As soon as I could recover my presence of mind, which quite deserted mein the first overpowering shock of my aunt's intelligence, I proposedto Mr. Dick to come round to the chandler's shop, and take possession ofthe bed which Mr. Peggotty had lately vacated. The chandler's shop beingin Hungerford Market, and Hungerford Market being a very different placein those days, there was a low wooden colonnade before the door (notvery unlike that before the house where the little man and woman usedto live, in the old weather-glass), which pleased Mr. Dick mightily. Theglory of lodging over this structure would have compensated him, I daresay, for many inconveniences; but, as there were really few to bear,beyond the compound of flavours I have already mentioned, and perhapsthe want of a little more elbow-room, he was perfectly charmed with hisaccommodation. Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn'troom to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick justly observed to me,sitting down on the foot of the bed, nursing his leg, 'You know,Trotwood, I don't want to swing a cat. I never do swing a cat.Therefore, what does that signify to ME!'

I tried to ascertain whether Mr. Dick had any understanding of thecauses of this sudden and great change in my aunt's affairs. As I mighthave expected, he had none at all. The only account he could give of itwas, that my aunt had said to him, the day before yesterday, 'Now, Dick,are you really and truly the philosopher I take you for?' That thenhe had said, Yes, he hoped so. That then my aunt had said, 'Dick, Iam ruined.' That then he had said, 'Oh, indeed!' That then my aunt hadpraised him highly, which he was glad of. And that then they had come tome, and had had bottled porter and sandwiches on the road.

Mr. Dick was so very complacent, sitting on the foot of the bed, nursinghis leg, and telling me this, with his eyes wide open and a surprisedsmile, that I am sorry to say I was provoked into explaining to himthat ruin meant distress, want, and starvation; but I was soon bitterlyreproved for this harshness, by seeing his face turn pale, and tearscourse down his lengthened cheeks, while he fixed upon me a look of suchunutterable woe, that it might have softened a far harder heart thanmine. I took infinitely greater pains to cheer him up again than I hadtaken to depress him; and I soon understood (as I ought to have known atfirst) that he had been so confident, merely because of his faith inthe wisest and most wonderful of women, and his unbounded reliance on myintellectual resources. The latter, I believe, he considered a match forany kind of disaster not absolutely mortal.

'What can we do, Trotwood?' said Mr. Dick. 'There's the Memorial-'

'To be sure there is,' said I. 'But all we can do just now, Mr. Dick,is to keep a cheerful countenance, and not let my aunt see that we arethinking about it.'

He assented to this in the most earnest manner; and implored me, if Ishould see him wandering an inch out of the right course, to recall himby some of those superior methods which were always at my command. But Iregret to state that the fright I had given him proved too much for hisbest attempts at concealment. All the evening his eyes wandered to myaunt's face, with an expression of the most dismal apprehension, as ifhe saw her growing thin on the spot. He was conscious of this, and puta constraint upon his head; but his keeping that immovable, and sittingrolling his eyes like a piece of machinery, did not mend the matter atall. I saw him look at the loaf at supper (which happened to be a smallone), as if nothing else stood between us and famine; and when my auntinsisted on his making his customary repast, I detected him in the actof pocketing fragments of his bread and cheese; I have no doubt for thepurpose of reviving us with those savings, when we should have reachedan advanced stage of attenuation.

My aunt, on the other hand, was in a composed frame of mind, which wasa lesson to all of us--to me, I am sure. She was extremely graciousto Peggotty, except when I inadvertently called her by that name; and,strange as I knew she felt in London, appeared quite at home. She wasto have my bed, and I was to lie in the sitting-room, to keep guard overher. She made a great point of being so near the river, in case of aconflagration; and I suppose really did find some satisfaction in thatcircumstance.

'Trot, my dear,' said my aunt, when she saw me making preparations forcompounding her usual night-draught, 'No!'

'Nothing, aunt?'

'Not wine, my dear. Ale.'

'But there is wine here, aunt. And you always have it made of wine.'

'Keep that, in case of sickness,' said my aunt. 'We mustn't use itcarelessly, Trot. Ale for me. Half a pint.'

I thought Mr. Dick would have fallen, insensible. My aunt beingresolute, I went out and got the ale myself. As it was growing late,Peggotty and Mr. Dick took that opportunity of repairing to thechandler's shop together. I parted from him, poor fellow, at the cornerof the street, with his great kite at his back, a very monument of humanmisery.

My aunt was walking up and down the room when I returned, crimping theborders of her nightcap with her fingers. I warmed the ale and made thetoast on the usual infallible principles. When it was ready for her, shewas ready for it, with her nightcap on, and the skirt of her gown turnedback on her knees.

'My dear,' said my aunt, after taking a spoonful of it; 'it's a greatdeal better than wine. Not half so bilious.'

I suppose I looked doubtful, for she added:

'Tut, tut, child. If nothing worse than Ale happens to us, we are welloff.'

'I should think so myself, aunt, I am sure,' said I.

'Well, then, why DON'T you think so?' said my aunt.

