! If She don't smile upon you,there's a many as will. You are a young gentleman to be smiled on, Mr.Copperfull, and you must learn your walue, sir.'

Mrs. Crupp always called me Mr. Copperfull: firstly, no doubt, becauseit was not my name; and secondly, I am inclined to think, in someindistinct association with a washing-day.

'What makes you suppose there is any young lady in the case, Mrs.Crupp?' said I.

'Mr. Copperfull,' said Mrs. Crupp, with a great deal of feeling, 'I'm amother myself.'

For some time Mrs. Crupp could only lay her hand upon her nankeen bosom,and fortify herself against returning pain with sips of her medicine. Atlength she spoke again.

'When the present set were took for you by your dear aunt, Mr.Copperfull,' said Mrs. Crupp, 'my remark were, I had now found summunI could care for. "Thank Ev'in!" were the expression, "I have now foundsummun I can care for!"--You don't eat enough, sir, nor yet drink.'

'Is that what you found your supposition on, Mrs. Crupp?' said I.

'Sir,' said Mrs. Crupp, in a tone approaching to severity, 'I'velaundressed other young gentlemen besides yourself. A young gentlemanmay be over-careful of himself, or he may be under-careful of himself.He may brush his hair too regular, or too un-regular. He may wear hisboots much too large for him, or much too small. That is according asthe young gentleman has his original character formed. But let him go towhich extreme he may, sir, there's a young lady in both of 'em.'

Mrs. Crupp shook her head in such a determined manner, that I had not aninch of vantage-ground left.

'It was but the gentleman which died here before yourself,' said Mrs.Crupp, 'that fell in love--with a barmaid--and had his waistcoats tookin directly, though much swelled by drinking.'

'Mrs. Crupp,' said I, 'I must beg you not to connect the young lady inmy case with a barmaid, or anything of that sort, if you please.'

'Mr. Copperfull,' returned Mrs. Crupp, 'I'm a mother myself, and notlikely. I ask your pardon, sir, if I intrude. I should never wish tointrude where I were not welcome. But you are a young gentleman, Mr.Copperfull, and my adwice to you is, to cheer up, sir, to keep a goodheart, and to know your own walue. If you was to take to something,sir,' said Mrs. Crupp, 'if you was to take to skittles, now, which ishealthy, you might find it divert your mind, and do you good.'

With these words, Mrs. Crupp, affecting to be very careful of thebrandy--which was all gone--thanked me with a majestic curtsey, andretired. As her figure disappeared into the gloom of the entry, thiscounsel certainly presented itself to my mind in the light of a slightliberty on Mrs. Crupp's part; but, at the same time, I was contentto receive it, in another point of view, as a word to the wise, and awarning in future to keep my secret better.