Until the day arrived on which I was to entertain my newly-foundold friends, I lived principally on Dora and coffee. In my love-lorncondition, my appetite languished; and I was glad of it, for I feltas though it would have been an act of perfidy towards Dora to have anatural relish for my dinner. The quantity of walking exercise I took,was not in this respect attended with its usual consequence, as thedisappointment counteracted the fresh air. I have my doubts, too,founded on the acute experience acquired at this period of my life,whether a sound enjoyment of animal food can develop itself freely inany human subject who is always in torment from tight boots. I thinkthe extremities require to be at peace before the stomach will conductitself with vigour.

On the occasion of this domestic little party, I did not repeat myformer extensive preparations. I merely provided a pair of soles,a small leg of mutton, and a pigeon-pie. Mrs. Crupp broke out intorebellion on my first bashful hint in reference to the cooking of thefish and joint, and said, with a dignified sense of injury, 'No! No,sir! You will not ask me sich a thing, for you are better acquaintedwith me than to suppose me capable of doing what I cannot do with ampialsatisfaction to my own feelings!' But, in the end, a compromise waseffected; and Mrs. Crupp consented to achieve this feat, on conditionthat I dined from home for a fortnight afterwards.

And here I may remark, that what I underwent from Mrs. Crupp, inconsequence of the tyranny she established over me, was dreadful. Inever was so much afraid of anyone. We made a compromise of everything.If I hesitated, she was taken with that wonderful disorder which wasalways lying in ambush in her system, ready, at the shortest notice, toprey upon her vitals. If I rang the bell impatiently, after half-a-dozenunavailing modest pulls, and she appeared at last--which was not by anymeans to be relied upon--she would appear with a reproachful aspect,sink breathless on a chair near the door, lay her hand upon her nankeenbosom, and become so ill, that I was glad, at any sacrifice of brandy oranything else, to get rid of her. If I objected to having my bed made atfive o'clock in the afternoon--which I do still think an uncomfortablearrangement--one motion of her hand towards the same nankeen region ofwounded sensibility was enough to make me falter an apology. In short,I would have done anything in an honourable way rather than give Mrs.Crupp offence; and she was the terror of my life.

I bought a second-hand dumb-waiter for this dinner-party, in preferenceto re-engaging the handy young man; against whom I had conceived aprejudice, in consequence of meeting him in the Strand, one Sundaymorning, in a waistcoat remarkably like one of mine, which had beenmissing since the former occasion. The 'young gal' was re-engaged; buton the stipulation that she should only bring in the dishes, and thenwithdraw to the landing-place, beyond the outer door; where a habit ofsniffing she had contracted would be lost upon the guests, and where herretiring on the plates would be a physical impossibility.

Having laid in the materials for a bowl of punch, to be compoundedby Mr. Micawber; having provided a bottle of lavender-water, twowax-candles, a paper of mixed pins, and a pincushion, to assist Mrs.Micawber in her toilette at my dressing-table; having also caused thefire in my bedroom to be lighted for Mrs. Micawber's convenience; andhaving laid the cloth with my own hands, I awaited the result withcomposure.

At the appointed time, my three visitors arrived together. Mr. Micawberwith more shirt-collar than usual, and a new ribbon to his eye-glass;Mrs. Micawber with her cap in a whitey-brown paper parcel; Traddlescarrying the parcel, and supporting Mrs. Micawber on his arm. They wereall delighted with my residence. When I conducted Mrs. Micawber to mydressing-table, and she saw the scale on which it was prepared for her,she was in such raptures, that she called Mr. Micawber to come in andlook.

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'this is luxurious. This is away of life which reminds me of the period when I was myself in a stateof celibacy, and Mrs. Micawber had not yet been solicited to plight herfaith at the Hymeneal altar.'

'He means, solicited by him, Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber,archly. 'He cannot answer for others.'

'My dear,' returned Mr. Micawber with sudden seriousness, 'I have nodesire to answer for others. I am too well aware that when, in theinscrutable decrees of Fate, you were reserved for me, it is possibleyou may have been reserved for one, destined, after a protractedstruggle, at length to fall a victim to pecuniary involvements of acomplicated nature. I understand your allusion, my love. I regret it,but I can bear it.'

'Micawber!' exclaimed Mrs. Micawber, in tears. 'Have I deserved this! I,who never have deserted you; who never WILL desert you, Micawber!' 'Mylove,' said Mr. Micawber, much affected, 'you will forgive, and our oldand tried friend Copperfield will, I am sure, forgive, the momentarylaceration of a wounded spirit, made sensitive by a recent collisionwith the Minion of Power--in other words, with a ribald Turncockattached to the water-works--and will pity, not condemn, its excesses.'

Mr. Micawber then embraced Mrs. Micawber, and pressed my hand; leavingme to infer from this broken allusion that his domestic supply ofwater had been cut off that afternoon, in consequence of default in thepayment of the company's rates.