'Because you and I are very different people,' I returned.

'Stuff and nonsense, Trot!' replied my aunt.

MY aunt went on with a quiet enjoyment, in which there was very littleaffectation, if any; drinking the warm ale with a tea-spoon, and soakingher strips of toast in it.

'Trot,' said she, 'I don't care for strange faces in general, but Irather like that Barkis of yours, do you know!'

'It's better than a hundred pounds to hear you say so!' said I.

'It's a most extraordinary world,' observed my aunt, rubbing her nose;'how that woman ever got into it with that name, is unaccountable to me.It would be much more easy to be born a Jackson, or something of thatsort, one would think.'

'Perhaps she thinks so, too; it's not her fault,' said I.

'I suppose not,' returned my aunt, rather grudging the admission; 'butit's very aggravating. However, she's Barkis now. That's some comfort.Barkis is uncommonly fond of you, Trot.'

'There is nothing she would leave undone to prove it,' said I.

'Nothing, I believe,' returned my aunt. 'Here, the poor fool has beenbegging and praying about handing over some of her money--because shehas got too much of it. A simpleton!'

My aunt's tears of pleasure were positively trickling down into the warmale.

'She's the most ridiculous creature that ever was born,' said my aunt.'I knew, from the first moment when I saw her with that poor dearblessed baby of a mother of yours, that she was the most ridiculous ofmortals. But there are good points in Barkis!'

Affecting to laugh, she got an opportunity of putting her hand toher eyes. Having availed herself of it, she resumed her toast and herdiscourse together.

'Ah! Mercy upon us!' sighed my aunt. 'I know all about it, Trot! Barkisand myself had quite a gossip while you were out with Dick. I know allabout it. I don't know where these wretched girls expect to go to, formy part. I wonder they don't knock out their brains against--againstmantelpieces,' said my aunt; an idea which was probably suggested to herby her contemplation of mine.

'Poor Emily!' said I.

'Oh, don't talk to me about poor,' returned my aunt. 'She should havethought of that, before she caused so much misery! Give me a kiss, Trot.I am sorry for your early experience.'

As I bent forward, she put her tumbler on my knee to detain me, andsaid:

'Oh, Trot, Trot! And so you fancy yourself in love! Do you?'

'Fancy, aunt!' I exclaimed, as red as I could be. 'I adore her with mywhole soul!'

'Dora, indeed!' returned my aunt. 'And you mean to say the little thingis very fascinating, I suppose?'

'My dear aunt,' I replied, 'no one can form the least idea what she is!'

'Ah! And not silly?' said my aunt.

'Silly, aunt!'

I seriously believe it had never once entered my head for a singlemoment, to consider whether she was or not. I resented the idea, ofcourse; but I was in a manner struck by it, as a new one altogether.

'Not light-headed?' said my aunt.

'Light-headed, aunt!' I could only repeat this daring speculationwith the same kind of feeling with which I had repeated the precedingquestion.

'Well, well!' said my aunt. 'I only ask. I don't depreciate her. Poorlittle couple! And so you think you were formed for one another, and areto go through a party-supper-table kind of life, like two pretty piecesof confectionery, do you, Trot?'

She asked me this so kindly, and with such a gentle air, half playfuland half sorrowful, that I was quite touched.

'We are young and inexperienced, aunt, I know,' I replied; 'and I daresay we say and think a good deal that is rather foolish. But we loveone another truly, I am sure. If I thought Dora could ever love anybodyelse, or cease to love me; or that I could ever love anybody else, orcease to love her; I don't know what I should do--go out of my mind, Ithink!'

'Ah, Trot!' said my aunt, shaking her head, and smiling gravely; 'blind,blind, blind!'

'Someone that I know, Trot,' my aunt pursued, after a pause, 'though ofa very pliant disposition, has an earnestness of affection in him thatreminds me of poor Baby. Earnestness is what that Somebody must lookfor, to sustain him and improve him, Trot. Deep, downright, faithfulearnestness.'

'If you only knew the earnestness of Dora, aunt!' I cried.

'Oh, Trot!' she said again; 'blind, blind!' and without knowing why,I felt a vague unhappy loss or want of something overshadow me like acloud.

'However,' said my aunt, 'I don't want to put two young creatures outof conceit with themselves, or to make them unhappy; so, though it is agirl and boy attachment, and girl and boy attachments very often--mind!I don't say always!--come to nothing, still we'll be serious about it,and hope for a prosperous issue one of these days. There's time enoughfor it to come to anything!'

This was not upon the whole very comforting to a rapturous lover; butI was glad to have my aunt in my confidence, and I was mindful ofher being fatigued. So I thanked her ardently for this mark of heraffection, and for all her other kindnesses towards me; and after atender good night, she took her nightcap into my bedroom.

