And from those days," says Mrs. Rouncewell, "the name has come down--the Ghost's Walk.

And from those days," says Mrs. Rouncewell, "the name has come down - the Ghost's Walk.


If the tread is an echo, it is an echo that is only heard after dark, and is often unheard for a long while together.


But it comes back from time to time; and so sure as there is sickness or death in the family, it will be heard then."


"And disgrace, grandmother--" says Watt.


"Disgrace never comes to Chesney Wold," returns the housekeeper.


Whatever the sound is, it is a worrying sound," says Mrs. Rouncewell, getting up from her chair; "and what is to be noticed in it is that it MUST BE HEARD. My Lady, who is afraid of nothing, admits that when it is there, it must be heard. You cannot shut it out.

Whatever the sound is, it is a worrying sound," says Mrs. Rouncewell, getting up from her chair; "and you cannot shut it out.


Watt, there is a tall French clock behind you (placed there, 'a purpose) that has a loud beat when it is in motion and can play music.

Watt, there is a tall French clock behind you that has a loud beat and can play music.


You understand how those things are managed?"


"Now, come hither," says the housekeeper.


"Hither, child, towards my Lady's pillow.


"I am not sure that it is dark enough yet, but listen!


Can you hear the sound upon the terrace, through the music, and the beat, and everything?"

Can you hear the sound upon the terrace, through the music?"


England has been in a dreadful state for some weeks.


Lord Coodle would go out, Sir Thomas Doodle wouldn't come in, and there being nobody in Great Britain (to speak of) except Coodle and Doodle, there has been no government.

The Prime Minister Lord Coodle has gone out, Sir Thomas Doodle won't come in, and there being nobody in Great Britain (to speak of) except Coodle and Doodle, there has been no government.


It is a mercy that the hostile meeting between those two great men, which at one time seemed inevitable, did not come off, because if both pistols had taken effect, and Coodle and Doodle had killed each other, it is to be presumed that England must have waited to be governed until young Coodle and young Doodle, now in frocks and long stockings, were grown up.


This stupendous national calamity, however, was averted by Lord Coodle's making the timely discovery that if in the heat of debate he had said that he scorned and despised the whole ignoble career of Sir Thomas Doodle, he had merely meant to say that party differences should never induce him to withhold from it the tribute of his warmest admiration; while it as opportunely turned out, on the other hand, that Sir Thomas Doodle had in his own bosom expressly booked Lord Coodle to go down to posterity as the mirror of virtue and honour.


Still England has been some weeks in the dismal strait of having no pilot (as was well observed by Sir Leicester Dedlock) to weather the storm; and the marvellous part of the matter is that England has not appeared to care very much about it, but has gone on eating and drinking and marrying and giving in marriage as the old world did in the days before the flood.

It is amazing that England has not appeared to care very much about it, but has gone on eating and drinking just the same as ever.


But Coodle knew the danger, and Doodle knew the danger, and all their followers and hangers-on had the clearest possible perception of the danger.


At last Sir Thomas Doodle has not only condescended to come in, but has done it handsomely, bringing in with him all his nephews, all his male cousins, and all his brothers-in-law.

At last Sir Thomas Doodle has not only condescended to come in, but has done it handsomely, bringing with him all his nephews, his male cousins, and his brothers-in-law.


Doodle has found that he must throw himself upon the country, chiefly in the form of sovereigns and beer.

Doodle has found that he must throw himself upon the country, and campaign, chiefly in the form of sovereigns and beer.


In this metamorphosed state he is available in a good many places simultaneously and can throw himself upon a considerable portion of the country at one time.


Britannia being much occupied in pocketing Doodle in the form of sovereigns, and swallowing Doodle in the form of beer, and in swearing herself black in the face that she does neither--plainly to the advancement of her glory and morality--the London season comes to a sudden end, through all the Doodleites and Coodleites dispersing to assist Britannia in those religious exercises.

The London season comes to a sudden end, through all the Doodleites and Coodleites dispersing to assist in those exercises.


Hence Mrs. Rouncewell, housekeeper at Chesney Wold, foresees, though no instructions have yet come down, that the family may shortly be expected, together with a pretty large accession of cousins and others who can in any way assist the great Constitutional work.

Hence Mrs. Rouncewell, housekeeper at Chesney Wold, foresees that the family may shortly be expected, together with a pretty large party of cousins and others who can in any way assist the great Constitutional work.


And hence the stately old dame, taking Time by the forelock, leads him up and down the staircases, and along the galleries and passages, and through the rooms, to witness before he grows any older that everything is ready, that floors are rubbed bright, carpets spread, curtains shaken out, beds puffed and patted, still-room and kitchen cleared for action--all things prepared as beseems the Dedlock dignity.

And hence the stately old dame proceeds up and down the staircases, and along the galleries and passages, and through the rooms, to witness that everything is ready, floors rubbed bright, carpets spread, curtains shaken out, beds puffed, and kitchen cleared for action.


This present summer evening, as the sun goes down, the preparations are complete.

This summer evening, the preparations are complete.


Dreary and solemn the old house looks, with so many appliances of habitation and with no inhabitants except the pictured forms upon the walls.

Dreary and solemn the old house looks, with no inhabitants except the pictured forms upon the walls.


So did these come and go, a Dedlock in possession might have ruminated passing along; so did they see this gallery hushed and quiet, as I see it now; so think, as I think, of the gap that they would make in this domain when they were gone; so find it, as I find it, difficult to believe that it could be without them; so pass from my world, as I pass from theirs, now closing the reverberating door; so leave no blank to miss them, and so die.


Through some of the fiery windows beautiful from without, and set, at this sunset hour, not in dull-grey stone but in a glorious house of gold, the light excluded at other windows pours in rich, lavish, overflowing like the summer plenty in the land.

Through some of the fiery windows, which are beautiful from outside, and set, at this sunset hour, not in dull-grey stone but in a glorious house of gold, the light pours in, rich, lavish, overflowing.


Strange movements come upon their features as the shadows of leaves play there.


A dense justice in a corner is beguiled into a wink.


A staring baronet, with a truncheon, gets a dimple in his chin.


Down into the bosom of a stony shepherdess there steals a fleck of light and warmth that would have done it good a hundred years ago.


One ancestress of Volumnia, in high-heeled shoes, very like her--casting the shadow of that virgin event before her full two centuries--shoots out into a halo and becomes a saint.


A maid of honour of the court of Charles the Second, with large round eyes (and other charms to correspond), seems to bathe in glowing water, and it ripples as it glows.


Even now the floor is dusky, and shadow slowly mounts the walls, bringing the Dedlocks down like age and death.

Shadow slowly mounts the walls, bringing the Dedlocks down like age and death.


And now, upon my Lady's picture over the great chimney-piece, a weird shade falls from some old tree, that turns it pale, and flutters it, and looks as if a great arm held a veil or hood, watching an opportunity to draw it over her.

And now, upon my Lady's picture over the great chimney-piece, a weird shade falls from some old tree, as if a great arm held a veil or hood, watching an opportunity to draw it over her.


Higher and darker rises shadow on the wall--now a red gloom on the ceiling--now the fire is out.

Higher and darker rises the shadow on the wall - now a red gloom on the ceiling - now the fire is out.


All that prospect, which from the terrace looked so near, has moved solemnly away and changed--not the first nor the last of beautiful things that look so near and will so change--into a distant phantom.


Light mists arise, and the dew falls, and all the sweet scents in the garden are heavy in the air.

Light mists arise, and the dew falls, and the sweet garden scents are heavy in the air.


Now the woods settle into great masses as if they were each one profound tree.


And now the moon rises to separate them, and to glimmer here and there in horizontal lines behind their stems, and to make the avenue a pavement of light among high cathedral arches fantastically broken.


Now the moon is high; and the great house, needing habitation more than ever, is like a body without life.

Now the moon is high; and the great house is like a body without life.


Now it is even awful, stealing through it, to think of the live people who have slept in the solitary bedrooms, to say nothing of the dead.


Now is the time for shadow, when every corner is a cavern and every downward step a pit, when the stained glass is reflected in pale and faded hues upon the floors, when anything and everything can be made of the heavy staircase beams excepting their own proper shapes, when the armour has dull lights upon it not easily to be distinguished from stealthy movement, and when barred helmets are frightfully suggestive of heads inside.

Now is the time for shadow, when every corner is a cavern and every downward step a pit, when the stained glass is reflected in pale and faded hues upon the floors, when the armour has dull lights upon it not easily to be distinguished from stealthy movement, and when barred helmets are frightfully suggestive of heads inside.


But of all the shadows in Chesney Wold, the shadow in the long drawing-room upon my Lady's picture is the first to come, the last to be disturbed. At this hour and by this light it changes into threatening hands raised up and menacing the handsome face with every breath that stirs.

But of all the shadows in Chesney Wold, the shadow in the long drawing-room upon my Lady's picture is the first to come, its threatening hands raised up and menacing the handsome face.


"She is not well, ma'am," says a groom in Mrs. Rouncewell's audience-chamber.

"She is not well, ma'am," says a groom in Mrs. Rouncewell's room.


"Why, my Lady has been but poorly, ma'am, since she was last here--I don't mean with the family, ma'am, but when she was here as a bird of passage like. My Lady has not been out much, for her, and has kept her room a good deal."

"Why, my Lady has been poorly, ma'am, since she was last here, and has kept her room a good deal."


"Chesney Wold, Thomas," rejoins the housekeeper with proud complacency, "will set my Lady up!


There is no finer air and no healthier soil in the world!"


Thomas may have his own personal opinions on this subject, probably hints them in his manner of smoothing his sleek head from the nape of his neck to his temples, but he forbears to express them further and retires to the servants' hall to regale on cold meat-pie and ale.

Thomas may have his own personal opinions on this subject, but he forbears to express them and retires to the servants' hall.


This groom is the pilot-fish before the nobler shark.


Next evening, down come Sir Leicester and my Lady with their largest retinue, and down come the cousins and others from all the points of the compass.

Next evening, down come Sir Leicester and my Lady with their retinue, and down come the cousins and others from all the points of the compass.