To divert his thoughts from this melancholy subject, I informed Mr.Micawber that I relied upon him for a bowl of punch, and led him tothe lemons. His recent despondency, not to say despair, was gone in amoment. I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself amid the fragranceof lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning rum, and the steam ofboiling water, as Mr. Micawber did that afternoon. It was wonderful tosee his face shining at us out of a thin cloud of these delicate fumes,as he stirred, and mixed, and tasted, and looked as if he were making,instead of punch, a fortune for his family down to the latest posterity.As to Mrs. Micawber, I don't know whether it was the effect of the cap,or the lavender-water, or the pins, or the fire, or the wax-candles, butshe came out of my room, comparatively speaking, lovely. And the larkwas never gayer than that excellent woman.

I suppose--I never ventured to inquire, but I suppose--that Mrs. Crupp,after frying the soles, was taken ill. Because we broke down at thatpoint. The leg of mutton came up very red within, and very pale without:besides having a foreign substance of a gritty nature sprinkled overit, as if if had had a fall into the ashes of that remarkable kitchenfireplace. But we were not in condition to judge of this fact from theappearance of the gravy, forasmuch as the 'young gal' had dropped it allupon the stairs--where it remained, by the by, in a long train, until itwas worn out. The pigeon-pie was not bad, but it was a delusive pie: thecrust being like a disappointing head, phrenologically speaking: fullof lumps and bumps, with nothing particular underneath. In short, thebanquet was such a failure that I should have been quite unhappy--aboutthe failure, I mean, for I was always unhappy about Dora--if I had notbeen relieved by the great good humour of my company, and by a brightsuggestion from Mr. Micawber.

'My dear friend Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'accidents will occurin the best-regulated families; and in families not regulated by thatpervading influence which sanctifies while it enhances the--a--I wouldsay, in short, by the influence of Woman, in the lofty character ofWife, they may be expected with confidence, and must be borne withphilosophy. If you will allow me to take the liberty of remarking thatthere are few comestibles better, in their way, than a Devil, and thatI believe, with a little division of labour, we could accomplish a goodone if the young person in attendance could produce a gridiron, I wouldput it to you, that this little misfortune may be easily repaired.'

There was a gridiron in the pantry, on which my morning rasher ofbacon was cooked. We had it in, in a twinkling, and immediately appliedourselves to carrying Mr. Micawber's idea into effect. The division oflabour to which he had referred was this:--Traddles cut the mutton intoslices; Mr. Micawber (who could do anything of this sort to perfection)covered them with pepper, mustard, salt, and cayenne; I put them onthe gridiron, turned them with a fork, and took them off, under Mr.Micawber's direction; and Mrs. Micawber heated, and continually stirred,some mushroom ketchup in a little saucepan. When we had slices enoughdone to begin upon, we fell-to, with our sleeves still tucked up at thewrist, more slices sputtering and blazing on the fire, and our attentiondivided between the mutton on our plates, and the mutton then preparing.

What with the novelty of this cookery, the excellence of it, the bustleof it, the frequent starting up to look after it, the frequent sittingdown to dispose of it as the crisp slices came off the gridiron hot andhot, the being so busy, so flushed with the fire, so amused, and in themidst of such a tempting noise and savour, we reduced the leg of muttonto the bone. My own appetite came back miraculously. I am ashamed torecord it, but I really believe I forgot Dora for a little while. I amsatisfied that Mr. and Mrs. Micawber could not have enjoyed thefeast more, if they had sold a bed to provide it. Traddles laughed asheartily, almost the whole time, as he ate and worked. Indeed we alldid, all at once; and I dare say there was never a greater success.

We were at the height of our enjoyment, and were all busily engaged, inour several departments, endeavouring to bring the last batch of slicesto a state of perfection that should crown the feast, when I was awareof a strange presence in the room, and my eyes encountered those of thestaid Littimer, standing hat in hand before me.

'What's the matter?' I involuntarily asked.

'I beg your pardon, sir, I was directed to come in. Is my master nothere, sir?'

'No.'

'Have you not seen him, sir?'

'No; don't you come from him?'

'Not immediately so, sir.'

'Did he tell you you would find him here?'

'Not exactly so, sir. But I should think he might be here tomorrow, ashe has not been here today.' 'Is he coming up from Oxford?'

'I beg, sir,' he returned respectfully, 'that you will be seated, andallow me to do this.' With which he took the fork from my unresistinghand, and bent over the gridiron, as if his whole attention wereconcentrated on it.

