All this time, I had gone on loving Dora, harder than ever. Her idea wasmy refuge in disappointment and distress, and made some amends to me,even for the loss of my friend. The more I pitied myself, or pitiedothers, the more I sought for consolation in the image of Dora. Thegreater the accumulation of deceit and trouble in the world, thebrighter and the purer shone the star of Dora high above the world. Idon't think I had any definite idea where Dora came from, or in whatdegree she was related to a higher order of beings; but I am quite sureI should have scouted the notion of her being simply human, like anyother young lady, with indignation and contempt.

If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely overhead and ears in love with her, but I was saturated through and through.Enough love might have been wrung out of me, metaphorically speaking,to drown anybody in; and yet there would have remained enough within me,and all over me, to pervade my entire existence.

The first thing I did, on my own account, when I came back, was to takea night-walk to Norwood, and, like the subject of a venerable riddle ofmy childhood, to go 'round and round the house, without evertouching the house', thinking about Dora. I believe the theme of thisincomprehensible conundrum was the moon. No matter what it was, I, themoon-struck slave of Dora, perambulated round and round the house andgarden for two hours, looking through crevices in the palings, gettingmy chin by dint of violent exertion above the rusty nails on the top,blowing kisses at the lights in the windows, and romantically callingon the night, at intervals, to shield my Dora--I don't exactly know whatfrom, I suppose from fire. Perhaps from mice, to which she had a greatobjection.

My love was so much in my mind and it was so natural to me to confide inPeggotty, when I found her again by my side of an evening with the oldset of industrial implements, busily making the tour of my wardrobe,that I imparted to her, in a sufficiently roundabout way, my greatsecret. Peggotty was strongly interested, but I could not get her intomy view of the case at all. She was audaciously prejudiced in my favour,and quite unable to understand why I should have any misgivings, or below-spirited about it. 'The young lady might think herself well off,'she observed, 'to have such a beau. And as to her Pa,' she said, 'whatdid the gentleman expect, for gracious sake!'

I observed, however, that Mr. Spenlow's proctorial gown and stiff cravattook Peggotty down a little, and inspired her with a greater reverencefor the man who was gradually becoming more and more etherealized in myeyes every day, and about whom a reflected radiance seemed to me to beamwhen he sat erect in Court among his papers, like a little lighthouse ina sea of stationery. And by the by, it used to be uncommonly strangeto me to consider, I remember, as I sat in Court too, how those dim oldjudges and doctors wouldn't have cared for Dora, if they had knownher; how they wouldn't have gone out of their senses with rapture, ifmarriage with Dora had been proposed to them; how Dora might have sung,and played upon that glorified guitar, until she led me to the verge ofmadness, yet not have tempted one of those slow-goers an inch out of hisroad!

I despised them, to a man. Frozen-out old gardeners in the flower-bedsof the heart, I took a personal offence against them all. The Benchwas nothing to me but an insensible blunderer. The Bar had no moretenderness or poetry in it, than the bar of a public-house.

Taking the management of Peggotty's affairs into my own hands, withno little pride, I proved the will, and came to a settlement with theLegacy Duty-office, and took her to the Bank, and soon got everythinginto an orderly train. We varied the legal character of theseproceedings by going to see some perspiring Wax-work, in Fleet Street(melted, I should hope, these twenty years); and by visiting MissLinwood's Exhibition, which I remember as a Mausoleum of needlework,favourable to self-examination and repentance; and by inspecting theTower of London; and going to the top of St. Paul's. All these wondersafforded Peggotty as much pleasure as she was able to enjoy, underexisting circumstances: except, I think, St. Paul's, which, from herlong attachment to her work-box, became a rival of the picture on thelid, and was, in some particulars, vanquished, she considered, by thatwork of art.

Peggotty's business, which was what we used to call 'common-formbusiness' in the Commons (and very light and lucrative the common-formbusiness was), being settled, I took her down to the office one morningto pay her bill. Mr. Spenlow had stepped out, old Tiffey said, to get agentleman sworn for a marriage licence; but as I knew he would beback directly, our place lying close to the Surrogate's, and to theVicar-General's office too, I told Peggotty to wait.