Thenceforth for some weeks backward and forward rush mysterious men with no names, who fly about all those particular parts of the country on which Doodle is at present throwing himself in an auriferous and malty shower, but who are merely persons of a restless disposition and never do anything anywhere.

Thenceforth for some weeks backward and forward rush mysterious men with no names, who fly about all those parts of the country on which Doodle is at present throwing himself.


On these national occasions Sir Leicester finds the cousins useful.


A better man than the Honourable Bob Stables to meet the Hunt at dinner, there could not possibly be.


Better got up gentlemen than the other cousins to ride over to polling-booths and hustings here and there, and show themselves on the side of England, it would be hard to find.

Better got-up gentlemen than the other cousins, to ride over to polling-booths and hustings, it would be hard to find.


Volumnia is a little dim, but she is of the true descent; and there are many who appreciate her sprightly conversation, her French conundrums so old as to have become in the cycles of time almost new again, the honour of taking the fair Dedlock in to dinner, or even the privilege of her hand in the dance.

Volumnia is a little dim, but she is of the true descent; and there are many who appreciate her sprightly conversation, her French conundrums so old as to have become in the cycles of time almost new again.


On these national occasions dancing may be a patriotic service, and Volumnia is constantly seen hopping about for the good of an ungrateful and unpensioning country.

On these national occasions dancing may be a patriotic service, and Volumnia is constantly seen hopping about for the good of an ungrateful country.


My Lady takes no great pains to entertain the numerous guests, and being still unwell, rarely appears until late in the day.


But at all the dismal dinners, leaden lunches, basilisk balls, and other melancholy pageants, her mere appearance is a relief.


As to Sir Leicester, he conceives it utterly impossible that anything can be wanting, in any direction, by any one who has the good fortune to be received under that roof; and in a state of sublime satisfaction, he moves among the company, a magnificent refrigerator.

As to Sir Leicester, he is in a state of sublime satisfaction; he moves among the company, a magnificent refrigerator.


Daily the cousins trot through dust and canter over roadside turf, away to hustings and polling-booths (with leather gloves and hunting-whips for the counties and kid gloves and riding-canes for the boroughs), and daily bring back reports on which Sir Leicester holds forth after dinner.

Daily the cousins trot away to hustings and polling-booths, and daily bring back reports on which Sir Leicester holds forth after dinner.


Daily the restless men who have no occupation in life present the appearance of being rather busy.

Daily the restless men who have no occupation in life appear to be rather busy.


Daily Volumnia has a little cousinly talk with Sir Leicester on the state of the nation, from which Sir Leicester is disposed to conclude that Volumnia is a more reflecting woman than he had thought her.

Daily Volumnia has a little cousinly talk with Sir Leicester on the state of the nation, from which Sir Leicester concludes that Volumnia is a more reflecting woman than he had thought her.


The mighty business is nearly over by this time, and Doodle will throw himself off the country in a few days more.

The mighty business is nearly over by this time.


Sir Leicester has just appeared in the long drawing-room after dinner, a bright particular star surrounded by clouds of cousins.

Sir Leicester has just appeared in the long drawing-room after dinner, a bright star surrounded by clouds of cousins.


"Volumnia," replies Sir Leicester, who has a list in his hand, "we are doing tolerably."


Although it is summer weather, Sir Leicester always has his own particular fire in the evening.


He takes his usual screened seat near it and repeats with much firmness and a little displeasure, as who should say, I am not a common man, and when I say tolerably, it must not be understood as a common expression, "Volumnia, we are doing tolerably."


"At least there is no opposition to YOU," Volumnia asserts with confidence.

At least there is no opposition to you," Volumnia asserts with confidence.


This distracted country has lost its senses in many respects, I grieve to say, but--"

This distracted country has lost its senses in many respects, I grieve to say, but-"


Volumnia's finishing the sentence restores her to favour.

On Volumnia's finishing the sentence, Sir Leicester graciously inclines his head.


Sir Leicester, with a gracious inclination of his head, seems to say to himself, "A sensible woman this, on the whole, though occasionally precipitate."

He seems to say to himself, "A sensible woman this."


In fact, as to this question of opposition, the fair Dedlock's observation was superfluous, Sir Leicester on these occasions always delivering in his own candidateship, as a kind of handsome wholesale order to be promptly executed.

In fact, as to this question of opposition, Sir Leicester always delivers his own candidateship as a kind of handsome wholesale order to be promptly executed.


Two other little seats that belong to him he treats as retail orders of less importance, merely sending down the men and signifying to the tradespeople, "You will have the goodness to make these materials into two members of Parliament and to send them home when done."

Two other little seats that belong to him he treats as retail orders of less importance, merely sending down two men and signifying to the tradespeople, "You will have the goodness to make these materials into two Members of Parliament and to send them home when done."


"I regret to say, Volumnia, that in many places the people have shown a bad spirit, and that this opposition to the government has been of a most determined and most implacable description."

"I regret to say, Volumnia, that in many places the people have shown a bad spirit, and that this opposition to the government has been most determined."


"Even," proceeds Sir Leicester, glancing at the circumjacent cousins on sofas and ottomans, "even in many--in fact, in most--of those places in which the government has carried it against a faction--"
(Note, by the way, that the Coodleites are always a faction with the Doodleites, and that the Doodleites occupy exactly the same position towards the Coodleites.)
"--Even in them I am shocked, for the credit of Englishmen, to be constrained to inform you that the party has not triumphed without being put to an enormous expense.

"In many places I am shocked to have to inform you that the party has not triumphed without being put to an enormous expense," says Sir Leicester, with swelling indignation.


Hundreds," says Sir Leicester, eyeing the cousins with increasing dignity and swelling indignation, "hundreds of thousands of pounds!"


If Volumnia have a fault, it is the fault of being a trifle too innocent, seeing that the innocence which would go extremely well with a sash and tucker is a little out of keeping with the rouge and pearl necklace.

If Volumnia has a fault, it is the fault of being a trifle too innocent for her age.


Howbeit, impelled by innocence, she asks, "What for?"

Impelled by innocence, she asks, "What for?"


"Volumnia," remonstrates Sir Leicester with his utmost severity.

"Volumnia," remonstrates Sir Leicester, with his utmost severity.


"No, no, I don't mean what for," cries Volumnia with her favourite little scream.


"I am glad," returns Sir Leicester, "that you do mean what a pity."


Volumnia hastens to express her opinion that the shocking people ought to be tried as traitors and made to support the party.

And she hastens to express her opinion that the shocking people ought to be tried as traitors and made to support the party.


"I am glad, Volumnia," repeats Sir Leicester, unmindful of these mollifying sentiments, "that you do mean what a pity.

"I am glad, Volumnia," says Sir Leicester, "that you do mean 'what a pity'.


But as you, though inadvertently and without intending so unreasonable a question, asked me 'what for?'


And I trust to your good sense, Volumnia, not to pursue the subject, here or elsewhere."


Sir Leicester feels it incumbent on him to observe a crushing aspect towards Volumnia because it is whispered abroad that these necessary expenses will, in some two hundred election petitions, be unpleasantly connected with the word bribery, and because some graceless jokers have consequently suggested the omission from the Church service of the ordinary supplication in behalf of the High Court of Parliament and have recommended instead that the prayers of the congregation be requested for six hundred and fifty-eight gentlemen in a very unhealthy state.

Sir Leicester feels it necessary to crush Volumnia's enquiry because it is whispered abroad that these necessary expenses will, in some cases, be unpleasantly connected with the word bribery.


"I suppose," observes Volumnia, having taken a little time to recover her spirits after her late castigation, "I suppose Mr. Tulkinghorn has been worked to death."

"I suppose," observes Volumnia, having taken a little time to recover her spirits, "I suppose Mr. Tulkinghorn has been worked to death."


"I don't know," says Sir Leicester, opening his eyes, "why Mr. Tulkinghorn should be worked to death.

"I don't know why he should be," says Sir Leicester.


I don't know what Mr. Tulkinghorn's engagements may be.


Volumnia had thought he might have been employed.


Sir Leicester could desire to know by whom, and what for.


Volumnia, abashed again, suggests, by somebody--to advise and make arrangements.


Sir Leicester is not aware that any client of Mr. Tulkinghorn has been in need of his assistance.


Lady Dedlock, seated at an open window with her arm upon its cushioned ledge and looking out at the evening shadows falling on the park, has seemed to attend since the lawyer's name was mentioned.

Lady Dedlock, seated at an open window and looking out at the evening shadows, seems to attend since the lawyer's name was mentioned.


A languid cousin with a moustache in a state of extreme debility now observes from his couch that man told him ya'as'dy that Tulkinghorn had gone down t' that iron place t' give legal 'pinion 'bout something, and that contest being over t' day, 'twould be highly jawlly thing if Tulkinghorn should 'pear with news that Coodle man was floored.

A languid cousin with a moustache in a state of extreme debility now observes from his couch that man told him ya'sdy that Tulkinghorn had gone down t' that iron place t' give legal 'pinion 'bout something, and 'twould be highly jawlly thing if Tulkinghorn should bring news that Coodle man was floored.


Mercury in attendance with coffee informs Sir Leicester, hereupon, that Mr. Tulkinghorn has arrived and is taking dinner.

A footman with coffee informs Sir Leicester that Mr. Tulkinghorn has arrived and is taking dinner.


My Lady turns her head inward for the moment, then looks out again as before.

My Lady turns her head, then looks out again as before.


Volumnia is charmed to hear that her delight is come.


He is so original, such a stolid creature, such an immense being for knowing all sorts of things and never telling them!

He is so original, such a stolid creature, knowing all sorts of things and never telling them!


Volumnia is persuaded that he must be a Freemason.

Volumnia is sure he must be a Freemason.


Is sure he is at the head of a lodge, and wears short aprons, and is made a perfect idol of with candlesticks and trowels.


These lively remarks the fair Dedlock delivers in her youthful manner, while making a purse.

These lively remarks the fair Dedlock delivers in her youthful manner.


"He has not been here once," she adds, "since I came.


I really had some thoughts of breaking my heart for the inconstant creature.