We should not have been much discomposed, I dare say, by the appearanceof Steerforth himself, but we became in a moment the meekest of the meekbefore his respectable serving-man. Mr. Micawber, humming a tune, toshow that he was quite at ease, subsided into his chair, with the handleof a hastily concealed fork sticking out of the bosom of his coat, asif he had stabbed himself. Mrs. Micawber put on her brown gloves, andassumed a genteel languor. Traddles ran his greasy hands throughhis hair, and stood it bolt upright, and stared in confusion on thetable-cloth. As for me, I was a mere infant at the head of my own table;and hardly ventured to glance at the respectable phenomenon, who hadcome from Heaven knows where, to put my establishment to rights.

Meanwhile he took the mutton off the gridiron, and gravely handed itround. We all took some, but our appreciation of it was gone, and wemerely made a show of eating it. As we severally pushed away our plates,he noiselessly removed them, and set on the cheese. He took that off,too, when it was done with; cleared the table; piled everything on thedumb-waiter; gave us our wine-glasses; and, of his own accord, wheeledthe dumb-waiter into the pantry. All this was done in a perfect manner,and he never raised his eyes from what he was about. Yet his veryelbows, when he had his back towards me, seemed to teem with theexpression of his fixed opinion that I was extremely young.

'Can I do anything more, sir?'

I thanked him and said, No; but would he take no dinner himself?

'None, I am obliged to you, sir.'

'Is Mr. Steerforth coming from Oxford?'

'I beg your pardon, sir?'

'Is Mr. Steerforth coming from Oxford?'

'I should imagine that he might be here tomorrow, sir. I rather thoughthe might have been here today, sir. The mistake is mine, no doubt, sir.'

'If you should see him first--' said I.

'If you'll excuse me, sir, I don't think I shall see him first.'

'In case you do,' said I, 'pray say that I am sorry he was not heretoday, as an old schoolfellow of his was here.'

'Indeed, sir!' and he divided a bow between me and Traddles, with aglance at the latter.

He was moving softly to the door, when, in a forlorn hope of sayingsomething naturally--which I never could, to this man--I said:

'Oh! Littimer!'

'Sir!'

'Did you remain long at Yarmouth, that time?'

'Not particularly so, sir.'

'You saw the boat completed?'

'Yes, sir. I remained behind on purpose to see the boat completed.'

'I know!' He raised his eyes to mine respectfully.

'Mr. Steerforth has not seen it yet, I suppose?'

'I really can't say, sir. I think--but I really can't say, sir. I wishyou good night, sir.'

He comprehended everybody present, in the respectful bow with which hefollowed these words, and disappeared. My visitors seemed to breathemore freely when he was gone; but my own relief was very great, forbesides the constraint, arising from that extraordinary sense ofbeing at a disadvantage which I always had in this man's presence, myconscience had embarrassed me with whispers that I had mistrusted hismaster, and I could not repress a vague uneasy dread that he mightfind it out. How was it, having so little in reality to conceal, that Ialways DID feel as if this man were finding me out?

Mr. Micawber roused me from this reflection, which was blended witha certain remorseful apprehension of seeing Steerforth himself, bybestowing many encomiums on the absent Littimer as a most respectablefellow, and a thoroughly admirable servant. Mr. Micawber, I may remark,had taken his full share of the general bow, and had received it withinfinite condescension.

'But punch, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, tasting it, 'liketime and tide, waits for no man. Ah! it is at the present moment in highflavour. My love, will you give me your opinion?'

Mrs. Micawber pronounced it excellent.

'Then I will drink,' said Mr. Micawber, 'if my friend Copperfieldwill permit me to take that social liberty, to the days when my friendCopperfield and myself were younger, and fought our way in the worldside by side. I may say, of myself and Copperfield, in words we havesung together before now, that

We twa hae run about the braes And pu'd the gowans' fine--in a figurative point of view--on several occasions. I am not exactlyaware,' said Mr. Micawber, with the old roll in his voice, and the oldindescribable air of saying something genteel, 'what gowans may be, butI have no doubt that Copperfield and myself would frequently have takena pull at them, if it had been feasible.'

Mr. Micawber, at the then present moment, took a pull at his punch. Sowe all did: Traddles evidently lost in wondering at what distant timeMr. Micawber and I could have been comrades in the battle of the world.

'Ahem!' said Mr. Micawber, clearing his throat, and warming with thepunch and with the fire. 'My dear, another glass?'

Mrs. Micawber said it must be very little; but we couldn't allow that,so it was a glassful.

'As we are quite confidential here, Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs.Micawber, sipping her punch, 'Mr. Traddles being a part of ourdomesticity, I should much like to have your opinion on Mr. Micawber'sprospects. For corn,' said Mrs. Micawber argumentatively, 'as I haverepeatedly said to Mr. Micawber, may be gentlemanly, but it is notremunerative. Commission to the extent of two and ninepence ina fortnight cannot, however limited our ideas, be consideredremunerative.'

We were all agreed upon that.