How miserable I was, when I lay down! How I thought and thought about mybeing poor, in Mr. Spenlow's eyes; about my not being what I thought Iwas, when I proposed to Dora; about the chivalrous necessity oftelling Dora what my worldly condition was, and releasing her from herengagement if she thought fit; about how I should contrive to live,during the long term of my articles, when I was earning nothing; aboutdoing something to assist my aunt, and seeing no way of doing anything;about coming down to have no money in my pocket, and to wear a shabbycoat, and to be able to carry Dora no little presents, and to ride nogallant greys, and to show myself in no agreeable light! Sordid andselfish as I knew it was, and as I tortured myself by knowing that itwas, to let my mind run on my own distress so much, I was so devotedto Dora that I could not help it. I knew that it was base in me not tothink more of my aunt, and less of myself; but, so far, selfishnesswas inseparable from Dora, and I could not put Dora on one side for anymortal creature. How exceedingly miserable I was, that night!

As to sleep, I had dreams of poverty in all sorts of shapes, but Iseemed to dream without the previous ceremony of going to sleep. Now Iwas ragged, wanting to sell Dora matches, six bundles for a halfpenny;now I was at the office in a nightgown and boots, remonstrated with byMr. Spenlow on appearing before the clients in that airy attire; nowI was hungrily picking up the crumbs that fell from old Tiffey'sdaily biscuit, regularly eaten when St. Paul's struck one; now I washopelessly endeavouring to get a licence to marry Dora, having nothingbut one of Uriah Heep's gloves to offer in exchange, which the wholeCommons rejected; and still, more or less conscious of my own room, Iwas always tossing about like a distressed ship in a sea of bed-clothes.

My aunt was restless, too, for I frequently heard her walking to andfro. Two or three times in the course of the night, attired in a longflannel wrapper in which she looked seven feet high, she appeared, likea disturbed ghost, in my room, and came to the side of the sofa on whichI lay. On the first occasion I started up in alarm, to learn that sheinferred from a particular light in the sky, that Westminster Abbeywas on fire; and to be consulted in reference to the probability of itsigniting Buckingham Street, in case the wind changed. Lying still, afterthat, I found that she sat down near me, whispering to herself 'Poorboy!' And then it made me twenty times more wretched, to know howunselfishly mindful she was of me, and how selfishly mindful I was ofmyself.

It was difficult to believe that a night so long to me, could be shortto anybody else. This consideration set me thinking and thinking of animaginary party where people were dancing the hours away, until thatbecame a dream too, and I heard the music incessantly playing one tune,and saw Dora incessantly dancing one dance, without taking the leastnotice of me. The man who had been playing the harp all night, wastrying in vain to cover it with an ordinary-sized nightcap, when Iawoke; or I should rather say, when I left off trying to go to sleep,and saw the sun shining in through the window at last.

There was an old Roman bath in those days at the bottom of one of thestreets out of the Strand--it may be there still--in which I have hadmany a cold plunge. Dressing myself as quietly as I could, and leavingPeggotty to look after my aunt, I tumbled head foremost into it,and then went for a walk to Hampstead. I had a hope that this brisktreatment might freshen my wits a little; and I think it did them good,for I soon came to the conclusion that the first step I ought to takewas, to try if my articles could be cancelled and the premium recovered.I got some breakfast on the Heath, and walked back to Doctors' Commons,along the watered roads and through a pleasant smell of summer flowers,growing in gardens and carried into town on hucksters' heads, intent onthis first effort to meet our altered circumstances.

I arrived at the office so soon, after all, that I had half an hour'sloitering about the Commons, before old Tiffey, who was always first,appeared with his key. Then I sat down in my shady corner, looking upat the sunlight on the opposite chimney-pots, and thinking about Dora;until Mr. Spenlow came in, crisp and curly.

'How are you, Copperfield?' said he. 'Fine morning!'

'Beautiful morning, sir,' said I. 'Could I say a word to you before yougo into Court?'

'By all means,' said he. 'Come into my room.'

I followed him into his room, and he began putting on his gown, andtouching himself up before a little glass he had, hanging inside acloset door.

'I am sorry to say,' said I, 'that I have some rather dishearteningintelligence from my aunt.'

'No!' said he. 'Dear me! Not paralysis, I hope?'

'It has no reference to her health, sir,' I replied. 'She has met withsome large losses. In fact, she has very little left, indeed.'

'You as-tound me, Copperfield!' cried Mr. Spenlow.

I shook my head. 'Indeed, sir,' said I, 'her affairs are so changed,that I wished to ask you whether it would be possible--at a sacrifice onour part of some portion of the premium, of course,' I put in this, onthe spur of the moment, warned by the blank expression of his face--'tocancel my articles?'

What it cost me to make this proposal, nobody knows. It was like asking,as a favour, to be sentenced to transportation from Dora.

'To cancel your articles, Copperfield? Cancel?'

I explained with tolerable firmness, that I really did not know wheremy means of subsistence were to come from, unless I could earn them formyself. I had no fear for the future, I said--and I laid great emphasison that, as if to imply that I should still be decidedly eligible for ason-in-law one of these days--but, for the present, I was thrown uponmy own resources. 'I am extremely sorry to hear this, Copperfield,' saidMr. Spenlow. 'Extremely sorry. It is not usual to cancel articles forany such reason. It is not a professional course of proceeding. It isnot a convenient precedent at all. Far from it. At the same time--'

'You are very good, sir,' I murmured, anticipating a concession.