I had almost made up my mind that he was dead."


It may be the gathering gloom of evening, or it may be the darker gloom within herself, but a shade is on my Lady's face, as if she thought, "I would he were!"

It may be the gathering gloom of evening, but a shade is on my Lady's face, as if she thought, "I wish he were!"


"Mr. Tulkinghorn," says Sir Leicester, "is always welcome here and always discreet wheresoever he is.

"Mr. Tulkinghorn," says Sir Leicester, "is always welcome here and always discreet.


A very valuable person, and deservedly respected."


The debilitated cousin supposes he is "'normously rich fler."

The debilitated cousin supposes he is "'normously rich."


"He has a stake in the country," says Sir Leicester, "I have no doubt.


He is, of course, handsomely paid, and he associates almost on a footing of equality with the highest society."

"He is, of course, handsomely paid," says Sir Leicester, "and he associates almost on a footing of equality with the highest society."


cries Volumnia with her little withered scream.


Enter Mr. Tulkinghorn, followed by Mercuries with lamps and candles.


"No, no," says Sir Leicester, "I think not.


My Lady, do you object to the twilight?"


Nothing is so delicious to Volumnia as to sit and talk in the dark.


"Then take them away," says Sir Leicester.


Mr. Tulkinghorn with his usual leisurely ease advances, renders his passing homage to my Lady, shakes Sir Leicester's hand, and subsides into the chair proper to him when he has anything to communicate, on the opposite side of the Baronet's little newspaper-table.

Mr. Tulkinghorn with his usual leisurely ease advances, bows to my Lady, shakes Sir Leicester's hand, and subsides into the chair opposite the Baronet's newspaper-table.


Sir Leicester is apprehensive that my Lady, not being very well, will take cold at that open window.

Sir Leicester fears that my Lady, not being very well, will take cold at that open window.


My Lady is obliged to him, but would rather sit there for the air.


Sir Leicester rises, adjusts her scarf about her, and returns to his seat.


Mr. Tulkinghorn in the meanwhile takes a pinch of snuff.


It is a part of Mr. Tulkinghorn's policy and mastery to have no political opinions; indeed, NO opinions.

It is a part of Mr. Tulkinghorn's mastery to have no political opinions; indeed, no opinions at all.


Therefore he says "you" are beaten, and not "we."


'The debilitated cousin holds that it's sort of thing that's sure tapn slongs votes--giv'n--Mob.


"It's the place, you know," Mr. Tulkinghorn goes on to say in the fast-increasing darkness when there is silence again, "where they wanted to put up Mrs. Rouncewell's son."

"It's the place, you know," Mr. Tulkinghorn goes on, "where they wanted to put up Mrs. Rouncewell's son."


"A proposal which, as you correctly informed me at the time, he had the becoming taste and perception," observes Sir Leicester, "to decline. I cannot say that I by any means approve of the sentiments expressed by Mr. Rouncewell when he was here for some half-hour in this room, but there was a sense of propriety in his decision which I am glad to acknowledge."

"A proposal which, as you informed me at the time, he had the becoming taste to decline," observes Sir Leicester, "I cannot say that I approve of the sentiments expressed by Mr. Rouncewell when he was here, but there was a propriety in his decision which I am glad to acknowledge."


"It did not prevent him from being very active in this election, though."


Sir Leicester is distinctly heard to gasp before speaking.

Sir Leicester is distinctly heard to gasp.


Did you say that Mr. Rouncewell had been very active in this election?"


He made a damaging effect, and has great influence."


In the business part of the proceedings he carried all before him."


It is evident to the whole company, though nobody can see him, that Sir Leicester is staring majestically.


"And he was much assisted," says Mr. Tulkinghorn as a wind-up, "by his son."

"And he was much assisted," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, "by his son."


repeats Sir Leicester with awful politeness.


"The son who wished to marry the young woman in my Lady's service?"


"Then upon my honour," says Sir Leicester after a terrific pause during which he has been heard to snort and felt to stare, "then upon my honour, upon my life, upon my reputation and principles, the floodgates of society are burst open, and the waters have--a--obliterated the landmarks of the framework of the cohesion by which things are held together!"

"Then upon my honour," says Sir Leicester after a terrific pause, "upon my life, the floodgates of society are burst open, and the waters have - ah - obliterated the landmarks of the framework of the cohesion by which things are held together!"


Volumnia thinks it is really high time, you know, for somebody in power to step in and do something strong.


Debilitated cousin thinks--country's going--Dayvle--steeple-chase pace.

Debilitated cousin thinks - country's going - Dayvil.


"I beg," says Sir Leicester in a breathless condition, "that we may not comment further on this circumstance.

"I beg," says Sir Leicester, breathless, "that we may not comment further on this circumstance.


My Lady, let me suggest in reference to that young woman--"

My Lady, let me suggest in reference to that young woman-"


"I have no intention," observes my Lady from her window in a low but decided tone, "of parting with her."

"I have no intention," observes my Lady from her window, "of parting with her."


"That was not my meaning," returns Sir Leicester.


I would suggest that as you think her worthy of your patronage, you should exert your influence to keep her from these dangerous hands.


You might show her what violence would be done in such association to her duties and principles, and you might preserve her for a better fate.


You might point out to her that she probably would, in good time, find a husband at Chesney Wold by whom she would not be--" Sir Leicester adds, after a moment's consideration, "dragged from the altars of her forefathers."

You might point out to her that she probably would, in good time, find a husband at Chesney Wold."


These remarks he offers with his unvarying politeness and deference when he addresses himself to his wife.

These remarks he offers with his unvarying politeness and deference to his wife.


The moon is rising, and where she sits there is a little stream of cold pale light, in which her head is seen.


"It is worthy of remark," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, "however, that these people are, in their way, very proud."

"It is worthy of remark," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, "that these people are, in their way, very proud."


"I should not be surprised if they all voluntarily abandoned the girl--yes, lover and all--instead of her abandoning them, supposing she remained at Chesney Wold under such circumstances."

"I should not be surprised if they abandoned the girl instead of her abandoning them, supposing she remained at Chesney Wold."


"Really, Sir Leicester," returns the lawyer, "I state the fact. Why, I could tell you a story--with Lady Dedlock's permission."

"Why, Sir Leicester," returns the lawyer, "I could tell you a story - with Lady Dedlock's permission."


Her head concedes it, and Volumnia is enchanted.


Oh, he is going to tell something at last!


Mr. Tulkinghorn stops for an instant and repeats with some little emphasis grafted upon his usual monotony, "Real flesh and blood, Miss Dedlock.

Real flesh and blood, Miss Dedlock," says the lawyer.


Sir Leicester, these particulars have only lately become known to me.

"Sir Leicester, these details have only lately become known to me.


Lady Dedlock will not think me ill-bred, I hope?"


By the light of the fire, which is low, he can be seen looking towards the moonlight.

By the light of the low fire, he can be seen looking towards the moonlight.


By the light of the moon Lady Dedlock can be seen, perfectly still.


"A townsman of this Mrs. Rouncewell, a man in exactly parallel circumstances as I am told, had the good fortune to have a daughter who attracted the notice of a great lady.

"A townsman of this Mrs. Rouncewell, a man in exactly parallel circumstances, had the good fortune to have a daughter who attracted the notice of a great lady.


I speak of really a great lady, not merely great to him, but married to a gentleman of your condition, Sir Leicester."

I speak of really a great lady, married to a gentleman of your position, Sir Leicester."


Sir Leicester condescendingly says, "Yes, Mr. Tulkinghorn," implying that then she must have appeared of very considerable moral dimensions indeed in the eyes of an iron-master.

Sir Leicester condescendingly says, "Yes, Mr. Tulkinghorn," implying that then she must have appeared very considerable indeed in the eyes of an iron-master.


"The lady was wealthy and beautiful, and had a liking for the girl, and treated her with great kindness, and kept her always near her.


Now this lady preserved a secret under all her greatness, which she had preserved for many years.

Now this lady preserved a secret under all her greatness, which she had kept for many years.


In fact, she had in early life been engaged to marry a young rake--he was a captain in the army--nothing connected with whom came to any good.

In fact, she had in early life been engaged to marry a young rake - a captain in the army who came to no good.


She never did marry him, but she gave birth to a child of which he was the father."


By the light of the fire he can be seen looking towards the moonlight.


By the moonlight, Lady Dedlock can be seen in profile, perfectly still.


"The captain in the army being dead, she believed herself safe; but a train of circumstances with which I need not trouble you led to discovery.

"The captain being dead, she believed herself safe; but a train of circumstances with which I need not trouble you led to discovery.


As I received the story, they began in an imprudence on her own part one day when she was taken by surprise, which shows how difficult it is for the firmest of us (she was very firm) to be always guarded.

As I heard it, they began in an imprudence on her own part one day when she was taken by surprise.


There was great domestic trouble and amazement, you may suppose; I leave you to imagine, Sir Leicester, the husband's grief.


When Mr. Rouncewell's townsman heard of the disclosure, he no more allowed the girl to be patronized and honoured than he would have suffered her to be trodden underfoot before his eyes.

When Mr. Rouncewell's townsman heard of the disclosure, he no longer allowed the girl to be patronized and honoured by the lady.


Such was his pride, that he indignantly took her away, as if from reproach and disgrace. He had no sense of the honour done him and his daughter by the lady's condescension; not the least. He resented the girl's position, as if the lady had been the commonest of commoners.

Such was his pride, that he indignantly took her away, as if from reproach and disgrace; as if the lady had been the commonest of commoners.


I hope Lady Dedlock will excuse its painful nature."


There are various opinions on the merits, more or less conflicting with Volumnia's.


That fair young creature cannot believe there ever was any such lady and rejects the whole history on the threshold.

Volumnia cannot believe there ever was any such lady and rejects the whole history.


The majority incline to the debilitated cousin's sentiment, which is in few words--"no business--Rouncewell's fernal townsman."


Sir Leicester generally refers back in his mind to Wat Tyler and arranges a sequence of events on a plan of his own.