'Then,' said Mrs. Micawber, who prided herself on taking a clear view ofthings, and keeping Mr. Micawber straight by her woman's wisdom, when hemight otherwise go a little crooked, 'then I ask myself this question.If corn is not to be relied upon, what is? Are coals to be relied upon?Not at all. We have turned our attention to that experiment, on thesuggestion of my family, and we find it fallacious.'

Mr. Micawber, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets,eyed us aside, and nodded his head, as much as to say that the case wasvery clearly put.

'The articles of corn and coals,' said Mrs. Micawber, still moreargumentatively, 'being equally out of the question, Mr. Copperfield,I naturally look round the world, and say, "What is there in which aperson of Mr. Micawber's talent is likely to succeed?" And I excludethe doing anything on commission, because commission is not a certainty.What is best suited to a person of Mr. Micawber's peculiar temperamentis, I am convinced, a certainty.'

Traddles and I both expressed, by a feeling murmur, that this greatdiscovery was no doubt true of Mr. Micawber, and that it did him muchcredit.

'I will not conceal from you, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs.Micawber, 'that I have long felt the Brewing business to be particularlyadapted to Mr. Micawber. Look at Barclay and Perkins! Look at Truman,Hanbury, and Buxton! It is on that extensive footing that Mr. Micawber,I know from my own knowledge of him, is calculated to shine; and theprofits, I am told, are e-NOR-MOUS! But if Mr. Micawber cannot get intothose firms--which decline to answer his letters, when he offers hisservices even in an inferior capacity--what is the use of dwelling uponthat idea? None. I may have a conviction that Mr. Micawber's manners--'

'Hem! Really, my dear,' interposed Mr. Micawber.

'My love, be silent,' said Mrs. Micawber, laying her brown glove on hishand. 'I may have a conviction, Mr. Copperfield, that Mr. Micawber'smanners peculiarly qualify him for the Banking business. I may arguewithin myself, that if I had a deposit at a banking-house, the mannersof Mr. Micawber, as representing that banking-house, would inspireconfidence, and must extend the connexion. But if the variousbanking-houses refuse to avail themselves of Mr. Micawber's abilities,or receive the offer of them with contumely, what is the use of dwellingupon THAT idea? None. As to originating a banking-business, I may knowthat there are members of my family who, if they chose to place theirmoney in Mr. Micawber's hands, might found an establishment of thatdescription. But if they do NOT choose to place their money in Mr.Micawber's hands--which they don't--what is the use of that? Again Icontend that we are no farther advanced than we were before.'

I shook my head, and said, 'Not a bit.' Traddles also shook his head,and said, 'Not a bit.'

'What do I deduce from this?' Mrs. Micawber went on to say, still withthe same air of putting a case lucidly. 'What is the conclusion, mydear Mr. Copperfield, to which I am irresistibly brought? Am I wrong insaying, it is clear that we must live?'

I answered 'Not at all!' and Traddles answered 'Not at all!' and I foundmyself afterwards sagely adding, alone, that a person must either liveor die.

'Just so,' returned Mrs. Micawber, 'It is precisely that. And the factis, my dear Mr. Copperfield, that we can not live without somethingwidely different from existing circumstances shortly turning up. NowI am convinced, myself, and this I have pointed out to Mr. Micawberseveral times of late, that things cannot be expected to turn up ofthemselves. We must, in a measure, assist to turn them up. I may bewrong, but I have formed that opinion.'

Both Traddles and I applauded it highly.

'Very well,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'Then what do I recommend? Here is Mr.Micawber with a variety of qualifications--with great talent--'

'Really, my love,' said Mr. Micawber.

'Pray, my dear, allow me to conclude. Here is Mr. Micawber, with avariety of qualifications, with great talent--I should say, with genius,but that may be the partiality of a wife--'

Traddles and I both murmured 'No.'

'And here is Mr. Micawber without any suitable position or employment.Where does that responsibility rest? Clearly on society. Then I wouldmake a fact so disgraceful known, and boldly challenge society to set itright. It appears to me, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber,forcibly, 'that what Mr. Micawber has to do, is to throw down thegauntlet to society, and say, in effect, "Show me who will take that up.Let the party immediately step forward."'

I ventured to ask Mrs. Micawber how this was to be done.

'By advertising,' said Mrs. Micawber--'in all the papers. It appears tome, that what Mr. Micawber has to do, in justice to himself, in justiceto his family, and I will even go so far as to say in justice tosociety, by which he has been hitherto overlooked, is to advertise inall the papers; to describe himself plainly as so-and-so, with such andsuch qualifications and to put it thus: "Now employ me, on remunerativeterms, and address, post-paid, to W. M., Post Office, Camden Town."'

'This idea of Mrs. Micawber's, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber,making his shirt-collar meet in front of his chin, and glancing at mesideways, 'is, in fact, the Leap to which I alluded, when I last had thepleasure of seeing you.'