'Not at all. Don't mention it,' said Mr. Spenlow. 'At the same time, Iwas going to say, if it had been my lot to have my hands unfettered--ifI had not a partner--Mr. Jorkins--'

My hopes were dashed in a moment, but I made another effort.

'Do you think, sir,' said I, 'if I were to mention it to Mr. Jorkins--'

Mr. Spenlow shook his head discouragingly. 'Heaven forbid, Copperfield,'he replied, 'that I should do any man an injustice: still less, Mr.jorkins. But I know my partner, Copperfield. Mr. jorkins is not a manto respond to a proposition of this peculiar nature. Mr. jorkins is verydifficult to move from the beaten track. You know what he is!'

I am sure I knew nothing about him, except that he had originally beenalone in the business, and now lived by himself in a house near MontaguSquare, which was fearfully in want of painting; that he came verylate of a day, and went away very early; that he never appeared to beconsulted about anything; and that he had a dingy little black-hole ofhis own upstairs, where no business was ever done, and where there wasa yellow old cartridge-paper pad upon his desk, unsoiled by ink, andreported to be twenty years of age.

'Would you object to my mentioning it to him, sir?' I asked.

'By no means,' said Mr. Spenlow. 'But I have some experience of Mr.jorkins, Copperfield. I wish it were otherwise, for I should be happyto meet your views in any respect. I cannot have the objection to yourmentioning it to Mr. jorkins, Copperfield, if you think it worth while.'

Availing myself of this permission, which was given with a warm shakeof the hand, I sat thinking about Dora, and looking at the sunlightstealing from the chimney-pots down the wall of the opposite house,until Mr. jorkins came. I then went up to Mr. jorkins's room, andevidently astonished Mr. jorkins very much by making my appearancethere.

'Come in, Mr. Copperfield,' said Mr. jorkins. 'Come in!'

I went in, and sat down; and stated my case to Mr. jorkins pretty muchas I had stated it to Mr. Spenlow. Mr. Jorkins was not by any means theawful creature one might have expected, but a large, mild, smooth-facedman of sixty, who took so much snuff that there was a tradition in theCommons that he lived principally on that stimulant, having little roomin his system for any other article of diet.

'You have mentioned this to Mr. Spenlow, I suppose?' said Mr. jorkins;when he had heard me, very restlessly, to an end.

I answered Yes, and told him that Mr. Spenlow had introduced his name.

'He said I should object?' asked Mr. jorkins.

I was obliged to admit that Mr. Spenlow had considered it probable.

'I am sorry to say, Mr. Copperfield, I can't advance your object,' saidMr. jorkins, nervously. 'The fact is--but I have an appointment at theBank, if you'll have the goodness to excuse me.'

With that he rose in a great hurry, and was going out of the room, whenI made bold to say that I feared, then, there was no way of arrangingthe matter?

'No!' said Mr. jorkins, stopping at the door to shake his head. 'Oh, no!I object, you know,' which he said very rapidly, and went out. 'You mustbe aware, Mr. Copperfield,' he added, looking restlessly in at the dooragain, 'if Mr. Spenlow objects--'

'Personally, he does not object, sir,' said I.

'Oh! Personally!' repeated Mr. Jorkins, in an impatient manner. 'Iassure you there's an objection, Mr. Copperfield. Hopeless! What youwish to be done, can't be done. I--I really have got an appointmentat the Bank.' With that he fairly ran away; and to the best of myknowledge, it was three days before he showed himself in the Commonsagain.

Being very anxious to leave no stone unturned, I waited until Mr.Spenlow came in, and then described what had passed; giving him tounderstand that I was not hopeless of his being able to soften theadamantine jorkins, if he would undertake the task.

'Copperfield,' returned Mr. Spenlow, with a gracious smile, 'you havenot known my partner, Mr. jorkins, as long as I have. Nothing isfarther from my thoughts than to attribute any degree of artifice to Mr.jorkins. But Mr. jorkins has a way of stating his objections which oftendeceives people. No, Copperfield!' shaking his head. 'Mr. jorkins is notto be moved, believe me!'

I was completely bewildered between Mr. Spenlow and Mr. jorkins, asto which of them really was the objecting partner; but I saw withsufficient clearness that there was obduracy somewhere in the firm, andthat the recovery of my aunt's thousand pounds was out of thequestion. In a state of despondency, which I remember with anythingbut satisfaction, for I know it still had too much reference to myself(though always in connexion with Dora), I left the office, and wenthomeward.

I was trying to familiarize my mind with the worst, and to present tomyself the arrangements we should have to make for the future in theirsternest aspect, when a hackney-chariot coming after me, and stopping atmy very feet, occasioned me to look up. A fair hand was stretched forthto me from the window; and the face I had never seen without a feelingof serenity and happiness, from the moment when it first turned backon the old oak staircase with the great broad balustrade, and when Iassociated its softened beauty with the stained-glass window in thechurch, was smiling on me.

