Charley's delight calmed mine; and after we had had a walk in the garden, and Charley had exhausted her whole vocabulary of admiring expressions, I was as tranquilly happy as I ought to have been.


It was a great comfort to be able to say to myself after tea, "Esther, my dear, I think you are quite sensible enough to sit down now and write a note of thanks to your host."


He had left a note of welcome for me, as sunny as his own face, and had confided his bird to my care, which I knew to be his highest mark of confidence.

Our host had left a note of welcome for me, as sunny as his own face, and had confided his bird to my care, which I knew to be his highest mark of confidence.


Accordingly I wrote a little note to him in London, telling him how all his favourite plants and trees were looking, and how the most astonishing of birds had chirped the honours of the house to me in the most hospitable manner, and how, after singing on my shoulder, to the inconceivable rapture of my little maid, he was then at roost in the usual corner of his cage, but whether dreaming or no I could not report.

I wrote a little note of thanks to him in London, telling him how all his favourite plants and trees were looking, and how the most astonishing of birds had chirped the honours of the house to me, and how, after singing on my shoulder, to the inconceivable rapture of my little maid, he was then at roost in the usual corner of his cage.


My note finished and sent off to the post, I made myself very busy in unpacking and arranging; and I sent Charley to bed in good time and told her I should want her no more that night.

With my note sent off to the post, I made myself very busy in unpacking and arranging; and I told Charley I should want her no more that night.


For I had not yet looked in the glass and had never asked to have my own restored to me.


I knew this to be a weakness which must be overcome, but I had always said to myself that I would begin afresh when I got to where I now was.

I had always said to myself that I would begin afresh when I got here.


Therefore I had wanted to be alone, and therefore I said, now alone, in my own room, "Esther, if you are to be happy, if you are to have any right to pray to be true-hearted, you must keep your word, my dear."

Therefore I had wanted to be alone. I said now, "Esther, you must keep your word, my dear."


I was quite resolved to keep it, but I sat down for a little while first to reflect upon all my blessings.


And then I said my prayers and thought a little more.


My hair had not been cut off, though it had been in danger more than once. It was long and thick.

My hair had not been cut off; it was long and thick.


I let it down, and shook it out, and went up to the glass upon the dressing-table.


There was a little muslin curtain drawn across it.


I drew it back and stood for a moment looking through such a veil of my own hair that I could see nothing else.


Then I put my hair aside and looked at the reflection in the mirror, encouraged by seeing how placidly it looked at me.


I was very much changed--oh, very, very much.

I was very much changed - oh, very, very much.


At first my face was so strange to me that I think I should have put my hands before it and started back but for the encouragement I have mentioned.

At first my face was quite strange to me.


Very soon it became more familiar, and then I knew the extent of the alteration in it better than I had done at first.

Very soon it became more familiar, and then I knew the extent of the alteration.


It was not like what I had expected, but I had expected nothing definite, and I dare say anything definite would have surprised me.

It was not like what I had expected, but I had expected nothing definite.


I had never been a beauty and had never thought myself one, but I had been very different from this.


Heaven was so good to me that I could let it go with a few not bitter tears and could stand there arranging my hair for the night quite thankfully.


One thing troubled me, and I considered it for a long time before I went to sleep.


When they were withered I had dried them and put them in a book that I was fond of.


I was doubtful whether I had a right to preserve what he had sent to one so different--whether it was generous towards him to do it.

I was doubtful whether I had a right to preserve what he had sent to one so different - whether it was generous towards him to do it.


I wished to be generous to him, even in the secret depths of my heart, which he would never know, because I could have loved him--could have been devoted to him.

I wished to be generous to him, even in the secret depths of my heart, which he would never know, because I could have loved him - could have been devoted to him.


At last I came to the conclusion that I might keep them if I treasured them only as a remembrance of what was irrevocably past and gone, never to be looked back on any more, in any other light.

At last I came to the conclusion that I might keep the flowers if I treasured them only as a remembrance of what was irrevocably past and gone, never to be looked back on any more.


I took care to be up early in the morning and to be before the glass when Charley came in on tiptoe.

I took care to be up early in the morning and to be sitting before the glass when Charley came in on tiptoe.


"Yes, Charley," said I, quietly putting up my hair.


"And I am very well indeed, and very happy."


I saw it was a weight off Charley's mind, but it was a greater weight off mine.


I knew the worst now and was composed to it.


I shall not conceal, as I go on, the weaknesses I could not quite conquer, but they always passed from me soon and the happier frame of mind stayed by me faithfully.


Wishing to be fully re-established in my strength and my good spirits before Ada came, I now laid down a little series of plans with Charley for being in the fresh air all day long.

Wishing to be fully re-established in my strength and good spirits before Ada came, I now laid down plans with Charley for being in the fresh air all day long.


We were to be out before breakfast, and were to dine early, and were to be out again before and after dinner, and were to talk in the garden after tea, and were to go to rest betimes, and were to climb every hill and explore every road, lane, and field in the neighbourhood.

We were to be out before breakfast, and were to dine early, and were to be out again before and after dinner, and were to talk in the garden after tea, and were to explore every road, lane, and field in the neighbourhood.


As to restoratives and strengthening delicacies, Mr. Boythorn's good housekeeper was for ever trotting about with something to eat or drink in her hand; I could not even be heard of as resting in the park but she would come trotting after me with a basket, her cheerful face shining with a lecture on the importance of frequent nourishment.

As to strengthening delicacies, Mr. Boythorn's good housekeeper was for ever trotting about with something to eat or drink in her hand; if I was resting in the park she would come trotting after me with a basket, her cheerful face shining.


Then there was a pony expressly for my riding, a chubby pony with a short neck and a mane all over his eyes who could canter--when he would--so easily and quietly that he was a treasure.

Then there was a chubby pony with a mane all over his eyes expressly for my riding, so easy and quiet that he was a treasure.


In a very few days he would come to me in the paddock when I called him, and eat out of my hand, and follow me about.

In a very few days he would come to me in the paddock when I called him, and follow me about.


We arrived at such a capital understanding that when he was jogging with me lazily, and rather obstinately, down some shady lane, if I patted his neck and said, "Stubbs, I am surprised you don't canter when you know how much I like it; and I think you might oblige me, for you are only getting stupid and going to sleep," he would give his head a comical shake or two and set off directly, while Charley would stand still and laugh with such enjoyment that her laughter was like music. I don't know who had given Stubbs his name, but it seemed to belong to him as naturally as his rough coat.


Once we put him in a little chaise and drove him triumphantly through the green lanes for five miles; but all at once, as we were extolling him to the skies, he seemed to take it ill that he should have been accompanied so far by the circle of tantalizing little gnats that had been hovering round and round his ears the whole way without appearing to advance an inch, and stopped to think about it.

Once we put him in a little chaise and drove him triumphantly through the green lanes for five miles; but just as we were extolling him to the skies, he took umbrage at the circle of little gnats around his ears, and stopped.


I suppose he came to the decision that it was not to be borne, for he steadily refused to move until I gave the reins to Charley and got out and walked, when he followed me with a sturdy sort of good humour, putting his head under my arm and rubbing his ear against my sleeve.

He steadily refused to move until I gave the reins to Charley and got out and walked, when he followed me with sturdy good humour, rubbing his ear against my sleeve.


It was in vain for me to say, "Now, Stubbs, I feel quite sure from what I know of you that you will go on if I ride a little while," for the moment I left him, he stood stock still again.

The moment I left him, he stood stock still again.


Consequently I was obliged to lead the way, as before; and in this order we returned home, to the great delight of the village.

Consequently I was obliged to lead the way; and in this order we returned home, to the great delight of the village.


Charley and I had reason to call it the most friendly of villages, I am sure, for in a week's time the people were so glad to see us go by, though ever so frequently in the course of a day, that there were faces of greeting in every cottage.

It was the most friendly of villages, I am sure, for in a week's time the people were so glad to see us go by that there were faces of greeting in every cottage.


I had known many of the grown people before and almost all the children, but now the very steeple began to wear a familiar and affectionate look.

I had known many of the people before, but now the very steeple began to wear a familiar and affectionate look.


Among my new friends was an old old woman who lived in such a little thatched and whitewashed dwelling that when the outside shutter was turned up on its hinges, it shut up the whole house-front. This old lady had a grandson who was a sailor, and I wrote a letter to him for her and drew at the top of it the chimney-corner in which she had brought him up and where his old stool yet occupied its old place.

Among my new friends was an old old woman who lived in a tiny thatched and whitewashed dwelling; she had a grandson who was a sailor, and I wrote a letter to him for her. At the top of it, I drew the chimney-corner in which his old stool yet stood.


This was considered by the whole village the most wonderful achievement in the world, but when an answer came back all the way from Plymouth, in which he mentioned that he was going to take the picture all the way to America, and from America would write again, I got all the credit that ought to have been given to the post-office and was invested with the merit of the whole system.

This was considered by the whole village the most wonderful achievement in the world, but when an answer came back from Plymouth, in which he mentioned that he was going to take the picture all the way to America, I got all the credit that ought to have been given to the post-office.


Thus, what with being so much in the air, playing with so many children, gossiping with so many people, sitting on invitation in so many cottages, going on with Charley's education, and writing long letters to Ada every day, I had scarcely any time to think about that little loss of mine and was almost always cheerful.

What with being so much outside, playing with so many children, gossiping with so many people, going on with Charley's education, and writing long letters to Ada every day, I had scarcely any time to think about that little loss of mine and was almost always cheerful.


If I did think of it at odd moments now and then, I had only to be busy and forget it.

If I did think of it at odd moments, I had only to be busy and forget it.


I felt it more than I had hoped I should once when a child said, "Mother, why is the lady not a pretty lady now like she used to be?"

I felt it more than I had hoped I should, when a child said, "Mother, why is the lady not pretty like she used to be?"