'Advertising is rather expensive,' I remarked, dubiously.

'Exactly so!' said Mrs. Micawber, preserving the same logical air.'Quite true, my dear Mr. Copperfield! I have made the identicalobservation to Mr. Micawber. It is for that reason especially, that Ithink Mr. Micawber ought (as I have already said, in justice to himself,in justice to his family, and in justice to society) to raise a certainsum of money--on a bill.'

Mr. Micawber, leaning back in his chair, trifled with his eye-glassand cast his eyes up at the ceiling; but I thought him observant ofTraddles, too, who was looking at the fire.

'If no member of my family,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'is possessed ofsufficient natural feeling to negotiate that bill--I believe there is abetter business-term to express what I mean--'

Mr. Micawber, with his eyes still cast up at the ceiling, suggested'Discount.'

'To discount that bill,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'then my opinion is, thatMr. Micawber should go into the City, should take that bill into theMoney Market, and should dispose of it for what he can get. If theindividuals in the Money Market oblige Mr. Micawber to sustain a greatsacrifice, that is between themselves and their consciences. I viewit, steadily, as an investment. I recommend Mr. Micawber, my dear Mr.Copperfield, to do the same; to regard it as an investment which is sureof return, and to make up his mind to any sacrifice.'

I felt, but I am sure I don't know why, that this was self-denyingand devoted in Mrs. Micawber, and I uttered a murmur to that effect.Traddles, who took his tone from me, did likewise, still looking at thefire.

'I will not,' said Mrs. Micawber, finishing her punch, and gathering herscarf about her shoulders, preparatory to her withdrawal to my bedroom:'I will not protract these remarks on the subject of Mr. Micawber'specuniary affairs. At your fireside, my dear Mr. Copperfield, and in thepresence of Mr. Traddles, who, though not so old a friend, is quite oneof ourselves, I could not refrain from making you acquainted with thecourse I advise Mr. Micawber to take. I feel that the time is arrivedwhen Mr. Micawber should exert himself and--I will add--assert himself,and it appears to me that these are the means. I am aware that I ammerely a female, and that a masculine judgement is usually consideredmore competent to the discussion of such questions; still I must notforget that, when I lived at home with my papa and mama, my papa was inthe habit of saying, "Emma's form is fragile, but her grasp of a subjectis inferior to none." That my papa was too partial, I well know; butthat he was an observer of character in some degree, my duty and myreason equally forbid me to doubt.'

With these words, and resisting our entreaties that she would gracethe remaining circulation of the punch with her presence, Mrs. Micawberretired to my bedroom. And really I felt that she was a noble woman--thesort of woman who might have been a Roman matron, and done all manner ofheroic things, in times of public trouble.

In the fervour of this impression, I congratulated Mr. Micawber on thetreasure he possessed. So did Traddles. Mr. Micawber extended hishand to each of us in succession, and then covered his face with hispocket-handkerchief, which I think had more snuff upon it than hewas aware of. He then returned to the punch, in the highest state ofexhilaration.

He was full of eloquence. He gave us to understand that in our childrenwe lived again, and that, under the pressure of pecuniary difficulties,any accession to their number was doubly welcome. He said that Mrs.Micawber had latterly had her doubts on this point, but that he haddispelled them, and reassured her. As to her family, they were totallyunworthy of her, and their sentiments were utterly indifferent to him,and they might--I quote his own expression--go to the Devil.

Mr. Micawber then delivered a warm eulogy on Traddles. He saidTraddles's was a character, to the steady virtues of which he (Mr.Micawber) could lay no claim, but which, he thanked Heaven, he couldadmire. He feelingly alluded to the young lady, unknown, whom Traddleshad honoured with his affection, and who had reciprocated that affectionby honouring and blessing Traddles with her affection. Mr. Micawberpledged her. So did I. Traddles thanked us both, by saying, with asimplicity and honesty I had sense enough to be quite charmed with,'I am very much obliged to you indeed. And I do assure you, she's thedearest girl!--'

Mr. Micawber took an early opportunity, after that, of hinting, with theutmost delicacy and ceremony, at the state of MY affections. Nothingbut the serious assurance of his friend Copperfield to the contrary,he observed, could deprive him of the impression that his friendCopperfield loved and was beloved. After feeling very hot anduncomfortable for some time, and after a good deal of blushing,stammering, and denying, I said, having my glass in my hand, 'Well! Iwould give them D.!' which so excited and gratified Mr. Micawber,that he ran with a glass of punch into my bedroom, in order that Mrs.Micawber might drink D., who drank it with enthusiasm, crying fromwithin, in a shrill voice, 'Hear, hear! My dear Mr. Copperfield, I amdelighted. Hear!' and tapping at the wall, by way of applause.