'Agnes!' I joyfully exclaimed. 'Oh, my dear Agnes, of all people in theworld, what a pleasure to see you!'

'Is it, indeed?' she said, in her cordial voice.

'I want to talk to you so much!' said I. 'It's such a lightening of myheart, only to look at you! If I had had a conjuror's cap, there is noone I should have wished for but you!'

'What?' returned Agnes.

'Well! perhaps Dora first,' I admitted, with a blush.

'Certainly, Dora first, I hope,' said Agnes, laughing.

'But you next!' said I. 'Where are you going?'

She was going to my rooms to see my aunt. The day being very fine, shewas glad to come out of the chariot, which smelt (I had my head in itall this time) like a stable put under a cucumber-frame. I dismissed thecoachman, and she took my arm, and we walked on together. She was likeHope embodied, to me. How different I felt in one short minute, havingAgnes at my side!

My aunt had written her one of the odd, abrupt notes--very little longerthan a Bank note--to which her epistolary efforts were usually limited.She had stated therein that she had fallen into adversity, and wasleaving Dover for good, but had quite made up her mind to it, and wasso well that nobody need be uncomfortable about her. Agnes had come toLondon to see my aunt, between whom and herself there had been a mutualliking these many years: indeed, it dated from the time of my taking upmy residence in Mr. Wickfield's house. She was not alone, she said. Herpapa was with her--and Uriah Heep.

'And now they are partners,' said I. 'Confound him!'

'Yes,' said Agnes. 'They have some business here; and I took advantageof their coming, to come too. You must not think my visit all friendlyand disinterested, Trotwood, for--I am afraid I may be cruellyprejudiced--I do not like to let papa go away alone, with him.' 'Does heexercise the same influence over Mr. Wickfield still, Agnes?'

Agnes shook her head. 'There is such a change at home,' said she, 'thatyou would scarcely know the dear old house. They live with us now.'

'They?' said I.

'Mr. Heep and his mother. He sleeps in your old room,' said Agnes,looking up into my face.

'I wish I had the ordering of his dreams,' said I. 'He wouldn't sleepthere long.'

'I keep my own little room,' said Agnes, 'where I used to learn mylessons. How the time goes! You remember? The little panelled room thatopens from the drawing-room?'

'Remember, Agnes? When I saw you, for the first time, coming out at thedoor, with your quaint little basket of keys hanging at your side?'

'It is just the same,' said Agnes, smiling. 'I am glad you think of itso pleasantly. We were very happy.'

'We were, indeed,' said I.

'I keep that room to myself still; but I cannot always desert Mrs. Heep,you know. And so,' said Agnes, quietly, 'I feel obliged to bear hercompany, when I might prefer to be alone. But I have no other reason tocomplain of her. If she tires me, sometimes, by her praises of her son,it is only natural in a mother. He is a very good son to her.'

I looked at Agnes when she said these words, without detecting in herany consciousness of Uriah's design. Her mild but earnest eyes metmine with their own beautiful frankness, and there was no change in hergentle face.

'The chief evil of their presence in the house,' said Agnes, 'is that Icannot be as near papa as I could wish--Uriah Heep being so much betweenus--and cannot watch over him, if that is not too bold a thing to say,as closely as I would. But if any fraud or treachery is practisingagainst him, I hope that simple love and truth will be strong in theend. I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than anyevil or misfortune in the world.'

A certain bright smile, which I never saw on any other face, died away,even while I thought how good it was, and how familiar it had once beento me; and she asked me, with a quick change of expression (we weredrawing very near my street), if I knew how the reverse in my aunt'scircumstances had been brought about. On my replying no, she had nottold me yet, Agnes became thoughtful, and I fancied I felt her armtremble in mine.

We found my aunt alone, in a state of some excitement. A differenceof opinion had arisen between herself and Mrs. Crupp, on an abstractquestion (the propriety of chambers being inhabited by the gentler sex);and my aunt, utterly indifferent to spasms on the part of Mrs. Crupp,had cut the dispute short, by informing that lady that she smelt ofmy brandy, and that she would trouble her to walk out. Both of theseexpressions Mrs. Crupp considered actionable, and had expressed herintention of bringing before a 'British Judy'--meaning, it was supposed,the bulwark of our national liberties.

MY aunt, however, having had time to cool, while Peggotty was outshowing Mr. Dick the soldiers at the Horse Guards--and being, besides,greatly pleased to see Agnes--rather plumed herself on the affair thanotherwise, and received us with unimpaired good humour. When Agnes laidher bonnet on the table, and sat down beside her, I could not but think,looking on her mild eyes and her radiant forehead, how natural itseemed to have her there; how trustfully, although she was so young andinexperienced, my aunt confided in her; how strong she was, indeed, insimple love and truth.

We began to talk about my aunt's losses, and I told them what I hadtried to do that morning.