But when I found the child was not less fond of me, and drew its soft hand over my face with a kind of pitying protection in its touch, that soon set me up again.

But when I found the child was not less fond of me, that soon set me up again.


There were many little occurrences which suggested to me, with great consolation, how natural it is to gentle hearts to be considerate and delicate towards any inferiority.

There were many little occurrences of consideration and delicacy.


I happened to stroll into the little church when a marriage was just concluded, and the young couple had to sign the register.

I happened to stroll into the church when a marriage was just concluded, and the young couple had to sign the register.


The bridegroom, to whom the pen was handed first, made a rude cross for his mark; the bride, who came next, did the same.

The bridegroom made a rude cross for his mark; the bride did the same.


Now, I had known the bride when I was last there, not only as the prettiest girl in the place, but as having quite distinguished herself in the school, and I could not help looking at her with some surprise.

Now, I had known the bride when I was last there, not only as the prettiest girl in the place, but as having distinguished herself in the school, and I could not help looking at her with some surprise.


She came aside and whispered to me, while tears of honest love and admiration stood in her bright eyes, "He's a dear good fellow, miss; but he can't write yet--he's going to learn of me--and I wouldn't shame him for the world!"

She came aside and whispered to me, with tears of honest love in her bright eyes, "He's a dear good fellow, miss; but he can't write yet - he's going to learn of me - and I wouldn't shame him for the world!"


Why, what had I to fear, I thought, when there was this nobility in the soul of a labouring man's daughter!

Why, what had I to fear, I thought, when there was this nobility in the soul of a labourer's daughter!


The air blew as freshly and revivingly upon me as it had ever blown, and the healthy colour came into my new face as it had come into my old one.

The healthy colour came into my new face as it had come into my old one.


Charley was wonderful to see, she was so radiant and so rosy; and we both enjoyed the whole day and slept soundly the whole night.

Charley was radiant and rosy; and we both enjoyed the whole day and slept soundly the whole night.


There was a favourite spot of mine in the park-woods of Chesney Wold where a seat had been erected commanding a lovely view.

There was a favourite spot of mine in the park-woods of Chesney Wold where a seat commanded a lovely view.


The wood had been cleared and opened to improve this point of sight, and the bright sunny landscape beyond was so beautiful that I rested there at least once every day.

The wood had been cleared to improve this point of sight, and the landscape was so beautiful that I rested there at least once every day.


A picturesque part of the Hall, called the Ghost's Walk, was seen to advantage from this higher ground; and the startling name, and the old legend in the Dedlock family which I had heard from Mr. Boythorn accounting for it, mingled with the view and gave it something of a mysterious interest in addition to its real charms.

A picturesque part of the Hall, called the Ghost's Walk, was seen to advantage from this higher ground; and the startling name, and the old legend about it which I had heard from Mr. Boythorn, gave it a mysterious interest.


There was a bank here, too, which was a famous one for violets; and as it was a daily delight of Charley's to gather wild flowers, she took as much to the spot as I did.

There was a bank here, too, famous for violets; and as it was Charley's delight to gather wild flowers, she took as much to the spot as I did.


It would be idle to inquire now why I never went close to the house or never went inside it.


The family were not there, I had heard on my arrival, and were not expected.

The family were not at the house, I had heard, and were not expected.


I was far from being incurious or uninterested about the building; on the contrary, I often sat in this place wondering how the rooms ranged and whether any echo like a footstep really did resound at times, as the story said, upon the lonely Ghost's Walk.

I was curious about the building, and often sat in this place wondering how the rooms ranged and whether any echo like a footstep really did resound at times upon the lonely Ghost's Walk.


The indefinable feeling with which Lady Dedlock had impressed me may have had some influence in keeping me from the house even when she was absent.

The indefinable feeling with which Lady Dedlock had impressed me may have had some influence in keeping me from the house.


Her face and figure were associated with it, naturally; but I cannot say that they repelled me from it, though something did.


For whatever reason or no reason, I had never once gone near it, down to the day at which my story now arrives.

For whatever reason, I had never once gone near it, down to the day at which my story now arrives.


I was resting at my favourite point after a long ramble, and Charley was gathering violets at a little distance from me.

I was resting at my favourite point, and Charley was gathering violets a little distance away.


I had been looking at the Ghost's Walk lying in a deep shade of masonry afar off and picturing to myself the female shape that was said to haunt it when I became aware of a figure approaching through the wood.

I had been looking at the Ghost's Walk afar off when I became aware of a figure approaching through the wood.


The perspective was so long and so darkened by leaves, and the shadows of the branches on the ground made it so much more intricate to the eye, that at first I could not discern what figure it was.

At first I could not discern what figure it was.


By little and little it revealed itself to be a woman's--a lady's--Lady Dedlock's.

By little and little it revealed itself to be a woman's - a lady's - Lady Dedlock's.


She was alone and coming to where I sat with a much quicker step, I observed to my surprise, than was usual with her.

She was alone and coming to where I sat with a much quicker step than usual, I observed to my surprise.


I was fluttered by her being unexpectedly so near (she was almost within speaking distance before I knew her) and would have risen to continue my walk.


Not so much by her hurried gesture of entreaty, not so much by her quick advance and outstretched hands, not so much by the great change in her manner and the absence of her haughty self-restraint, as by a something in her face that I had pined for and dreamed of when I was a little child, something I had never seen in any face, something I had never seen in hers before.

Not so much by her hurried gesture of entreaty, not so much by her quick advance and outstretched hands, not so much by the great change in her manner, as by a something in her face that I had pined for and dreamed of when I was a little child, something I had never seen in any face before.


A dread and faintness fell upon me, and I called to Charley.


Lady Dedlock stopped upon the instant and changed back almost to what I had known her.

Lady Dedlock instantly stopped and changed back almost to what I had known her.


"Miss Summerson, I am afraid I have startled you," she said, now advancing slowly.


I could no more have removed my eyes from her pale face than I could have stirred from the bench on which I sat.


She gave me her hand, and its deadly coldness, so at variance with the enforced composure of her features, deepened the fascination that overpowered me.

She gave me her hand, which was deadly cold.


I cannot say what was in my whirling thoughts.


"I was quite well but a moment ago, Lady Dedlock."


"Will you send her on before and walk towards your house with me?"

"Will you send her on before us and walk towards your house with me?"


"Charley," said I, "take your flowers home, and I will follow you directly."


Charley, with her best curtsy, blushingly tied on her bonnet and went her way.

Charley, with her best curtsy, went her way.


When she was gone, Lady Dedlock sat down on the seat beside me.


I cannot tell in any words what the state of my mind was when I saw in her hand my handkerchief with which I had covered the dead baby.

I cannot tell in any words what the state of my mind was when I saw in her hand my handkerchief, with which I had covered the dead baby.


I looked at her, but I could not see her, I could not hear her, I could not draw my breath.


The beating of my heart was so violent and wild that I felt as if my life were breaking from me.


But when she caught me to her breast, kissed me, wept over me, compassionated me, and called me back to myself; when she fell down on her knees and cried to me, "Oh, my child, my child, I am your wicked and unhappy mother!

But when she caught me to her breast, kissed me, wept over me, and called me back to myself; when she fell down on her knees and cried to me, "Oh, my child, my child, I am your wicked and unhappy mother!


--when I saw her at my feet on the bare earth in her great agony of mind, I felt, through all my tumult of emotion, a burst of gratitude to the providence of God that I was so changed as that I never could disgrace her by any trace of likeness, as that nobody could ever now look at me and look at her and remotely think of any near tie between us.

- when I saw her at my feet in her great agony of mind, I felt, through all my tumult of emotion, a burst of gratitude to God that I was so changed that I never could disgrace her by any likeness. Nobody could now look at us and think of any tie between us.


I raised my mother up, praying and beseeching her not to stoop before me in such affliction and humiliation.

I raised my mother up, praying her not to stoop before me in such affliction.


I did so in broken, incoherent words, for besides the trouble I was in, it frightened me to see her at MY feet.

I did so in broken, incoherent words, for besides the trouble I was in, it frightened me to see her at my feet.


I told her--or I tried to tell her--that if it were for me, her child, under any circumstances to take upon me to forgive her, I did it, and had done it, many, many years.

I tried to tell her that if it were for me, her child, to forgive her, I did it, and had done it, many, many years.


I told her that my heart overflowed with love for her, that it was natural love which nothing in the past had changed or could change.

I told her that my heart overflowed with love for her, natural love which nothing could change.


That it was not for me, then resting for the first time on my mother's bosom, to take her to account for having given me life, but that my duty was to bless her and receive her, though the whole world turned from her, and that I only asked her leave to do it.

That my duty was to bless and receive her, though the whole world turned from her, and that I only asked her leave to do it.


I held my mother in my embrace, and she held me in hers, and among the still woods in the silence of the summer day there seemed to be nothing but our two troubled minds that was not at peace.


"To bless and receive me," groaned my mother, "it is far too late. I must travel my dark road alone, and it will lead me where it will. From day to day, sometimes from hour to hour, I do not see the way before my guilty feet.

"It is too late to bless and receive me," groaned my mother, "I must travel my dark road alone, though I do not see the way before my guilty feet.


This is the earthly punishment I have brought upon myself.


Even in the thinking of her endurance, she drew her habitual air of proud indifference about her like a veil, though she soon cast it off again.


"I must keep this secret, if by any means it can be kept, not wholly for myself.

I must keep this secret, if I can, not wholly for myself.


I have a husband, wretched and dishonouring creature that I am!"


These words she uttered with a suppressed cry of despair, more terrible in its sound than any shriek.

These words she uttered with a suppressed cry of despair.


Covering her face with her hands, she shrank down in my embrace as if she were unwilling that I should touch her; nor could I, by my utmost persuasions or by any endearments I could use, prevail upon her to rise.