We were a little like undertakers, in the Commons, as regarded Probatetransactions; generally making it a rule to look more or less cut up,when we had to deal with clients in mourning. In a similar feelingof delicacy, we were always blithe and light-hearted with the licenceclients. Therefore I hinted to Peggotty that she would find Mr. Spenlowmuch recovered from the shock of Mr. Barkis's decease; and indeed hecame in like a bridegroom.

But neither Peggotty nor I had eyes for him, when we saw, in companywith him, Mr. Murdstone. He was very little changed. His hair looked asthick, and was certainly as black, as ever; and his glance was as littleto be trusted as of old.

'Ah, Copperfield?' said Mr. Spenlow. 'You know this gentleman, Ibelieve?'

I made my gentleman a distant bow, and Peggotty barely recognized him.He was, at first, somewhat disconcerted to meet us two together; butquickly decided what to do, and came up to me.

'I hope,' he said, 'that you are doing well?'

'It can hardly be interesting to you,' said I. 'Yes, if you wish toknow.'

We looked at each other, and he addressed himself to Peggotty.

'And you,' said he. 'I am sorry to observe that you have lost yourhusband.'

'It's not the first loss I have had in my life, Mr. Murdstone,' repliedPeggotty, trembling from head to foot. 'I am glad to hope that there isnobody to blame for this one,--nobody to answer for it.'

'Ha!' said he; 'that's a comfortable reflection. You have done yourduty?'

'I have not worn anybody's life away,' said Peggotty, 'I am thankful tothink! No, Mr. Murdstone, I have not worrited and frightened any sweetcreetur to an early grave!'

He eyed her gloomily--remorsefully I thought--for an instant; and said,turning his head towards me, but looking at my feet instead of my face:

'We are not likely to encounter soon again;--a source of satisfaction tous both, no doubt, for such meetings as this can never be agreeable. Ido not expect that you, who always rebelled against my just authority,exerted for your benefit and reformation, should owe me any good-willnow. There is an antipathy between us--'

'An old one, I believe?' said I, interrupting him.

He smiled, and shot as evil a glance at me as could come from his darkeyes.

'It rankled in your baby breast,' he said. 'It embittered the life ofyour poor mother. You are right. I hope you may do better, yet; I hopeyou may correct yourself.'

Here he ended the dialogue, which had been carried on in a low voice,in a corner of the outer office, by passing into Mr. Spenlow's room, andsaying aloud, in his smoothest manner:

'Gentlemen of Mr. Spenlow's profession are accustomed to familydifferences, and know how complicated and difficult they always are!'With that, he paid the money for his licence; and, receiving it neatlyfolded from Mr. Spenlow, together with a shake of the hand, and a politewish for his happiness and the lady's, went out of the office.

I might have had more difficulty in constraining myself to be silentunder his words, if I had had less difficulty in impressing uponPeggotty (who was only angry on my account, good creature!) that we werenot in a place for recrimination, and that I besought her to hold herpeace. She was so unusually roused, that I was glad to compound foran affectionate hug, elicited by this revival in her mind of our oldinjuries, and to make the best I could of it, before Mr. Spenlow and theclerks.

Mr. Spenlow did not appear to know what the connexion between Mr.Murdstone and myself was; which I was glad of, for I could not bear toacknowledge him, even in my own breast, remembering what I did of thehistory of my poor mother. Mr. Spenlow seemed to think, if he thoughtanything about the matter, that my aunt was the leader of the stateparty in our family, and that there was a rebel party commanded bysomebody else--so I gathered at least from what he said, while we werewaiting for Mr. Tiffey to make out Peggotty's bill of costs.

'Miss Trotwood,' he remarked, 'is very firm, no doubt, and not likelyto give way to opposition. I have an admiration for her character, andI may congratulate you, Copperfield, on being on the right side.Differences between relations are much to be deplored--but they areextremely general--and the great thing is, to be on the right side':meaning, I take it, on the side of the moneyed interest.

'Rather a good marriage this, I believe?' said Mr. Spenlow.

I explained that I knew nothing about it.

