A labyrinth of grandeur, less the property of an old family of human beings and their ghostly likenesses than of an old family of echoings and thunderings which start out of their hundred graves at every sound and go resounding through the building. A waste of unused passages and staircases in which to drop a comb upon a bedroom floor at night is to send a stealthy footfall on an errand through the house.

A labyrinth of grandeur; a waste of unused passages and staircases in which to drop a comb upon a bedroom floor at night is to send a stealthy footfall on an errand through the house.


A place where few people care to go about alone, where a maid screams if an ash drops from the fire, takes to crying at all times and seasons, becomes the victim of a low disorder of the spirits, and gives warning and departs.

A place where few people care to go about alone, where a maid screams if an ash drops from the fire, takes to crying at all times, becomes the victim of a low disorder of the spirits, and gives notice and departs.


With so much of itself abandoned to darkness and vacancy; with so little change under the summer shining or the wintry lowering; so sombre and motionless always--no flag flying now by day, no rows of lights sparkling by night; with no family to come and go, no visitors to be the souls of pale cold shapes of rooms, no stir of life about it--passion and pride, even to the stranger's eye, have died away from the place in Lincolnshire and yielded it to dull repose.

With so much of itself abandoned to darkness and vacancy; with so little change, so sombre and motionless always - no flag flying by day, no rows of lights sparkling by night; with no family to come and go, no visitors, no stir of life about it - passion and pride have died away from the place in Lincolnshire and yielded it to dull repose.


The long vacation saunters on towards term-time like an idle river very leisurely strolling down a flat country to the sea.

The long vacation saunters on like an idle river leisurely strolling down a flat country to the sea.


Mr. Guppy saunters along with it congenially.


He has blunted the blade of his penknife and broken the point off by sticking that instrument into his desk in every direction.

He has blunted the blade of his penknife by sticking it into his desk in every direction.


Not that he bears the desk any ill will, but he must do something, and it must be something of an unexciting nature, which will lay neither his physical nor his intellectual energies under too heavy contribution. He finds that nothing agrees with him so well as to make little gyrations on one leg of his stool, and stab his desk, and gape.

Not that he bears the desk any ill will, but he must do something; so he stabs his desk, and yawns.


Kenge and Carboy are out of town, and the articled clerk has taken out a shooting license and gone down to his father's, and Mr. Guppy's two fellow-stipendiaries are away on leave.

Kenge and Carboy are out of town, and Mr. Guppy's two colleagues are away on leave.


Mr. Guppy and Mr. Richard Carstone divide the dignity of the office.


But Mr. Carstone is for the time being established in Kenge's room, whereat Mr. Guppy chafes.

But Mr. Carstone is, for now, established in Kenge's room, whereat Mr. Guppy chafes.


So exceedingly that he with biting sarcasm informs his mother, in the confidential moments when he sups with her off a lobster and lettuce in the Old Street Road, that he is afraid the office is hardly good enough for swells, and that if he had known there was a swell coming, he would have got it painted.

With biting sarcasm he informs his mother that he is afraid the office is hardly good enough for swells, and that if he had known there was a swell coming, he would have got it painted.


Mr. Guppy suspects everybody who enters on the occupation of a stool in Kenge and Carboy's office of entertaining, as a matter of course, sinister designs upon him. He is clear that every such person wants to depose him.

Mr. Guppy suspects everybody who occupies a stool in Kenge and Carboy's office of wanting to depose him.


If he be ever asked how, why, when, or wherefore, he shuts up one eye and shakes his head.

If he be ever asked how or why, he shuts one eye and shakes his head.


On the strength of these profound views, he in the most ingenious manner takes infinite pains to counterplot when there is no plot, and plays the deepest games of chess without any adversary.

On the strength of these profound views, he takes infinite pains to counterplot when there is no plot, and plays the deepest games of chess without any adversary.


It is a source of much gratification to Mr. Guppy, therefore, to find the new-comer constantly poring over the papers in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, for he well knows that nothing but confusion and failure can come of that.

Mr. Guppy is pleased, therefore, to find the newcomer constantly poring over the papers in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, for he well knows that nothing but confusion and failure can come of that.


His satisfaction communicates itself to a third saunterer through the long vacation in Kenge and Carboy's office, to wit, Young Smallweed.

His satisfaction communicates itself to a third saunterer through the long vacation in the office: Smallweed.


Whether Young Smallweed (metaphorically called Small and eke Chick Weed, as it were jocularly to express a fledgling) was ever a boy is much doubted in Lincoln's Inn.

Whether Young Smallweed (called Small and also Chickweed) was ever a boy is much doubted in Lincoln's Inn.


He is now something under fifteen and an old limb of the law.

He is something under fifteen and an old limb of the law.


He is facetiously understood to entertain a passion for a lady at a cigar-shop in the neighbourhood of Chancery Lane and for her sake to have broken off a contract with another lady, to whom he had been engaged some years.

He is facetiously understood to entertain a passion for a lady at a cigar-shop and for her sake to have broken off a contract with another lady to whom he had been engaged.


He is a town-made article, of small stature and weazen features, but may be perceived from a considerable distance by means of his very tall hat.

He is small with wizened features, but may be perceived from a considerable distance by means of his very tall hat.


To become a Guppy is the object of his ambition.


He dresses at that gentleman (by whom he is patronized), talks at him, walks at him, founds himself entirely on him.

He dresses like that gentleman, walks and talks like him, founds himself entirely on him.


He is honoured with Mr. Guppy's particular confidence and occasionally advises him, from the deep wells of his experience, on difficult points in private life.

He is honoured with Mr. Guppy's confidence and occasionally advises him, from his deep experience, on difficult points in private life.


Mr. Guppy has been lolling out of window all the morning after trying all the stools in succession and finding none of them easy, and after several times putting his head into the iron safe with a notion of cooling it.

Mr. Guppy has been lolling out of the window all morning, after several times putting his head into the iron safe with a notion of cooling it.


Mr. Smallweed has been twice dispatched for effervescent drinks, and has twice mixed them in the two official tumblers and stirred them up with the ruler.

Mr. Smallweed has been twice sent out for effervescent drinks, and has twice mixed them in the tumblers and stirred them up with the ruler.


Mr. Guppy propounds for Mr. Smallweed's consideration the paradox that the more you drink the thirstier you are and reclines his head upon the window-sill in a state of hopeless languor.

Mr. Guppy reclines his head upon the window-sill in a state of hopeless languor.


While thus looking out into the shade of Old Square, Lincoln's Inn, surveying the intolerable bricks and mortar, Mr. Guppy becomes conscious of a manly whisker emerging from the cloistered walk below and turning itself up in the direction of his face.

While thus looking out into the shade of Old Square, Mr. Guppy sees a manly whisker emerging from the cloistered walk below and turning towards him.


At the same time, a low whistle is wafted through the Inn and a suppressed voice cries, "Hip!


Small's head looks out of window too and nods to Jobling.

Small's head looks out too and nods to Jobling.


"From the market-gardens down by Deptford.


Jobling looks hungry and also has the appearance of having run to seed in the market-gardens down by Deptford.

Jobling has the appearance of having run to seed in the market-gardens down by Deptford.


Just throw out half a crown if you have got one to spare.


says Mr. Guppy, throwing out the coin, which Mr. Jobling catches neatly.

says Mr. Guppy, throwing out the coin, which Mr. Jobling catches.


I am only waiting here till the enemy goes, returns Mr. Guppy, butting inward with his head.

I am only waiting here till the enemy goes."


"Can you give a fellow anything to read in the meantime?"


But Mr. Jobling declares with much earnestness that he "can't stand it."


"You shall have the paper," says Mr. Guppy.

"You can have the paper," says Mr. Guppy.


But you had better not be seen about here.


Jobling nods intelligence and acquiescence.


The sagacious Smallweed supplies him with the newspaper and occasionally drops his eye upon him from the landing as a precaution against his becoming disgusted with waiting and making an untimely departure.

The sagacious Smallweed gives him the newspaper.


At last the enemy retreats, and then Smallweed fetches Mr. Jobling up.


Mr. Guppy replying that he is not much to boast of, Mr. Jobling ventures on the question, "How is SHE?"

Mr. Guppy replies that he is not much to boast of.
Mr. Jobling ventures to ask, "How is she?"


This Mr. Guppy resents as a liberty, retorting, "Jobling, there ARE chords in the human mind--" Jobling begs pardon.

This Mr. Guppy resents as a liberty, retorting, "Jobling, there are chords in the human mind-" Jobling begs pardon.


says Mr. Guppy with a gloomy enjoyment of his injury.


During this short colloquy, the active Smallweed, who is of the dinner party, has written in legal characters on a slip of paper, "Return immediately."

Smallweed has written on a slip of paper, "Return immediately."


This notification to all whom it may concern, he inserts in the letter-box, and then putting on the tall hat at the angle of inclination at which Mr. Guppy wears his, informs his patron that they may now make themselves scarce.

This note he inserts in the letter-box, and then putting on the tall hat at the same angle at which Mr. Guppy wears his, informs his patron that they may now leave.


Accordingly they betake themselves to a neighbouring dining-house, of the class known among its frequenters by the denomination slap-bang, where the waitress, a bouncing young female of forty, is supposed to have made some impression on the susceptible Smallweed, of whom it may be remarked that he is a weird changeling to whom years are nothing.

They go to a neighbouring dining-house, of the class known among its frequenters as slap-bang, where the waitress, a bouncing young female of forty, is supposed to have made some impression on the susceptible Smallweed, of whom it may be remarked that he is a weird changeling to whom years are nothing.


He stands precociously possessed of centuries of owlish wisdom.

He possesses centuries of owlish wisdom.


If he ever lay in a cradle, it seems as if he must have lain there in a tail-coat.

If he ever lay in a cradle, he must have lain there in a tail-coat.


He has an old, old eye, has Smallweed; and he drinks and smokes in a monkeyish way; and his neck is stiff in his collar; and he is never to be taken in; and he knows all about it, whatever it is.

He has an old, old eye, has Smallweed; and he drinks and smokes in a monkeyish way; and he is never to be taken in; and he knows all about it, whatever it is.


In short, in his bringing up he has been so nursed by Law and Equity that he has become a kind of fossil imp, to account for whose terrestrial existence it is reported at the public offices that his father was John Doe and his mother the only female member of the Roe family, also that his first long-clothes were made from a blue bag.

