By this time, some months had passed since our interview on the bankof the river with Martha. I had never seen her since, but she hadcommunicated with Mr. Peggotty on several occasions. Nothing had come ofher zealous intervention; nor could I infer, from what he told me, thatany clue had been obtained, for a moment, to Emily's fate. I confessthat I began to despair of her recovery, and gradually to sink deeperand deeper into the belief that she was dead.

His conviction remained unchanged. So far as I know--and I believehis honest heart was transparent to me--he never wavered again, in hissolemn certainty of finding her. His patience never tired. And, althoughI trembled for the agony it might one day be to him to have his strongassurance shivered at a blow, there was something so religious in it, soaffectingly expressive of its anchor being in the purest depths ofhis fine nature, that the respect and honour in which I held him wereexalted every day.

His was not a lazy trustfulness that hoped, and did no more. He hadbeen a man of sturdy action all his life, and he knew that in all thingswherein he wanted help he must do his own part faithfully, and helphimself. I have known him set out in the night, on a misgiving that thelight might not be, by some accident, in the window of the old boat,and walk to Yarmouth. I have known him, on reading something in thenewspaper that might apply to her, take up his stick, and go forth on ajourney of three--or four-score miles. He made his way by sea to Naples,and back, after hearing the narrative to which Miss Dartle had assistedme. All his journeys were ruggedly performed; for he was alwayssteadfast in a purpose of saving money for Emily's sake, when she shouldbe found. In all this long pursuit, I never heard him repine; I neverheard him say he was fatigued, or out of heart.

Dora had often seen him since our marriage, and was quite fond of him.I fancy his figure before me now, standing near her sofa, with his roughcap in his hand, and the blue eyes of my child-wife raised, with a timidwonder, to his face. Sometimes of an evening, about twilight, whenhe came to talk with me, I would induce him to smoke his pipe in thegarden, as we slowly paced to and fro together; and then, the pictureof his deserted home, and the comfortable air it used to have in mychildish eyes of an evening when the fire was burning, and the windmoaning round it, came most vividly into my mind.

One evening, at this hour, he told me that he had found Martha waitingnear his lodging on the preceding night when he came out, and that shehad asked him not to leave London on any account, until he should haveseen her again.

'Did she tell you why?' I inquired.

'I asked her, Mas'r Davy,' he replied, 'but it is but few words as sheever says, and she on'y got my promise and so went away.'

'Did she say when you might expect to see her again?' I demanded.

'No, Mas'r Davy,' he returned, drawing his hand thoughtfully down hisface. 'I asked that too; but it was more (she said) than she couldtell.'

As I had long forborne to encourage him with hopes that hung on threads,I made no other comment on this information than that I supposed hewould see her soon. Such speculations as it engendered within me I keptto myself, and those were faint enough.

I was walking alone in the garden, one evening, about a fortnightafterwards. I remember that evening well. It was the second in Mr.Micawber's week of suspense. There had been rain all day, and there wasa damp feeling in the air. The leaves were thick upon the trees, andheavy with wet; but the rain had ceased, though the sky was still dark;and the hopeful birds were singing cheerfully. As I walked to and froin the garden, and the twilight began to close around me, their littlevoices were hushed; and that peculiar silence which belongs to such anevening in the country when the lightest trees are quite still, save forthe occasional droppings from their boughs, prevailed.

There was a little green perspective of trellis-work and ivy at the sideof our cottage, through which I could see, from the garden where I waswalking, into the road before the house. I happened to turn my eyestowards this place, as I was thinking of many things; and I saw a figurebeyond, dressed in a plain cloak. It was bending eagerly towards me, andbeckoning.

'Martha!' said I, going to it.

'Can you come with me?' she inquired, in an agitated whisper. 'I havebeen to him, and he is not at home. I wrote down where he was to come,and left it on his table with my own hand. They said he would not be outlong. I have tidings for him. Can you come directly?'

My answer was, to pass out at the gate immediately. She made a hastygesture with her hand, as if to entreat my patience and my silence,and turned towards London, whence, as her dress betokened, she had comeexpeditiously on foot.

I asked her if that were not our destination? On her motioning Yes,with the same hasty gesture as before, I stopped an empty coach that wascoming by, and we got into it. When I asked her where the coachman wasto drive, she answered, 'Anywhere near Golden Square! And quick!'--thenshrunk into a corner, with one trembling hand before her face, and theother making the former gesture, as if she could not bear a voice.

Now much disturbed, and dazzled with conflicting gleams of hope anddread, I looked at her for some explanation. But seeing how stronglyshe desired to remain quiet, and feeling that it was my own naturalinclination too, at such a time, I did not attempt to break the silence.We proceeded without a word being spoken. Sometimes she glanced out ofthe window, as though she thought we were going slowly, though indeed wewere going fast; but otherwise remained exactly as at first.