Sir Leicester thinks of Wat Tyler and the Peasants' Revolt.


There is not much conversation in all, for late hours have been kept at Chesney Wold since the necessary expenses elsewhere began, and this is the first night in many on which the family have been alone.

There is not much conversation in all, for it is late.


It is past ten when Sir Leicester begs Mr. Tulkinghorn to ring for candles.


Then the stream of moonlight has swelled into a lake, and then Lady Dedlock for the first time moves, and rises, and comes forward to a table for a glass of water.

The stream of moonlight has swelled into a lake, and then Lady Dedlock for the first time moves, and rises, coming forward to a table for a glass of water.


Winking cousins, bat-like in the candle glare, crowd round to give it; Volumnia (always ready for something better if procurable) takes another, a very mild sip of which contents her; Lady Dedlock, graceful, self-possessed, looked after by admiring eyes, passes away slowly down the long perspective by the side of that nymph, not at all improving her as a question of contrast.

Cousins, bat-like in the candle glare, crowd round to give it; Lady Dedlock, graceful, self-possessed, looked at by admiring eyes, passes slowly out of the long room.


Richard very often came to see us while we remained in London (though he soon failed in his letter-writing), and with his quick abilities, his good spirits, his good temper, his gaiety and freshness, was always delightful.

Richard often came to see us while we were in London (though he soon failed in his letter-writing), and with his quick abilities, his good temper, his gaiety and freshness, was always delightful.


But though I liked him more and more the better I knew him, I still felt more and more how much it was to be regretted that he had been educated in no habits of application and concentration.

But though I liked him more and more the better I knew him, I still felt more and more how much it was to be regretted that he had been taught no habits of application.


The system which had addressed him in exactly the same manner as it had addressed hundreds of other boys, all varying in character and capacity, had enabled him to dash through his tasks, always with fair credit and often with distinction, but in a fitful, dazzling way that had confirmed his reliance on those very qualities in himself which it had been most desirable to direct and train.

His education had enabled him to dash through his tasks with fair credit, and often with distinction, but in a fitful, dazzling way that had confirmed his reliance on those very qualities which it was most desirable to train.


They were good qualities, without which no high place can be meritoriously won, but like fire and water, though excellent servants, they were very bad masters.

Those qualities were excellent servants, but very bad masters.


If they had been under Richard's direction, they would have been his friends; but Richard being under their direction, they became his enemies.


I write down these opinions not because I believe that this or any other thing was so because I thought so, but only because I did think so and I want to be quite candid about all I thought and did.

I write down these opinions only because I want to be quite candid about all I thought and did.


I thought I often observed besides how right my guardian was in what he had said, and that the uncertainties and delays of the Chancery suit had imparted to his nature something of the careless spirit of a gamester who felt that he was part of a great gaming system.

I often observed how right my guardian was in what he had said, that the uncertainties of the Chancery suit had given Richard's nature something of the careless spirit of a gamester who felt that he was part of a great gaming system.


Mr. and Mrs. Bayham Badger coming one afternoon when my guardian was not at home, in the course of conversation I naturally inquired after Richard.

Mr. and Mrs. Bayham Badger came one afternoon when my guardian was not at home. In the course of conversation I naturally inquired after Richard.


"Why, Mr. Carstone," said Mrs. Badger, "is very well and is, I assure you, a great acquisition to our society.

"Why, he is very well," said Mrs. Badger, "and a great acquisition to our society.


Captain Swosser used to say of me that I was always better than land a-head and a breeze a-starn to the midshipmen's mess when the purser's junk had become as tough as the fore-topsel weather earings. It was his naval way of mentioning generally that I was an acquisition to any society.

Captain Swosser used to say of me that I was an acquisition to any society.


I may render the same tribute, I am sure, to Mr. Carstone.


But I--you won't think me premature if I mention it?"

But - you won't think me premature if I mention it?"


I said no, as Mrs. Badger's insinuating tone seemed to require such an answer.


"Why, you see, my dears," said Mrs. Badger, "--you'll excuse me calling you my dears?"


We entreated Mrs. Badger not to mention it.


"Because you really are, if I may take the liberty of saying so," pursued Mrs. Badger, "so perfectly charming.


You see, my dears, that although I am still young--or Mr. Bayham Badger pays me the compliment of saying so--"

"Why, you see, my dears," said Mrs. Badger, "that although I am still young - or Mr. Bayham Badger pays me the compliment of saying so-"


"No," Mr. Badger called out like some one contradicting at a public meeting.


"Very well," smiled Mrs. Badger, "we will say still young."


"My dears, though still young, I have had many opportunities of observing young men.

"- my dears, though still young, I have had many opportunities of observing young men.


There were many such on board the dear old Crippler, I assure you.


After that, when I was with Captain Swosser in the Mediterranean, I embraced every opportunity of knowing and befriending the midshipmen under Captain Swosser's command.

I embraced every chance of befriending the midshipmen under Captain Swosser's command.


YOU never heard them called the young gentlemen, my dears, and probably would not understand allusions to their pipe-claying their weekly accounts, but it is otherwise with me, for blue water has been a second home to me, and I have been quite a sailor.


"A man of European reputation," murmured Mr. Badger.


"When I lost my dear first and became the wife of my dear second," said Mrs. Badger, speaking of her former husbands as if they were parts of a charade, "I still enjoyed opportunities of observing youth.

"When I became the wife of my dear second husband," said Mrs. Badger, "I still enjoyed opportunities of observing youth.


The class attendant on Professor Dingo's lectures was a large one, and it became my pride, as the wife of an eminent scientific man seeking herself in science the utmost consolation it could impart, to throw our house open to the students as a kind of Scientific Exchange.

The class attending Professor Dingo's lectures was a large one, and it became my pride, as the wife of such an eminent scientific man, to throw our house open to the students.


Every Tuesday evening there was lemonade and a mixed biscuit for all who chose to partake of those refreshments.

Every Tuesday evening there was lemonade and mixed biscuits for all who chose to partake."


And there was science to an unlimited extent."


"Remarkable assemblies those, Miss Summerson," said Mr. Badger reverentially.

"Remarkable assemblies," said Mr. Badger reverentially.


"There must have been great intellectual friction going on there under the auspices of such a man!"


"And now," pursued Mrs. Badger, "now that I am the wife of my dear third, Mr. Badger, I still pursue those habits of observation which were formed during the lifetime of Captain Swosser and adapted to new and unexpected purposes during the lifetime of Professor Dingo.

"And now," pursued Mrs. Badger, "I still have those habits of observation.


I therefore have not come to the consideration of Mr. Carstone as a neophyte. And yet I am very much of the opinion, my dears, that he has not chosen his profession advisedly."

And when I consider Mr. Carstone, I am very much of the opinion, my dears, that he has not chosen his profession advisedly."


Ada looked so very anxious now that I asked Mrs. Badger on what she founded her supposition.


"My dear Miss Summerson," she replied, "on Mr. Carstone's character and conduct. He is of such a very easy disposition that probably he would never think it worth-while to mention how he really feels, but he feels languid about the profession.

"My dear Miss Summerson," she replied, "Mr. Carstone is of such a very easy disposition that probably he would never think it worthwhile to mention how he really feels, but he feels languid about the profession.


He has not that positive interest in it which makes it his vocation.


If he has any decided impression in reference to it, I should say it was that it is a tiresome pursuit.

If anything, I should say he sees it as a tiresome pursuit.


Young men like Mr. Allan Woodcourt who take it from a strong interest in all that it can do will find some reward in it through a great deal of work for a very little money and through years of considerable endurance and disappointment.

Young men like Mr. Allan Woodcourt who take a strong interest in the profession will find some reward in it through a great deal of work for a very little money.


But I am quite convinced that this would never be the case with Mr. Carstone."


"Why," said Mr. Badger, "to tell the truth, Miss Clare, this view of the matter had not occurred to me until Mrs. Badger mentioned it. But when Mrs. Badger put it in that light, I naturally gave great consideration to it, knowing that Mrs. Badger's mind, in addition to its natural advantages, has had the rare advantage of being formed by two such very distinguished (I will even say illustrious) public men as Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy and Professor Dingo. The conclusion at which I have arrived is--in short, is Mrs. Badger's conclusion."

"Why," said Mr. Badger, "to tell the truth, Miss Clare, I had not thought about it until Mrs. Badger put it in that light; but then I reached the same conclusion."


"It was a maxim of Captain Swosser's," said Mrs. Badger, "speaking in his figurative naval manner, that when you make pitch hot, you cannot make it too hot; and that if you only have to swab a plank, you should swab it as if Davy Jones were after you.


It appears to me that this maxim is applicable to the medical as well as to the nautical profession.


"To all professions," observed Mr. Badger.


"It was admirably said by Captain Swosser.


"People objected to Professor Dingo when we were staying in the north of Devon after our marriage," said Mrs. Badger, "that he disfigured some of the houses and other buildings by chipping off fragments of those edifices with his little geological hammer.


But the professor replied that he knew of no building save the Temple of Science.


The professor made the same remark, Miss Summerson, in his last illness, when (his mind wandering) he insisted on keeping his little hammer under the pillow and chipping at the countenances of the attendants.


Although we could have dispensed with the length at which Mr. and Mrs. Badger pursued the conversation, we both felt that it was disinterested in them to express the opinion they had communicated to us and that there was a great probability of its being sound.

Ada and I both felt that that it was very likely that this opinion was sound.


We agreed to say nothing to Mr. Jarndyce until we had spoken to Richard; and as he was coming next evening, we resolved to have a very serious talk with him.


So after he had been a little while with Ada, I went in and found my darling (as I knew she would be) prepared to consider him thoroughly right in whatever he said.

So after he had been a little while with Ada, I went in.


said I. I always sat down on the other side of him.

said I, and sat down on the other side of him.


"He can't say better than that, Esther, can he?"


I tried to look at my pet in the wisest manner, but of course I couldn't.


"I don't think there's any harm in that, Dame Durden," said Ada, looking so confidingly at me across him; "because if it will do as well as anything else, it will do very well, I hope."