'Which was injudicious, Trot,' said my aunt, 'but well meant. You area generous boy--I suppose I must say, young man, now--and I am proud ofyou, my dear. So far, so good. Now, Trot and Agnes, let us look the caseof Betsey Trotwood in the face, and see how it stands.'

I observed Agnes turn pale, as she looked very attentively at my aunt.My aunt, patting her cat, looked very attentively at Agnes.

'Betsey Trotwood,' said my aunt, who had always kept her money mattersto herself. '--I don't mean your sister, Trot, my dear, but myself--hada certain property. It don't matter how much; enough to live on. More;for she had saved a little, and added to it. Betsey funded her propertyfor some time, and then, by the advice of her man of business, laidit out on landed security. That did very well, and returned very goodinterest, till Betsey was paid off. I am talking of Betsey as if shewas a man-of-war. Well! Then, Betsey had to look about her, for a newinvestment. She thought she was wiser, now, than her man of business,who was not such a good man of business by this time, as he used tobe--I am alluding to your father, Agnes--and she took it into her headto lay it out for herself. So she took her pigs,' said my aunt, 'to aforeign market; and a very bad market it turned out to be. First, shelost in the mining way, and then she lost in the diving way--fishing uptreasure, or some such Tom Tiddler nonsense,' explained my aunt, rubbingher nose; 'and then she lost in the mining way again, and, last of all,to set the thing entirely to rights, she lost in the banking way. Idon't know what the Bank shares were worth for a little while,' said myaunt; 'cent per cent was the lowest of it, I believe; but the Bank wasat the other end of the world, and tumbled into space, for what I know;anyhow, it fell to pieces, and never will and never can pay sixpence;and Betsey's sixpences were all there, and there's an end of them. Leastsaid, soonest mended!'

My aunt concluded this philosophical summary, by fixing her eyes with akind of triumph on Agnes, whose colour was gradually returning.

'Dear Miss Trotwood, is that all the history?' said Agnes.

'I hope it's enough, child,' said my aunt. 'If there had been moremoney to lose, it wouldn't have been all, I dare say. Betsey would havecontrived to throw that after the rest, and make another chapter, I havelittle doubt. But there was no more money, and there's no more story.'

Agnes had listened at first with suspended breath. Her colour still cameand went, but she breathed more freely. I thought I knew why. I thoughtshe had had some fear that her unhappy father might be in some way toblame for what had happened. My aunt took her hand in hers, and laughed.

'Is that all?' repeated my aunt. 'Why, yes, that's all, except, "And shelived happy ever afterwards." Perhaps I may add that of Betsey yet, oneof these days. Now, Agnes, you have a wise head. So have you, Trot, insome things, though I can't compliment you always'; and here my auntshook her own at me, with an energy peculiar to herself. 'What's to bedone? Here's the cottage, taking one time with another, will producesay seventy pounds a year. I think we may safely put it down atthat. Well!--That's all we've got,' said my aunt; with whom it was anidiosyncrasy, as it is with some horses, to stop very short when sheappeared to be in a fair way of going on for a long while.

'Then,' said my aunt, after a rest, 'there's Dick. He's good for ahundred a-year, but of course that must be expended on himself. I wouldsooner send him away, though I know I am the only person who appreciateshim, than have him, and not spend his money on himself. How can Trot andI do best, upon our means? What do you say, Agnes?'

'I say, aunt,' I interposed, 'that I must do something!'

'Go for a soldier, do you mean?' returned my aunt, alarmed; 'or go tosea? I won't hear of it. You are to be a proctor. We're not going tohave any knockings on the head in THIS family, if you please, sir.'

I was about to explain that I was not desirous of introducing that modeof provision into the family, when Agnes inquired if my rooms were heldfor any long term?

'You come to the point, my dear,' said my aunt. 'They are not to be gotrid of, for six months at least, unless they could be underlet, and thatI don't believe. The last man died here. Five people out of six woulddie--of course--of that woman in nankeen with the flannel petticoat. Ihave a little ready money; and I agree with you, the best thing we cando, is, to live the term out here, and get a bedroom hard by.'

I thought it my duty to hint at the discomfort my aunt would sustain,from living in a continual state of guerilla warfare with Mrs. Crupp;but she disposed of that objection summarily by declaring that, on thefirst demonstration of hostilities, she was prepared to astonish Mrs.Crupp for the whole remainder of her natural life.

'I have been thinking, Trotwood,' said Agnes, diffidently, 'that if youhad time--'

'I have a good deal of time, Agnes. I am always disengaged after fouror five o'clock, and I have time early in the morning. In one way andanother,' said I, conscious of reddening a little as I thought of thehours and hours I had devoted to fagging about town, and to and fro uponthe Norwood Road, 'I have abundance of time.'

'I know you would not mind,' said Agnes, coming to me, and speaking ina low voice, so full of sweet and hopeful consideration that I hear itnow, 'the duties of a secretary.'

'Mind, my dear Agnes?'

'Because,' continued Agnes, 'Doctor Strong has acted on his intention ofretiring, and has come to live in London; and he asked papa, I know,if he could recommend him one. Don't you think he would rather have hisfavourite old pupil near him, than anybody else?'