We alighted at one of the entrances to the Square she had mentioned,where I directed the coach to wait, not knowing but that we might havesome occasion for it. She laid her hand on my arm, and hurried me onto one of the sombre streets, of which there are several in that part,where the houses were once fair dwellings in the occupation of singlefamilies, but have, and had, long degenerated into poor lodgings let offin rooms. Entering at the open door of one of these, and releasing myarm, she beckoned me to follow her up the common staircase, which waslike a tributary channel to the street.

The house swarmed with inmates. As we went up, doors of rooms wereopened and people's heads put out; and we passed other people on thestairs, who were coming down. In glancing up from the outside, beforewe entered, I had seen women and children lolling at the windows overflower-pots; and we seemed to have attracted their curiosity, for thesewere principally the observers who looked out of their doors. It was abroad panelled staircase, with massive balustrades of some dark wood;cornices above the doors, ornamented with carved fruit and flowers; andbroad seats in the windows. But all these tokens of past grandeurwere miserably decayed and dirty; rot, damp, and age, had weakenedthe flooring, which in many places was unsound and even unsafe. Someattempts had been made, I noticed, to infuse new blood into thisdwindling frame, by repairing the costly old wood-work here and therewith common deal; but it was like the marriage of a reduced old noble toa plebeian pauper, and each party to the ill-assorted union shrunk awayfrom the other. Several of the back windows on the staircase hadbeen darkened or wholly blocked up. In those that remained, there wasscarcely any glass; and, through the crumbling frames by which the badair seemed always to come in, and never to go out, I saw, through otherglassless windows, into other houses in a similar condition, and lookedgiddily down into a wretched yard, which was the common dust-heap of themansion.

We proceeded to the top-storey of the house. Two or three times, by theway, I thought I observed in the indistinct light the skirts of a femalefigure going up before us. As we turned to ascend the last flight ofstairs between us and the roof, we caught a full view of this figurepausing for a moment, at a door. Then it turned the handle, and went in.

'What's this!' said Martha, in a whisper. 'She has gone into my room. Idon't know her!'

I knew her. I had recognized her with amazement, for Miss Dartle.

I said something to the effect that it was a lady whom I had seenbefore, in a few words, to my conductress; and had scarcely done so,when we heard her voice in the room, though not, from where we stood,what she was saying. Martha, with an astonished look, repeated herformer action, and softly led me up the stairs; and then, by a littleback-door which seemed to have no lock, and which she pushed open with atouch, into a small empty garret with a low sloping roof, little betterthan a cupboard. Between this, and the room she had called hers,there was a small door of communication, standing partly open. Here westopped, breathless with our ascent, and she placed her hand lightly onmy lips. I could only see, of the room beyond, that it was pretty large;that there was a bed in it; and that there were some common pictures ofships upon the walls. I could not see Miss Dartle, or the person whomwe had heard her address. Certainly, my companion could not, for myposition was the best. A dead silence prevailed for some moments. Marthakept one hand on my lips, and raised the other in a listening attitude.

'It matters little to me her not being at home,' said Rosa Dartlehaughtily, 'I know nothing of her. It is you I come to see.'

'Me?' replied a soft voice.

At the sound of it, a thrill went through my frame. For it was Emily's!

'Yes,' returned Miss Dartle, 'I have come to look at you. What? You arenot ashamed of the face that has done so much?'

The resolute and unrelenting hatred of her tone, its cold sternsharpness, and its mastered rage, presented her before me, as if I hadseen her standing in the light. I saw the flashing black eyes, and thepassion-wasted figure; and I saw the scar, with its white track cuttingthrough her lips, quivering and throbbing as she spoke.

'I have come to see,' she said, 'James Steerforth's fancy; the girl whoran away with him, and is the town-talk of the commonest people of hernative place; the bold, flaunting, practised companion of persons likeJames Steerforth. I want to know what such a thing is like.'

There was a rustle, as if the unhappy girl, on whom she heaped thesetaunts, ran towards the door, and the speaker swiftly interposed herselfbefore it. It was succeeded by a moment's pause.

When Miss Dartle spoke again, it was through her set teeth, and with astamp upon the ground.

'Stay there!' she said, 'or I'll proclaim you to the house, and thewhole street! If you try to evade me, I'll stop you, if it's by thehair, and raise the very stones against you!'

A frightened murmur was the only reply that reached my ears. A silencesucceeded. I did not know what to do. Much as I desired to put an end tothe interview, I felt that I had no right to present myself; that it wasfor Mr. Peggotty alone to see her and recover her. Would he never come?I thought impatiently.