'Indeed!' he said. 'Speaking from the few words Mr. Murdstonedropped--as a man frequently does on these occasions--and from what MissMurdstone let fall, I should say it was rather a good marriage.'

'Do you mean that there is money, sir?' I asked.

'Yes,' said Mr. Spenlow, 'I understand there's money. Beauty too, I amtold.'

'Indeed! Is his new wife young?'

'Just of age,' said Mr. Spenlow. 'So lately, that I should think theyhad been waiting for that.'

'Lord deliver her!' said Peggotty. So very emphatically andunexpectedly, that we were all three discomposed; until Tiffey came inwith the bill.

Old Tiffey soon appeared, however, and handed it to Mr. Spenlow, tolook over. Mr. Spenlow, settling his chin in his cravat and rubbing itsoftly, went over the items with a deprecatory air--as if it were allJorkins's doing--and handed it back to Tiffey with a bland sigh.

'Yes,' he said. 'That's right. Quite right. I should have been extremelyhappy, Copperfield, to have limited these charges to the actualexpenditure out of pocket, but it is an irksome incident in myprofessional life, that I am not at liberty to consult my own wishes. Ihave a partner--Mr. Jorkins.'

As he said this with a gentle melancholy, which was the next thing tomaking no charge at all, I expressed my acknowledgements on Peggotty'sbehalf, and paid Tiffey in banknotes. Peggotty then retired toher lodging, and Mr. Spenlow and I went into Court, where we had adivorce-suit coming on, under an ingenious little statute (repealednow, I believe, but in virtue of which I have seen several marriagesannulled), of which the merits were these. The husband, whose name wasThomas Benjamin, had taken out his marriage licence as Thomas only;suppressing the Benjamin, in case he should not find himself ascomfortable as he expected. NOT finding himself as comfortable as heexpected, or being a little fatigued with his wife, poor fellow, henow came forward, by a friend, after being married a year or two, anddeclared that his name was Thomas Benjamin, and therefore he was notmarried at all. Which the Court confirmed, to his great satisfaction.

I must say that I had my doubts about the strict justice of this,and was not even frightened out of them by the bushel of wheat whichreconciles all anomalies. But Mr. Spenlow argued the matter with me. Hesaid, Look at the world, there was good and evil in that; look at theecclesiastical law, there was good and evil in THAT. It was all part ofa system. Very good. There you were!

I had not the hardihood to suggest to Dora's father that possiblywe might even improve the world a little, if we got up early in themorning, and took off our coats to the work; but I confessed that Ithought we might improve the Commons. Mr. Spenlow replied that he wouldparticularly advise me to dismiss that idea from my mind, as not beingworthy of my gentlemanly character; but that he would be glad to hearfrom me of what improvement I thought the Commons susceptible?

Taking that part of the Commons which happened to be nearest to us--forour man was unmarried by this time, and we were out of Court, andstrolling past the Prerogative Office--I submitted that I thought thePrerogative Office rather a queerly managed institution. Mr. Spenlowinquired in what respect? I replied, with all due deference to hisexperience (but with more deference, I am afraid, to his being Dora'sfather), that perhaps it was a little nonsensical that the Registry ofthat Court, containing the original wills of all persons leaving effectswithin the immense province of Canterbury, for three whole centuries,should be an accidental building, never designed for the purpose, leasedby the registrars for their Own private emolument, unsafe, not evenascertained to be fire-proof, choked with the important documentsit held, and positively, from the roof to the basement, a mercenaryspeculation of the registrars, who took great fees from the public, andcrammed the public's wills away anyhow and anywhere, having no otherobject than to get rid of them cheaply. That, perhaps, it was a littleunreasonable that these registrars in the receipt of profits amountingto eight or nine thousand pounds a year (to say nothing of the profitsof the deputy registrars, and clerks of seats), should not be obliged tospend a little of that money, in finding a reasonably safe place for theimportant documents which all classes of people were compelled to handover to them, whether they would or no. That, perhaps, it was a littleunjust, that all the great offices in this great office should bemagnificent sinecures, while the unfortunate working-clerks in the colddark room upstairs were the worst rewarded, and the least consideredmen, doing important services, in London. That perhaps it was a littleindecent that the principal registrar of all, whose duty it was tofind the public, constantly resorting to this place, all needfulaccommodation, should be an enormous sinecurist in virtue of that post(and might be, besides, a clergyman, a pluralist, the holder of astaff in a cathedral, and what not),--while the public was put to theinconvenience of which we had a specimen every afternoon when the officewas busy, and which we knew to be quite monstrous. That, perhaps,in short, this Prerogative Office of the diocese of Canterbury wasaltogether such a pestilent job, and such a pernicious absurdity, thatbut for its being squeezed away in a corner of St. Paul's Churchyard,which few people knew, it must have been turned completely inside out,and upside down, long ago.