In short, he is a kind of fossil imp brought up by the law.


Into the dining-house, unaffected by the seductive show in the window of artificially whitened cauliflowers and poultry, verdant baskets of peas, coolly blooming cucumbers, and joints ready for the spit, Mr. Smallweed leads the way.

Into the dining-house, Mr. Smallweed leads the way.


He has his favourite box, he bespeaks all the papers, he is down upon bald patriarchs, who keep them more than ten minutes afterwards.


It is of no use trying him with anything less than a full-sized "bread" or proposing to him any joint in cut unless it is in the very best cut.

It is of no use proposing to him any joint of meat unless it is the very best cut.


Conscious of his elfin power and submitting to his dread experience, Mr. Guppy consults him in the choice of that day's banquet, turning an appealing look towards him as the waitress repeats the catalogue of viands and saying "What do YOU take, Chick?"

Conscious of his elfin power, Mr. Guppy consults him in the choice of that day's banquet, appealing, "What do you take, Chick?"


Chick, out of the profundity of his artfulness, preferring "veal and ham and French beans--and don't you forget the stuffing, Polly" (with an unearthly cock of his venerable eye), Mr. Guppy and Mr. Jobling give the like order.

Chick preferring "veal and ham and French beans - and don't forget the stuffing, Polly", Mr. Guppy and Mr. Jobling give the same order.


Three pint pots of half-and-half are superadded.


Quickly the waitress returns bearing what is apparently a model of the Tower of Babel but what is really a pile of plates and flat tin dish-covers.

The waitress returns bearing what is apparently a model of the Tower of Babel but is really a pile of plates and flat tin dish-covers.


Mr. Smallweed, approving of what is set before him, conveys intelligent benignity into his ancient eye and winks upon her.

Mr. Smallweed, approving, winks upon her with his ancient eye.


Then, amid a constant coming in, and going out, and running about, and a clatter of crockery, and a rumbling up and down of the machine which brings the nice cuts from the kitchen, and a shrill crying for more nice cuts down the speaking-pipe, and a shrill reckoning of the cost of nice cuts that have been disposed of, and a general flush and steam of hot joints, cut and uncut, and a considerably heated atmosphere in which the soiled knives and tablecloths seem to break out spontaneously into eruptions of grease and blotches of beer, the legal triumvirate appease their appetites.

Then the legal three appease their appetites.


Mr. Jobling is buttoned up closer than mere adornment might require.


His hat presents at the rims a peculiar appearance of a glistening nature, as if it had been a favourite snail-promenade. The same phenomenon is visible on some parts of his coat, and particularly at the seams. He has the faded appearance of a gentleman in embarrassed circumstances; even his light whiskers droop with something of a shabby air.

His hat and coat are shiny at the seams, and he has the faded appearance of a gentleman in embarrassed circumstances; even his whiskers droop with a shabby air.


His appetite is so vigorous that it suggests spare living for some little time back.


He makes such a speedy end of his plate of veal and ham, bringing it to a close while his companions are yet midway in theirs, that Mr. Guppy proposes another.

He makes such a speedy end of his plate of veal and ham, finishing it while his companions are yet midway in theirs, that Mr. Guppy proposes another.


"Thank you, Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, "I really don't know but what I WILL take another."

"Thank you, Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, "I really think I will."


Another being brought, he falls to with great goodwill.


Mr. Guppy takes silent notice of him at intervals until he is half way through this second plate and stops to take an enjoying pull at his pint pot of half-and-half (also renewed) and stretches out his legs and rubs his hands. Beholding him in which glow of contentment, Mr. Guppy says, "You are a man again, Tony!"

When he is half way through this second plate and stops to take a contented pull at his pint pot and stretch out his legs, Mr. Guppy says, "You are a man again, Tony!"


"Well, not quite yet," says Mr. Jobling.


"I really don't know but what I WILL take summer cabbage."


Order given; with the sarcastic addition (from Mr. Smallweed) of "Without slugs, Polly!" And cabbage produced.


"I am growing up, Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, plying his knife and fork with a relishing steadiness.

"I am growing up, Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, plying his knife and fork steadily.


"In fact, I have just turned into my teens," says Mr. Jobling.


He says no more until he has performed his task, which he achieves as Messrs. Guppy and Smallweed finish theirs, thus getting over the ground in excellent style and beating those two gentlemen easily by a veal and ham and a cabbage.


"Now, Small," says Mr. Guppy, "what would you recommend about pastry?"


"Marrow puddings," says Mr. Smallweed instantly.


Thank you, Mr. Guppy, I don't know but what I WILL take a marrow pudding."

"Thank you, Mr. Guppy, I really think I will."


Three marrow puddings being produced, Mr. Jobling adds in a pleasant humour that he is coming of age fast.

Three marrow puddings being produced, Mr. Jobling adds pleasantly that he is coming of age fast.


To these succeed, by command of Mr. Smallweed, "three Cheshires," and to those "three small rums."

After these come "three Cheshire cheeses," and "three small rums."


This apex of the entertainment happily reached, Mr. Jobling puts up his legs on the carpeted seat (having his own side of the box to himself), leans against the wall, and says, "I am grown up now, Guppy.

Finally Mr. Jobling leans back and says, "I am grown up now, Guppy.


"What do you think, now," says Mr. Guppy, "about--you don't mind Smallweed?"

"What do you think, now," says Mr. Guppy, "about enlisting?"


I have the pleasure of drinking his good health."


"I was saying, what do you think NOW," pursues Mr. Guppy, "of enlisting?"


"Why, what I may think after dinner," returns Mr. Jobling, "is one thing, my dear Guppy, and what I may think before dinner is another thing.


Still, even after dinner, I ask myself the question, What am I to do?

"Why, even after dinner, I ask myself, What am I to do?


Ill fo manger, you know," says Mr. Jobling, pronouncing that word as if he meant a necessary fixture in an English stable.


That's the French saying, and mangering is as necessary to me as it is to a Frenchman.


Mr. Smallweed is decidedly of opinion "much more so."


"If any man had told me," pursues Jobling, "even so lately as when you and I had the frisk down in Lincolnshire, Guppy, and drove over to see that house at Castle Wold--"

If any man had told me when you and I were down in Lincolnshire, Guppy, and drove over to see that house at Castle Wold-"


Mr. Smallweed corrects him--Chesney Wold.

Mr. Smallweed corrects him - Chesney Wold.


(I thank my honourable friend for that cheer.)


If any man had told me then that I should be as hard up at the present time as I literally find myself, I should have--well, I should have pitched into him," says Mr. Jobling, taking a little rum-and-water with an air of desperate resignation; "I should have let fly at his head."

If any man had told me then that I should be as hard up as I now find myself, I should have let fly at his head," says Mr. Jobling, with an air of desperate resignation.


"Still, Tony, you were on the wrong side of the post then," remonstrates Mr. Guppy.

"Still, Tony, you were broke then," remonstrates Mr. Guppy.


"You were talking about nothing else in the gig."


"Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, "I will not deny it.


That very popular trust in flat things coming round!

That popular trust in flat things coming round!


Not in their being beaten round, or worked round, but in their "coming" round!


As though a lunatic should trust in the world's "coming" triangular!


"I had confident expectations that things would come round and be all square," says Mr. Jobling with some vagueness of expression and perhaps of meaning too.

"I was confident that things would come round and be all square," says Mr. Jobling with some vagueness of expression.


And when it came to creditors making rows at the office and to people that the office dealt with making complaints about dirty trifles of borrowed money, why there was an end of that connexion.

And when it came to creditors making rows at the office and to clients complaining about trifles of borrowed money, why there was an end of that connexion.


And of any new professional connexion too, for if I was to give a reference to-morrow, it would be mentioned and would sew me up.

And of any new professional connexion too, for it would be mentioned in any reference and would sew me up.


I have been keeping out of the way and living cheap down about the market-gardens, but what's the use of living cheap when you have got no money?

I have been keeping out of the way and living cheap by the market-gardens, but what's the use of living cheap when you have got no money?


It's the fashionable way; and fashion and whiskers have been my weaknesses, and I don't care who knows it," says Mr. Jobling.


"They are great weaknesses--Damme, sir, they are great.


Well," proceeds Mr. Jobling after a defiant visit to his rum-and-water, "what can a fellow do, I ask you, BUT enlist?"

What else can a fellow do, I ask you, but enlist?"


Mr. Guppy comes more fully into the conversation to state what, in his opinion, a fellow can do.


His manner is the gravely impressive manner of a man who has not committed himself in life otherwise than as he has become the victim of a tender sorrow of the heart.


"Jobling," says Mr. Guppy, "myself and our mutual friend Smallweed--"
Mr. Smallweed modestly observes, "Gentlemen both!" and drinks.
"--Have had a little conversation on this matter more than once since you--"

Mr. Guppy says in a gravely impressive manner, "Jobling, myself and our mutual friend Smallweed have had a little conversation on this matter since you-"


Left the Inn," Mr. Smallweed delicately suggests.


"Since you left the Inn, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy; "and I have mentioned to our mutual friend Smallweed a plan I have lately thought of proposing.

"Since you left the Inn, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy; "and I have mentioned a plan to our friend Smallweed.


"I know there is such a stationer," returns Mr. Jobling.


"He was not ours, and I am not acquainted with him."


"He IS ours, Jobling, and I AM acquainted with him," Mr. Guppy retorts.

"I am acquainted with him," Mr. Guppy retorts.


I have lately become better acquainted with him through some accidental circumstances that have made me a visitor of his in private life. Those circumstances it is not necessary to offer in argument.

I have lately become better acquainted with him through some circumstances that I need not describe.


They may--or they may not--have some reference to a subject which may--or may not--have cast its shadow on my existence."

They may - or they may not - have some reference to a subject which may - or may not - have cast its shadow on my existence."


As it is Mr. Guppy's perplexing way with boastful misery to tempt his particular friends into this subject, and the moment they touch it, to turn on them with that trenchant severity about the chords in the human mind, both Mr. Jobling and Mr. Smallweed decline the pitfall by remaining silent.

As it is Mr. Guppy's perplexing way to tempt his friends into this subject, and then to turn on them with trenchant severity about the chords in the human mind, both Mr. Jobling and Mr. Smallweed remain silent.