Our conversation, afterwards, took a more worldly turn; Mr. Micawbertelling us that he found Camden Town inconvenient, and that the firstthing he contemplated doing, when the advertisement should have been thecause of something satisfactory turning up, was to move. He mentioneda terrace at the western end of Oxford Street, fronting Hyde Park, onwhich he had always had his eye, but which he did not expect to attainimmediately, as it would require a large establishment. There wouldprobably be an interval, he explained, in which he should contenthimself with the upper part of a house, over some respectable place ofbusiness--say in Piccadilly,--which would be a cheerful situation forMrs. Micawber; and where, by throwing out a bow-window, or carrying upthe roof another story, or making some little alteration of that sort,they might live, comfortably and reputably, for a few years. Whateverwas reserved for him, he expressly said, or wherever his abode might be,we might rely on this--there would always be a room for Traddles, and aknife and fork for me. We acknowledged his kindness; and he begged usto forgive his having launched into these practical and business-likedetails, and to excuse it as natural in one who was making entirely newarrangements in life.

Mrs. Micawber, tapping at the wall again to know if tea were ready,broke up this particular phase of our friendly conversation. She madetea for us in a most agreeable manner; and, whenever I went near her, inhanding about the tea-cups and bread-and-butter, asked me, in a whisper,whether D. was fair, or dark, or whether she was short, or tall: orsomething of that kind; which I think I liked. After tea, we discussed avariety of topics before the fire; and Mrs. Micawber was good enoughto sing us (in a small, thin, flat voice, which I remembered to haveconsidered, when I first knew her, the very table-beer of acoustics) thefavourite ballads of 'The Dashing White Sergeant', and 'Little Tafflin'.For both of these songs Mrs. Micawber had been famous when she lived athome with her papa and mama. Mr. Micawber told us, that when he heardher sing the first one, on the first occasion of his seeing her beneaththe parental roof, she had attracted his attention in an extraordinarydegree; but that when it came to Little Tafflin, he had resolved to winthat woman or perish in the attempt.

It was between ten and eleven o'clock when Mrs. Micawber rose to replaceher cap in the whitey-brown paper parcel, and to put on her bonnet. Mr.Micawber took the opportunity of Traddles putting on his great-coat, toslip a letter into my hand, with a whispered request that I would readit at my leisure. I also took the opportunity of my holding a candleover the banisters to light them down, when Mr. Micawber was goingfirst, leading Mrs. Micawber, and Traddles was following with the cap,to detain Traddles for a moment on the top of the stairs.

'Traddles,' said I, 'Mr. Micawber don't mean any harm, poor fellow: but,if I were you, I wouldn't lend him anything.'

'My dear Copperfield,' returned Traddles, smiling, 'I haven't gotanything to lend.'

'You have got a name, you know,' said I.

'Oh! You call THAT something to lend?' returned Traddles, with athoughtful look.

'Certainly.'

'Oh!' said Traddles. 'Yes, to be sure! I am very much obliged to you,Copperfield; but--I am afraid I have lent him that already.'

'For the bill that is to be a certain investment?' I inquired.

'No,' said Traddles. 'Not for that one. This is the first I have heardof that one. I have been thinking that he will most likely propose thatone, on the way home. Mine's another.'

'I hope there will be nothing wrong about it,' said I. 'I hope not,'said Traddles. 'I should think not, though, because he told me, only theother day, that it was provided for. That was Mr. Micawber's expression,"Provided for."'

Mr. Micawber looking up at this juncture to where we were standing, Ihad only time to repeat my caution. Traddles thanked me, and descended.But I was much afraid, when I observed the good-natured manner in whichhe went down with the cap in his hand, and gave Mrs. Micawber his arm,that he would be carried into the Money Market neck and heels.

I returned to my fireside, and was musing, half gravely and halflaughing, on the character of Mr. Micawber and the old relations betweenus, when I heard a quick step ascending the stairs. At first, I thoughtit was Traddles coming back for something Mrs. Micawber had left behind;but as the step approached, I knew it, and felt my heart beat high, andthe blood rush to my face, for it was Steerforth's.

I was never unmindful of Agnes, and she never left that sanctuary in mythoughts--if I may call it so--where I had placed her from the first.But when he entered, and stood before me with his hand out, the darknessthat had fallen on him changed to light, and I felt confounded andashamed of having doubted one I loved so heartily. I loved her none theless; I thought of her as the same benignant, gentle angel in my life; Ireproached myself, not her, with having done him an injury; and I wouldhave made him any atonement if I had known what to make, and how to makeit.

'Why, Daisy, old boy, dumb-foundered!' laughed Steerforth, shakingmy hand heartily, and throwing it gaily away. 'Have I detected you inanother feast, you Sybarite! These Doctors' Commons fellows are thegayest men in town, I believe, and beat us sober Oxford people all tonothing!' His bright glance went merrily round the room, as he tookthe seat on the sofa opposite to me, which Mrs. Micawber had recentlyvacated, and stirred the fire into a blaze.