Mr. Spenlow smiled as I became modestly warm on the subject, and thenargued this question with me as he had argued the other. He said, whatwas it after all? It was a question of feeling. If the public feltthat their wills were in safe keeping, and took it for granted that theoffice was not to be made better, who was the worse for it? Nobody. Whowas the better for it? All the Sinecurists. Very well. Then the goodpredominated. It might not be a perfect system; nothing was perfect;but what he objected to, was, the insertion of the wedge. Under thePrerogative Office, the country had been glorious. Insert the wedge intothe Prerogative Office, and the country would cease to be glorious. Heconsidered it the principle of a gentleman to take things as he foundthem; and he had no doubt the Prerogative Office would last our time. Ideferred to his opinion, though I had great doubts of it myself. I findhe was right, however; for it has not only lasted to the present moment,but has done so in the teeth of a great parliamentary report made (nottoo willingly) eighteen years ago, when all these objections of minewere set forth in detail, and when the existing stowage for wills wasdescribed as equal to the accumulation of only two years and a halfmore. What they have done with them since; whether they have lost many,or whether they sell any, now and then, to the butter shops; I don'tknow. I am glad mine is not there, and I hope it may not go there, yetawhile.

I have set all this down, in my present blissful chapter, because hereit comes into its natural place. Mr. Spenlow and I falling into thisconversation, prolonged it and our saunter to and fro, until we divergedinto general topics. And so it came about, in the end, that Mr. Spenlowtold me this day week was Dora's birthday, and he would be glad if Iwould come down and join a little picnic on the occasion. I went out ofmy senses immediately; became a mere driveller next day, on receipt ofa little lace-edged sheet of note-paper, 'Favoured by papa. To remind';and passed the intervening period in a state of dotage.

I think I committed every possible absurdity in the way of preparationfor this blessed event. I turn hot when I remember the cravat I bought.My boots might be placed in any collection of instruments of torture.I provided, and sent down by the Norwood coach the night before, adelicate little hamper, amounting in itself, I thought, almost to adeclaration. There were crackers in it with the tenderest mottoes thatcould be got for money. At six in the morning, I was in Covent GardenMarket, buying a bouquet for Dora. At ten I was on horseback (I hired agallant grey, for the occasion), with the bouquet in my hat, to keep itfresh, trotting down to Norwood.

I suppose that when I saw Dora in the garden and pretended not to seeher, and rode past the house pretending to be anxiously looking forit, I committed two small fooleries which other young gentlemen in mycircumstances might have committed--because they came so very naturalto me. But oh! when I DID find the house, and DID dismount at thegarden-gate, and drag those stony-hearted boots across the lawn to Dorasitting on a garden-seat under a lilac tree, what a spectacle she was,upon that beautiful morning, among the butterflies, in a white chipbonnet and a dress of celestial blue! There was a young lady withher--comparatively stricken in years--almost twenty, I should say. Hername was Miss Mills. And Dora called her Julia. She was the bosom friendof Dora. Happy Miss Mills!

Jip was there, and Jip WOULD bark at me again. When I presented mybouquet, he gnashed his teeth with jealousy. Well he might. If he hadthe least idea how I adored his mistress, well he might!

'Oh, thank you, Mr. Copperfield! What dear flowers!' said Dora.