"Such things may be," repeats Mr. Guppy, "or they may not be.


It is enough to mention that both Mr. and Mrs. Snagsby are very willing to oblige me and that Snagsby has, in busy times, a good deal of copying work to give out.

"Snagsby has, in busy times, a good deal of copying work to give out," continues Mr. Guppy.


He has all Tulkinghorn's, and an excellent business besides. I believe if our mutual friend Smallweed were put into the box, he could prove this?"

"He has all Tulkinghorn's, and an excellent business besides, as Smallweed knows."


Mr. Smallweed nods and appears greedy to be sworn.


"Now, gentlemen of the jury," says Mr. Guppy, "--I mean, now, Jobling--you may say this is a poor prospect of a living.

"Now, gentlemen of the jury," says Mr. Guppy, "- I mean, Jobling - you may say this is a poor prospect of a living.


But it's better than nothing, and better than enlistment.


You want time. There must be time for these late affairs to blow over.

You want time for these recent affairs to blow over.


You might live through it on much worse terms than by writing for Snagsby."

You might do worse than writing for Snagsby.


Mr. Jobling is about to interrupt when the sagacious Smallweed checks him with a dry cough and the words, "Hem!


"There are two branches to this subject, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy.


I come to the second. You know Krook, the Chancellor, across the lane.

Secondly: you know Krook, the Chancellor, across the lane?"


Come, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy in his encouraging cross-examination-tone, "I think you know Krook, the Chancellor, across the lane?"


"I know him by sight," says Mr. Jobling.


"Everybody knows her," says Mr. Jobling.


Now it has been one of my duties of late to pay Flite a certain weekly allowance, deducting from it the amount of her weekly rent, which I have paid (in consequence of instructions I have received) to Krook himself, regularly in her presence.

Now it has been one of my duties lately to pay Flite a weekly allowance, deducting from it her weekly rent, which I have paid according to my instructions to Krook himself.


This has brought me into communication with Krook and into a knowledge of his house and his habits.

This has brought me into a knowledge of Krook's house and his habits.


You may live there at a very low charge under any name you like, as quietly as if you were a hundred miles off.

You may live there at a very low rent under any name you like, very quietly.


He'll ask no questions and would accept you as a tenant at a word from me--before the clock strikes, if you chose.

He'll ask no questions and would accept you as a tenant at a word from me.


And I tell you another thing, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy, who has suddenly lowered his voice and become familiar again, "he's an extraordinary old chap--always rummaging among a litter of papers and grubbing away at teaching himself to read and write, without getting on a bit, as it seems to me.

And I tell you another thing, Jobling," says Mr. Guppy, who has suddenly lowered his voice, "he's an extraordinary old chap - always rummaging among a litter of papers and trying to teaching himself to read and write, without getting on.


He is a most extraordinary old chap, sir.


I don't know but what it might be worth a fellow's while to look him up a bit."

It might be worth a fellow's while to look him up a bit."


"I mean," returns Mr. Guppy, shrugging his shoulders with becoming modesty, "that I can't make him out.

"I mean," returns Mr. Guppy, shrugging modestly, "that I can't make him out.


I appeal to our mutual friend Smallweed whether he has or has not heard me remark that I can't make him out."


Mr. Smallweed bears the concise testimony, "A few!"


"I have seen something of the profession and something of life, Tony," says Mr. Guppy, "and it's seldom I can't make a man out, more or less.


But such an old card as this, so deep, so sly, and secret (though I don't believe he is ever sober), I never came across.

He's such a deep old one, so sly and secret (though I don't believe he is ever sober) as I never came across.


Now, he must be precious old, you know, and he has not a soul about him, and he is reported to be immensely rich; and whether he is a smuggler, or a receiver, or an unlicensed pawnbroker, or a money-lender--all of which I have thought likely at different times--it might pay you to knock up a sort of knowledge of him.

Now, he has not a soul about him, and he is reported to be immensely rich; and whether he is a smuggler, or a receiver, or an unlicensed pawnbroker, or a money-lender - all of which I have thought likely - it might pay you to get to know him.


I don't see why you shouldn't go in for it, when everything else suits."

I don't see why you shouldn't go in for it."


Mr. Jobling, Mr. Guppy, and Mr. Smallweed all lean their elbows on the table and their chins upon their hands, and look at the ceiling. After a time, they all drink, slowly lean back, put their hands in their pockets, and look at one another.

Mr. Jobling, Mr. Guppy, and Mr. Smallweed all drink, slowly lean back, and look at one another.


"If I had the energy I once possessed, Tony!"


"But there are chords in the human mind--"

"But there are chords in the human mind-"


Expressing the remainder of the desolate sentiment in rum-and-water, Mr. Guppy concludes by resigning the adventure to Tony Jobling and informing him that during the vacation and while things are slack, his purse, "as far as three or four or even five pound goes," will be at his disposal.

Mr. Guppy concludes by resigning the adventure to Tony Jobling and informing him that during the vacation, his purse, "as far as three or four or even five pound goes," will be at his disposal.


"For never shall it be said," Mr. Guppy adds with emphasis, "that William Guppy turned his back upon his friend!"

"For never shall it be said," Mr. Guppy adds, "that William Guppy turned his back upon his friend!"


The latter part of the proposal is so directly to the purpose that Mr. Jobling says with emotion, "Guppy, my trump, your fist!"


Mr. Guppy presents it, saying, "Jobling, my boy, there it is!"


Mr. Jobling returns, "Guppy, we have been pals now for some years!"

Mr. Jobling says with emotion, "Guppy, my trump, we have been pals now for some years!"


They then shake hands, and Mr. Jobling adds in a feeling manner, "Thank you, Guppy, I don't know but what I WILL take another glass for old acquaintance sake."

They shake hands, and Mr. Jobling adds in a feeling manner, "Thank you, Guppy, I really think I will take another glass for old acquaintance sake."


"Krook's last lodger died there," observes Mr. Guppy in an incidental way.

"Krook's last lodger died there," observes Mr. Guppy casually.


"No," says Mr. Jobling, "I don't mind it; but he might as well have died somewhere else.

"No," says Mr. Jobling, "I don't mind it; but he might have died somewhere else.


It's devilish odd that he need go and die at MY place!"

It's devilish odd that he need go and die at my place!


Mr. Jobling quite resents this liberty, several times returning to it with such remarks as, "There are places enough to die in, I should think!"


or, "He wouldn't have liked my dying at HIS place, I dare say!"

He wouldn't have liked my dying at his place, I dare say!"


However, the compact being virtually made, Mr. Guppy proposes to dispatch the trusty Smallweed to ascertain if Mr. Krook is at home, as in that case they may complete the negotiation without delay.

Mr. Guppy proposes to dispatch the trusty Smallweed to see if Mr. Krook is at home, so that they may complete the negotiation without delay.


Mr. Jobling approving, Smallweed puts himself under the tall hat and conveys it out of the dining-rooms in the Guppy manner.

Smallweed puts himself under the tall hat and leaves.


He soon returns with the intelligence that Mr. Krook is at home and that he has seen him through the shop-door, sitting in the back premises, sleeping "like one o'clock."

He soon returns with the news that Mr. Krook is at home, sitting in the back and sleeping "like one o'clock."


"Then I'll pay," says Mr. Guppy, "and we'll go and see him.


Mr. Smallweed, compelling the attendance of the waitress with one hitch of his eyelash, instantly replies as follows: "Four veals and hams is three, and four potatoes is three and four, and one summer cabbage is three and six, and three marrows is four and six, and six breads is five, and three Cheshires is five and three, and four half-pints of half-and-half is six and three, and four small rums is eight and three, and three Pollys is eight and six.

Mr. Smallweed instantly replies: "Four veals and hams is three shillings, and four potatoes makes three and four, and one summer cabbage is three and six, and three marrows is four and six, and six breads is five, and three Cheshires is five and three, and four half-pints of half-and-half is six and three, and four small rums is eight and three, and three Pollys is eight and six.


Eight and six in half a sovereign, Polly, and eighteenpence out!"


Not at all excited by these stupendous calculations, Smallweed dismisses his friends with a cool nod and remains behind to take a little admiring notice of Polly, as opportunity may serve, and to read the daily papers, which are so very large in proportion to himself, shorn of his hat, that when he holds up the Times to run his eye over the columns, he seems to have retired for the night and to have disappeared under the bedclothes.

After these stupendous calculations, Smallweed dismisses his friends with a cool nod and remains behind to take a little admiring notice of Polly, and to read the daily papers, which are so very large in proportion to himself that when he holds up the Times he disappears altogether.


Mr. Guppy and Mr. Jobling repair to the rag and bottle shop, where they find Krook still sleeping like one o'clock, that is to say, breathing stertorously with his chin upon his breast and quite insensible to any external sounds or even to gentle shaking.

Mr. Guppy and Mr. Jobling repair to the rag and bottle shop, where they find Krook still sleeping like one o'clock; that is to say, snoring with his chin upon his breast and quite insensible even to gentle shaking.


On the table beside him, among the usual lumber, stand an empty gin-bottle and a glass.

On the table beside him stand an empty gin-bottle and a glass.


The unwholesome air is so stained with this liquor that even the green eyes of the cat upon her shelf, as they open and shut and glimmer on the visitors, look drunk.

The unwholesome air is so stained with this liquor that even the green eyes of the cat upon her shelf look drunk.


says Mr. Guppy, giving the relaxed figure of the old man another shake.

Mr. Guppy gives the old man another shake.


But it would seem as easy to wake a bundle of old clothes with a spirituous heat smouldering in it.


"Did you ever see such a stupor as he falls into, between drink and sleep?"

Jobling, did you ever see such a stupor as this?"


"If this is his regular sleep," returns Jobling, rather alarmed, "it'll last a long time one of these days, I am thinking."


"It's always more like a fit than a nap," says Mr. Guppy, shaking him again.


Why, he might be robbed fifty times over!


After much ado, he opens them, but without appearing to see his visitors or any other objects.

At last Krook opens them, but without appearing to see his visitors.


Though he crosses one leg on another, and folds his hands, and several times closes and opens his parched lips, he seems to all intents and purposes as insensible as before.

Though he crosses his legs, and folds his hands, and several times closes and opens his parched lips, he seems as insensible as before.