Covering her face with her hands, she shrank down in my embrace as if she were unwilling that I should touch her; and I could not persuade her to rise.


She said, no, no, no, she could only speak to me so; she must be proud and disdainful everywhere else; she would be humbled and ashamed there, in the only natural moments of her life.

She said, no, no, no, she could only speak to me so; she must be proud everywhere else; she would be humbled and ashamed there, in the only natural moments of her life.


My unhappy mother told me that in my illness she had been nearly frantic.


She had but then known that her child was living. She could not have suspected me to be that child before.

She had only then known that her child was living; she had never suspected it before.


She had followed me down here to speak to me but once in all her life. We never could associate, never could communicate, never probably from that time forth could interchange another word on earth.

She had followed me down here to speak to me just once in all her life: we could never meet or communicate again.


She put into my hands a letter she had written for my reading only and said when I had read it and destroyed it--but not so much for her sake, since she asked nothing, as for her husband's and my own--I must evermore consider her as dead.

She put into my hands a letter she had written for my reading only and said that when I had read it and destroyed it, I must evermore consider her as dead.


If I could believe that she loved me, in this agony in which I saw her, with a mother's love, she asked me to do that, for then I might think of her with a greater pity, imagining what she suffered.

If I could believe that she loved me, in this agony in which I saw her, she asked me to do that, for then I might think of her with greater pity.


She had put herself beyond all hope and beyond all help.


Whether she preserved her secret until death or it came to be discovered and she brought dishonour and disgrace upon the name she had taken, it was her solitary struggle always; and no affection could come near her, and no human creature could render her any aid.

Whether she preserved her secret until death, or whether it came to be discovered and she brought disgrace upon her name, it was her solitary struggle always; and no affection could come near her, and nobody could help her.


"But is the secret safe so far?" I asked. "Is it safe now, dearest mother?"

"But is the secret safe now, dearest mother?"


It may be lost by another accident--to-morrow, any day."

It may be lost by another accident, any day."


I am not worthy of these tears," said my mother, kissing my hands.


One who is too passionless to be either.


He is Sir Leicester Dedlock's lawyer, mechanically faithful without attachment, and very jealous of the profit, privilege, and reputation of being master of the mysteries of great houses."

He is Sir Leicester Dedlock's lawyer, faithful without attachment, and jealous of the profit and privilege of great houses."


He is always vigilant and always near me.


I may keep him at a standstill, but I can never shake him off."


He is indifferent to everything but his calling. His calling is the acquisition of secrets and the holding possession of such power as they give him, with no sharer or opponent in it."

He is indifferent to everything but the acquisition of secrets and the power they give him."


The dark road I have trodden for so many years will end where it will.


I follow it alone to the end, whatever the end be.


It may be near, it may be distant; while the road lasts, nothing turns me."

The end may be near, it may be distant; while the road lasts, nothing turns me.


I have long outbidden folly with folly, pride with pride, scorn with scorn, insolence with insolence, and have outlived many vanities with many more.


I will outlive this danger, and outdie it, if I can.


It has closed around me almost as awfully as if these woods of Chesney Wold had closed around the house, but my course through it is the same."


"Mr. Jarndyce--" I was beginning when my mother hurriedly inquired, "Does HE suspect?"

"Mr. Jarndyce-" I was beginning when my mother hurriedly inquired, "Does he suspect?"


And I told her what he had related to me as his knowledge of my story.

And I told her what he had related to me about his knowledge of my story.


"But he is so good and sensible," said I, "that perhaps if he knew--"

"But he is so good and sensible," said I, "that perhaps if he knew-"


My mother, who until this time had made no change in her position, raised her hand up to my lips and stopped me.

My mother raised her hand to my lips and stopped me.


"Confide fully in him," she said after a little while.


"You have my free consent--a small gift from such a mother to her injured child!--but do not tell me of it.

"You have my free consent - but do not tell me of it.


I explained, as nearly as I could then, or can recall now--for my agitation and distress throughout were so great that I scarcely understood myself, though every word that was uttered in the mother's voice, so unfamiliar and so melancholy to me, which in my childhood I had never learned to love and recognize, had never been sung to sleep with, had never heard a blessing from, had never had a hope inspired by, made an enduring impression on my memory--I say I explained, or tried to do it, how I had only hoped that Mr. Jarndyce, who had been the best of fathers to me, might be able to afford some counsel and support to her.

Every word that was uttered in my mother's voice, so unfamiliar and so melancholy to me, made an enduring impression on my memory. I explained, or tried to - though my agitation and distress were so great that I scarcely understood myself - how I had only hoped that Mr. Jarndyce might give her counsel and support.


But my mother answered no, it was impossible; no one could help her.


Through the desert that lay before her, she must go alone.


These arms upon my neck for the last time!


To hope to do what I seek to do, I must be what I have been so long.


If you hear of Lady Dedlock, brilliant, prosperous, and flattered, think of your wretched mother, conscience-stricken, underneath that mask!


Think that the reality is in her suffering, in her useless remorse, in her murdering within her breast the only love and truth of which it is capable!

Think that the reality is in her suffering, in her useless remorse!


And then forgive her if you can, and cry to heaven to forgive her, which it never can!"

Forgive her if you can, and cry to heaven to forgive her, which it never can!"


We held one another for a little space yet, but she was so firm that she took my hands away, and put them back against my breast, and with a last kiss as she held them there, released them, and went from me into the wood.

We held one another for a little while yet, but then she took my hands away, and put them back against my breast, and with a last kiss released them, and went from me into the wood.


I was alone, and calm and quiet below me in the sun and shade lay the old house, with its terraces and turrets, on which there had seemed to me to be such complete repose when I first saw it, but which now looked like the obdurate and unpitying watcher of my mother's misery.

I was alone; calm and quiet below me lay the old house, with its terraces and turrets, on which there had seemed to me to be such complete repose when I first saw it, but which now looked like the unpitying watcher of my mother's misery.


Stunned as I was, as weak and helpless at first as I had ever been in my sick chamber, the necessity of guarding against the danger of discovery, or even of the remotest suspicion, did me service.

Stunned as I was, the necessity of guarding against the danger of discovery, or even of suspicion, did me service.


I took such precautions as I could to hide from Charley that I had been crying, and I constrained myself to think of every sacred obligation that there was upon me to be careful and collected.

I took what precautions I could to hide from Charley that I had been crying, and endeavoured to be careful and collected.


It was not a little while before I could succeed or could even restrain bursts of grief, but after an hour or so I was better and felt that I might return.

It was a while before I could restrain bursts of grief, but after an hour or so I was better and felt that I might return.


I went home very slowly and told Charley, whom I found at the gate looking for me, that I had been tempted to extend my walk after Lady Dedlock had left me and that I was over-tired and would lie down.


I clearly derived from it--and that was much then--that I had not been abandoned by my mother.

I learnt from it - and that was much then - that I had not been abandoned by my mother.


Her elder and only sister, the godmother of my childhood, discovering signs of life in me when I had been laid aside as dead, had in her stern sense of duty, with no desire or willingness that I should live, reared me in rigid secrecy and had never again beheld my mother's face from within a few hours of my birth.

Her elder and only sister, the godmother of my childhood, discovering signs of life in me when I had been laid aside as dead, had in her stern sense of duty reared me in rigid secrecy.


So strangely did I hold my place in this world that until within a short time back I had never, to my own mother's knowledge, breathed--had been buried--had never been endowed with life--had never borne a name.

Until a short time back I had never, to my mother's knowledge, breathed - had never borne a name.


When she had first seen me in the church she had been startled and had thought of what would have been like me if it had ever lived, and had lived on, but that was all then.

When she had first seen me in the church she had been startled and had thought of what her child would have been like if it had lived, but that was all.


What more the letter told me needs not to be repeated here.


It has its own times and places in my story.


My first care was to burn what my mother had written and to consume even its ashes.

My first care was to burn what my mother had written.


I hope it may not appear very unnatural or bad in me that I then became heavily sorrowful to think I had ever been reared.


That I felt as if I knew it would have been better and happier for many people if indeed I had never breathed.

I felt as if it would have been better for many people if I had never breathed.


That I had a terror of myself as the danger and the possible disgrace of my own mother and of a proud family name.


That I was so confused and shaken as to be possessed by a belief that it was right and had been intended that I should die in my birth, and that it was wrong and not intended that I should be then alive.

I was so confused and shaken that I believed I should have died at birth, and that it was wrong that I should be alive.


I fell asleep worn out, and when I awoke I cried afresh to think that I was back in the world with my load of trouble for others.


I was more than ever frightened of myself, thinking anew of her against whom I was a witness, of the owner of Chesney Wold, of the new and terrible meaning of the old words now moaning in my ear like a surge upon the shore, "Your mother, Esther, was your disgrace, and you are hers.

I was frightened of myself, thinking of the new and terrible meaning of the old words now moaning in my ear: "Your mother, Esther, was your disgrace, and you are hers.


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

The time will come when you will understand this better, and will feel it too."


With them, those other words returned, "Pray daily that the sins of others be not visited upon your head."


I could not disentangle all that was about me, and I felt as if the blame and the shame were all in me, and the visitation had come down.

I could not disentangle all that was about me, and I felt as if the blame and the shame were all in me.


The day waned into a gloomy evening, overcast and sad, and I still contended with the same distress.


I went out alone, and after walking a little in the park, watching the dark shades falling on the trees and the fitful flight of the bats, which sometimes almost touched me, was attracted to the house for the first time. Perhaps I might not have gone near it if I had been in a stronger frame of mind. As it was, I took the path that led close by it.

I went out alone, and walked a little in the park, watching the dark shades falling on the trees and the fitful flight of the bats. I was attracted to the house for the first time, and took the path that led close by it.