"I don't think there's any harm in that, Dame Durden," said Ada, looking confidingly at me across him; "if it will do as well as anything else, it will do very well, I hope."


"Oh, yes, I hope so," returned Richard, carelessly tossing his hair from his forehead.


"After all, it may be only a kind of probation till our suit is--I forgot though.

"After all, it may be only a kind of probation till our lawsuit is - I forgot though.


Ada would have done so willingly, and with a full persuasion that we had brought the question to a most satisfactory state.


But I thought it would be useless to stop there, so I began again.


"No, but Richard," said I, "and my dear Ada!


Consider how important it is to you both, and what a point of honour it is towards your cousin, that you, Richard, should be quite in earnest without any reservation.

Consider how important it is to you both.


I think we had better talk about this, really, Ada.

I think we had better talk about this, really.


What was the use of my trying to look wise when she was so pretty, and so engaging, and so fond of him!


"Mr. and Mrs. Badger were here yesterday, Richard," said I, "and they seemed disposed to think that you had no great liking for the profession."

Mr. and Mrs. Badger were here yesterday, Richard, and they seemed to think that you had no great liking for the profession."


Well, that rather alters the case, because I had no idea that they thought so, and I should not have liked to disappoint or inconvenience them.


The fact is, I don't care much about it.

Well, the fact is, I don't care much about it.


"The fact is," Richard proceeded, half thoughtfully and half jocosely, "it is not quite in my way.

"The fact is," Richard proceeded, half thoughtfully and half laughingly, "it is not quite in my way.


And I get too much of Mrs. Bayham Badger's first and second."

And I get too much of Mrs. Bayham Badger's first and second husbands."


"The very thing we both said yesterday, Esther!"


"Then," pursued Richard, "it's monotonous, and to-day is too like yesterday, and to-morrow is too like to-day."

"Then," pursued Richard, "it's monotonous. Every day is the same."


"But I am afraid," said I, "this is an objection to all kinds of application--to life itself, except under some very uncommon circumstances."

"But I am afraid," said I, "this is an objection to all kinds of application - often to life itself."


Why, then, you know," he added, suddenly becoming gay again, "we travel outside a circle to what I said just now. It'll do as well as anything else.

Why, then, you know," he added, suddenly becoming gay again, "like I said, it'll do as well as anything else!"


But even Ada, with her loving face--and if it had seemed innocent and trusting when I first saw it in that memorable November fog, how much more did it seem now when I knew her innocent and trusting heart--even Ada shook her head at this and looked serious.

But even Ada shook her head at this and looked serious.


So I thought it a good opportunity to hint to Richard that if he were sometimes a little careless of himself, I was very sure he never meant to be careless of Ada, and that it was a part of his affectionate consideration for her not to slight the importance of a step that might influence both their lives.

So I hinted to Richard that if he were sometimes a little careless of himself, I was very sure he never meant to be careless of Ada, and that he must not make light of a step that might influence both their lives.


"My dear Mother Hubbard," he said, "that's the very thing! I have thought of that several times and have been quite angry with myself for meaning to be so much in earnest and--somehow--not exactly being so.

"My dear Mother Hubbard," he said, "I have indeed thought of that several times and have been quite angry with myself for meaning to be so much in earnest and - somehow - not exactly being so.


I don't know how it is; I seem to want something or other to stand by.


Even you have no idea how fond I am of Ada (my darling cousin, I love you, so much!

You have no idea how fond I am of Ada (my darling cousin, I love you so much!


), but I don't settle down to constancy in other things.

), but I don't settle to constancy in other things.


It's such uphill work, and it takes such a time!"


"That may be," I suggested, "because you don't like what you have chosen."


It was not of the least use my trying to look wise.


I tried again, but how could I do it, or how could it have any effect if I could, while Ada rested her clasped hands upon his shoulder and while he looked at her tender blue eyes, and while they looked at him!

She rested her clasped hands upon his shoulder.


"You see, my precious girl," said Richard, passing her golden curls through and through his hand, "I was a little hasty perhaps; or I misunderstood my own inclinations perhaps.

"You see, my precious girl," said Richard, passing her golden curls through his hand, "I was a little hasty perhaps; or I misunderstood my own inclinations.


They don't seem to lie in that direction.


Now the question is whether it's worth-while to undo all that has been done.


It seems like making a great disturbance about nothing particular."


"My dear Richard," said I, "how CAN you say about nothing particular?"

"My dear Richard," said I, "how can you say about nothing particular?"


"I don't mean absolutely that," he returned.


"I mean that it MAY be nothing particular because I may never want it."

"I mean that it may be nothing particular because I may never need it."


Both Ada and I urged, in reply, not only that it was decidedly worth-while to undo what had been done, but that it must be undone.

Both Ada and I urged, in reply, that it was worth-while to undo what had been done, and that it must be undone.


I then asked Richard whether he had thought of any more congenial pursuit.

I asked Richard whether he had thought of any more congenial pursuit.


"There, my dear Mrs. Shipton," said Richard, "you touch me home.


I have been thinking that the law is the boy for me."


repeated Ada as if she were afraid of the name.


"If I went into Kenge's office," said Richard, "and if I were placed under articles to Kenge, I should have my eye on the--hum!--the forbidden ground--and should be able to study it, and master it, and to satisfy myself that it was not neglected and was being properly conducted.

If I went into Kenge's office," said Richard, "I should have my eye on the - hum! - the forbidden ground - and should be able to study it, and master it, and satisfy myself that it was being properly conducted.


I should be able to look after Ada's interests and my own interests (the same thing!

I should be able to look after Ada's interests and mine (the same thing!


); and I should peg away at Blackstone and all those fellows with the most tremendous ardour."

); and I should peg away with the most tremendous ardour."


I was not by any means so sure of that, and I saw how his hankering after the vague things yet to come of those long-deferred hopes cast a shade on Ada's face.

I was not by any means so sure of that, and I saw how his hankering after the vague things yet to come cast a shade on Ada's face.


But I thought it best to encourage him in any project of continuous exertion, and only advised him to be quite sure that his mind was made up now.

But I thought it best to encourage him in any project of continuous exertion, and only advised him to be quite sure that his mind was made up.


"My dear Minerva," said Richard, "I am as steady as you are. I made a mistake; we are all liable to mistakes; I won't do so any more, and I'll become such a lawyer as is not often seen.

"I'll become such a lawyer as is not often seen," said Richard.


That is, you know," said Richard, relapsing into doubt, "if it really is worth-while, after all, to make such a disturbance about nothing particular!"

"That is, you know, if it really is worth-while, after all, to make such a disturbance about nothing particular!"


This led to our saying again, with a great deal of gravity, all that we had said already and to our coming to much the same conclusion afterwards.

This led to our saying again, with a great deal of gravity, all that we had said already.


But we so strongly advised Richard to be frank and open with Mr. Jarndyce, without a moment's delay, and his disposition was naturally so opposed to concealment that he sought him out at once (taking us with him) and made a full avowal.

We so strongly advised Richard to be frank and open with Mr. Jarndyce that he sought him out at once and made a full avowal.


"Rick," said my guardian, after hearing him attentively, "we can retreat with honour, and we will.


But we must be careful--for our cousin's sake, Rick, for our cousin's sake--that we make no more such mistakes.

But we must be careful - for our cousin's sake, Rick - that we make no more such mistakes.


Therefore, in the matter of the law, we will have a good trial before we decide.


We will look before we leap, and take plenty of time about it."


Richard's energy was of such an impatient and fitful kind that he would have liked nothing better than to have gone to Mr. Kenge's office in that hour and to have entered into articles with him on the spot.

Richard's energy was of such an impatient and fitful kind that he would have liked nothing better than to have gone to Mr. Kenge's office and to have entered into articles with him on the spot.


Submitting, however, with a good grace to the caution that we had shown to be so necessary, he contented himself with sitting down among us in his lightest spirits and talking as if his one unvarying purpose in life from childhood had been that one which now held possession of him.

Submitting, however, with a good grace, he sat down in his lightest spirits, talking as if his one unvarying purpose in life from childhood had been the law.


My guardian was very kind and cordial with him, but rather grave, enough so to cause Ada, when he had departed and we were going upstairs to bed, to say, "Cousin John, I hope you don't think the worse of Richard?"

My guardian was very kind and cordial with him, but rather grave.
When Richard had departed, Ada said, "Cousin John, I hope you don't think the worse of Richard?"


"Because it was very natural that Richard should be mistaken in such a difficult case.


said Ada, smiling cheerfully, with her hand upon his shoulder, where she had put it in bidding him good night.


"But I should be a little so if you thought at all the worse of Richard."

"But I should be a little so if you thought the worse of Richard."


"My dear," said Mr. Jarndyce, "I should think the worse of him only if you were ever in the least unhappy through his means.

"My dear," said Mr. Jarndyce, "I should think the worse of him only if you were ever unhappy through his means.


I should be more disposed to quarrel with myself even then, than with poor Rick, for I brought you together.


He has time before him, and the race to run.


"No, indeed, cousin John," said Ada, "I am sure I could not--I am sure I would not--think any ill of Richard if the whole world did.

"No, indeed, cousin John," said Ada, "I am sure I could not think any ill of Richard if the whole world did.


I could, and I would, think better of him then than at any other time!"

I would think better of him then than at any other time!"


So quietly and honestly she said it, with her hands upon his shoulders--both hands now--and looking up into his face, like the picture of truth!

Quietly and honestly she said it, looking up into his face, like the picture of truth!


"I think," said my guardian, thoughtfully regarding her, "I think it must be somewhere written that the virtues of the mothers shall occasionally be visited on the children, as well as the sins of the father.

"I think," said my guardian, thoughtfully regarding her, "that it must be somewhere written that the virtues of the mothers shall occasionally be visited on the children, as well as the sins of the fathers.


This was the first time I ever saw him follow Ada with his eyes with something of a shadow on their benevolent expression.

This was the first time I ever saw him look at Ada with a shadow on his benevolent expression.


I well remembered the look with which he had contemplated her and Richard when she was singing in the firelight; it was but a very little while since he had watched them passing down the room in which the sun was shining, and away into the shade; but his glance was changed, and even the silent look of confidence in me which now followed it once more was not quite so hopeful and untroubled as it had originally been.