"He is alive, at any rate," says Mr. Guppy.


I have brought a friend of mine, sir, on a little matter of business."

I have brought a friend of mine, sir, on business."


The old man still sits, often smacking his dry lips without the least consciousness.

The old man still sits smacking his dry lips.


After some minutes he makes an attempt to rise.


They help him up, and he staggers against the wall and stares at them.


The old man, in aiming a purposeless blow at Mr. Guppy, or at nothing, feebly swings himself round and comes with his face against the wall.

The old man, in aiming a purposeless blow at Mr. Guppy, feebly swings himself round and comes with his face against the wall.


So he remains for a minute or two, heaped up against it, and then staggers down the shop to the front door.

So he remains for a minute, and then staggers to the front door.


The air, the movement in the court, the lapse of time, or the combination of these things recovers him.


He comes back pretty steadily, adjusting his fur cap on his head and looking keenly at them.


"Your servant, gentlemen; I've been dozing.


"Rather so, indeed, sir," responds Mr. Guppy.


You've been a-trying to do it, have you?"


The old man's eye resting on the empty bottle, he takes it up, examines it, and slowly tilts it upside down.

The old man's eye resting on the empty bottle, he examines it, and tilts it upside down.


he cries like the hobgoblin in the story.


"I assure you we found it so," says Mr. Guppy.


"Would you allow me to get it filled for you?"


Get it filled next door--Sol's Arms--the Lord Chancellor's fourteenpenny.

"Get it filled next door - Sol's Arms - the Lord Chancellor's fourteenpenny.


He so presses the empty bottle upon Mr. Guppy that that gentleman, with a nod to his friend, accepts the trust and hurries out and hurries in again with the bottle filled.

Mr. Guppy, with a nod to his friend, takes the bottle and hurries out, and hurries in again with it filled.


The old man receives it in his arms like a beloved grandchild and pats it tenderly.

The old man receives it like a beloved grandchild and pats it tenderly.


"But, I say," he whispers, with his eyes screwed up, after tasting it, "this ain't the Lord Chancellor's fourteenpenny.

"But, I say," he whispers, after tasting it, "this ain't the fourteenpenny.


"I thought you might like that better," says Mr. Guppy.


"You're a nobleman, sir," returns Krook with another taste, and his hot breath seems to come towards them like a flame.

"You're a nobleman, sir," returns Krook with another taste.


Taking advantage of this auspicious moment, Mr. Guppy presents his friend under the impromptu name of Mr. Weevle and states the object of their visit.

Taking advantage of this auspicious moment, Mr. Guppy presents his friend under the name of Mr. Weevle and states the object of their visit.


Krook, with his bottle under his arm (he never gets beyond a certain point of either drunkenness or sobriety), takes time to survey his proposed lodger and seems to approve of him.

Krook surveys his proposed lodger and seems to approve of him.


"You'd like to see the room, young man?"


Been cleaned down with soft soap and soda.


It's worth twice the rent, letting alone my company when you want it and such a cat to keep the mice away."


Commending the room after this manner, the old man takes them upstairs, where indeed they do find it cleaner than it used to be and also containing some old articles of furniture which he has dug up from his inexhaustible stores.

The old man takes them upstairs, where indeed they do find it cleaner than it used to be and also containing some old articles of furniture.


The terms are easily concluded--for the Lord Chancellor cannot be hard on Mr. Guppy, associated as he is with Kenge and Carboy, Jarndyce and Jarndyce, and other famous claims on his professional consideration--and it is agreed that Mr. Weevle shall take possession on the morrow.

The terms are easily concluded, and it is agreed that Mr. Weevle shall move in on the morrow.


Mr. Weevle and Mr. Guppy then repair to Cook's Court, Cursitor Street, where the personal introduction of the former to Mr. Snagsby is effected and (more important) the vote and interest of Mrs. Snagsby are secured.

Mr. Weevle and Mr. Guppy then go to Cook's Court, where the former is introduced to Mr. Snagsby and (more important) the interest of Mrs. Snagsby is secured.


They then report progress to the eminent Smallweed, waiting at the office in his tall hat for that purpose, and separate, Mr. Guppy explaining that he would terminate his little entertainment by standing treat at the play but that there are chords in the human mind which would render it a hollow mockery.

They then report progress to Smallweed, waiting at the office in his tall hat.


On the morrow, in the dusk of evening, Mr. Weevle modestly appears at Krook's, by no means incommoded with luggage, and establishes himself in his new lodging, where the two eyes in the shutters stare at him in his sleep, as if they were full of wonder.

On the next evening, Mr. Weevle modestly appears at Krook's, and establishes himself in his new lodging, where the two eyes in the shutters stare at him in his sleep, as if full of wonder.


On the following day Mr. Weevle, who is a handy good-for-nothing kind of young fellow, borrows a needle and thread of Miss Flite and a hammer of his landlord and goes to work devising apologies for window-curtains, and knocking up apologies for shelves, and hanging up his two teacups, milkpot, and crockery sundries on a pennyworth of little hooks, like a shipwrecked sailor making the best of it.

On the following day Mr. Weevle borrows a needle and thread from Miss Flite and a hammer from his landlord and goes to work devising apologies for curtains, and knocking up apologies for shelves, and hanging up his two teacups and milkpot on a pennyworth of little hooks, like a shipwrecked sailor making the best of it.


But what Mr. Weevle prizes most of all his few possessions (next after his light whiskers, for which he has an attachment that only whiskers can awaken in the breast of man) is a choice collection of copper-plate impressions from that truly national work The Divinities of Albion, or Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty, representing ladies of title and fashion in every variety of smirk that art, combined with capital, is capable of producing.

But what Mr. Weevle prizes most of all his few possessions is a choice collection of copper-plate impressions from that truly national work The Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty, representing ladies of title and fashion in every variety of smirk that art is capable of producing.


With these magnificent portraits, unworthily confined in a band-box during his seclusion among the market-gardens, he decorates his apartment; and as the Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty wears every variety of fancy dress, plays every variety of musical instrument, fondles every variety of dog, ogles every variety of prospect, and is backed up by every variety of flower-pot and balustrade, the result is very imposing.

With these magnificent portraits he decorates his apartment; and as The Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty wears every variety of fancy dress, plays every variety of musical instrument, fondles every variety of dog, and is backed up by every variety of flower-pot, the result is very imposing.


But fashion is Mr. Weevle's, as it was Tony Jobling's, weakness.


To borrow yesterday's paper from the Sol's Arms of an evening and read about the brilliant and distinguished meteors that are shooting across the fashionable sky in every direction is unspeakable consolation to him.

To borrow yesterday's paper and read about the brilliant meteors shooting across the fashionable sky is great consolation to him.


To know what member of what brilliant and distinguished circle accomplished the brilliant and distinguished feat of joining it yesterday or contemplates the no less brilliant and distinguished feat of leaving it to-morrow gives him a thrill of joy.

To know what member of what distinguished circle joined it yesterday or may leave it tomorrow gives him a thrill of joy.


To be informed what the Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty is about, and means to be about, and what Galaxy marriages are on the tapis, and what Galaxy rumours are in circulation, is to become acquainted with the most glorious destinies of mankind.

To be informed what Galaxy marriages are in the offing, and what Galaxy rumours are circulating, is to become acquainted with the most glorious destinies of mankind.


Mr. Weevle reverts from this intelligence to the Galaxy portraits implicated, and seems to know the originals, and to be known of them.
For the rest he is a quiet lodger, full of handy shifts and devices as before mentioned, able to cook and clean for himself as well as to carpenter, and developing social inclinations after the shades of evening have fallen on the court.

For the rest, Mr. Weevle is a quiet lodger.


At those times, when he is not visited by Mr. Guppy or by a small light in his likeness quenched in a dark hat, he comes out of his dull room--where he has inherited the deal wilderness of desk bespattered with a rain of ink--and talks to Krook or is "very free," as they call it in the court, commendingly, with any one disposed for conversation.

In the evenings, when he is not visited by Mr. Guppy or by a small person in his likeness in a dark hat, he comes out of his dull room and talks to Krook or anyone else in the court who is disposed for conversation.


Wherefore, Mrs. Piper, who leads the court, is impelled to offer two remarks to Mrs. Perkins: firstly, that if her Johnny was to have whiskers, she could wish 'em to be identically like that young man's; and secondly, "Mark my words, Mrs. Perkins, ma'am, and don't you be surprised, Lord bless you, if that young man comes in at last for old Krook's money!"

Mrs. Piper, who leads the court, offers two remarks to Mrs. Perkins: firstly, that if her Johnny was to have whiskers, she could wish 'em to be like that young man's; and secondly, "Mark my words, Mrs. Perkins, and don't you be surprised, if that young man comes in at last for old Krook's money!"


I had not been at home again many days when one evening I went upstairs into my own room to take a peep over Charley's shoulder and see how she was getting on with her copy-book.

I had not been at home many days when one evening I went upstairs to my own room to see how Charley was getting on with her copy-book.


Writing was a trying business to Charley, who seemed to have no natural power over a pen, but in whose hand every pen appeared to become perversely animated, and to go wrong and crooked, and to stop, and splash, and sidle into corners like a saddle-donkey.

Writing was a trying business to Charley, in whose hand a pen appeared to become perversely animated, and to go crooked and sidle into corners like a saddle-donkey.


It was very odd to see what old letters Charley's young hand had made, they so wrinkled, and shrivelled, and tottering, it so plump and round.

It was very odd to see what old, shrivelled letters Charley's young hand had made.


Yet Charley was uncommonly expert at other things and had as nimble little fingers as I ever watched.

Yet Charley was uncommonly expert and nimble at other things.


"Well, Charley," said I, looking over a copy of the letter O in which it was represented as square, triangular, pear-shaped, and collapsed in all kinds of ways, "we are improving.

"Well, Charley," said I, looking at a collapsed letter O, "we are improving.


If we only get to make it round, we shall be perfect, Charley."

If we only get to make it round, we shall be perfect."


Then I made one, and Charley made one, and the pen wouldn't join Charley's neatly, but twisted it up into a knot.

Then I made an O, and Charley made one, and the pen twisted Charley's up into a knot.


Charley laid down her pen, the copy being finished, opened and shut her cramped little hand, looked gravely at the page, half in pride and half in doubt, and got up, and dropped me a curtsy.