I had had an intention of saying (and had been studying the best form ofwords for three miles) that I thought them beautiful before I saw themso near HER. But I couldn't manage it. She was too bewildering. To seeher lay the flowers against her little dimpled chin, was to lose allpresence of mind and power of language in a feeble ecstasy. I wonder Ididn't say, 'Kill me, if you have a heart, Miss Mills. Let me die here!'

Then Dora held my flowers to Jip to smell. Then Jip growled, andwouldn't smell them. Then Dora laughed, and held them a little closerto Jip, to make him. Then Jip laid hold of a bit of geranium with histeeth, and worried imaginary cats in it. Then Dora beat him, and pouted,and said, 'My poor beautiful flowers!' as compassionately, I thought, asif Jip had laid hold of me. I wished he had!

'You'll be so glad to hear, Mr. Copperfield,' said Dora, 'that thatcross Miss Murdstone is not here. She has gone to her brother'smarriage, and will be away at least three weeks. Isn't that delightful?'

I said I was sure it must be delightful to her, and all that wasdelightful to her was delightful to me. Miss Mills, with an air ofsuperior wisdom and benevolence, smiled upon us.

'She is the most disagreeable thing I ever saw,' said Dora. 'You can'tbelieve how ill-tempered and shocking she is, Julia.'

'Yes, I can, my dear!' said Julia.

'YOU can, perhaps, love,' returned Dora, with her hand on julia's.'Forgive my not excepting you, my dear, at first.'

I learnt, from this, that Miss Mills had had her trials in the courseof a chequered existence; and that to these, perhaps, I might refer thatwise benignity of manner which I had already noticed. I found, inthe course of the day, that this was the case: Miss Mills having beenunhappy in a misplaced affection, and being understood to have retiredfrom the world on her awful stock of experience, but still to take acalm interest in the unblighted hopes and loves of youth.

But now Mr. Spenlow came out of the house, and Dora went to him,saying, 'Look, papa, what beautiful flowers!' And Miss Mills smiledthoughtfully, as who should say, 'Ye Mayflies, enjoy your briefexistence in the bright morning of life!' And we all walked from thelawn towards the carriage, which was getting ready.

I shall never have such a ride again. I have never had such another.There were only those three, their hamper, my hamper, and theguitar-case, in the phaeton; and, of course, the phaeton was open; andI rode behind it, and Dora sat with her back to the horses, lookingtowards me. She kept the bouquet close to her on the cushion, andwouldn't allow Jip to sit on that side of her at all, for fear he shouldcrush it. She often carried it in her hand, often refreshed herselfwith its fragrance. Our eyes at those times often met; and my greatastonishment is that I didn't go over the head of my gallant grey intothe carriage.

There was dust, I believe. There was a good deal of dust, I believe. Ihave a faint impression that Mr. Spenlow remonstrated with me for ridingin it; but I knew of none. I was sensible of a mist of love and beautyabout Dora, but of nothing else. He stood up sometimes, and asked mewhat I thought of the prospect. I said it was delightful, and I daresay it was; but it was all Dora to me. The sun shone Dora, and the birdssang Dora. The south wind blew Dora, and the wild flowers in the hedgeswere all Doras, to a bud. My comfort is, Miss Mills understood me. MissMills alone could enter into my feelings thoroughly.

I don't know how long we were going, and to this hour I know as littlewhere we went. Perhaps it was near Guildford. Perhaps some Arabian-nightmagician, opened up the place for the day, and shut it up for ever whenwe came away. It was a green spot, on a hill, carpeted with soft turf.There were shady trees, and heather, and, as far as the eye could see, arich landscape.

It was a trying thing to find people here, waiting for us; and myjealousy, even of the ladies, knew no bounds. But all of my ownsex--especially one impostor, three or four years my elder, with a redwhisker, on which he established an amount of presumption not to beendured--were my mortal foes.

We all unpacked our baskets, and employed ourselves in getting dinnerready. Red Whisker pretended he could make a salad (which I don'tbelieve), and obtruded himself on public notice. Some of the youngladies washed the lettuces for him, and sliced them under hisdirections. Dora was among these. I felt that fate had pitted me againstthis man, and one of us must fall.