I well remembered the look with which he had contemplated her and Richard when she was singing in the firelight, not long ago; but now his glance was changed, and was not quite so hopeful and untroubled as it had been.


Ada praised Richard more to me that night than ever she had praised him yet.


She went to sleep with a little bracelet he had given her clasped upon her arm.


I fancied she was dreaming of him when I kissed her cheek after she had slept an hour and saw how tranquil and happy she looked.


For I was so little inclined to sleep myself that night that I sat up working.


It would not be worth mentioning for its own sake, but I was wakeful and rather low-spirited.


At least, perhaps I do, but I don't think it matters.


At any rate, I made up my mind to be so dreadfully industrious that I would leave myself not a moment's leisure to be low-spirited.


And it really was time to say so, for I--yes, I really did see myself in the glass, almost crying.


"As if you had anything to make you unhappy, instead of everything to make you happy, you ungrateful heart!"


If I could have made myself go to sleep, I would have done it directly, but not being able to do that, I took out of my basket some ornamental work for our house (I mean Bleak House) that I was busy with at that time and sat down to it with great determination.

If I could have made myself go to sleep, I would have done it, but not being able to do that, I took out of my basket some needlework and sat down to it with great determination.


It was necessary to count all the stitches in that work, and I resolved to go on with it until I couldn't keep my eyes open, and then to go to bed.

It was necessary to count all the stitches, and I resolved to go on with it until I couldn't keep my eyes open, and then to go to bed.


But I had left some silk downstairs in a work-table drawer in the temporary growlery, and coming to a stop for want of it, I took my candle and went softly down to get it.

But I had left some silk downstairs in a work-table drawer in the temporary growlery; so I took my candle and went softly down to get it.


To my great surprise, on going in I found my guardian still there, and sitting looking at the ashes.

To my great surprise, on going in I found my guardian still there, sitting looking at the ashes.


He was lost in thought, his book lay unheeded by his side, his silvered iron-grey hair was scattered confusedly upon his forehead as though his hand had been wandering among it while his thoughts were elsewhere, and his face looked worn.

He was lost in thought, his book unheeded by his side, and his face looked worn.


Almost frightened by coming upon him so unexpectedly, I stood still for a moment and should have retired without speaking had he not, in again passing his hand abstractedly through his hair, seen me and started.

Almost frightened by coming upon him so unexpectedly, I stood still for a moment and should have retired without speaking had he not, in running his hand abstractedly through his hair, seen me and started.


"I am working late to-night," said I, "because I couldn't sleep and wished to tire myself.

"I am working late tonight," said I, "because I couldn't sleep and wished to tire myself.


But, dear guardian, you are late too, and look weary.


You have no trouble, I hope, to keep you waking?"


"None, little woman, that YOU would readily understand," said he.

"None, little woman, that you would readily understand," said he.


He spoke in a regretful tone so new to me that I inwardly repeated, as if that would help me to his meaning, "That I could readily understand!"

He spoke in a regretful tone that was new to me.


"Remain a moment, Esther," said he, "You were in my thoughts."

"Remain a moment, Esther," said he. "You were in my thoughts."


"I hope I was not the trouble, guardian?"


He slightly waved his hand and fell into his usual manner.


The change was so remarkable, and he appeared to make it by dint of so much self-command, that I found myself again inwardly repeating, "None that I could understand!"

The change was remarkable, and he appeared to make it by using great self-command.


"Little woman," said my guardian, "I was thinking--that is, I have been thinking since I have been sitting here--that you ought to know of your own history all I know.

"Little woman," said my guardian, "I have been thinking that you ought to know of your own history all I know.


"Dear guardian," I replied, "when you spoke to me before on that subject--"

"Dear guardian," I replied, "when you spoke to me before on that subject-"


"But since then," he gravely interposed, anticipating what I meant to say, "I have reflected that your having anything to ask me, and my having anything to tell you, are different considerations, Esther. It is perhaps my duty to impart to you the little I know."

"But since then," he gravely interposed, "I have reflected that it is perhaps my duty to tell you the little I know."


"If you think so, guardian, it is right."


"I think so," he returned very gently, and kindly, and very distinctly. "My dear, I think so now.

"My dear, I think so now," he returned very gently and kindly.


If any real disadvantage can attach to your position in the mind of any man or woman worth a thought, it is right that you at least of all the world should not magnify it to yourself by having vague impressions of its nature."

"If any real disadvantage can attach to your position, it is right that you at least should not magnify it to yourself by having vague impressions of its nature."


I sat down and said after a little effort to be as calm as I ought to be, "One of my earliest remembrances, guardian, is of these words: 'Your mother, Esther, is your disgrace, and you were hers.

I sat down and said after a little effort to be calm, "One of my earliest memories is of these words: 'Your mother, Esther, is your disgrace, and you were hers.


The time will come, and soon enough, when you will understand this better, and will feel it too, as no one save a woman can.'"

The time will come when you will understand this better.'"


I had covered my face with my hands in repeating the words, but I took them away now with a better kind of shame, I hope, and told him that to him I owed the blessing that I had from my childhood to that hour never, never, never felt it.

I had covered my face with my hands in repeating the words, but I took them away now, and said that to him I owed the blessing that I had never felt shame since that time.


I well knew that he was never to be thanked, and said no more.


"Nine years, my dear," he said after thinking for a little while, "have passed since I received a letter from a lady living in seclusion, written with a stern passion and power that rendered it unlike all other letters I have ever read.

"Nine years, my dear," he said, "have passed since I received a letter from a lady living in seclusion, written with a stern passion and power unlike any I have ever read.


It was written to me (as it told me in so many words), perhaps because it was the writer's idiosyncrasy to put that trust in me, perhaps because it was mine to justify it.


It told me of a child, an orphan girl then twelve years old, in some such cruel words as those which live in your remembrance.

It told me of a child, an orphan girl then twelve years old, in some such cruel words as those which you remember.


It told me that the writer had bred her in secrecy from her birth, had blotted out all trace of her existence, and that if the writer were to die before the child became a woman, she would be left entirely friendless, nameless, and unknown.


It asked me to consider if I would, in that case, finish what the writer had begun."


I listened in silence and looked attentively at him.


"Your early recollection, my dear, will supply the gloomy medium through which all this was seen and expressed by the writer, and the distorted religion which clouded her mind with impressions of the need there was for the child to expiate an offence of which she was quite innocent.

"You yourself will recollect, my dear, the gloomy atmosphere which affected the writer, and the distorted religion which clouded her mind.


I felt concerned for the little creature, in her darkened life, and replied to the letter."

I felt concerned for the little innocent creature, in her darkened life, and replied to the letter."


"It laid the injunction on me that I should never propose to see the writer, who had long been estranged from all intercourse with the world, but who would see a confidential agent if I would appoint one.

"It laid the injunction on me that I should never ask to see the writer, but that I could appoint an agent whom she would see.


The lady said, of her own accord and not of his seeking, that her name was an assumed one. That she was, if there were any ties of blood in such a case, the child's aunt.

The lady said that her name was an assumed one, and that she was the child's aunt.


That more than this she would never (and he was well persuaded of the steadfastness of her resolution) for any human consideration disclose.


I held his hand for a little while in mine.


"I saw my ward oftener than she saw me," he added, cheerily making light of it, "and I always knew she was beloved, useful, and happy.


She repays me twenty-thousandfold, and twenty more to that, every hour in every day!"

She repays me twenty-thousandfold, every hour of every day!"


"And oftener still," said I, "she blesses the guardian who is a father to her!"


At the word father, I saw his former trouble come into his face.


He subdued it as before, and it was gone in an instant; but it had been there and it had come so swiftly upon my words that I felt as if they had given him a shock.

He subdued it as before, and it was gone in an instant; but I felt my words had given him a shock.


I again inwardly repeated, wondering, "That I could readily understand. None that I could readily understand!"

Wondering, I inwardly repeated his words: "No trouble that I could readily understand!"


No, it was true. I did not understand it.


"Take a fatherly good night, my dear," said he, kissing me on the forehead, "and so to rest.


These are late hours for working and thinking.


You do that for all of us, all day long, little housekeeper!"

You do that for us all day long, little housekeeper!"


I neither worked nor thought any more that night.


I opened my grateful heart to heaven in thankfulness for its providence to me and its care of me, and fell asleep.

I opened my grateful heart to heaven in thankfulness for its care of me, and fell asleep.


Mr. Allan Woodcourt came. He came to take leave of us; he had settled to do so beforehand.

Mr. Allan Woodcourt came to take leave of us, as he had arranged to do beforehand.


He was going to China and to India as a surgeon on board ship.


I believe--at least I know--that he was not rich.


All his widowed mother could spare had been spent in qualifying him for his profession.


It was not lucrative to a young practitioner, with very little influence in London; and although he was, night and day, at the service of numbers of poor people and did wonders of gentleness and skill for them, he gained very little by it in money.

Although he was, night and day, at the service of numerous poor people and did wonders of gentleness and skill for them, he gained very little money by it.


Not that I need mention it, for it hardly seems to belong to anything.


I think--I mean, he told us--that he had been in practice three or four years and that if he could have hoped to contend through three or four more, he would not have made the voyage on which he was bound.

I think - I mean, he told us - that he had been in practice three or four years and that if he could have managed three or four more, he would not have made the voyage on which he was bound.


But he had no fortune or private means, and so he was going away.


He had been to see us several times altogether.


We thought it a pity he should go away. Because he was distinguished in his art among those who knew it best, and some of the greatest men belonging to it had a high opinion of him.

We thought it a pity he should go away, because he was distinguished in his art.


When he came to bid us good-bye, he brought his mother with him for the first time.


She was a pretty old lady, with bright black eyes, but she seemed proud.


She came from Wales and had had, a long time ago, an eminent person for an ancestor, of the name of Morgan ap-Kerrig--of some place that sounded like Gimlet--who was the most illustrious person that ever was known and all of whose relations were a sort of royal family.