'Dear Agnes!' said I. 'What should I do without you! You are always mygood angel. I told you so. I never think of you in any other light.'

Agnes answered with her pleasant laugh, that one good Angel (meaningDora) was enough; and went on to remind me that the Doctor had beenused to occupy himself in his study, early in the morning, and in theevening--and that probably my leisure would suit his requirements verywell. I was scarcely more delighted with the prospect of earning my ownbread, than with the hope of earning it under my old master; in short,acting on the advice of Agnes, I sat down and wrote a letter to theDoctor, stating my object, and appointing to call on him next day atten in the forenoon. This I addressed to Highgate--for in that place, somemorable to me, he lived--and went and posted, myself, without losing aminute.

Wherever Agnes was, some agreeable token of her noiseless presenceseemed inseparable from the place. When I came back, I found my aunt'sbirds hanging, just as they had hung so long in the parlour window ofthe cottage; and my easy-chair imitating my aunt's much easier chair inits position at the open window; and even the round green fan, which myaunt had brought away with her, screwed on to the window-sill. I knewwho had done all this, by its seeming to have quietly done itself; and Ishould have known in a moment who had arranged my neglected books in theold order of my school days, even if I had supposed Agnes to be milesaway, instead of seeing her busy with them, and smiling at the disorderinto which they had fallen.

My aunt was quite gracious on the subject of the Thames (it really didlook very well with the sun upon it, though not like the sea before thecottage), but she could not relent towards the London smoke, which, shesaid, 'peppered everything'. A complete revolution, in which Peggottybore a prominent part, was being effected in every corner of my rooms,in regard of this pepper; and I was looking on, thinking how little evenPeggotty seemed to do with a good deal of bustle, and how much Agnes didwithout any bustle at all, when a knock came at the door.

'I think,' said Agnes, turning pale, 'it's papa. He promised me that hewould come.'

I opened the door, and admitted, not only Mr. Wickfield, but Uriah Heep.I had not seen Mr. Wickfield for some time. I was prepared for a greatchange in him, after what I had heard from Agnes, but his appearanceshocked me.

It was not that he looked many years older, though still dressedwith the old scrupulous cleanliness; or that there was an unwholesomeruddiness upon his face; or that his eyes were full and bloodshot; orthat there was a nervous trembling in his hand, the cause of which Iknew, and had for some years seen at work. It was not that he had losthis good looks, or his old bearing of a gentleman--for that he hadnot--but the thing that struck me most, was, that with the evidences ofhis native superiority still upon him, he should submit himself to thatcrawling impersonation of meanness, Uriah Heep. The reversal of thetwo natures, in their relative positions, Uriah's of power and Mr.Wickfield's of dependence, was a sight more painful to me than I canexpress. If I had seen an Ape taking command of a Man, I should hardlyhave thought it a more degrading spectacle.

He appeared to be only too conscious of it himself. When he came in, hestood still; and with his head bowed, as if he felt it. This wasonly for a moment; for Agnes softly said to him, 'Papa! Here is MissTrotwood--and Trotwood, whom you have not seen for a long while!' andthen he approached, and constrainedly gave my aunt his hand, and shookhands more cordially with me. In the moment's pause I speak of, I sawUriah's countenance form itself into a most ill-favoured smile. Agnessaw it too, I think, for she shrank from him.

What my aunt saw, or did not see, I defy the science of physiognomyto have made out, without her own consent. I believe there never wasanybody with such an imperturbable countenance when she chose. Her facemight have been a dead-wall on the occasion in question, for any lightit threw upon her thoughts; until she broke silence with her usualabruptness.

'Well, Wickfield!' said my aunt; and he looked up at her for the firsttime. 'I have been telling your daughter how well I have been disposingof my money for myself, because I couldn't trust it to you, as you weregrowing rusty in business matters. We have been taking counsel together,and getting on very well, all things considered. Agnes is worth thewhole firm, in my opinion.'

'If I may umbly make the remark,' said Uriah Heep, with a writhe, 'Ifully agree with Miss Betsey Trotwood, and should be only too appy ifMiss Agnes was a partner.'

'You're a partner yourself, you know,' returned my aunt, 'and that'sabout enough for you, I expect. How do you find yourself, sir?'

In acknowledgement of this question, addressed to him with extraordinarycurtness, Mr. Heep, uncomfortably clutching the blue bag he carried,replied that he was pretty well, he thanked my aunt, and hoped she wasthe same.

'And you, Master--I should say, Mister Copperfield,' pursued Uriah. 'Ihope I see you well! I am rejoiced to see you, Mister Copperfield, evenunder present circumstances.' I believed that; for he seemed to relishthem very much. 'Present circumstances is not what your friends wouldwish for you, Mister Copperfield, but it isn't money makes the man:it's--I am really unequal with my umble powers to express what it is,'said Uriah, with a fawning jerk, 'but it isn't money!'

Here he shook hands with me: not in the common way, but standing ata good distance from me, and lifting my hand up and down like a pumphandle, that he was a little afraid of.