I did not dare to linger or to look up, but I passed before the terrace garden with its fragrant odours, and its broad walks, and its well-kept beds and smooth turf; and I saw how beautiful and grave it was, and how the old stone balustrades and parapets, and wide flights of shallow steps, were seamed by time and weather; and how the trained moss and ivy grew about them, and around the old stone pedestal of the sun-dial; and I heard the fountain falling.

I did not dare to linger or look up, but I passed before the terrace garden with its fragrant odours, and its broad walks, and its well-kept beds; I saw how beautiful and grave it was, and how the old stone balustrades and parapets, and wide flights of shallow steps, were seamed by time and weather; and how the moss and ivy grew about them, and around the old stone sun-dial; and I heard the fountain falling.


Then the way went by long lines of dark windows diversified by turreted towers and porches of eccentric shapes, where old stone lions and grotesque monsters bristled outside dens of shadow and snarled at the evening gloom over the escutcheons they held in their grip.

Then the way went by long lines of dark windows, turreted towers and porches, where stone lions and monsters bristled outside dens of shadow and snarled at the evening gloom.


Thence the path wound underneath a gateway, and through a court-yard where the principal entrance was (I hurried quickly on), and by the stables where none but deep voices seemed to be, whether in the murmuring of the wind through the strong mass of ivy holding to a high red wall, or in the low complaining of the weathercock, or in the barking of the dogs, or in the slow striking of a clock.

From there the path wound underneath a gateway, and through a court-yard where the main entrance was (I hurried quickly on), and past the stables.


So, encountering presently a sweet smell of limes, whose rustling I could hear, I turned with the turning of the path to the south front, and there above me were the balustrades of the Ghost's Walk and one lighted window that might be my mother's.

Encountering presently a sweet smell of lime trees, whose rustling I could hear, I turned with the path to the south front, and there above me were the balustrades of the Ghost's Walk and one lighted window that might be my mother's.


The way was paved here, like the terrace overhead, and my footsteps from being noiseless made an echoing sound upon the flags.

The way was paved here, and my footsteps from being noiseless made an echoing sound upon the flagstones.


Stopping to look at nothing, but seeing all I did see as I went, I was passing quickly on, and in a few moments should have passed the lighted window, when my echoing footsteps brought it suddenly into my mind that there was a dreadful truth in the legend of the Ghost's Walk, that it was I who was to bring calamity upon the stately house and that my warning feet were haunting it even then.

I was passing quickly on, and in a few moments should have passed the lighted window, when my echoing footsteps brought it suddenly into my mind that there was a dreadful truth in the legend of the Ghost's Walk, that it was I who was to bring calamity upon the stately house and that was haunting it now.


Seized with an augmented terror of myself which turned me cold, I ran from myself and everything, retraced the way by which I had come, and never paused until I had gained the lodge-gate, and the park lay sullen and black behind me.

Seized with a greater terror of myself, I ran from myself and everything, retraced the way by which I had come, and never paused until I reached the lodge-gate, and the park lay black behind me.


Not before I was alone in my own room for the night and had again been dejected and unhappy there did I begin to know how wrong and thankless this state was.

Alone in my own room for the night, I began to know how wrong and thankless my dejected state was.


But from my darling who was coming on the morrow, I found a joyful letter, full of such loving anticipation that I must have been of marble if it had not moved me; from my guardian, too, I found another letter, asking me to tell Dame Durden, if I should see that little woman anywhere, that they had moped most pitiably without her, that the housekeeping was going to rack and ruin, that nobody else could manage the keys, and that everybody in and about the house declared it was not the same house and was becoming rebellious for her return.

But from my darling, who was coming on the morrow, I found a joyful letter, full of such loving anticipation that I must have been made of marble if it had not moved me. From my guardian, too, I found another letter, asking me to tell Dame Durden, if I should see that little woman anywhere, that they had moped most pitiably without her, that the housekeeping was going to rack and ruin, and that everybody in the house longed for her return.


Two such letters together made me think how far beyond my deserts I was beloved and how happy I ought to be. That made me think of all my past life; and that brought me, as it ought to have done before, into a better condition.

These letters made me think how beloved I was and how happy I ought to be; and brought me into a better condition.


For I saw very well that I could not have been intended to die, or I should never have lived; not to say should never have been reserved for such a happy life.

For I saw very well that I could not have been intended to die, or I should never have lived.


I saw very well how many things had worked together for my welfare, and that if the sins of the fathers were sometimes visited upon the children, the phrase did not mean what I had in the morning feared it meant.


I knew I was as innocent of my birth as a queen of hers and that before my Heavenly Father I should not be punished for birth nor a queen rewarded for it.

I knew I was as innocent of my birth as a queen of hers, and that before my Heavenly Father I should not be punished for birth nor a queen rewarded for it.


I had had experience, in the shock of that very day, that I could, even thus soon, find comforting reconcilements to the change that had fallen on me.


I renewed my resolutions and prayed to be strengthened in them, pouring out my heart for myself and for my unhappy mother and feeling that the darkness of the morning was passing away.

I renewed my resolutions and prayed to be strengthened in them, pouring out my heart for myself and for my unhappy mother.


It was not upon my sleep; and when the next day's light awoke me, it was gone.

The darkness of the morning passed away; and when the next day's light awoke me, it was gone.


My dear girl was to arrive at five o'clock in the afternoon.


How to help myself through the intermediate time better than by taking a long walk along the road by which she was to come, I did not know; so Charley and I and Stubbs--Stubbs saddled, for we never drove him after the one great occasion--made a long expedition along that road and back.

While waiting, I decided to take a walk along the road by which she was to come; so Charley and I and Stubbs made an expedition along that road and back.


On our return, we held a great review of the house and garden and saw that everything was in its prettiest condition, and had the bird out ready as an important part of the establishment.

On our return, we held a great review of the house and garden and saw that everything was in its prettiest condition.


There were more than two full hours yet to elapse before she could come, and in that interval, which seemed a long one, I must confess I was nervously anxious about my altered looks.

There were more than two hours yet before she could come, and in that interval I must confess I was nervously anxious about my altered looks.


I loved my darling so well that I was more concerned for their effect on her than on any one.

I loved my darling so well that I was more concerned for their effect on her than on anyone.


I was not in this slight distress because I at all repined--I am quite certain I did not, that day--but, I thought, would she be wholly prepared?


When she first saw me, might she not be a little shocked and disappointed?

When she first saw me, might she not be shocked?


Might it not prove a little worse than she expected?


Might she not look for her old Esther and not find her?

Might she look for her old Esther and not find her?


Might she not have to grow used to me and to begin all over again?


I knew the various expressions of my sweet girl's face so well, and it was such an honest face in its loveliness, that I was sure beforehand she could not hide that first look from me.

I knew the various expressions of my sweet girl's face so well, and it was such an honest face, that I was sure she could not hide that first look from me.


And I considered whether, if it should signify any one of these meanings, which was so very likely, could I quite answer for myself?

And I considered whether, if it should show any of these meanings, as was likely, could I quite answer for myself?


Well, I thought I could. After last night, I thought I could.

Well, after last night, I thought I could.


But to wait and wait, and expect and expect, and think and think, was such bad preparation that I resolved to go along the road again and meet her.

But to wait and wait, and think and think, was such bad preparation that I resolved to go along the road again and meet her.


So I said to Charley, "Charley, I will go by myself and walk along the road until she comes."


Charley highly approving of anything that pleased me, I went and left her at home.

Charley approved, so I went, leaving her at home.


But before I got to the second milestone, I had been in so many palpitations from seeing dust in the distance (though I knew it was not, and could not, be the coach yet) that I resolved to turn back and go home again.

But before I got to the second milestone, I had been in so many palpitations from seeing dust in the distance (though I knew it could not be the coach yet) that I resolved to turn back and go home again.


And when I had turned, I was in such fear of the coach coming up behind me (though I still knew that it neither would, nor could, do any such thing) that I ran the greater part of the way to avoid being overtaken.

And when I had turned, I was in such fear of the coach coming up behind me that I ran most of the way to avoid being overtaken.


Then, I considered, when I had got safe back again, this was a nice thing to have done!


Now I was hot and had made the worst of it instead of the best.


At last, when I believed there was at least a quarter of an hour more yet, Charley all at once cried out to me as I was trembling in the garden, "Here she comes, miss!

At last, when I believed there was at least a quarter of an hour more yet, Charley cried out to me, "Here she comes, miss!"


I did not mean to do it, but I ran upstairs into my room and hid myself behind the door.

I did not mean to do it, but I ran upstairs into my room and hid behind the door.


There I stood trembling, even when I heard my darling calling as she came upstairs, "Esther, my dear, my love, where are you?"


She ran in, and was running out again when she saw me.


The old dear look, all love, all fondness, all affection.


Nothing else in it--no, nothing, nothing!

Nothing else in it - no, nothing, nothing!


Oh, how happy I was, down upon the floor, with my sweet beautiful girl down upon the floor too, holding my scarred face to her lovely cheek, bathing it with tears and kisses, rocking me to and fro like a child, calling me by every tender name that she could think of, and pressing me to her faithful heart.

Oh, how happy I was, down upon the floor with my sweet beautiful girl holding my scarred face to her lovely cheek, bathing it with tears and kisses, rocking me like a child, calling me by every tender name, and pressing me to her faithful heart.


Dilating and dilating since the sun went down last night, it has gradually swelled until it fills every void in the place.

Since the sun went down last night, the darkness has gradually swelled until it fills every void in the place.


For a time there were some dungeon lights burning, as the lamp of life hums in Tom-all-Alone's, heavily, heavily, in the nauseous air, and winking--as that lamp, too, winks in Tom-all-Alone's--at many horrible things.

For a time there were some dungeon lights burning.


The moon has eyed Tom with a dull cold stare, as admitting some puny emulation of herself in his desert region unfit for life and blasted by volcanic fires; but she has passed on and is gone.