Charley laid down her pen, flexed her cramped little hand, and got up and dropped me a curtsy.


If you please, miss, did you know a poor person of the name of Jenny?"

If you please, did you know a poor person of the name of Jenny?"


"She came and spoke to me when I was out a little while ago, and said you knew her, miss.


She asked me if I wasn't the young lady's little maid--meaning you for the young lady, miss--and I said yes, miss."


"I thought she had left this neighbourhood altogether, Charley."

"I thought she had left this neighbourhood, Charley."


"So she had, miss, but she's come back again to where she used to live--she and Liz.

"So she had, miss, but she's come back again - she and Liz.


Did you know another poor person of the name of Liz, miss?"


"I think I do, Charley, though not by name."


"They have both come back, miss, and have been tramping high and low."


"Tramping high and low, have they, Charley?"


If Charley could only have made the letters in her copy as round as the eyes with which she looked into my face, they would have been excellent.


"And this poor person came about the house three or four days, hoping to get a glimpse of you, miss--all she wanted, she said--but you were away.

And this Jenny came about the house three or four days, hoping to get a glimpse of you, miss - all she wanted, she said - but you were away.


She saw me a-going about, miss," said Charley with a short laugh of the greatest delight and pride, "and she thought I looked like your maid!"

Then she saw me," said Charley with a short laugh of delight and pride, "and she thought I looked like your maid!"


And Charley, with another short laugh of the purest glee, made her eyes very round again and looked as serious as became my maid.


I was never tired of seeing Charley in the full enjoyment of that great dignity, standing before me with her youthful face and figure, and her steady manner, and her childish exultation breaking through it now and then in the pleasantest way.


My little maid's countenance fell as she replied, "By the doctor's shop, miss."


I asked if the brickmaker's wife were ill, but Charley said no.


It was some one else. Some one in her cottage who had tramped down to Saint Albans and was tramping he didn't know where.

It was some one else in her cottage, who had tramped down to Saint Albans.


A poor boy, Charley said, her eyes filling with tears.


"Like as Tom might have been, miss, if Emma and me had died after father," said Charley, her round eyes filling with tears.


"And she was getting medicine for him, Charley?"


"She said, miss," returned Charley, "how that he had once done as much for her."

"She said, miss, that he had once done as much for her."


My little maid's face was so eager and her quiet hands were folded so closely in one another as she stood looking at me that I had no great difficulty in reading her thoughts.

My little maid's face was so eager that I had no great difficulty in reading her thoughts.


"Well, Charley," said I, "it appears to me that you and I can do no better than go round to Jenny's and see what's the matter."

"Well, Charley," said I, "we had better go round to Jenny's and see what's the matter."


The alacrity with which Charley brought my bonnet and veil, and having dressed me, quaintly pinned herself into her warm shawl and made herself look like a little old woman, sufficiently expressed her readiness.

Charley brought my bonnet and veil with alacrity, and having dressed me, pinned herself into her warm shawl like a little old woman.


So Charley and I, without saying anything to any one, went out.

Without saying anything to anyone, we went out.


It was a cold, wild night, and the trees shuddered in the wind.


The rain had been thick and heavy all day, and with little intermission for many days. None was falling just then, however.

The rain had been heavy all day, although none was falling just then.


The sky had partly cleared, but was very gloomy--even above us, where a few stars were shining.


In the north and north-west, where the sun had set three hours before, there was a pale dead light both beautiful and awful; and into it long sullen lines of cloud waved up like a sea stricken immovable as it was heaving.

The gloomy sky had partly cleared, and in the north-west, where the sun had set, there was a pale dead light both beautiful and awful, with long sullen lines of cloud waved up like a sea stricken immovable.


Towards London a lurid glare overhung the whole dark waste, and the contrast between these two lights, and the fancy which the redder light engendered of an unearthly fire, gleaming on all the unseen buildings of the city and on all the faces of its many thousands of wondering inhabitants, was as solemn as might be.

Towards London a lurid glare overhung the dark waste.


I had no thought that night--none, I am quite sure--of what was soon to happen to me.

I had no thought that night of what was soon to happen to me.


But I have always remembered since that when we had stopped at the garden-gate to look up at the sky, and when we went upon our way, I had for a moment an undefinable impression of myself as being something different from what I then was.

But I have always remembered that when we stopped at the garden-gate to look up at the sky, I had for a moment an undefinable impression of myself as being something different from what I then was.


I know it was then and there that I had it.


I have ever since connected the feeling with that spot and time and with everything associated with that spot and time, to the distant voices in the town, the barking of a dog, and the sound of wheels coming down the miry hill.

I have ever since connected the feeling with that spot and time.


It was Saturday night, and most of the people belonging to the place where we were going were drinking elsewhere. We found it quieter than I had previously seen it, though quite as miserable.

It was Saturday night, and the place was quiet.


The kilns were burning, and a stifling vapour set towards us with a pale-blue glare.

The kilns were burning, and a stifling vapour set towards us with a pale blue glare.


We came to the cottage, where there was a feeble candle in the patched window.

We came to the cottage, where there was a feeble candle in the window.


The mother of the little child who had died was sitting in a chair on one side of the poor fire by the bed; and opposite to her, a wretched boy, supported by the chimney-piece, was cowering on the floor.

The mother of the little child who had died was sitting in a chair on one side of the poor fire; and opposite her, a wretched boy was cowering on the floor.


He held under his arm, like a little bundle, a fragment of a fur cap; and as he tried to warm himself, he shook until the crazy door and window shook.

He held under his arm a fragment of a fur cap; and as he tried to warm himself, he shook.


The place was closer than before and had an unhealthy and a very peculiar smell.

The place had an unhealthy and very peculiar smell.


I had not lifted my veil when I first spoke to the woman, which was at the moment of our going in.

I had not lifted my veil when I first spoke to the woman on entering.


The boy staggered up instantly and stared at me with a remarkable expression of surprise and terror.


His action was so quick and my being the cause of it was so evident that I stood still instead of advancing nearer.


"I won't go no more to the berryin ground," muttered the boy; "I ain't a-going there, so I tell you!"

"I won't go no more to the berryin ground," muttered the boy; "I ain't a-going there, I tell you!"


I lifted my veil and spoke to the woman.


She said to me in a low voice, "Don't mind him, ma'am. He'll soon come back to his head," and said to him, "Jo, Jo, what's the matter?"

She said to me in a low voice, "Don't mind him, ma'am," and said to him, "Jo, Jo, what's the matter?"


She's come to get me to go along with her to the berryin ground.


His shivering came on again, and as he leaned against the wall, he shook the hovel.

His shivering came on again, and he leaned against the wall.


"He has been talking off and on about such like all day, ma'am," said Jenny softly.

"He has been talking off and on like this all day, ma'am," said Jenny softly.


returned the boy doubtfully, and surveying me with his arm held out above his burning eyes.

returned the boy, surveying me doubtfully.


It ain't the bonnet, nor yet it ain't the gownd, but she looks to me the t'other one."

It ain't the bonnet, nor yet the gown, but she looks to me the t'other one."


My little Charley, with her premature experience of illness and trouble, had pulled off her bonnet and shawl and now went quietly up to him with a chair and sat him down in it like an old sick nurse.

My little Charley had pulled off her bonnet and shawl and now went quietly up to him and sat him down in a chair like an old nurse.


Except that no such attendant could have shown him Charley's youthful face, which seemed to engage his confidence.


Charley shook her head as she methodically drew his rags about him and made him as warm as she could.

Charley shook her head as she made him as warm as she could.


"I came to see if I could do you any good," said I.


"I'm a-being froze," returned the boy hoarsely, with his haggard gaze wandering about me, "and then burnt up, and then froze, and then burnt up, ever so many times in a hour.

"I'm a-being froze," returned the boy hoarsely, his haggard gaze wandering, "and then burnt up, and then froze, and then burnt up, ever so many times in a hour.


And my head's all sleepy, and all a-going mad-like--and I'm so dry--and my bones isn't half so much bones as pain.

And my head's all sleepy - and I'm so dry - and my bones is all pain."


"This morning, ma'am, I found him at the corner of the town.


Whenever he fixed his attention or his eyes, it was only for a very little while.


He soon began to droop his head again, and roll it heavily, and speak as if he were half awake.

He began to droop and roll his head again, as if he were only half awake.


"I come from London yes'day," said the boy himself, now flushed and hot.


"Somewheres," repeated the boy in a louder tone.


"I have been moved on, and moved on, more nor ever I was afore, since the t'other one give me the sov'ring.


Mrs. Snagsby, she's always a-watching, and a-driving of me--what have I done to her?--and they're all a-watching and a-driving of me.

Mrs. Snagsby, she's always a-watching, and a-driving of me - they all are.


Every one of 'em's doing of it, from the time when I don't get up, to the time when I don't go to bed.


She told me, down in Tom-all-Alone's, as she came from Stolbuns, and so I took the Stolbuns Road.


He always concluded by addressing Charley.


"He could not travel in this state even if he had a purpose and knew where he was going!"

"He could not travel in this state even if he knew where he was going!"


"I know no more, ma'am, than the dead," she replied, glancing compassionately at him.

"I don't know, ma'am," she replied, glancing compassionately at him.


"Perhaps the dead know better, if they could only tell us.


I've kept him here all day for pity's sake, and I've given him broth and physic, and Liz has gone to try if any one will take him in (here's my pretty in the bed--her child, but I call it mine); but I can't keep him long, for if my husband was to come home and find him here, he'd be rough in putting him out and might do him a hurt.

"I've kept him here all day for pity's sake, and I've given him broth and medicine, and Liz has gone to see if anyone will take him in; but I can't keep him long, for if my husband was to come home and find him here, he'd be rough in putting him out.


The other woman came hurriedly in as she spoke, and the boy got up with a half-obscured sense that he was expected to be going.

The other woman came hurriedly in as she spoke.


When the little child awoke, and when and how Charley got at it, took it out of bed, and began to walk about hushing it, I don't know.


There she was, doing all this in a quiet motherly manner as if she were living in Mrs. Blinder's attic with Tom and Emma again.


The friend had been here and there, and had been played about from hand to hand, and had come back as she went. At first it was too early for the boy to be received into the proper refuge, and at last it was too late. One official sent her to another, and the other sent her back again to the first, and so backward and forward, until it appeared to me as if both must have been appointed for their skill in evading their duties instead of performing them.