'And how do you think we are looking, Master Copperfield,--I shouldsay, Mister?' fawned Uriah. 'Don't you find Mr. Wickfield blooming, sir?Years don't tell much in our firm, Master Copperfield, except in raisingup the umble, namely, mother and self--and in developing,' he added, asan afterthought, 'the beautiful, namely, Miss Agnes.'

He jerked himself about, after this compliment, in such an intolerablemanner, that my aunt, who had sat looking straight at him, lost allpatience.

'Deuce take the man!' said my aunt, sternly, 'what's he about? Don't begalvanic, sir!'

'I ask your pardon, Miss Trotwood,' returned Uriah; 'I'm aware you'renervous.'

'Go along with you, sir!' said my aunt, anything but appeased. 'Don'tpresume to say so! I am nothing of the sort. If you're an eel, sir,conduct yourself like one. If you're a man, control your limbs, sir!Good God!' said my aunt, with great indignation, 'I am not going to beserpentined and corkscrewed out of my senses!'

Mr. Heep was rather abashed, as most people might have been, by thisexplosion; which derived great additional force from the indignantmanner in which my aunt afterwards moved in her chair, and shook herhead as if she were making snaps or bounces at him. But he said to measide in a meek voice:

'I am well aware, Master Copperfield, that Miss Trotwood, though anexcellent lady, has a quick temper (indeed I think I had the pleasureof knowing her, when I was a numble clerk, before you did, MasterCopperfield), and it's only natural, I am sure, that it should be madequicker by present circumstances. The wonder is, that it isn't muchworse! I only called to say that if there was anything we could do, inpresent circumstances, mother or self, or Wickfield and Heep,--we shouldbe really glad. I may go so far?' said Uriah, with a sickly smile at hispartner.

'Uriah Heep,' said Mr. Wickfield, in a monotonous forced way, 'is activein the business, Trotwood. What he says, I quite concur in. You knowI had an old interest in you. Apart from that, what Uriah says I quiteconcur in!'

'Oh, what a reward it is,' said Uriah, drawing up one leg, at the riskof bringing down upon himself another visitation from my aunt, 'to be sotrusted in! But I hope I am able to do something to relieve him from thefatigues of business, Master Copperfield!'

'Uriah Heep is a great relief to me,' said Mr. Wickfield, in the samedull voice. 'It's a load off my mind, Trotwood, to have such a partner.'

The red fox made him say all this, I knew, to exhibit him to me in thelight he had indicated on the night when he poisoned my rest. I saw thesame ill-favoured smile upon his face again, and saw how he watched me.

'You are not going, papa?' said Agnes, anxiously. 'Will you not walkback with Trotwood and me?'

He would have looked to Uriah, I believe, before replying, if thatworthy had not anticipated him.

'I am bespoke myself,' said Uriah, 'on business; otherwise I shouldhave been appy to have kept with my friends. But I leave my partner torepresent the firm. Miss Agnes, ever yours! I wish you good-day, MasterCopperfield, and leave my umble respects for Miss Betsey Trotwood.'

With those words, he retired, kissing his great hand, and leering at uslike a mask.

We sat there, talking about our pleasant old Canterbury days, an houror two. Mr. Wickfield, left to Agnes, soon became more like his formerself; though there was a settled depression upon him, which he nevershook off. For all that, he brightened; and had an evident pleasure inhearing us recall the little incidents of our old life, many of which heremembered very well. He said it was like those times, to be alone withAgnes and me again; and he wished to Heaven they had never changed. I amsure there was an influence in the placid face of Agnes, and in the verytouch of her hand upon his arm, that did wonders for him.

My aunt (who was busy nearly all this while with Peggotty, in the innerroom) would not accompany us to the place where they were staying, butinsisted on my going; and I went. We dined together. After dinner, Agnessat beside him, as of old, and poured out his wine. He took what shegave him, and no more--like a child--and we all three sat together at awindow as the evening gathered in. When it was almost dark, he lay downon a sofa, Agnes pillowing his head and bending over him a little while;and when she came back to the window, it was not so dark but I could seetears glittering in her eyes.

I pray Heaven that I never may forget the dear girl in her love andtruth, at that time of my life; for if I should, I must be drawing nearthe end, and then I would desire to remember her best! She filled myheart with such good resolutions, strengthened my weakness so, by herexample, so directed--I know not how, she was too modest and gentleto advise me in many words--the wandering ardour and unsettled purposewithin me, that all the little good I have done, and all the harm I haveforborne, I solemnly believe I may refer to her.

And how she spoke to me of Dora, sitting at the window in the dark;listened to my praises of her; praised again; and round the littlefairy-figure shed some glimpses of her own pure light, that made it yetmore precious and more innocent to me! Oh, Agnes, sister of my boyhood,if I had known then, what I knew long afterwards--!

There was a beggar in the street, when I went down; and as I turned myhead towards the window, thinking of her calm seraphic eyes, he made mestart by muttering, as if he were an echo of the morning: 'Blind! Blind!Blind!'