'I was so surprised at first,' said I, giving him welcome with allthe cordiality I felt, 'that I had hardly breath to greet you with,Steerforth.'

'Well, the sight of me is good for sore eyes, as the Scotch say,'replied Steerforth, 'and so is the sight of you, Daisy, in full bloom.How are you, my Bacchanal?'

'I am very well,' said I; 'and not at all Bacchanalian tonight, though Iconfess to another party of three.'

'All of whom I met in the street, talking loud in your praise,' returnedSteerforth. 'Who's our friend in the tights?'

I gave him the best idea I could, in a few words, of Mr. Micawber. Helaughed heartily at my feeble portrait of that gentleman, and said hewas a man to know, and he must know him. 'But who do you suppose ourother friend is?' said I, in my turn.

'Heaven knows,' said Steerforth. 'Not a bore, I hope? I thought helooked a little like one.'

'Traddles!' I replied, triumphantly.

'Who's he?' asked Steerforth, in his careless way.

'Don't you remember Traddles? Traddles in our room at Salem House?'

'Oh! That fellow!' said Steerforth, beating a lump of coal on the topof the fire, with the poker. 'Is he as soft as ever? And where the deucedid you pick him up?'

I extolled Traddles in reply, as highly as I could; for I felt thatSteerforth rather slighted him. Steerforth, dismissing the subject witha light nod, and a smile, and the remark that he would be glad to seethe old fellow too, for he had always been an odd fish, inquired if Icould give him anything to eat? During most of this short dialogue, whenhe had not been speaking in a wild vivacious manner, he had sat idlybeating on the lump of coal with the poker. I observed that he did thesame thing while I was getting out the remains of the pigeon-pie, and soforth.

'Why, Daisy, here's a supper for a king!' he exclaimed, starting out ofhis silence with a burst, and taking his seat at the table. 'I shall doit justice, for I have come from Yarmouth.'

'I thought you came from Oxford?' I returned.

'Not I,' said Steerforth. 'I have been seafaring--better employed.'

'Littimer was here today, to inquire for you,' I remarked, 'and Iunderstood him that you were at Oxford; though, now I think of it, hecertainly did not say so.'

'Littimer is a greater fool than I thought him, to have been inquiringfor me at all,' said Steerforth, jovially pouring out a glass of wine,and drinking to me. 'As to understanding him, you are a cleverer fellowthan most of us, Daisy, if you can do that.'

'That's true, indeed,' said I, moving my chair to the table. 'So youhave been at Yarmouth, Steerforth!' interested to know all about it.'Have you been there long?'

'No,' he returned. 'An escapade of a week or so.'

'And how are they all? Of course, little Emily is not married yet?'

'Not yet. Going to be, I believe--in so many weeks, or months, orsomething or other. I have not seen much of 'em. By the by'; he laiddown his knife and fork, which he had been using with great diligence,and began feeling in his pockets; 'I have a letter for you.'

'From whom?'

'Why, from your old nurse,' he returned, taking some papers out of hisbreast pocket. "'J. Steerforth, Esquire, debtor, to The WillingMind"; that's not it. Patience, and we'll find it presently. Oldwhat's-his-name's in a bad way, and it's about that, I believe.'

'Barkis, do you mean?'

'Yes!' still feeling in his pockets, and looking over their contents:'it's all over with poor Barkis, I am afraid. I saw a little apothecarythere--surgeon, or whatever he is--who brought your worship into theworld. He was mighty learned about the case, to me; but the upshot ofhis opinion was, that the carrier was making his last journey ratherfast.---Put your hand into the breast pocket of my great-coat on thechair yonder, and I think you'll find the letter. Is it there?'

'Here it is!' said I.

'That's right!'

It was from Peggotty; something less legible than usual, and brief. Itinformed me of her husband's hopeless state, and hinted at his being'a little nearer' than heretofore, and consequently more difficultto manage for his own comfort. It said nothing of her wearinessand watching, and praised him highly. It was written with a plain,unaffected, homely piety that I knew to be genuine, and ended with 'myduty to my ever darling'--meaning myself.

While I deciphered it, Steerforth continued to eat and drink.

'It's a bad job,' he said, when I had done; 'but the sun sets every day,and people die every minute, and we mustn't be scared by the common lot.If we failed to hold our own, because that equal foot at all men's doorswas heard knocking somewhere, every object in this world would slip fromus. No! Ride on! Rough-shod if need be, smooth-shod if that will do, butride on! Ride on over all obstacles, and win the race!'

'And win what race?' said I.

'The race that one has started in,' said he. 'Ride on!'