She had been here and there, and had been played about from hand to hand; one official sent her to another, and the other sent her back to the first, and so on, until it appeared to me as if both must have been appointed for their skill in evading their duties.


And now, after all, she said, breathing quickly, for she had been running and was frightened too, "Jenny, your master's on the road home, and mine's not far behind, and the Lord help the boy, for we can do no more for him!"

And now she said, breathing quickly, "Jenny, your master's on the road home, and mine too, and the Lord help the boy, for we can do no more!"


They put a few halfpence together and hurried them into his hand, and so, in an oblivious, half-thankful, half-insensible way, he shuffled out of the house.

They put a few halfpence into his hand, and in an oblivious way, he shuffled out of the house.


"Give me the child, my dear," said its mother to Charley, "and thank you kindly too!

"Thank you kindly!" said Liz to Charley and me.


Young lady, if my master don't fall out with me, I'll look down by the kiln by and by, where the boy will be most like, and again in the morning!"

Young lady, I'll look down by the kiln by and by, where the boy will be most like, and again in the morning!"


She hurried off, and presently we passed her hushing and singing to her child at her own door and looking anxiously along the road for her drunken husband.

She hurried off, looking anxiously along the road for her drunken husband.


I was afraid of staying then to speak to either woman, lest I should bring her into trouble.


But I said to Charley that we must not leave the boy to die.


Charley, who knew what to do much better than I did, and whose quickness equalled her presence of mind, glided on before me, and presently we came up with Jo, just short of the brick-kiln.

Charley glided on before me, and presently we caught up with Jo, just short of the brick-kiln.


I think he must have begun his journey with some small bundle under his arm and must have had it stolen or lost it.


For he still carried his wretched fragment of fur cap like a bundle, though he went bare-headed through the rain, which now fell fast.


He stopped when we called to him and again showed a dread of me when I came up, standing with his lustrous eyes fixed upon me, and even arrested in his shivering fit.

He stopped when we called to him and stood arrested in his shivering fit.


I asked him to come with us, and we would take care that he had some shelter for the night.

I asked him to come with us, and said we would give him shelter for the night.


"I don't want no shelter," he said; "I can lay amongst the warm bricks."


"But don't you know that people die there?"


"They dies in their lodgings--she knows where; I showed her--and they dies down in Tom-all-Alone's in heaps.

"They dies down in Tom-all-Alone's in heaps."


They dies more than they lives, according to what I see."


Then he hoarsely whispered Charley, "If she ain't the t'other one, she ain't the forrenner.

Then he hoarsely whispered to Charley, "If she ain't the t'other one, she ain't the forrenner.


Charley looked at me a little frightened.


I felt half frightened at myself when the boy glared on me so.


But he turned and followed when I beckoned to him, and finding that he acknowledged that influence in me, I led the way straight home.

But the boy followed when I beckoned him; so I led the way straight home.


It was not far, only at the summit of the hill.


I doubted if we should have got home without assistance, the boy's steps were so uncertain and tremulous. He made no complaint, however, and was strangely unconcerned about himself, if I may say so strange a thing.

The boy's steps were uncertain and tremulous, but we had not far to go, and he made no complaint.


Leaving him in the hall for a moment, shrunk into the corner of the window-seat and staring with an indifference that scarcely could be called wonder at the comfort and brightness about him, I went into the drawing-room to speak to my guardian.

Leaving him in the hall for a moment, shrunk into the corner of the window-seat, I went into the drawing-room to speak to my guardian.


There I found Mr. Skimpole, who had come down by the coach, as he frequently did without notice, and never bringing any clothes with him, but always borrowing everything he wanted.

There I found Mr. Skimpole, who had come down by the coach, as he frequently did without notice, never bringing any clothes with him, but always borrowing everything he wanted.


They came out with me directly to look at the boy.

They came out with me to look at the boy.


The servants had gathered in the hall too, and he shivered in the window-seat with Charley standing by him, like some wounded animal that had been found in a ditch.


"This is a sorrowful case," said my guardian after asking him a question or two and touching him and examining his eyes.

"This is a sorrowful case," said my guardian after asking him a question or two.


"You had better turn him out," said Mr. Skimpole.


"My dear Jarndyce," said Mr. Skimpole, "you know what I am: I am a child.

"My dear Jarndyce," said Mr. Skimpole, "you know I am a child.


But I have a constitutional objection to this sort of thing. I always had, when I was a medical man. He's not safe, you know.


There's a very bad sort of fever about him."


Mr. Skimpole had retreated from the hall to the drawing-room again and said this in his airy way, seated on the music-stool as we stood by.

Mr. Skimpole retreated to the drawing-room again as he said this in his airy way.


"You'll say it's childish," observed Mr. Skimpole, looking gaily at us.

"You'll say it's childish," he observed, looking gaily at us.


"Well, I dare say it may be; but I AM a child, and I never pretend to be anything else. If you put him out in the road, you only put him where he was before.

"Well, I dare say it may be; but if you put him out in the road, you only put him where he was before.


He will be no worse off than he was, you know.


Give him sixpence, or five shillings, or five pound ten--you are arithmeticians, and I am not--and get rid of him!"

Give him sixpence, or five shillings - and get rid of him!"


"Upon my life," said Mr. Skimpole, shrugging his shoulders with his engaging smile, "I have not the least idea what he is to do then.

"Upon my life," said Mr. Skimpole, shrugging his shoulders with his engaging smile, "I have not the least idea."


"Now, is it not a horrible reflection," said my guardian, to whom I had hastily explained the unavailing efforts of the two women, "is it not a horrible reflection," walking up and down and rumpling his hair, "that if this wretched creature were a convicted prisoner, his hospital would be wide open to him, and he would be as well taken care of as any sick boy in the kingdom?"

"Now, is it not a horrible reflection," said my guardian, walking up and down and rumpling his hair, "that if this wretched creature were a prisoner, he would be as well taken care of as any sick boy in the kingdom?"


"My dear Jarndyce," returned Mr. Skimpole, "you'll pardon the simplicity of the question, coming as it does from a creature who is perfectly simple in worldly matters, but why ISN'T he a prisoner then?"

"My dear Jarndyce," returned Mr. Skimpole, "you'll pardon the simplicity of the question, coming from a simple child, but why isn't he a prisoner then?


My guardian stopped and looked at him with a whimsical mixture of amusement and indignation in his face.


"Our young friend is not to be suspected of any delicacy, I should imagine," said Mr. Skimpole, unabashed and candid.


"It seems to me that it would be wiser, as well as in a certain kind of way more respectable, if he showed some misdirected energy that got him into prison.

It seems to me that it would be wiser if he showed some misdirected energy that got him into prison.


There would be more of an adventurous spirit in it, and consequently more of a certain sort of poetry."

There would be more of an adventurous spirit in it, and a certain sort of poetry."


"I believe," returned my guardian, resuming his uneasy walk, "that there is not such another child on earth as yourself."


But I confess I don't see why our young friend, in his degree, should not seek to invest himself with such poetry as is open to him.


He is no doubt born with an appetite--probably, when he is in a safer state of health, he has an excellent appetite.


At our young friend's natural dinner hour, most likely about noon, our young friend says in effect to society, 'I am hungry; will you have the goodness to produce your spoon and feed me?'


Society, which has taken upon itself the general arrangement of the whole system of spoons and professes to have a spoon for our young friend, does NOT produce that spoon; and our young friend, therefore, says 'You really must excuse me if I seize it.'


Now, this appears to me a case of misdirected energy, which has a certain amount of reason in it and a certain amount of romance; and I don't know but what I should be more interested in our young friend, as an illustration of such a case, than merely as a poor vagabond--which any one can be."


"In the meantime," I ventured to observe, "he is getting worse."

"In the meantime," I observed, "he is getting worse."


"In the meantime," said Mr. Skimpole cheerfully, "as Miss Summerson, with her practical good sense, observes, he is getting worse.


Therefore I recommend your turning him out before he gets still worse."

Therefore I recommend your turning him out before he gets worse still."


The amiable face with which he said it, I think I shall never forget.


"Of course, little woman," observed my guardian, turning to me, "I can ensure his admission into the proper place by merely going there to enforce it, though it's a bad state of things when, in his condition, that is necessary. But it's growing late, and is a very bad night, and the boy is worn out already.

"It's growing late," said my guardian, "and it is a very bad night, and the boy is worn out already.


There is a bed in the wholesome loft-room by the stable; we had better keep him there till morning, when he can be wrapped up and removed.

There is a bed in the wholesome loft-room by the stable; we had better keep him there till morning.


said Mr. Skimpole, with his hands upon the keys of the piano as we moved away.

said Mr. Skimpole, with his hands upon the keys of the piano.


"Are you going back to our young friend?"


"How I envy you your constitution, Jarndyce!"


returned Mr. Skimpole with playful admiration.


"You don't mind these things; neither does Miss Summerson.


You are ready at all times to go anywhere, and do anything.

You are ready at all times to do anything.


I have no will at all--and no won't--simply can't."

I have no will at all, and simply can't."


"You can't recommend anything for the boy, I suppose?"


said my guardian, looking back over his shoulder half angrily; only half angrily, for he never seemed to consider Mr. Skimpole an accountable being.


"My dear Jarndyce, I observed a bottle of cooling medicine in his pocket, and it's impossible for him to do better than take it.


You can tell them to sprinkle a little vinegar about the place where he sleeps and to keep it moderately cool and him moderately warm.


But it is mere impertinence in me to offer any recommendation.


Miss Summerson has such a knowledge of detail and such a capacity for the administration of detail that she knows all about it."


We went back into the hall and explained to Jo what we proposed to do, which Charley explained to him again and which he received with the languid unconcern I had already noticed, wearily looking on at what was done as if it were for somebody else.

We went back into the hall and explained to Jo what we proposed, which he received with languid unconcern.


The servants compassionating his miserable state and being very anxious to help, we soon got the loft-room ready; and some of the men about the house carried him across the wet yard, well wrapped up.

The servants were anxious to help, and we soon got the loft-room ready. Some of the men carried him across the wet yard, well wrapped up.


It was pleasant to observe how kind they were to him and how there appeared to be a general impression among them that frequently calling him "Old Chap" was likely to revive his spirits.