The moon has eyed Tom with a dull cold stare; but she has passed on and is gone.


The blackest nightmare in the infernal stables grazes on Tom-all-Alone's, and Tom is fast asleep.


Much mighty speech-making there has been, both in and out of Parliament, concerning Tom, and much wrathful disputation how Tom shall be got right.

Much mighty speech-making there has been, both in and out of Parliament, concerning Tom, and how Tom shall be got right.


Whether he shall be put into the main road by constables, or by beadles, or by bell-ringing, or by force of figures, or by correct principles of taste, or by high church, or by low church, or by no church; whether he shall be set to splitting trusses of polemical straws with the crooked knife of his mind or whether he shall be put to stone-breaking instead.

Whether he shall be put into the main road by constables, or by beadles, or by churches; or whether he shall be put to stone-breaking instead.


In the midst of which dust and noise there is but one thing perfectly clear, to wit, that Tom only may and can, or shall and will, be reclaimed according to somebody's theory but nobody's practice.

One thing is perfectly clear: that Tom can and will only be reclaimed according to somebody's theory but nobody's practice.


And in the hopeful meantime, Tom goes to perdition head foremost in his old determined spirit.

And in the meantime, Tom goes to perdition.


Even the winds are his messengers, and they serve him in these hours of darkness. There is not a drop of Tom's corrupted blood but propagates infection and contagion somewhere.

Even the winds are his messengers, sending his infection and contagion everywhere.


It shall pollute, this very night, the choice stream (in which chemists on analysis would find the genuine nobility) of a Norman house, and his Grace shall not be able to say nay to the infamous alliance.


There is not an atom of Tom's slime, not a cubic inch of any pestilential gas in which he lives, not one obscenity or degradation about him, not an ignorance, not a wickedness, not a brutality of his committing, but shall work its retribution through every order of society up to the proudest of the proud and to the highest of the high.

There is not an atom of Tom's slime, not one obscenity or degradation about him, not an ignorance, not a wickedness, but shall work its retribution through every order of society up to the proudest of the proud and the highest of the high.


Verily, what with tainting, plundering, and spoiling, Tom has his revenge.


It is a moot point whether Tom-all-Alone's be uglier by day or by night, but on the argument that the more that is seen of it the more shocking it must be, and that no part of it left to the imagination is at all likely to be made so bad as the reality, day carries it.


The day begins to break now; and in truth it might be better for the national glory even that the sun should sometimes set upon the British dominions than that it should ever rise upon so vile a wonder as Tom.
A brown sunburnt gentleman, who appears in some inaptitude for sleep to be wandering abroad rather than counting the hours on a restless pillow, strolls hitherward at this quiet time.

Now, as day begins to break, a brown sunburnt gentleman, who appears to be wandering abroad because of some inaptitude for sleep, strolls there at this quiet time.


Attracted by curiosity, he often pauses and looks about him, up and down the miserable by-ways.

He often pauses and looks about him curiously.


Nor is he merely curious, for in his bright dark eye there is compassionate interest; and as he looks here and there, he seems to understand such wretchedness and to have studied it before.

Nor is he merely curious, for in his bright dark eye there is compassionate interest; he seems to understand such wretchedness and to have studied it before.


On the banks of the stagnant channel of mud which is the main street of Tom-all-Alone's, nothing is to be seen but the crazy houses, shut up and silent.


No waking creature save himself appears except in one direction, where he sees the solitary figure of a woman sitting on a door-step.

No waking creature save himself appears except for a solitary woman sitting on a door-step.


Approaching, he observes that she has journeyed a long distance and is footsore and travel-stained.

He observes that she has journeyed a long distance and is footsore and travel-stained.


She sits on the door-step in the manner of one who is waiting, with her elbow on her knee and her head upon her hand.

She sits on the door-step with her elbow on her knee and her head upon her hand.


Beside her is a canvas bag, or bundle, she has carried.


She is dozing probably, for she gives no heed to his steps as he comes toward her.

She is dozing, for she gives no heed to his steps as he approaches.


The broken footway is so narrow that when Allan Woodcourt comes to where the woman sits, he has to turn into the road to pass her.

The broken footway is so narrow that when Allan Woodcourt comes to the woman, he has to turn into the road to pass her.


Looking down at her face, his eye meets hers, and he stops.


"I'm waiting till they get up at another house--a lodging-house--not here," the woman patiently returns.

"I'm waiting till they get up at another house - a lodging-house - not here," the woman patiently returns.


"I'm waiting here because there will be sun here presently to warm me."


I am sorry to see you sitting in the street."


A habit in him of speaking to the poor and of avoiding patronage or condescension or childishness (which is the favourite device, many people deeming it quite a subtlety to talk to them like little spelling books) has put him on good terms with the woman easily.

A habit in him of speaking to the poor and of avoiding condescension has put him on good terms with the woman easily.


"Let me look at your forehead," he says, bending down.


He knows that by touching her with his skilful and accustomed hand he can soothe her yet more readily.

He knows that by touching her with his skilful hand he can soothe her more readily.


She makes a slight objection, saying, "It's nothing"; but he has scarcely laid his fingers on the wounded place when she lifts it up to the light.

She says, "It's nothing"; but he has scarcely laid his fingers on the wounded place when she lifts it up to the light.


A bad bruise, and the skin sadly broken.


"It do ache a little, sir," returns the woman with a started tear upon her cheek.


"Let me try to make it more comfortable."


He cleanses the injured place and dries it, and having carefully examined it and gently pressed it with the palm of his hand, takes a small case from his pocket, dresses it, and binds it up.

He cleanses the injured place and dries it with his handkerchief, and having carefully examined it, takes a small case from his pocket, dresses it, and binds it up.


While he is thus employed, he says, after laughing at his establishing a surgery in the street, "And so your husband is a brickmaker?"

While he is thus employed, he says, "And so your husband is a brickmaker?"


"Why, I suppose so from the colour of the clay upon your bag and on your dress.

"Why, I suppose so from the colour of the clay upon your bag and your dress.


And I know brickmakers go about working at piecework in different places.

And I know brickmakers go about doing piecework in different places.


And I am sorry to say I have known them cruel to their wives too."

I am sorry to say I have known them be cruel to their wives too."


The woman hastily lifts up her eyes as if she would deny that her injury is referable to such a cause. But feeling the hand upon her forehead, and seeing his busy and composed face, she quietly drops them again.

The woman hastily lifts up her eyes as if she would deny it; but seeing his busy and composed face, she quietly drops them again.


"He got into trouble last night, sir; but he'll look for me at the lodging-house."


"He will get into worse trouble if he often misuses his large and heavy hand as he has misused it here.

"He will get into worse trouble if he often misuses his heavy hand as he has misused it here.


But you forgive him, brutal as he is, and I say no more of him, except that I wish he deserved it.

But you forgive him, brutal as he is, and I say no more of him.


"One as I calls mine, sir, but it's Liz's."


By this time he has finished and is putting up his case.

By this time he has finished and is shutting up his case.


he asks, good-humouredly making light of what he has done as she gets up and curtsys.


"It's a good two or three and twenty mile from here, sir.

"It's a good twenty mile from here, sir.


I thought you gave a start like, as if you did."


And now I will ask you a question in return.


"Yes, sir," she says, "really and truly."


He tells her, in acknowledgment of her many subdued thanks, that she is very welcome, gives her good day, and walks away.

He tells her, in acknowledgment of her thanks, that she is very welcome, and walks away.


Tom-all-Alone's is still asleep, and nothing is astir.


As he retraces his way to the point from which he descried the woman at a distance sitting on the step, he sees a ragged figure coming very cautiously along, crouching close to the soiled walls--which the wretchedest figure might as well avoid--and furtively thrusting a hand before it.

He sees a ragged figure coming very cautiously along, crouching close to the soiled walls, furtively thrusting a hand before it.


It is the figure of a youth whose face is hollow and whose eyes have an emaciated glare.


He is so intent on getting along unseen that even the apparition of a stranger in whole garments does not tempt him to look back. He shades his face with his ragged elbow as he passes on the other side of the way, and goes shrinking and creeping on with his anxious hand before him and his shapeless clothes hanging in shreds.

Intent on getting along unseen, he shades his face with his ragged elbow as he passes, and goes creeping on with his anxious hand before him and his shapeless clothes hanging in shreds.


Clothes made for what purpose, or of what material, it would be impossible to say.


They look, in colour and in substance, like a bundle of rank leaves of swampy growth that rotted long ago.

They look like a bundle of rank leaves that rotted long ago.


Allan Woodcourt pauses to look after him and note all this, with a shadowy belief that he has seen the boy before. He cannot recall how or where, but there is some association in his mind with such a form.

Allan Woodcourt pauses to look after him and note all this, with a shadowy belief that he has seen the boy before, although he cannot recall how or where.


He imagines that he must have seen it in some hospital or refuge, still, cannot make out why it comes with any special force on his remembrance.

He imagines that he must have seen him in some hospital or refuge.


He is gradually emerging from Tom-all-Alone's in the morning light, thinking about it, when he hears running feet behind him, and looking round, sees the boy scouring towards him at great speed, followed by the woman.

He is gradually emerging from Tom-all-Alone's in the morning light, thinking about it, when he hears running feet behind him, and looking round, sees the boy racing towards him at great speed, followed by the woman.


He darts across the road into the boy's path, but the boy is quicker than he, makes a curve, ducks, dives under his hands, comes up half-a-dozen yards beyond him, and scours away again.

He darts across the road into the boy's path, but the boy is quicker than he, dives under his hands, comes up half-a-dozen yards beyond him, and darts away again.


Still the woman follows, crying, "Stop him, sir, pray stop him!"