She came from Wales and had had, a long time ago, an eminent ancestor, of the name of Morgan ap-Kerrig - of some place that sounded like Gimlet - whose relations were a sort of royal family.


He appeared to have passed his life in always getting up into mountains and fighting somebody; and a bard whose name sounded like Crumlinwallinwer had sung his praises in a piece which was called, as nearly as I could catch it, Mewlinnwillinwodd.

This ancestor appeared to have passed his life in always getting up into mountains and fighting somebody; and a bard whose name sounded like Crumlinwallinwer had sung his praises in a piece which was called, as nearly as I could catch it, Mewlinnwillinwodd.


Mrs. Woodcourt, after expatiating to us on the fame of her great kinsman, said that no doubt wherever her son Allan went he would remember his pedigree and would on no account form an alliance below it.

Mrs. Woodcourt, after telling us of the fame of her great kinsman, said that no doubt wherever her son Allan went he would remember his pedigree, and would never form an alliance below it.


She told him that there were many handsome English ladies in India who went out on speculation, and that there were some to be picked up with property, but that neither charms nor wealth would suffice for the descendant from such a line without birth, which must ever be the first consideration.

She told him that there were many handsome English ladies in India who were looking for a husband, but that high birth must ever be the first consideration.


She talked so much about birth that for a moment I half fancied, and with pain--But what an idle fancy to suppose that she could think or care what MINE was!

She talked so much about birth that for a moment I half fancied, and with pain - but what an idle fancy to suppose that she could care what mine was!


Mr. Woodcourt seemed a little distressed by her prolixity, but he was too considerate to let her see it and contrived delicately to bring the conversation round to making his acknowledgments to my guardian for his hospitality and for the very happy hours--he called them the very happy hours--he had passed with us.

Mr. Woodcourt seemed a little distressed by her talk, but he was too considerate to let her see it and contrived delicately to bring the conversation round to thanking my guardian for his hospitality and for the very happy hours he had passed with us.


The recollection of them, he said, would go with him wherever he went and would be always treasured.

The recollection of them, he said, would go with him and would be always treasured.


And so we gave him our hands, one after another--at least, they did--and I did; and so he put his lips to Ada's hand--and to mine; and so he went away upon his long, long voyage!

And so we gave him our hands, one after another; and so he put his lips to Ada's hand - and to mine; and so he went away upon his long, long voyage!


I was very busy indeed all day and wrote directions home to the servants, and wrote notes for my guardian, and dusted his books and papers, and jingled my housekeeping keys a good deal, one way and another.

I was very busy indeed all day and wrote directions home to the servants, and wrote notes for my guardian, and dusted his books and papers, and jingled my housekeeping keys a good deal.


I was still busy between the lights, singing and working by the window, when who should come in but Caddy, whom I had no expectation of seeing!

I was still busy, singing and working by the window, when who should come in but Caddy Jellyby, whom I had no expectation of seeing!


"Why, Caddy, my dear," said I, "what beautiful flowers!"


She had such an exquisite little nosegay in her hand.

She had an exquisite little nosegay in her hand.


"Indeed, I think so, Esther," replied Caddy.


"No," answered Caddy, shaking her head and holding them to me to smell.


Caddy only laughed in return, and telling me that she had come for half an hour, at the expiration of which time Prince would be waiting for her at the corner, sat chatting with me and Ada in the window, every now and then handing me the flowers again or trying how they looked against my hair.

Caddy only laughed in return, and telling me that she had come for half an hour, until Prince would be waiting for her at the corner, sat chatting with me and Ada in the window, every now and then handing me the flowers again.


At last, when she was going, she took me into my room and put them in my dress.


"Somebody who has been very good to her was hurrying away an hour ago to join a ship and left these flowers behind.


Let the pretty little things lie here," said Caddy, adjusting them with a careful hand, "because I was present myself, and I shouldn't wonder if somebody left them on purpose!"

Let the pretty little things lie here," she said, adjusting them carefully, "because I was present myself, and I shouldn't wonder if somebody left them on purpose!"


said Ada, coming laughingly behind me and clasping me merrily round the waist.


They look very, very like that sort of thing.


I lay ill through several weeks, and the usual tenor of my life became like an old remembrance. But this was not the effect of time so much as of the change in all my habits made by the helplessness and inaction of a sick-room.

I lay ill through several weeks, and the usual tenor of my life became like an old remembrance in the helpless inaction of a sick-room.


Before I had been confined to it many days, everything else seemed to have retired into a remote distance where there was little or no separation between the various stages of my life which had been really divided by years.

Before many days, everything else seemed to have retired into a remote distance where there was little or no separation between the various stages of my life.


In falling ill, I seemed to have crossed a dark lake and to have left all my experiences, mingled together by the great distance, on the healthy shore.


My housekeeping duties, though at first it caused me great anxiety to think that they were unperformed, were soon as far off as the oldest of the old duties at Greenleaf or the summer afternoons when I went home from school with my portfolio under my arm, and my childish shadow at my side, to my godmother's house.

My housekeeping duties were soon as far off as the summer afternoons when I went home from school to my godmother's house.


I had never known before how short life really was and into how small a space the mind could put it.


While I was very ill, the way in which these divisions of time became confused with one another distressed my mind exceedingly.

While I was very ill, the way in which these different times became confused with one another distressed my mind exceedingly.


At once a child, an elder girl, and the little woman I had been so happy as, I was not only oppressed by cares and difficulties adapted to each station, but by the great perplexity of endlessly trying to reconcile them.

At once a child, an older girl, and a woman, I was not only oppressed by the cares of each stage, but by the great perplexity of endlessly trying to reconcile them.


I suppose that few who have not been in such a condition can quite understand what I mean or what painful unrest arose from this source.

I suppose that few who have not been in such a condition can quite understand this.


For the same reason I am almost afraid to hint at that time in my disorder--it seemed one long night, but I believe there were both nights and days in it--when I laboured up colossal staircases, ever striving to reach the top, and ever turned, as I have seen a worm in a garden path, by some obstruction, and labouring again.

For the same reason I am almost afraid to say that in my disorder I laboured up colossal staircases, ever striving to reach the top, and ever turned, as I have seen a worm in a garden path, by some obstruction, and labouring again.


I knew perfectly at intervals, and I think vaguely at most times, that I was in my bed; and I talked with Charley, and felt her touch, and knew her very well; yet I would find myself complaining, "Oh, more of these never-ending stairs, Charley--more and more--piled up to the sky', I think!"

I knew perfectly at intervals that I was in my bed; and I talked with Charley, and knew her very well; yet I would find myself complaining, "Oh, more of these never-ending stairs, Charley - piled up to the sky!"


Dare I hint at that worse time when, strung together somewhere in great black space, there was a flaming necklace, or ring, or starry circle of some kind, of which I was one of the beads!

Dare I hint at that worse time when, strung together somewhere in great black space, there was a flaming necklace, or starry circle of some kind, of which I was one of the beads!


And when my only prayer was to be taken off from the rest and when it was such inexplicable agony and misery to be a part of the dreadful thing?


Perhaps the less I say of these sick experiences, the less tedious and the more intelligible I shall be.


I do not recall them to make others unhappy or because I am now the least unhappy in remembering them.

I do not recall these experiences to make others unhappy or because I am now unhappy in remembering them.


It may be that if we knew more of such strange afflictions we might be the better able to alleviate their intensity.

If we knew more of such strange afflictions we might be better able to alleviate their intensity.


The repose that succeeded, the long delicious sleep, the blissful rest, when in my weakness I was too calm to have any care for myself and could have heard (or so I think now) that I was dying, with no other emotion than with a pitying love for those I left behind--this state can be perhaps more widely understood.

The repose that followed, the long delicious sleep, the blissful rest, when in my weakness I was too calm to care even if I was dying, apart from feeling a pitying love for those I left behind - this state can be perhaps more widely understood.


I was in this state when I first shrunk from the light as it twinkled on me once more, and knew with a boundless joy for which no words are rapturous enough that I should see again.

I was in this state when I first shrunk from the light, and knew with a boundless joy that I should see again.


I had heard my Ada crying at the door, day and night; I had heard her calling to me that I was cruel and did not love her; I had heard her praying and imploring to be let in to nurse and comfort me and to leave my bedside no more; but I had only said, when I could speak, "Never, my sweet girl, never!"

I had heard my Ada crying at the door, day and night, calling to me that I was cruel and did not love her; I had heard her imploring to be let in to nurse and comfort me; but I had only said, when I could speak, "Never, my sweet girl, never!"


and I had over and over again reminded Charley that she was to keep my darling from the room whether I lived or died.

and had reminded Charley that she was to keep my darling from the room whether I lived or died.


Charley had been true to me in that time of need, and with her little hand and her great heart had kept the door fast.

Charley had been true to me and had kept the door fast.


But now, my sight strengthening and the glorious light coming every day more fully and brightly on me, I could read the letters that my dear wrote to me every morning and evening and could put them to my lips and lay my cheek upon them with no fear of hurting her.

But now, my sight strengthening and the glorious light coming every day more brightly on me, I could read the letters that my dear wrote daily to me and could put them to my lips and lay my cheek upon them.


I could see my little maid, so tender and so careful, going about the two rooms setting everything in order and speaking cheerfully to Ada from the open window again.

I could see my little maid, so tender and careful, setting everything in order and speaking cheerfully to Ada from the open window.


I could understand the stillness in the house and the thoughtfulness it expressed on the part of all those who had always been so good to me.


I could weep in the exquisite felicity of my heart and be as happy in my weakness as ever I had been in my strength.

I could weep in my exquisite joy and be as happy in my weakness as ever I had been in my strength.


By and by my strength began to be restored.


Instead of lying, with so strange a calmness, watching what was done for me, as if it were done for some one else whom I was quietly sorry for, I helped it a little, and so on to a little more and much more, until I became useful to myself, and interested, and attached to life again.

Instead of lying and watching what was done for me, as if it were done for some one else, I helped it a little, and a little more, until I became useful to myself, and attached to life again.


How well I remember the pleasant afternoon when I was raised in bed with pillows for the first time to enjoy a great tea-drinking with Charley!