I noticed, I remember, as he paused, looking at me with his handsomehead a little thrown back, and his glass raised in his hand, that,though the freshness of the sea-wind was on his face, and it was ruddy,there were traces in it, made since I last saw it, as if he had appliedhimself to some habitual strain of the fervent energy which, whenroused, was so passionately roused within him. I had it in my thoughtsto remonstrate with him upon his desperate way of pursuing any fancythat he took--such as this buffeting of rough seas, and braving of hardweather, for example--when my mind glanced off to the immediate subjectof our conversation again, and pursued that instead.

'I tell you what, Steerforth,' said I, 'if your high spirits will listento me--'

'They are potent spirits, and will do whatever you like,' he answered,moving from the table to the fireside again.

'Then I tell you what, Steerforth. I think I will go down and see myold nurse. It is not that I can do her any good, or render her any realservice; but she is so attached to me that my visit will have as mucheffect on her, as if I could do both. She will take it so kindly that itwill be a comfort and support to her. It is no great effort to make,I am sure, for such a friend as she has been to me. Wouldn't you go aday's journey, if you were in my place?'

His face was thoughtful, and he sat considering a little before heanswered, in a low voice, 'Well! Go. You can do no harm.'

'You have just come back,' said I, 'and it would be in vain to ask youto go with me?'

'Quite,' he returned. 'I am for Highgate tonight. I have not seenmy mother this long time, and it lies upon my conscience, forit's something to be loved as she loves her prodigal son.---Bah!Nonsense!--You mean to go tomorrow, I suppose?' he said, holding me outat arm's length, with a hand on each of my shoulders.

'Yes, I think so.'

'Well, then, don't go till next day. I wanted you to come and stay afew days with us. Here I am, on purpose to bid you, and you fly off toYarmouth!'

'You are a nice fellow to talk of flying off, Steerforth, who are alwaysrunning wild on some unknown expedition or other!'

He looked at me for a moment without speaking, and then rejoined, stillholding me as before, and giving me a shake:

'Come! Say the next day, and pass as much of tomorrow as you can withus! Who knows when we may meet again, else? Come! Say the next day! Iwant you to stand between Rosa Dartle and me, and keep us asunder.'

'Would you love each other too much, without me?'

'Yes; or hate,' laughed Steerforth; 'no matter which. Come! Say the nextday!'

I said the next day; and he put on his great-coat and lighted his cigar,and set off to walk home. Finding him in this intention, I put on my owngreat-coat (but did not light my own cigar, having had enough of thatfor one while) and walked with him as far as the open road: a dull road,then, at night. He was in great spirits all the way; and when we parted,and I looked after him going so gallantly and airily homeward, I thoughtof his saying, 'Ride on over all obstacles, and win the race!' andwished, for the first time, that he had some worthy race to run.

I was undressing in my own room, when Mr. Micawber's letter tumbled onthe floor. Thus reminded of it, I broke the seal and read as follows. Itwas dated an hour and a half before dinner. I am not sure whether Ihave mentioned that, when Mr. Micawber was at any particularly desperatecrisis, he used a sort of legal phraseology, which he seemed to thinkequivalent to winding up his affairs.

'SIR--for I dare not say my dear Copperfield,

'It is expedient that I should inform you that the undersigned isCrushed. Some flickering efforts to spare you the premature knowledge ofhis calamitous position, you may observe in him this day; but hope hassunk beneath the horizon, and the undersigned is Crushed.

'The present communication is penned within the personal range (I cannotcall it the society) of an individual, in a state closely borderingon intoxication, employed by a broker. That individual is in legalpossession of the premises, under a distress for rent. His inventoryincludes, not only the chattels and effects of every descriptionbelonging to the undersigned, as yearly tenant of this habitation, butalso those appertaining to Mr. Thomas Traddles, lodger, a member of theHonourable Society of the Inner Temple.

'If any drop of gloom were wanting in the overflowing cup, which is now"commended" (in the language of an immortal Writer) to the lips of theundersigned, it would be found in the fact, that a friendly acceptancegranted to the undersigned, by the before-mentioned Mr. Thomas Traddles,for the sum Of 23l 4s 9 1/2d is over due, and is NOT provided for. Also,in the fact that the living responsibilities clinging to the undersignedwill, in the course of nature, be increased by the sum of one morehelpless victim; whose miserable appearance may be looked for--in roundnumbers--at the expiration of a period not exceeding six lunar monthsfrom the present date.

'After premising thus much, it would be a work of supererogation to add,that dust and ashes are for ever scattered

'On 'The 'Head 'Of 'WILKINS MICAWBER.'

Poor Traddles! I knew enough of Mr. Micawber by this time, to foreseethat he might be expected to recover the blow; but my night's rest wassorely distressed by thoughts of Traddles, and of the curate's daughter,who was one of ten, down in Devonshire, and who was such a dear girl,and who would wait for Traddles (ominous praise!) until she was sixty,or any age that could be mentioned.