Red Whisker made his salad (I wondered how they could eat it. Nothingshould have induced ME to touch it!) and voted himself into the chargeof the wine-cellar, which he constructed, being an ingenious beast, inthe hollow trunk of a tree. By and by, I saw him, with the majority of alobster on his plate, eating his dinner at the feet of Dora!

I have but an indistinct idea of what happened for some time after thisbaleful object presented itself to my view. I was very merry, I know;but it was hollow merriment. I attached myself to a young creature inpink, with little eyes, and flirted with her desperately. She receivedmy attentions with favour; but whether on my account solely, or becauseshe had any designs on Red Whisker, I can't say. Dora's health wasdrunk. When I drank it, I affected to interrupt my conversation for thatpurpose, and to resume it immediately afterwards. I caught Dora's eye asI bowed to her, and I thought it looked appealing. But it looked at meover the head of Red Whisker, and I was adamant.

The young creature in pink had a mother in green; and I rather think thelatter separated us from motives of policy. Howbeit, there was a generalbreaking up of the party, while the remnants of the dinner were beingput away; and I strolled off by myself among the trees, in a raging andremorseful state. I was debating whether I should pretend that I was notwell, and fly--I don't know where--upon my gallant grey, when Dora andMiss Mills met me.

'Mr. Copperfield,' said Miss Mills, 'you are dull.'

I begged her pardon. Not at all.

'And Dora,' said Miss Mills, 'YOU are dull.'

Oh dear no! Not in the least.

'Mr. Copperfield and Dora,' said Miss Mills, with an almost venerableair. 'Enough of this. Do not allow a trivial misunderstanding to witherthe blossoms of spring, which, once put forth and blighted, cannot berenewed. I speak,' said Miss Mills, 'from experience of the past--theremote, irrevocable past. The gushing fountains which sparkle in thesun, must not be stopped in mere caprice; the oasis in the desert ofSahara must not be plucked up idly.'

I hardly knew what I did, I was burning all over to that extraordinaryextent; but I took Dora's little hand and kissed it--and she let me!I kissed Miss Mills's hand; and we all seemed, to my thinking, to gostraight up to the seventh heaven. We did not come down again. We stayedup there all the evening. At first we strayed to and fro among thetrees: I with Dora's shy arm drawn through mine: and Heaven knows,folly as it all was, it would have been a happy fate to have been struckimmortal with those foolish feelings, and have stayed among the treesfor ever!

But, much too soon, we heard the others laughing and talking, andcalling 'where's Dora?' So we went back, and they wanted Dora to sing.Red Whisker would have got the guitar-case out of the carriage, but Doratold him nobody knew where it was, but I. So Red Whisker was done forin a moment; and I got it, and I unlocked it, and I took the guitar out,and I sat by her, and I held her handkerchief and gloves, and I drank inevery note of her dear voice, and she sang to ME who loved her, and allthe others might applaud as much as they liked, but they had nothing todo with it!

I was intoxicated with joy. I was afraid it was too happy to be real,and that I should wake in Buckingham Street presently, and hear Mrs.Crupp clinking the teacups in getting breakfast ready. But Dora sang,and others sang, and Miss Mills sang--about the slumbering echoes in thecaverns of Memory; as if she were a hundred years old--and the eveningcame on; and we had tea, with the kettle boiling gipsy-fashion; and Iwas still as happy as ever.

I was happier than ever when the party broke up, and the other people,defeated Red Whisker and all, went their several ways, and we went oursthrough the still evening and the dying light, with sweet scentsrising up around us. Mr. Spenlow being a little drowsy after thechampagne--honour to the soil that grew the grape, to the grape thatmade the wine, to the sun that ripened it, and to the merchant whoadulterated it!--and being fast asleep in a corner of the carriage, Irode by the side and talked to Dora. She admired my horse and pattedhim--oh, what a dear little hand it looked upon a horse!--and her shawlwould not keep right, and now and then I drew it round her with my arm;and I even fancied that Jip began to see how it was, and to understandthat he must make up his mind to be friends with me.