Allan, not knowing but that he has just robbed her of her money, follows in chase and runs so hard that he runs the boy down a dozen times, but each time he repeats the curve, the duck, the dive, and scours away again.

Allan, thinking that the boy may have just robbed her of her money, follows in chase and runs the boy down a dozen times; but each time he ducks and dives away.


To strike at him on any of these occasions would be to fell and disable him, but the pursuer cannot resolve to do that, and so the grimly ridiculous pursuit continues.

The pursuer cannot resolve to strike him, and so the grimly ridiculous pursuit continues.


At last the fugitive, hard-pressed, takes to a narrow passage and a court which has no thoroughfare.

At last the fugitive, hard-pressed, takes to a narrow passage and a court which has no way out.


Here, against a hoarding of decaying timber, he is brought to bay and tumbles down, lying gasping at his pursuer, who stands and gasps at him until the woman comes up.

Here, against a hoarding of decaying timber, he is brought tumbling down, lying gasping at his pursuer, who stands and gasps at him until the woman comes up.


"Jo," repeats Allan, looking at him with attention, "Jo!

"Jo," repeats Allan, looking at him with attention. "Jo!


I recollect this lad some time ago being brought before the coroner."


"Yes, I see you once afore at the inkwhich," whimpers Jo.


Can't you never let such an unfortnet as me alone?


I've been a-chivied and a-chivied, fust by one on you and nixt by another on you, till I'm worritted to skins and bones.

I've been a-chivied and a-chivied till I'm worritted to skins and bones.


He wos wery good to me, he wos; he wos the only one I knowed to speak to, as ever come across my crossing.


It ain't wery likely I should want him to be inkwhiched.


I don't know why I don't go and make a hole in the water, I'm sure I don't."


He says it with such a pitiable air, and his grimy tears appear so real, and he lies in the corner up against the hoarding so like a growth of fungus or any unwholesome excrescence produced there in neglect and impurity, that Allan Woodcourt is softened towards him.

He says it with such a pitiable air, and his grimy tears appear so real, and he lies in the corner so like a growth of fungus that Allan Woodcourt is softened towards him.


He says to the woman, "Miserable creature, what has he done?"

He says to the woman, "What has he done?"


To which she only replies, shaking her head at the prostrate figure more amazedly than angrily, "Oh, you Jo, you Jo.

To which she only replies, shaking her head at the prostrate figure, "Oh, you Jo, you Jo.


He did nothing but what was kind-hearted by me, and that's the wonder of it."


Allan looks from Jo to the woman, and from the woman to Jo, waiting for one of them to unravel the riddle.


"But he was along with me, sir," says the woman.


He was along with me, sir, down at Saint Albans, ill, and a young lady, Lord bless her for a good friend to me, took pity on him when I durstn't, and took him home--"

He was along with me, sir, down at Saint Albans, ill, and a young lady, Lord bless her, took pity on him when I durstn't, and took him home-"


Allan shrinks back from him with a sudden horror.

Allan shrinks back with a sudden horror.


Took him home, and made him comfortable, and like a thankless monster he ran away in the night and never has been seen or heard of since till I set eyes on him just now.

Took him home, and made him comfortable, and like a thankless monster he ran away in the night and never has been seen or heard of since till now.


And that young lady that was such a pretty dear caught his illness, lost her beautiful looks, and wouldn't hardly be known for the same young lady now if it wasn't for her angel temper, and her pretty shape, and her sweet voice.

And that young lady that was such a pretty dear caught his illness, lost her beautiful looks, and wouldn't hardly be known for the same young lady now if it wasn't for her angel temper and her sweet voice.


You ungrateful wretch, do you know that this is all along of you and of her goodness to you?"

You ungrateful wretch, do you know that this is all along of you?"


demands the woman, beginning to rage at him as she recalls it and breaking into passionate tears.


The boy, in rough sort stunned by what he hears, falls to smearing his dirty forehead with his dirty palm, and to staring at the ground, and to shaking from head to foot until the crazy hoarding against which he leans rattles.

The boy, stunned by what he hears, falls to smearing his dirty forehead with his dirty palm, and to staring at the ground, and to shaking from head to foot.


Allan restrains the woman, merely by a quiet gesture, but effectually.


"I mean, I have heard of this--don't mind me for a moment, I will speak presently."

"I mean, I have heard of this - don't mind me for a moment."


He turns away and stands for a while looking out at the covered passage.

He turns away and stands for a while looking out at the passage.


When he comes back, he has recovered his composure, except that he contends against an avoidance of the boy, which is so very remarkable that it absorbs the woman's attention.

When he comes back, he has recovered his composure, except that he struggles against an avoidance of the boy.


Jo, shaking and chattering, slowly rises and stands, after the manner of his tribe in a difficulty, sideways against the hoarding, resting one of his high shoulders against it and covertly rubbing his right hand over his left and his left foot over his right.

Jo, shaking and chattering, slowly rises and stands against the hoarding, rubbing one foot with the other.


"You hear what she says, and I know it's true.


"Wishermaydie if I seen Tom-all-Alone's till this blessed morning," replies Jo hoarsely.


Jo looks all round the confined court, looks at his questioner no higher than the knees, and finally answers, "I don't know how to do nothink, and I can't get nothink to do.

Jo looks round, and finally answers, "I don't know how to do nothink, and I can't get nothink to do.


I'm wery poor and ill, and I thought I'd come back here when there warn't nobody about, and lay down and hide somewheres as I knows on till arter dark, and then go and beg a trifle of Mr. Snagsby.

I'm wery poor and ill, and I thought I'd come back here when there warn't nobody about, and lay down and hide somewheres till arter dark, and then go and beg a trifle of Mr. Sangsby."


He wos allus willin fur to give me somethink he wos, though Mrs. Snagsby she was allus a-chivying on me--like everybody everywheres."


Jo looks all round the court again, looks at his questioner's knees again, and concludes by laying his profile against the hoarding in a sort of resignation.


"Did you hear me ask you where you have come from?"


"Now tell me," proceeds Allan, making a strong effort to overcome his repugnance, going very near to him, and leaning over him with an expression of confidence, "tell me how it came about that you left that house when the good young lady had been so unfortunate as to pity you and take you home."

"Now tell me," proceeds Allan, making a strong effort to overcome his repugnance, "tell me how it came about that you left that house when the good young lady had taken you home."


Jo suddenly comes out of his resignation and excitedly declares, addressing the woman, that he never known about the young lady, that he never heern about it, that he never went fur to hurt her, that he would sooner have hurt his own self, that he'd sooner have had his unfortnet ed chopped off than ever gone a-nigh her, and that she wos wery good to him, she wos.

Jo excitedly declares that he never known about the young lady, that he never went fur to hurt her, that he would sooner have hurt his own self, and that she wos wery good to him, she wos.


Conducting himself throughout as if in his poor fashion he really meant it, and winding up with some very miserable sobs.


Allan Woodcourt sees that this is not a sham. He constrains himself to touch him.

Allan Woodcourt sees that this is not a sham, and makes himself touch him.


I dustn't," says Jo, relapsing into the profile state.


"But I must know," returns the other, "all the same.


After two or three such adjurations, Jo lifts up his head again, looks round the court again, and says in a low voice, "Well, I'll tell you something.

Jo looks round the court again, and says in a low voice, "Well, I'll tell you.


Very apprehensive of being overheard, Jo looks about him and even glances up some ten feet at the top of the hoarding and through the cracks in it lest the object of his distrust should be looking over or hidden on the other side.

Jo is very apprehensive of being overheard.


"But I want, in the young lady's name, to know.


"Ah, but I don't know," replies Jo, shaking his head fearfully, "as he DON'T hear."

"Ah, but he might hear," replies Jo, shaking his head fearfully.


"He's in all manner of places, all at wanst."

"He's in all manner of places, all at once."


Allan looks at him in perplexity, but discovers some real meaning and good faith at the bottom of this bewildering reply. He patiently awaits an explicit answer; and Jo, more baffled by his patience than by anything else, at last desperately whispers a name in his ear.

Allan looks at him in perplexity, until Jo at last desperately whispers a name in his ear.


Never done nothink to get myself into no trouble, 'sept in not moving on and the inkwhich.


I'm a-moving on to the berryin ground--that's the move as I'm up to."


"Put me in a horsepittle," replied Jo, whispering, "till I was discharged, then giv me a little money--four half-bulls, wot you may call half-crowns--and ses 'Hook it!

"Put me in a horsepittle," replied Jo, whispering, "till I was discharged, then giv me a little money - four half-crowns - and ses 'Hook it!


'Don't let me ever see you nowheres within forty mile of London, or you'll repent it.'

'You move on well out of London, or you'll repent it.'


So I shall, if ever he doos see me, and he'll see me if I'm above ground," concludes Jo, nervously repeating all his former precautions and investigations.


Allan considers a little, then remarks, turning to the woman but keeping an encouraging eye on Jo, "He is not so ungrateful as you supposed.

Allan considers a little, then turning to the woman says, "He is not so ungrateful as you supposed.


He had a reason for going away, though it was an insufficient one."


But ony you tell the young lady wot the genlmn ses, and it's all right.


For YOU wos wery good to me too, and I knows it."


"Now, Jo," says Allan, keeping his eye upon him, "come with me and I will find you a better place than this to lie down and hide in.

"Now, Jo," says Allan, "come with me and I will find you a better place than this to lie down and hide in.


If I take one side of the way and you the other to avoid observation, you will not run away, I know very well, if you make me a promise."

You will not run away, I know very well, if you make me a promise."


"I won't, not unless I wos to see HIM a-coming, sir."

"I won't, not unless I wos to see him a-coming, sir."


Half the town is getting up by this time, and the whole town will be broad awake in another hour.


"Good day again, sir, and I thank you kindly many times again."

"Good day again, sir, and I thank you kindly."


She has been sitting on her bag, deeply attentive, and now rises and takes it up.