'So!' said Rosa Dartle, with a contemptuous laugh, 'I see her at last!Why, he was a poor creature to be taken by that delicate mock-modesty,and that hanging head!'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake, spare me!' exclaimed Emily. 'Whoever you are,you know my pitiable story, and for Heaven's sake spare me, if you wouldbe spared yourself!'

'If I would be spared!' returned the other fiercely; 'what is there incommon between US, do you think!'

'Nothing but our sex,' said Emily, with a burst of tears.

'And that,' said Rosa Dartle, 'is so strong a claim, preferred by oneso infamous, that if I had any feeling in my breast but scorn andabhorrence of you, it would freeze it up. Our sex! You are an honour toour sex!'

'I have deserved this,' said Emily, 'but it's dreadful! Dear, dear lady,think what I have suffered, and how I am fallen! Oh, Martha, come back!Oh, home, home!'

Miss Dartle placed herself in a chair, within view of the door, andlooked downward, as if Emily were crouching on the floor before her.Being now between me and the light, I could see her curled lip, and hercruel eyes intently fixed on one place, with a greedy triumph.

'Listen to what I say!' she said; 'and reserve your false arts for yourdupes. Do you hope to move me by your tears? No more than you couldcharm me by your smiles, you purchased slave.'

'Oh, have some mercy on me!' cried Emily. 'Show me some compassion, or Ishall die mad!'

'It would be no great penance,' said Rosa Dartle, 'for your crimes. Doyou know what you have done? Do you ever think of the home you have laidwaste?'

'Oh, is there ever night or day, when I don't think of it!' cried Emily;and now I could just see her, on her knees, with her head thrown back,her pale face looking upward, her hands wildly clasped and held out,and her hair streaming about her. 'Has there ever been a single minute,waking or sleeping, when it hasn't been before me, just as it used tobe in the lost days when I turned my back upon it for ever and for ever!Oh, home, home! Oh dear, dear uncle, if you ever could have known theagony your love would cause me when I fell away from good, you neverwould have shown it to me so constant, much as you felt it; but wouldhave been angry to me, at least once in my life, that I might have hadsome comfort! I have none, none, no comfort upon earth, for all of themwere always fond of me!' She dropped on her face, before the imperiousfigure in the chair, with an imploring effort to clasp the skirt of herdress.

Rosa Dartle sat looking down upon her, as inflexible as a figure ofbrass. Her lips were tightly compressed, as if she knew that shemust keep a strong constraint upon herself--I write what I sincerelybelieve--or she would be tempted to strike the beautiful form withher foot. I saw her, distinctly, and the whole power of her face andcharacter seemed forced into that expression.---Would he never come?

'The miserable vanity of these earth-worms!' she said, when she had sofar controlled the angry heavings of her breast, that she could trustherself to speak. 'YOUR home! Do you imagine that I bestow a thoughton it, or suppose you could do any harm to that low place, which moneywould not pay for, and handsomely? YOUR home! You were a part of thetrade of your home, and were bought and sold like any other vendiblething your people dealt in.'

'Oh, not that!' cried Emily. 'Say anything of me; but don't visitmy disgrace and shame, more than I have done, on folks who are ashonourable as you! Have some respect for them, as you are a lady, if youhave no mercy for me.'

'I speak,' she said, not deigning to take any heed of this appeal, anddrawing away her dress from the contamination of Emily's touch, 'I speakof HIS home--where I live. Here,' she said, stretching out her hand withher contemptuous laugh, and looking down upon the prostrate girl, 'is aworthy cause of division between lady-mother and gentleman-son; of griefin a house where she wouldn't have been admitted as a kitchen-girl; ofanger, and repining, and reproach. This piece of pollution, picked upfrom the water-side, to be made much of for an hour, and then tossedback to her original place!'

'No! no!' cried Emily, clasping her hands together. 'When he first cameinto my way--that the day had never dawned upon me, and he had met mebeing carried to my grave!--I had been brought up as virtuous as you orany lady, and was going to be the wife of as good a man as you or anylady in the world can ever marry. If you live in his home and know him,you know, perhaps, what his power with a weak, vain girl might be. Idon't defend myself, but I know well, and he knows well, or he will knowwhen he comes to die, and his mind is troubled with it, that he used allhis power to deceive me, and that I believed him, trusted him, and lovedhim!'

Rosa Dartle sprang up from her seat; recoiled; and in recoiling struckat her, with a face of such malignity, so darkened and disfigured bypassion, that I had almost thrown myself between them. The blow, whichhad no aim, fell upon the air. As she now stood panting, looking ather with the utmost detestation that she was capable of expressing, andtrembling from head to foot with rage and scorn, I thought I had neverseen such a sight, and never could see such another.