That sagacious Miss Mills, too; that amiable, though quite used up,recluse; that little patriarch of something less than twenty, who haddone with the world, and mustn't on any account have the slumberingechoes in the caverns of Memory awakened; what a kind thing she did!

'Mr. Copperfield,' said Miss Mills, 'come to this side of the carriage amoment--if you can spare a moment. I want to speak to you.'

Behold me, on my gallant grey, bending at the side of Miss Mills, withmy hand upon the carriage door!

'Dora is coming to stay with me. She is coming home with me the dayafter tomorrow. If you would like to call, I am sure papa would behappy to see you.' What could I do but invoke a silent blessing on MissMills's head, and store Miss Mills's address in the securest corner ofmy memory! What could I do but tell Miss Mills, with grateful looksand fervent words, how much I appreciated her good offices, and what aninestimable value I set upon her friendship!

Then Miss Mills benignantly dismissed me, saying, 'Go back to Dora!' andI went; and Dora leaned out of the carriage to talk to me, and we talkedall the rest of the way; and I rode my gallant grey so close to thewheel that I grazed his near fore leg against it, and 'took the barkoff', as his owner told me, 'to the tune of three pun' sivin'--which Ipaid, and thought extremely cheap for so much joy. What time Miss Millssat looking at the moon, murmuring verses--and recalling, I suppose, theancient days when she and earth had anything in common.

Norwood was many miles too near, and we reached it many hours too soon;but Mr. Spenlow came to himself a little short of it, and said,'You must come in, Copperfield, and rest!' and I consenting, we hadsandwiches and wine-and-water. In the light room, Dora blushing lookedso lovely, that I could not tear myself away, but sat there staring, ina dream, until the snoring of Mr. Spenlow inspired me with sufficientconsciousness to take my leave. So we parted; I riding all the wayto London with the farewell touch of Dora's hand still light on mine,recalling every incident and word ten thousand times; lying down in myown bed at last, as enraptured a young noodle as ever was carried out ofhis five wits by love.

When I awoke next morning, I was resolute to declare my passion to Dora,and know my fate. Happiness or misery was now the question. There was noother question that I knew of in the world, and only Dora could give theanswer to it. I passed three days in a luxury of wretchedness, torturingmyself by putting every conceivable variety of discouraging constructionon all that ever had taken place between Dora and me. At last, arrayedfor the purpose at a vast expense, I went to Miss Mills's, fraught witha declaration.

How many times I went up and down the street, and round thesquare--painfully aware of being a much better answer to the old riddlethan the original one--before I could persuade myself to go up the stepsand knock, is no matter now. Even when, at last, I had knocked, and waswaiting at the door, I had some flurried thought of asking if thatwere Mr. Blackboy's (in imitation of poor Barkis), begging pardon, andretreating. But I kept my ground.

Mr. Mills was not at home. I did not expect he would be. Nobody wantedHIM. Miss Mills was at home. Miss Mills would do.

I was shown into a room upstairs, where Miss Mills and Dora were. Jipwas there. Miss Mills was copying music (I recollect, it was a new song,called 'Affection's Dirge'), and Dora was painting flowers. What were myfeelings, when I recognized my own flowers; the identical Covent GardenMarket purchase! I cannot say that they were very like, or thatthey particularly resembled any flowers that have ever come under myobservation; but I knew from the paper round them which was accuratelycopied, what the composition was.

Miss Mills was very glad to see me, and very sorry her papa was not athome: though I thought we all bore that with fortitude. Miss Mills wasconversational for a few minutes, and then, laying down her pen upon'Affection's Dirge', got up, and left the room.

I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

'I hope your poor horse was not tired, when he got home at night,' saidDora, lifting up her beautiful eyes. 'It was a long way for him.'

I began to think I would do it today.

'It was a long way for him,' said I, 'for he had nothing to uphold himon the journey.'

'Wasn't he fed, poor thing?' asked Dora.

I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

'Ye-yes,' I said, 'he was well taken care of. I mean he had not theunutterable happiness that I had in being so near you.'

Dora bent her head over her drawing and said, after a little while--Ihad sat, in the interval, in a burning fever, and with my legs in a veryrigid state--

'You didn't seem to be sensible of that happiness yourself, at one timeof the day.'