Jo, repeating, "Ony you tell the young lady as I never went fur to hurt her and wot the genlmn ses!"

Jo, repeating, "Tell the young lady as I never went fur to hurt her!"


nods and shambles and shivers, and smears and blinks, and half laughs and half cries, a farewell to her, and takes his creeping way along after Allan Woodcourt, close to the houses on the opposite side of the street.

nods and shambles and shivers, and smears and blinks, and half laughs and half cries a farewell to her, and takes his creeping way along after Allan Woodcourt.


In this order, the two come up out of Tom-all-Alone's into the broad rays of the sunlight and the purer air.

In this way, the two come up out of Tom-all-Alone's into the broad rays of the sunlight and the purer air.


I had gone to bed and fallen asleep when my guardian knocked at the door of my room and begged me to get up directly.

I was asleep when my guardian knocked at the door of my room and begged me to get up directly.


On my hurrying to speak to him and learn what had happened, he told me, after a word or two of preparation, that there had been a discovery at Sir Leicester Dedlock's.

He told me that there had been a discovery at Sir Leicester Dedlock's.


That my mother had fled, that a person was now at our door who was empowered to convey to her the fullest assurances of affectionate protection and forgiveness if he could possibly find her, and that I was sought for to accompany him in the hope that my entreaties might prevail upon her if his failed.

That my mother had fled, that a person was now at our door who was empowered to convey to her assurances of protection and forgiveness if he could possibly find her; and that I was asked to accompany him in the hope that my entreaties might succeed with her if his failed.


Something to this general purpose I made out, but I was thrown into such a tumult of alarm, and hurry and distress, that in spite of every effort I could make to subdue my agitation, I did not seem, to myself, fully to recover my right mind until hours had passed.

Something to this general purpose I made out, but I was thrown into such a tumult of alarm and hurry and distress that I did not seem, to myself, fully to recover my right mind until hours had passed.


But I dressed and wrapped up expeditiously without waking Charley or any one and went down to Mr. Bucket, who was the person entrusted with the secret.

But I dressed and wrapped up without waking Charley and went down to Mr. Bucket.


In taking me to him my guardian told me this, and also explained how it was that he had come to think of me. Mr. Bucket, in a low voice, by the light of my guardian's candle, read to me in the hall a letter that my mother had left upon her table; and I suppose within ten minutes of my having been aroused I was sitting beside him, rolling swiftly through the streets.

My guardian explained how it was that he had thought of me; and Mr. Bucket, in a low voice, read to me a letter that my mother had left upon her table. Within ten minutes of waking I was sitting beside him, rolling swiftly through the streets.


His manner was very keen, and yet considerate when he explained to me that a great deal might depend on my being able to answer, without confusion, a few questions that he wished to ask me.

His manner was very keen, and yet considerate when he asked me some questions.


These were, chiefly, whether I had had much communication with my mother (to whom he only referred as Lady Dedlock), when and where I had spoken with her last, and how she had become possessed of my handkerchief.

These were whether I had had much communication with my mother (to whom he only referred as Lady Dedlock), when and where I had spoken with her last, and how she had become possessed of my handkerchief.


When I had satisfied him on these points, he asked me particularly to consider--taking time to think--whether within my knowledge there was any one, no matter where, in whom she might be at all likely to confide under circumstances of the last necessity.

Then he asked me to consider whether I knew of anyone, no matter where, in whom she might be at all likely to confide.


I could think of no one but my guardian.


But by and by I mentioned Mr. Boythorn. He came into my mind as connected with his old chivalrous manner of mentioning my mother's name and with what my guardian had informed me of his engagement to her sister and his unconscious connexion with her unhappy story.

But by and by Mr. Boythorn came into my mind, and I mentioned his name.


My companion had stopped the driver while we held this conversation, that we might the better hear each other. He now told him to go on again and said to me, after considering within himself for a few moments, that he had made up his mind how to proceed.

My companion considered for a few moments before telling me that he had decided how to proceed.


He was quite willing to tell me what his plan was, but I did not feel clear enough to understand it.

He was quite willing to tell me his plan, but I did not feel clear enough to understand it.


We had not driven very far from our lodgings when we stopped in a by-street at a public-looking place lighted up with gas.

We had not driven very far from our lodgings when we stopped in a side-street at a police station.


Mr. Bucket took me in and sat me in an arm-chair by a bright fire.

Mr. Bucket took me in and sat me in an armchair by a bright fire.


It was now past one, as I saw by the clock against the wall.

It was now past one, as I saw by the clock.


Two police officers, looking in their perfectly neat uniform not at all like people who were up all night, were quietly writing at a desk; and the place seemed very quiet altogether, except for some beating and calling out at distant doors underground, to which nobody paid any attention.

Two police officers were quietly writing at a desk; and the place seemed very quiet altogether, except for some beating and calling out at distant doors, to which nobody paid any attention.


A third man in uniform, whom Mr. Bucket called and to whom he whispered his instructions, went out; and then the two others advised together while one wrote from Mr. Bucket's subdued dictation.

A third man in uniform, whom Mr. Bucket spoke with, went out; and then one of the two others wrote out a description of my mother from Mr. Bucket's subdued dictation.


It was a description of my mother that they were busy with, for Mr. Bucket brought it to me when it was done and read it in a whisper. It was very accurate indeed.

Mr. Bucket read it to me, and it was very accurate indeed.


The second officer, who had attended to it closely, then copied it out and called in another man in uniform (there were several in an outer room), who took it up and went away with it.

The second officer called in another man in uniform, who took it away.


All this was done with the greatest dispatch and without the waste of a moment; yet nobody was at all hurried.

All this was done without the waste of a moment; yet nobody was at all hurried.


As soon as the paper was sent out upon its travels, the two officers resumed their former quiet work of writing with neatness and care.

The two officers resumed their former quiet work of writing with neatness and care.


Mr. Bucket thoughtfully came and warmed the soles of his boots, first one and then the other, at the fire.

Mr. Bucket thoughtfully came and warmed himself at the fire.


"Are you well wrapped up, Miss Summerson?"


"It's a desperate sharp night for a young lady to be out in."


I told him I cared for no weather and was warmly clothed.


"It may be a long job," he observed; "but so that it ends well, never mind, miss."

"It may be a long job," he observed; "but if it ends well, never mind, miss."


"You see, whatever you do, don't you go and fret yourself.


You keep yourself cool and equal for anything that may happen, and it'll be the better for you, the better for me, the better for Lady Dedlock, and the better for Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet."

You keep yourself cool and equal for anything that may happen."


He was really very kind and gentle, and as he stood before the fire warming his boots and rubbing his face with his forefinger, I felt a confidence in his sagacity which reassured me.

He was really very kind and gentle, and as he stood before the fire I felt a confidence in his wisdom which reassured me.


It was not yet a quarter to two when I heard horses' feet and wheels outside.

It was not yet a quarter to two when I heard wheels outside.


"Now, Miss Summerson," said he, "we are off, if you please!"


He gave me his arm, and the two officers courteously bowed me out, and we found at the door a phaeton or barouche with a postilion and post horses.

We found at the door a phaeton with a postilion and post horses.


Mr. Bucket handed me in and took his own seat on the box.


The man in uniform whom he had sent to fetch this equipage then handed him up a dark lantern at his request, and when he had given a few directions to the driver, we rattled away.

He took a lantern, gave a few directions to the driver, and we rattled away.


I was far from sure that I was not in a dream.


We rattled with great rapidity through such a labyrinth of streets that I soon lost all idea where we were, except that we had crossed and re-crossed the river, and still seemed to be traversing a low-lying, waterside, dense neighbourhood of narrow thoroughfares chequered by docks and basins, high piles of warehouses, swing-bridges, and masts of ships.

We rattled through such a labyrinth of streets that I soon lost all idea of where we were, except that we had crossed and re-crossed the river, and seemed to be in a waterside neighbourhood of narrow streets chequered by docks and bridges and high piles of warehouses.


At length we stopped at the corner of a little slimy turning, which the wind from the river, rushing up it, did not purify; and I saw my companion, by the light of his lantern, in conference with several men who looked like a mixture of police and sailors.

At length we stopped near the river; and I saw my companion conferring with several men who looked like a mixture of police and sailors.


Against the mouldering wall by which they stood, there was a bill, on which I could discern the words, "Found Drowned"; and this and an inscription about drags possessed me with the awful suspicion shadowed forth in our visit to that place.

Against the mouldering wall by which they stood, there was a bill, on which I could discern the words, "Found Drowned".


I had no need to remind myself that I was not there by the indulgence of any feeling of mine to increase the difficulties of the search, or to lessen its hopes, or enhance its delays.


I remained quiet, but what I suffered in that dreadful spot I never can forget.

What I suffered in that dreadful spot I never can forget.


And still it was like the horror of a dream.


A man yet dark and muddy, in long swollen sodden boots and a hat like them, was called out of a boat and whispered with Mr. Bucket, who went away with him down some slippery steps--as if to look at something secret that he had to show.

A man dark and muddy, in long sodden boots, was called out of a boat and whispered with Mr. Bucket, who went away with him down some slippery steps - as if to look at something secret that he had to show.


They came back, wiping their hands upon their coats, after turning over something wet; but thank God it was not what I feared!


After some further conference, Mr. Bucket (whom everybody seemed to know and defer to) went in with the others at a door and left me in the carriage, while the driver walked up and down by his horses to warm himself.

After some further conference, Mr. Bucket (whom everybody seemed to know and defer to) went through a door with the others and left me in the carriage, while the driver walked up and down by his horses to warm himself.


The tide was coming in, as I judged from the sound it made, and I could hear it break at the end of the alley with a little rush towards me. It never did so--and I thought it did so, hundreds of times, in what can have been at the most a quarter of an hour, and probably was less--but the thought shuddered through me that it would cast my mother at the horses' feet.