'YOU love him? You?' she cried, with her clenched hand, quivering as ifit only wanted a weapon to stab the object of her wrath.

Emily had shrunk out of my view. There was no reply.

'And tell that to ME,' she added, 'with your shameful lips? Why don'tthey whip these creatures? If I could order it to be done, I would havethis girl whipped to death.'

And so she would, I have no doubt. I would not have trusted her with therack itself, while that furious look lasted. She slowly, very slowly,broke into a laugh, and pointed at Emily with her hand, as if she were asight of shame for gods and men.

'SHE love!' she said. 'THAT carrion! And he ever cared for her, she'dtell me. Ha, ha! The liars that these traders are!'

Her mockery was worse than her undisguised rage. Of the two, I wouldhave much preferred to be the object of the latter. But, when shesuffered it to break loose, it was only for a moment. She had chainedit up again, and however it might tear her within, she subdued it toherself.

'I came here, you pure fountain of love,' she said, 'to see--as I beganby telling you--what such a thing as you was like. I was curious. I amsatisfied. Also to tell you, that you had best seek that home of yours,with all speed, and hide your head among those excellent people who areexpecting you, and whom your money will console. When it's all gone, youcan believe, and trust, and love again, you know! I thought you a brokentoy that had lasted its time; a worthless spangle that was tarnished,and thrown away. But, finding you true gold, a very lady, andan ill-used innocent, with a fresh heart full of love andtrustfulness--which you look like, and is quite consistent with yourstory!--I have something more to say. Attend to it; for what I say I'lldo. Do you hear me, you fairy spirit? What I say, I mean to do!'

Her rage got the better of her again, for a moment; but it passed overher face like a spasm, and left her smiling.

'Hide yourself,' she pursued, 'if not at home, somewhere. Let it besomewhere beyond reach; in some obscure life--or, better still, in someobscure death. I wonder, if your loving heart will not break, you havefound no way of helping it to be still! I have heard of such meanssometimes. I believe they may be easily found.'

A low crying, on the part of Emily, interrupted her here. She stopped,and listened to it as if it were music.

'I am of a strange nature, perhaps,' Rosa Dartle went on; 'but I can'tbreathe freely in the air you breathe. I find it sickly. Therefore, Iwill have it cleared; I will have it purified of you. If you live heretomorrow, I'll have your story and your character proclaimed on thecommon stair. There are decent women in the house, I am told; and itis a pity such a light as you should be among them, and concealed. If,leaving here, you seek any refuge in this town in any character but yourtrue one (which you are welcome to bear, without molestation from me),the same service shall be done you, if I hear of your retreat. Beingassisted by a gentleman who not long ago aspired to the favour of yourhand, I am sanguine as to that.'

Would he never, never come? How long was I to bear this? How long couldI bear it? 'Oh me, oh me!' exclaimed the wretched Emily, in a tone thatmight have touched the hardest heart, I should have thought; but therewas no relenting in Rosa Dartle's smile. 'What, what, shall I do!'

'Do?' returned the other. 'Live happy in your own reflections!Consecrate your existence to the recollection of James Steerforth'stenderness--he would have made you his serving-man's wife, would henot?---or to feeling grateful to the upright and deserving creature whowould have taken you as his gift. Or, if those proud remembrances, andthe consciousness of your own virtues, and the honourable position towhich they have raised you in the eyes of everything that wears thehuman shape, will not sustain you, marry that good man, and be happy inhis condescension. If this will not do either, die! There are doorwaysand dust-heaps for such deaths, and such despair--find one, and takeyour flight to Heaven!'

I heard a distant foot upon the stairs. I knew it, I was certain. It washis, thank God!

She moved slowly from before the door when she said this, and passed outof my sight.

'But mark!' she added, slowly and sternly, opening the other door togo away, 'I am resolved, for reasons that I have and hatreds thatI entertain, to cast you out, unless you withdraw from my reachaltogether, or drop your pretty mask. This is what I had to say; andwhat I say, I mean to do!'

The foot upon the stairs came nearer--nearer--passed her as she wentdown--rushed into the room!

'Uncle!'

A fearful cry followed the word. I paused a moment, and looking in, sawhim supporting her insensible figure in his arms. He gazed for a fewseconds in the face; then stooped to kiss it--oh, how tenderly!--anddrew a handkerchief before it.

'Mas'r Davy,' he said, in a low tremulous voice, when it was covered, 'Ithank my Heav'nly Father as my dream's come true! I thank Him hearty forhaving guided of me, in His own ways, to my darling!'

With those words he took her up in his arms; and, with the veiledface lying on his bosom, and addressed towards his own, carried her,motionless and unconscious, down the stairs.