I saw now that I was in for it, and it must be done on the spot.

'You didn't care for that happiness in the least,' said Dora, slightlyraising her eyebrows, and shaking her head, 'when you were sitting byMiss Kitt.'

Kitt, I should observe, was the name of the creature in pink, with thelittle eyes.

'Though certainly I don't know why you should,' said Dora, or why youshould call it a happiness at all. But of course you don't mean what yousay. And I am sure no one doubts your being at liberty to do whateveryou like. Jip, you naughty boy, come here!'

I don't know how I did it. I did it in a moment. I intercepted Jip.I had Dora in my arms. I was full of eloquence. I never stopped for aword. I told her how I loved her. I told her I should die without her.I told her that I idolized and worshipped her. Jip barked madly all thetime.

When Dora hung her head and cried, and trembled, my eloquence increasedso much the more. If she would like me to die for her, she had but tosay the word, and I was ready. Life without Dora's love was not a thingto have on any terms. I couldn't bear it, and I wouldn't. I had lovedher every minute, day and night, since I first saw her. I loved her atthat minute to distraction. I should always love her, every minute, todistraction. Lovers had loved before, and lovers would love again; butno lover had loved, might, could, would, or should ever love, as I lovedDora. The more I raved, the more Jip barked. Each of us, in his own way,got more mad every moment.

Well, well! Dora and I were sitting on the sofa by and by, quiet enough,and Jip was lying in her lap, winking peacefully at me. It was off mymind. I was in a state of perfect rapture. Dora and I were engaged.

I suppose we had some notion that this was to end in marriage. We musthave had some, because Dora stipulated that we were never to be marriedwithout her papa's consent. But, in our youthful ecstasy, I don't thinkthat we really looked before us or behind us; or had any aspirationbeyond the ignorant present. We were to keep our secret from Mr.Spenlow; but I am sure the idea never entered my head, then, that therewas anything dishonourable in that.

Miss Mills was more than usually pensive when Dora, going to find her,brought her back;--I apprehend, because there was a tendency in what hadpassed to awaken the slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory. But shegave us her blessing, and the assurance of her lasting friendship, andspoke to us, generally, as became a Voice from the Cloister.

What an idle time it was! What an insubstantial, happy, foolish time itwas!

When I measured Dora's finger for a ring that was to be made ofForget-me-nots, and when the jeweller, to whom I took the measure, foundme out, and laughed over his order-book, and charged me anything heliked for the pretty little toy, with its blue stones--so associatedin my remembrance with Dora's hand, that yesterday, when I saw suchanother, by chance, on the finger of my own daughter, there was amomentary stirring in my heart, like pain!

When I walked about, exalted with my secret, and full of my owninterest, and felt the dignity of loving Dora, and of being beloved, somuch, that if I had walked the air, I could not have been more above thepeople not so situated, who were creeping on the earth!

When we had those meetings in the garden of the square, and sat withinthe dingy summer-house, so happy, that I love the London sparrows tothis hour, for nothing else, and see the plumage of the tropics in theirsmoky feathers! When we had our first great quarrel (within a weekof our betrothal), and when Dora sent me back the ring, enclosed in adespairing cocked-hat note, wherein she used the terrible expressionthat 'our love had begun in folly, and ended in madness!' which dreadfulwords occasioned me to tear my hair, and cry that all was over!

When, under cover of the night, I flew to Miss Mills, whom I saw bystealth in a back kitchen where there was a mangle, and implored MissMills to interpose between us and avert insanity. When Miss Millsundertook the office and returned with Dora, exhorting us, from thepulpit of her own bitter youth, to mutual concession, and the avoidanceof the Desert of Sahara!

When we cried, and made it up, and were so blest again, that the backkitchen, mangle and all, changed to Love's own temple, where we arrangeda plan of correspondence through Miss Mills, always to comprehend atleast one letter on each side every day!

What an idle time! What an insubstantial, happy, foolish time! Of allthe times of mine that Time has in his grip, there is none that in oneretrospect I can smile at half so much, and think of half so tenderly.