How well I remember the pleasant afternoon when I was raised in bed with pillows for the first time to take tea with Charley!


The little creature--sent into the world, surely, to minister to the weak and sick--was so happy, and so busy, and stopped so often in her preparations to lay her head upon my bosom, and fondle me, and cry with joyful tears she was so glad, she was so glad, that I was obliged to say, "Charley, if you go on in this way, I must lie down again, my darling, for I am weaker than I thought I was!"

The little creature was so happy, and so busy, and stopped so often in her preparations to lay her head upon my bosom, and cry with joyful tears, that I was obliged to say, "Charley, if you go on in this way, I must lie down again, my darling, for I am weaker than I thought!"


So Charley became as quiet as a mouse and took her bright face here and there across and across the two rooms, out of the shade into the divine sunshine, and out of the sunshine into the shade, while I watched her peacefully.

So Charley became as quiet as a mouse about her preparations.


When all her preparations were concluded and the pretty tea-table with its little delicacies to tempt me, and its white cloth, and its flowers, and everything so lovingly and beautifully arranged for me by Ada downstairs, was ready at the bedside, I felt sure I was steady enough to say something to Charley that was not new to my thoughts.

When the pretty tea-table with its tempting delicacies, and its white cloth, and its flowers, beautifully arranged for me by Ada downstairs, was ready at the bedside, I felt steady enough to say something to Charley that had been in my thoughts.


First I complimented Charley on the room, and indeed it was so fresh and airy, so spotless and neat, that I could scarce believe I had been lying there so long.

First I complimented Charley on the room, which was airy and neat.


This delighted Charley, and her face was brighter than before.


"Yet, Charley," said I, looking round, "I miss something, surely, that I am accustomed to?"

"Yet, Charley," said I, looking round, "I miss something, surely?"


Poor little Charley looked round too and pretended to shake her head as if there were nothing absent.

Poor little Charley looked round too and pretended to shake her head.


"Are the pictures all as they used to be?"


"Every one of them, miss," said Charley.


"Except where I have moved it about to make more room, miss."


"And yet," said I, "I miss some familiar object.


Charley got up from the table, making as if she had forgotten something, and went into the next room; and I heard her sob there.

Charley got up from the table as if she had forgotten something, and went into the next room; and I heard her sob.


I could thank God that it was not a shock to me now.

I could thank God that it was not a shock to me.


I called Charley back, and when she came--at first pretending to smile, but as she drew nearer to me, looking grieved--I took her in my arms and said, "It matters very little, Charley.

I called Charley back, and when she came, looking grieved - I took her in my arms and said, "It matters very little, Charley.


I hope I can do without my old face very well."


I was presently so far advanced as to be able to sit up in a great chair and even giddily to walk into the adjoining room, leaning on Charley.

I was presently able to sit up in a great chair and even giddily to walk into the adjoining room, leaning on Charley.


The mirror was gone from its usual place in that room too, but what I had to bear was none the harder to bear for that.

The mirror was gone from its usual place, but what I had to bear was none the harder to bear for that.


My guardian had throughout been earnest to visit me, and there was now no good reason why I should deny myself that happiness.

My guardian had throughout wished earnestly to visit me, and there was now no good reason why I should deny him.


He came one morning, and when he first came in, could only hold me in his embrace and say, "My dear, dear girl!"

He came in one morning, and at first could only hold me in his embrace and say, "My dear, dear girl!"


I had long known--who could know better?--what a deep fountain of affection and generosity his heart was; and was it not worth my trivial suffering and change to fill such a place in it?

I had long known what a deep fountain of affection and generosity his heart was; and was it not worth my trivial suffering to fill such a place in it?


"He has seen me, and he loves me better than he did; he has seen me and is even fonder of me than he was before; and what have I to mourn for!"

"He has seen me, and is even fonder of me than he was before; and what have I to mourn for!"


He sat down by me on the sofa, supporting me with his arm.


For a little while he sat with his hand over his face, but when he removed it, fell into his usual manner.

For a little while he sat with his hand over his face, but when he removed it, fell into his usual pleasant manner.


There never can have been, there never can be, a pleasanter manner.


"My little woman," said he, "what a sad time this has been. Such an inflexible little woman, too, through all!"
"Only for the best, guardian," said I.
"For the best?" he repeated tenderly. "Of course, for the best. But here have Ada and I been perfectly forlorn and miserable; here has your friend Caddy been coming and going late and early; here has every one about the house been utterly lost and dejected; here has even poor Rick been writing--to ME too--in his anxiety for you!"

"My little woman," said he, "Ada and I have been perfectly forlorn and miserable; your friend Caddy has been coming and going; everyone about the house has been utterly lost and dejected; even poor Rick has been writing - to me too - in his anxiety for you!"


I had read of Caddy in Ada's letters, but not of Richard.


"I have thought it better not to mention it to her."


"And you speak of his writing to YOU," said I, repeating his emphasis.

"You speak of his writing to you," said I.


"As if it were not natural for him to do so, guardian; as if he could write to a better friend!"


"He thinks he could, my love," returned my guardian, "and to many a better.

"He thinks he could, my love," returned my guardian, "to many a better.


The truth is, he wrote to me under a sort of protest while unable to write to you with any hope of an answer--wrote coldly, haughtily, distantly, resentfully.

The truth is, he wrote to me under a sort of protest while unable to write to you - wrote coldly, haughtily, resentfully.


Well, dearest little woman, we must look forbearingly on it.

Well, dearest little woman, we must forgive him.


Jarndyce and Jarndyce has warped him out of himself and perverted me in his eyes.

Jarndyce and Jarndyce has warped him and perverted me in his eyes.


I have known it do as bad deeds, and worse, many a time.


If two angels could be concerned in it, I believe it would change their nature."

If two angels were caught up in it, I believe it would change their nature."


"Oh, yes, it has, my dear," he said laughingly.


"It has made the south wind easterly, I don't know how often.


Rick mistrusts and suspects me--goes to lawyers, and is taught to mistrust and suspect me.

Rick goes to lawyers, and is taught to mistrust and suspect me.


Hears I have conflicting interests, claims clashing against his and what not.

He hears I have conflicting interests, claims clashing against his.


Whereas, heaven knows that if I could get out of the mountains of wiglomeration on which my unfortunate name has been so long bestowed (which I can't) or could level them by the extinction of my own original right (which I can't either, and no human power ever can, anyhow, I believe, to such a pass have we got), I would do it this hour.

Whereas, heaven knows that if I could get out of those legal mountains of wiglomeration (which I can't) or could level them (which I can't either), I would do it this hour.


I would rather restore to poor Rick his proper nature than be endowed with all the money that dead suitors, broken, heart and soul, upon the wheel of Chancery, have left unclaimed with the Accountant-General--and that's money enough, my dear, to be cast into a pyramid, in memory of Chancery's transcendent wickedness."

I would rather restore to poor Rick his proper nature than be endowed with all the unclaimed money in Chancery."


"IS it possible, guardian," I asked, amazed, "that Richard can be suspicious of you?"

"Is it possible, guardian," I asked, amazed, "that Richard can be suspicious of you?"


"Ah, my love, my love," he said, "it is in the subtle poison of such abuses to breed such diseases.

"Ah, my love," he said, "the subtle poison of such abuses breeds such diseases.


His blood is infected, and objects lose their natural aspects in his sight.


"But it is a terrible misfortune, guardian."


"It is a terrible misfortune, little woman, to be ever drawn within the influences of Jarndyce and Jarndyce.


By little and little he has been induced to trust in that rotten reed, and it communicates some portion of its rottenness to everything around him.

But he has been induced to trust in that rotten reed, and it transmits rottenness to everything around him.


But again I say with all my soul, we must be patient with poor Rick and not blame him.


What a troop of fine fresh hearts like his have I seen in my time turned by the same means!"


I could not help expressing something of my wonder and regret that his benevolent, disinterested intentions had prospered so little.

I expressed my wonder and regret that his benevolent intentions had prospered so little.


"We must not say so, Dame Durden," he cheerfully replied; "Ada is the happier, I hope, and that is much.

"We must not say so, Dame Durden," he cheerfully replied; "Ada is happier, I hope, and that is much.


I did think that I and both these young creatures might be friends instead of distrustful foes and that we might so far counter-act the suit and prove too strong for it.

I did think that I and both these young creatures might be friends instead of distrustful foes and that we might prove stronger than the lawsuit.


Jarndyce and Jarndyce was the curtain of Rick's cradle."

Jarndyce and Jarndyce was the curtain round Rick's cradle."


"But, guardian, may we not hope that a little experience will teach him what a false and wretched thing it is?"

"But, guardian, may we not hope that experience will teach him what a false and wretched thing it is?"


"We WILL hope so, my Esther," said Mr. Jarndyce, "and that it may not teach him so too late.

"We will hope so, my Esther," said Mr. Jarndyce.


"In any case we must not be hard on him.


There are not many grown and matured men living while we speak, good men too, who if they were thrown into this same court as suitors would not be vitally changed and depreciated within three years--within two--within one.

There are not many grown men, good men too, who if they were thrown into this same court would not be changed for the worse within a year.


A young man so unfortunate," here he fell into a lower tone, as if he were thinking aloud, "cannot at first believe (who could?)

A young man cannot at first believe (who could?)


He looks to it, flushed and fitfully, to do something with his interests and bring them to some settlement.

He looks to it to do something with his interests and bring them to a settlement.


It procrastinates, disappoints, tries, tortures him; wears out his sanguine hopes and patience, thread by thread; but he still looks to it, and hankers after it, and finds his whole world treacherous and hollow.

It procrastinates, disappoints, tries, tortures him; wears out his hopes and patience, thread by thread; but he still hankers after it, and finds his whole world treacherous and hollow.


He had supported me, as at first, all this time, and his tenderness was so precious to me that I leaned my head upon his shoulder and loved him as if he had been my father.


I resolved in my own mind in this little pause, by some means, to see Richard when I grew strong and try to set him right.

I resolved in my own mind to see Richard when I grew strong, and try to set him right.