It was pleasant to observe how kind they were, frequently calling him "Old Chap."


Charley directed the operations and went to and fro between the loft-room and the house with such little stimulants and comforts as we thought it safe to give him.

Charley went to and fro between the loft-room and the house with such little stimulants and comforts as we thought it safe to give him.


My guardian himself saw him before he was left for the night and reported to me when he returned to the growlery to write a letter on the boy's behalf, which a messenger was charged to deliver at day-light in the morning, that he seemed easier and inclined to sleep.

My guardian himself saw him before he was left for the night, and returned to the growlery to write a letter on the boy's behalf, which was to be delivered in the morning. The boy had seemed inclined to sleep, he said.


They had fastened his door on the outside, he said, in case of his being delirious, but had so arranged that he could not make any noise without being heard.

They had fastened his door on the outside, in case of his being delirious, but if he made any noise he would be heard.


Ada being in our room with a cold, Mr. Skimpole was left alone all this time and entertained himself by playing snatches of pathetic airs and sometimes singing to them (as we heard at a distance) with great expression and feeling.

Mr. Skimpole was left alone all this time and entertained himself by playing snatches of pathetic airs and sometimes singing to them with great expression and feeling.


When we rejoined him in the drawing-room he said he would give us a little ballad which had come into his head "apropos of our young friend," and he sang one about a peasant boy,

When we rejoined him in the drawing-room he sang us a little ballad about a peasant boy,


"Thrown on the wide world, doomed to wander and roam, Bereft of his parents, bereft of a home."


It was a song that always made him cry, he told us.


He was extremely gay all the rest of the evening, for he absolutely chirped--those were his delighted words--when he thought by what a happy talent for business he was surrounded. He gave us, in his glass of negus, "Better health to our young friend!"

He was extremely gay all the rest of the evening, and drank to "Better health to our young friend!"


and supposed and gaily pursued the case of his being reserved like Whittington to become Lord Mayor of London.

whom he gaily supposed would, like Dick Whittington, become Lord Mayor of London.


In that event, no doubt, he would establish the Jarndyce Institution and the Summerson Almshouses, and a little annual Corporation Pilgrimage to St. Albans.

In that event, no doubt, he would establish the Jarndyce and Summerson Almshouses.


He had no doubt, he said, that our young friend was an excellent boy in his way, but his way was not the Harold Skimpole way; what Harold Skimpole was, Harold Skimpole had found himself, to his considerable surprise, when he first made his own acquaintance; he had accepted himself with all his failings and had thought it sound philosophy to make the best of the bargain; and he hoped we would do the same.


Charley's last report was that the boy was quiet.


I could see, from my window, the lantern they had left him burning quietly; and I went to bed very happy to think that he was sheltered.

I could see, from my window, the lantern they had left him burning quietly; and I went to bed happy to think that he was sheltered.


There was more movement and more talking than usual a little before daybreak, and it awoke me.

There was more movement and talking than usual before daybreak, and it awoke me.


As I was dressing, I looked out of my window and asked one of our men who had been among the active sympathizers last night whether there was anything wrong about the house.

As I was dressing, I looked out of my window and asked one of our men whether there was anything wrong.


The lantern was still burning in the loft-window.


At what time of the night he had gone, or how, or why, it seemed hopeless ever to divine.

At what time of the night he had gone, or how, or why, it seemed impossible to learn.


The door remaining as it had been left, and the lantern standing in the window, it could only be supposed that he had got out by a trap in the floor which communicated with an empty cart-house below.

It could only be supposed that he had got out by a trapdoor in the floor which led to an empty cart-house below.


But he had shut it down again, if that were so; and it looked as if it had not been raised.


On this fact being clearly ascertained, we all yielded to the painful belief that delirium had come upon him in the night and that, allured by some imaginary object or pursued by some imaginary horror, he had strayed away in that worse than helpless state; all of us, that is to say, but Mr. Skimpole, who repeatedly suggested, in his usual easy light style, that it had occurred to our young friend that he was not a safe inmate, having a bad kind of fever upon him, and that he had with great natural politeness taken himself off.

We all yielded to the painful belief that delirium had come upon him in the night and that he had strayed away in that helpless state; all of us, that is to say, but Mr. Skimpole, who repeatedly suggested, in his usual easy light style, that it had occurred to our young friend that he was not a safe inmate, having a fever, and that he had politely taken himself off.


Every possible inquiry was made, and every place was searched.


The brick-kilns were examined, the cottages were visited, the two women were particularly questioned, but they knew nothing of him, and nobody could doubt that their wonder was genuine.

The brick-kilns were searched and the cottages were visited, but the two women knew nothing of him, and nobody could doubt that their wonder was genuine.


The weather had for some time been too wet and the night itself had been too wet to admit of any tracing by footsteps.

The night had been too wet to allow any tracing by footsteps.


Hedge and ditch, and wall, and rick and stack, were examined by our men for a long distance round, lest the boy should be lying in such a place insensible or dead; but nothing was seen to indicate that he had ever been near.

Hedge and ditch were examined by our men for a long distance round, lest the boy should be lying insensible or dead; but he had vanished.


From the time when he was left in the loft-room, he vanished.


I do not mean that it ceased even then, but that my attention was then diverted into a current very memorable to me.

It did not cease even then, but my attention was diverted into a current very memorable to me.


As Charley was at her writing again in my room in the evening, and as I sat opposite to her at work, I felt the table tremble.

As Charley was writing again in my room, and as I sat opposite her, I felt the table tremble.


Looking up, I saw my little maid shivering from head to foot.


I felt so yesterday at about this same time, miss.


I heard Ada's voice outside, and I hurried to the door of communication between my room and our pretty sitting-room, and locked it.

I heard Ada's voice outside, and I hurried to the door between my room and our pretty sitting-room, and locked it.


Just in time, for she tapped at it while my hand was yet upon the key.
Ada called to me to let her in, but I said, "Not now, my dearest.

Just in time, for she tapped at it and called to me to let her in.
I said, "Not now, my dearest.


There's nothing the matter; I will come to you presently."


It was a long, long time before my darling girl and I were companions again.


In twelve hours she was very ill with the smallpox.


I moved her to my room, and laid her in my bed, and sat down quietly to nurse her.

I moved her to my room, and laid her in my bed, and sat down to nurse her.


I told my guardian all about it, and why I felt it was necessary that I should seclude myself, and my reason for not seeing my darling above all.

I told my guardian why I felt it was necessary that I should seclude myself, and not see my darling above all.


At first she came very often to the door, and called to me, and even reproached me with sobs and tears; but I wrote her a long letter saying that she made me anxious and unhappy and imploring her, as she loved me and wished my mind to be at peace, to come no nearer than the garden.

At first Ada came very often to the door, and called to me, and even reproached me with sobs and tears; but I wrote her a long letter saying that she made me anxious and unhappy, and imploring her, as she loved me, to come no nearer than the garden.


After that she came beneath the window even oftener than she had come to the door, and if I had learnt to love her dear sweet voice before when we were hardly ever apart, how did I learn to love it then, when I stood behind the window-curtain listening and replying, but not so much as looking out!

After that she came beneath the window often; and if I had learnt to love her dear sweet voice before, how did I learn to love it then, when I stood behind the window-curtain listening and replying, but not looking out!


How did I learn to love it afterwards, when the harder time came!


They put a bed for me in our sitting-room; and by keeping the door wide open, I turned the two rooms into one, now that Ada had vacated that part of the house, and kept them always fresh and airy.

They put a bed for me in our sitting-room; and by keeping the door wide open, I turned the two rooms into one, and kept them always fresh and airy.


There was not a servant in or about the house but was so good that they would all most gladly have come to me at any hour of the day or night without the least fear or unwillingness, but I thought it best to choose one worthy woman who was never to see Ada and whom I could trust to come and go with all precaution.

The servants were so good that they would all gladly have come to me at any hour, but I thought it best to choose one worthy woman who was never to see Ada and whom I could trust to come and go with all precautions.


Through her means I got out to take the air with my guardian when there was no fear of meeting Ada, and wanted for nothing in the way of attendance, any more than in any other respect.

Thus I got out to take the air with my guardian when there was no fear of meeting Ada.


And thus poor Charley sickened and grew worse, and fell into heavy danger of death, and lay severely ill for many a long round of day and night.

Poor Charley sickened and grew worse, and fell into heavy danger of death, and lay severely ill for many a long day and night.


So patient she was, so uncomplaining, and inspired by such a gentle fortitude that very often as I sat by Charley holding her head in my arms--repose would come to her, so, when it would come to her in no other attitude--I silently prayed to our Father in heaven that I might not forget the lesson which this little sister taught me.

So patient she was, so uncomplaining, that often as I sat holding her head in my arms - for she could only sleep in that attitude - I silently prayed to our Father in heaven that I might not forget the lesson which this little sister taught me.


I was very sorrowful to think that Charley's pretty looks would change and be disfigured, even if she recovered--she was such a child with her dimpled face--but that thought was, for the greater part, lost in her greater peril.

I was very sorrowful to think that Charley's pretty looks would change and be disfigured, even if she recovered - but that thought was lost in her greater peril.


When she was at the worst, and her mind rambled again to the cares of her father's sick bed and the little children, she still knew me so far as that she would be quiet in my arms when she could lie quiet nowhere else, and murmur out the wanderings of her mind less restlessly.

When she was at the worst, she would murmur out the wanderings of her mind about her father's sick-bed and the two little children.


At those times I used to think, how should I ever tell the two remaining babies that the baby who had learned of her faithful heart to be a mother to them in their need was dead!

At those times I used to think, how should I ever tell the two remaining babies that the baby who had learned to be a mother to them was dead!


There were other times when Charley knew me well and talked to me, telling me that she sent her love to Tom and Emma and that she was sure Tom would grow up to be a good man.

There were other times when Charley knew me well and talked to me, sending her love to Tom and Emma.


At those times Charley would speak to me of what she had read to her father as well as she could to comfort him, of that young man carried out to be buried who was the only son of his mother and she was a widow, of the ruler's daughter raised up by the gracious hand upon her bed of death.

She would speak to me of what she had read from the Bible to her father to comfort him.


And Charley told me that when her father died she had kneeled down and prayed in her first sorrow that he likewise might be raised up and given back to his poor children, and that if she should never get better and should die too, she thought it likely that it might come into Tom's mind to offer the same prayer for her.