The tide was coming in; I could hear it break at the end of the alley with a little rush towards me, and the thought shuddered through me that it would cast my mother at the horses' feet.


Mr. Bucket came out again, exhorting the others to be vigilant, darkened his lantern, and once more took his seat.

Mr. Bucket came out again, and once more took his seat.


"Don't you be alarmed, Miss Summerson, on account of our coming down here," he said, turning to me.

"Don't you be alarmed, Miss Summerson, on account of our coming down here," he said.


"I only want to have everything in train and to know that it is in train by looking after it myself.

"I only want to have everything in train.


We appeared to retrace the way we had come.


Not that I had taken note of any particular objects in my perturbed state of mind, but judging from the general character of the streets.


We called at another office or station for a minute and crossed the river again.

We called at another police station for a minute and crossed the river again.


During the whole of this time, and during the whole search, my companion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance a single moment; but when we crossed the bridge he seemed, if possible, to be more on the alert than before.

My companion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance.


He stood up to look over the parapet, he alighted and went back after a shadowy female figure that flitted past us, and he gazed into the profound black pit of water with a face that made my heart die within me.

When we crossed the bridge he stood up to look over the parapet; he alighted and went back after a shadowy female figure that flitted past us; and he gazed into the profound black pit of water with a face that made my heart die within me.


The river had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away so fast between the low flat lines of shore--so heavy with indistinct and awful shapes, both of substance and shadow; so death-like and mysterious.

The river had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away so fast between the low flat lines of shore - so heavy with indistinct and awful shapes, so death-like and mysterious.


I have seen it many times since then, by sunlight and by moonlight, but never free from the impressions of that journey.

I have seen it many times since then, but never free from the impressions of that journey.


In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying round the homeless woman whom we pass, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me--a face rising out of the dreaded water.

In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me like a face rising out of the dreaded water.


Clattering and clattering through the empty streets, we came at length from the pavement on to dark smooth roads and began to leave the houses behind us.

Clattering through the empty streets, at length we began to leave the houses behind.


After a while I recognized the familiar way to Saint Albans.


At Barnet fresh horses were ready for us, and we changed and went on.


It was very cold indeed, and the open country was white with snow, though none was falling then.


"An old acquaintance of yours, this road, Miss Summerson," said Mr. Bucket cheerfully.


"None that can be quite depended on as yet," he answered, "but it's early times as yet."

"None that can be quite depended on," he answered, "but it's early times as yet."


He had gone into every late or early public-house where there was a light (they were not a few at that time, the road being then much frequented by drovers) and had got down to talk to the turnpike-keepers.

He had gone into every public-house where there was a light, and had talked to the turnpike-keepers.


I had heard him ordering drink, and chinking money, and making himself agreeable and merry everywhere; but whenever he took his seat upon the box again, his face resumed its watchful steady look, and he always said to the driver in the same business tone, "Get on, my lad!"

I had heard him chinking money, and making himself agreeable and merry everywhere; but whenever he took his seat upon the box again, his face resumed its watchful steady look.


With all these stoppages, it was between five and six o'clock and we were yet a few miles short of Saint Albans when he came out of one of these houses and handed me in a cup of tea.

With all these stoppages, it was between five and six o'clock, and we were still a few miles short of Saint Albans, when he came out of one of these public-houses and handed me in a cup of tea.


"Drink it, Miss Summerson, it'll do you good.


You're beginning to get more yourself now, ain't you?"


"You was what you may call stunned at first," he returned; "and Lord, no wonder!

"You was what you may call stunned at first," he returned; "and no wonder!


I don't know what joyful exclamation I made or was going to make, but he put up his finger and I stopped myself.


"Passed through here on foot this evening about eight or nine.


I heard of her first at the archway toll, over at Highgate, but couldn't make quite sure.

I heard of her first at the archway toll, over at Highgate.


Picked her up at one place, and dropped her at another; but she's before us now, safe.


Take hold of this cup and saucer, ostler.


Now, if you wasn't brought up to the butter trade, look out and see if you can catch half a crown in your t'other hand.


We were soon in Saint Albans and alighted a little before day, when I was just beginning to arrange and comprehend the occurrences of the night and really to believe that they were not a dream.

We were soon in Saint Albans and alighted a little before day, when I was just beginning to arrange and comprehend the events of the night.


Leaving the carriage at the posting-house and ordering fresh horses to be ready, my companion gave me his arm, and we went towards home.

Leaving the carriage at the posting-house and ordering fresh horses to be ready, my companion gave me his arm, and we went towards Bleak House.


"As this is your regular abode, Miss Summerson, you see," he observed, "I should like to know whether you've been asked for by any stranger answering the description, or whether Mr. Jarndyce has.

"As this is your regular home, Miss Summerson," he observed, "I should like to know whether you've been asked for by any stranger answering the description.


I don't much expect it, but it might be."


As we ascended the hill, he looked about him with a sharp eye--the day was now breaking--and reminded me that I had come down it one night, as I had reason for remembering, with my little servant and poor Jo, whom he called Toughey.

As we ascended the hill, he looked about him with a sharp eye - the day was now breaking - and reminded me that I had come down it one night with my little servant and poor Jo.


"When you passed a man upon the road, just yonder, you know," said Mr. Bucket.

"When you passed a man upon the road, just yonder, that was me," said Mr. Bucket.


Seeing my surprise, he went on, "I drove down in a gig that afternoon to look after that boy.

Seeing my surprise, he went on, "I drove down in a gig that afternoon to look for that boy.


You might have heard my wheels when you came out to look after him yourself, for I was aware of you and your little maid going up when I was walking the horse down.


Making an inquiry or two about him in the town, I soon heard what company he was in and was coming among the brick-fields to look for him when I observed you bringing him home here."

Making inquiry about him in the town, I soon heard what company he was in and was coming among the brick-fields to look for him, when I observed you bringing him home here."


"None was charged against him," said Mr. Bucket, coolly lifting off his hat, "but I suppose he wasn't over-particular.

"None was charged against him," said Mr. Bucket.


What I wanted him for was in connexion with keeping this very matter of Lady Dedlock quiet.

"What I wanted him for was in connexion with keeping this matter of Lady Dedlock quiet.


He had been making his tongue more free than welcome as to a small accidental service he had been paid for by the deceased Mr. Tulkinghorn; and it wouldn't do, at any sort of price, to have him playing those games.

He had been making his tongue more free than welcome; and it wouldn't do to have him playing those games.


So having warned him out of London, I made an afternoon of it to warn him to keep out of it now he WAS away, and go farther from it, and maintain a bright look-out that I didn't catch him coming back again."

So having warned him out of London, I made an afternoon of it to warn him to keep out of it."


"Poor enough," assented Mr. Bucket, "and trouble enough, and well enough away from London, or anywhere else.

"Poor enough," assented Mr. Bucket, "and trouble enough.


I was regularly turned on my back when I found him taken up by your establishment, I do assure you."
I asked him why. "Why, my dear?" said Mr. Bucket. "Naturally there was no end to his tongue then.

I was disturbed when I found him taken up by your establishment, I do assure you, for there was no end to his tongue.


He might as well have been born with a yard and a half of it, and a remnant over."

He might as well have been born with a yard and a half of it."


Although I remember this conversation now, my head was in confusion at the time, and my power of attention hardly did more than enable me to understand that he entered into these particulars to divert me.

Although I remember this conversation now, my head was in confusion at the time. I understood, however, that he entered into these details to divert me.


With the same kind intention, manifestly, he often spoke to me of indifferent things, while his face was busy with the one object that we had in view. He still pursued this subject as we turned in at the garden-gate.

With the same kind intention, he spoke to me of indifferent things while we turned in at the garden-gate.


"Here we are, and a nice retired place it is.


Puts a man in mind of the country house in the Woodpecker-tapping, that was known by the smoke which so gracefully curled.


They're early with the kitchen fire, and that denotes good servants.


But what you've always got to be careful of with servants is who comes to see 'em; you never know what they're up to if you don't know that."


Whenever you find a young man behind the kitchen-door, you give that young man in charge on suspicion of being secreted in a dwelling-house with an unlawful purpose."


We were now in front of the house; he looked attentively and closely at the gravel for footprints before he raised his eyes to the windows.

We were now in front of the house; he looked attentively at the gravel for footprints before he raised his eyes to the windows.


"Do you generally put that elderly young gentleman in the same room when he's on a visit here, Miss Summerson?"


he inquired, glancing at Mr. Skimpole's usual chamber.


returned Mr. Bucket, bending down his ear.


I've often wondered what his name might be.


He's a queer bird is Harold," said Mr. Bucket, eyeing me with great expression.


"No idea of money," observed Mr. Bucket.


I involuntarily returned for answer that I perceived Mr. Bucket knew him.


"Why, now I'll tell you, Miss Summerson," he replied.


"Your mind will be all the better for not running on one point too continually, and I'll tell you for a change.


It was him as pointed out to me where Toughey was.

It was him as pointed out to me where the boy was.


I made up my mind that night to come to the door and ask for Toughey, if that was all; but willing to try a move or so first, if any such was on the board, I just pitched up a morsel of gravel at that window where I saw a shadow.


As soon as Harold opens it and I have had a look at him, thinks I, you're the man for me.

As soon as Harold opens it and I see him, thinks I, you're the man for me.


So I smoothed him down a bit about not wanting to disturb the family after they was gone to bed and about its being a thing to be regretted that charitable young ladies should harbour vagrants; and then, when I pretty well understood his ways, I said I should consider a fypunnote well bestowed if I could relieve the premises of Toughey without causing any noise or trouble.

So I smoothed him down a bit about its being regrettable that charitable young ladies should harbour vagrants; and then I said I should pay a five pound note if I could take away the boy without causing any noise or trouble.