Then would I show Tom how these people of old days had been brought back to life on earth, only that we might know our hope to be restored to heaven!


But of all the various times there were in Charley's illness, there was not one when she lost the gentle qualities I have spoken of.

But she never lost her gentle qualities.


And there were many, many when I thought in the night of the last high belief in the watching angel, and the last higher trust in God, on the part of her poor despised father.


She flutteringly and slowly turned the dangerous point, after long lingering there, and then began to mend.

She flutteringly and slowly turned the dangerous point, and then began to mend.


The hope that never had been given, from the first, of Charley being in outward appearance Charley any more soon began to be encouraged; and even that prospered, and I saw her growing into her old childish likeness again.

I even began to hope that her appearance would remain unchanged, as I saw her growing into her old childish likeness again.


It was a great morning when I could tell Ada all this as she stood out in the garden; and it was a great evening when Charley and I at last took tea together in the next room.

It was a great morning when I could tell Ada all this as she stood out in the garden; and it was a great evening when Charley and I at last took tea together.


But on that same evening, I felt that I was stricken cold.


Happily for both of us, it was not until Charley was safe in bed again and placidly asleep that I began to think the contagion of her illness was upon me.

It was not until Charley was asleep in bed again that I began to think the contagion of her illness was upon me.


I had been able easily to hide what I felt at tea-time, but I was past that already now, and I knew that I was rapidly following in Charley's steps.

I knew that I was rapidly following in her steps.


I was well enough, however, to be up early in the morning, and to return my darling's cheerful blessing from the garden, and to talk with her as long as usual.

I was well enough, however, to be up early in the morning, and to return my darling's cheerful blessing from the garden.


But I was not free from an impression that I had been walking about the two rooms in the night, a little beside myself, though knowing where I was; and I felt confused at times--with a curious sense of fullness, as if I were becoming too large altogether.

But I felt as if I had been walking about the two rooms in the night, a little beside myself; and I felt confused at times - with a curious sense of fullness, as if I were becoming too large altogether.


In the evening I was so much worse that I resolved to prepare Charley, with which view I said, "You're getting quite strong, Charley, are you not?'

In the evening I was so much worse that I resolved to prepare Charley. So I said, "You're getting quite strong, Charley, are you not?'


"Strong enough to be told a secret, I think, Charley?"


But Charley's face fell in the height of her delight, for she saw the secret in MY face; and she came out of the great chair, and fell upon my bosom, and said "Oh, miss, it's my doing!

But her face fell when she saw the secret in my face; and she jumped up and fell upon my bosom, and said "Oh, miss, it's my doing!


and a great deal more out of the fullness of her grateful heart.


"Now, Charley," said I after letting her go on for a little while, "if I am to be ill, my great trust, humanly speaking, is in you.

"Now, Charley," said I, "if I am to be ill, my great trust is in you.


And unless you are as quiet and composed for me as you always were for yourself, you can never fulfil it, Charley."


"If you'll let me cry a little longer, miss," said Charley.


If you'll only let me cry a little longer.


--how affectionately and devotedly she poured this out as she clung to my neck, I never can remember without tears--"I'll be good."


So I let Charley cry a little longer, and it did us both good.


"Trust in me now, if you please, miss," said Charley quietly.


I shall tell your doctor to-night that I don't think I am well and that you are going to nurse me."

I shall tell your doctor tonight that I don't think I am well and that you are going to nurse me.


For that the poor child thanked me with her whole heart.


"And in the morning, when you hear Miss Ada in the garden, if I should not be quite able to go to the window-curtain as usual, do you go, Charley, and say I am asleep--that I have rather tired myself, and am asleep.

In the morning, when you hear Miss Ada in the garden, if I should not be able to go to the window as usual, do you go, Charley, and say I am asleep.


At all times keep the room as I have kept it, Charley, and let no one come."

At all times keep the room as I have kept it, Charley, and let no one come in."


Charley promised, and I lay down, for I was very heavy.


I saw the doctor that night and asked the favour of him that I wished to ask relative to his saying nothing of my illness in the house as yet.

I saw the doctor that night and asked him to say nothing of my illness in the house yet.


I have a very indistinct remembrance of that night melting into day, and of day melting into night again; but I was just able on the first morning to get to the window and speak to my darling.


On the second morning I heard her dear voice--Oh, how dear now!--outside; and I asked Charley, with some difficulty (speech being painful to me), to go and say I was asleep.

On the second morning I heard her dear voice outside; and I asked Charley, with some difficulty (speech being painful), to say I was asleep.


I heard her answer softly, "Don't disturb her, Charley, for the world!"

I heard Ada answer softly, "Don't disturb her, Charley, for the world!"


"Disappointed, miss," said Charley, peeping through the curtain.


"But I know she is very beautiful this morning."


"She is indeed, miss," answered Charley, peeping.


With her blue clear eyes, God bless them, always loveliest when raised like that!


I called Charley to me and gave her her last charge.

I called Charley to me and gave her a last charge.


"Now, Charley, when she knows I am ill, she will try to make her way into the room.


Keep her out, Charley, if you love me truly, to the last!

Keep her out, Charley, if you love me truly!


Charley, if you let her in but once, only to look upon me for one moment as I lie here, I shall die."

Charley, if you let her in once, I shall die."


And now come and sit beside me for a little while, and touch me with your hand.

And now sit beside me for a little while, and touch me with your hand.


For I cannot see you, Charley; I am blind."


We came home from Mr. Boythorn's after six pleasant weeks.


We were often in the park and in the woods and seldom passed the lodge where we had taken shelter without looking in to speak to the keeper's wife; but we saw no more of Lady Dedlock, except at church on Sundays.

We were often in the park and woods, and passed the lodge where we had taken shelter; but we saw no more of Lady Dedlock, except at church on Sundays.


There was company at Chesney Wold; and although several beautiful faces surrounded her, her face retained the same influence on me as at first.

Her face retained the same influence on me as at first.


I do not quite know even now whether it was painful or pleasurable, whether it drew me towards her or made me shrink from her.


I think I admired her with a kind of fear, and I know that in her presence my thoughts always wandered back, as they had done at first, to that old time of my life.

I think I admired her with a kind of fear, and in her presence my thoughts always wandered back, as they had done at first, to that old time of my life.


I had a fancy, on more than one of these Sundays, that what this lady so curiously was to me, I was to her--I mean that I disturbed her thoughts as she influenced mine, though in some different way.

I had a fancy, on these Sundays, that I disturbed this lady's thoughts as she influenced mine, though in some different way.


But when I stole a glance at her and saw her so composed and distant and unapproachable, I felt this to be a foolish weakness.

But when I stole a glance at her and saw her so composed and distant, I felt this to be a foolish weakness.


Indeed, I felt the whole state of my mind in reference to her to be weak and unreasonable, and I remonstrated with myself about it as much as I could.

Indeed, I felt the whole state of my mind in reference to her to be weak and unreasonable, and I remonstrated with myself.


One incident that occurred before we quitted Mr. Boythorn's house, I had better mention in this place.


One day I was walking in the garden with Ada when I was told that some one wished to see me.


Going into the breakfast-room where this person was waiting, I found it to be the French maid who had cast off her shoes and walked through the wet grass on the day when it thundered and lightened.

Going into the breakfast-room, I found it to be the French maid who had cast off her shoes and walked through the wet grass on the day when it thundered.


"Mademoiselle," she began, looking fixedly at me with her too-eager eyes, though otherwise presenting an agreeable appearance and speaking neither with boldness nor servility, "I have taken a great liberty in coming here, but you know how to excuse it, being so amiable, mademoiselle."

"Mademoiselle," she began, looking fixedly at me with her too-eager eyes, "I have taken a great liberty in coming here, but you know how to excuse it, being so amiable, mademoiselle."


"No excuse is necessary," I returned, "if you wish to speak to me."


"That is my desire, mademoiselle. A thousand thanks for the permission.


Her quickness anticipated what I might have said presently but as yet had only thought.


"It is not for me to come here to complain of my Lady.

It is not for me to complain of my Lady.


"Assuredly; mademoiselle, I am thankful for your politeness.


Mademoiselle, I have an inexpressible desire to find service with a young lady who is good, accomplished, beautiful.

I desire to find service with a young lady who is good, accomplished, and beautiful.


You are good, accomplished, and beautiful as an angel.


Ah, could I have the honour of being your domestic!"


"Do not dismiss me so soon, mademoiselle!"


she said with an involuntary contraction of her fine black eyebrows.


Mademoiselle, I know this service would be more retired than that which I have quitted.

Mademoiselle, I know this service would be more retired and less distinguished than that which I have quitted.


I know this service would be less distinguished than that which I have quitted. Well! I wish that, I know that I should win less, as to wages here.


"I assure you," said I, quite embarrassed by the mere idea of having such an attendant, "that I keep no maid--"

"I assure you," said I, quite embarrassed by the mere idea of having such an attendant, "that I keep no maid-"


Why not, when you can have one so devoted to you!

When you can have one so devoted to you!


Who would be enchanted to serve you; who would be so true, so zealous, and so faithful every day!

So enchanted to serve you; so true and zealous!


Mademoiselle, I wish with all my heart to serve you.


She was so singularly earnest that I drew back, almost afraid of her.


Without appearing to notice it, in her ardour she still pressed herself upon me, speaking in a rapid subdued voice, though always with a certain grace and propriety.

She continued speaking in a rapid subdued voice, though always with a certain grace and propriety.


"Mademoiselle, I come from the South country where we are quick and where we like and dislike very strong.


My Lady was too high for me; I was too high for her.


Receive me as your domestic, and I will serve you well.


I will do more for you than you figure to yourself now.


Mademoiselle, I will--no matter, I will do my utmost possible in all things.


If you accept my service, you will not repent it.


Mademoiselle, you will not repent it, and I will serve you well.


There was a lowering energy in her face as she stood looking at me while I explained the impossibility of my engaging her (without thinking it necessary to say how very little I desired to do so), which seemed to bring visibly before me some woman from the streets of Paris in the reign of terror.

As I explained the impossibility of my engaging her (without thinking it necessary to say how very little I desired to do so), I seemed to see her as some woman from the streets of Paris in the reign of terror.